↳ meadow

　　　↳ ᴇɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ. ↰

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: dream in a dream - lovelyz

"There's no need for you to chase me anywhere, I have allowed myself to be caught." Ziminiar observed Atlas' prideful glee while knocking over the Demon King's chess piece, and found it to be cute in the way that those who intentionally tried to be cute could never be. Perhaps they should play chess more often if it made the pixie so delighted. "Yes, of course," he agreed, "if he has any doubts he can always ask me and I will confirm that I was thoroughly defeated."

Ziminiar's smile aired on the side of pained. "Ah, yes, snakes. They do, in fact, like the warmth of a Demon King, this I know. My closest friend is—friendly with snakes and loves to put them in my bed." Particularly whenever Ziminiar had done something that irritated the gorgon Guard Captain. The snakes were harmless, but it was unpleasant to find unexpected visitors after a long day of work. "Ah, playthings, I see. Some humans do grow boring quickly. They are—oh, what is the saying? One-trick ponies? I do not know." Dismissively, the mayor shrugged. "Perhaps it is best for the king's pet to die with him. He would be unable to acclimate to this world. It is why time travel is a thing so frowned upon—some creatures are not capable of handling such change. And mortal minds are... fragile."

Ziminiar frowned. "I had not thought of it like that," he admitted, "I am never quite sure what Eden is doing at any given time. Sometimes his plans are well-laid and long-pondered, and others there is no plan at all. He is a... strange creature." Allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, the demon popped his neck and grinned. "Yes, yes, I will make you your meal, little pixie."

@♛　Ziminiar "I think you can only reach old age as a fae if you learn your way around words. Some species are so dumb people don't even bother with it, though. Gollums, usually. Or hobgoblins." A smile grew on Atlas's lips as he nodded. "I am. I can keep chasing you around the board if it pleases you, though." The pixie's chest puffed up with pride as he knocked Ziminiar's king over with a triumphant grin. "Now I've beat a demon king too! My portfolio of successes grows. Monarch might actually have to acknowledge my skill now that I've beat more than gentry at court." Atlas was glad they hadn't made any real bargain for the game. This was much more fun.

"I guess if that's your body temperature you're used to it and it's normal. I bet snakes like you, being cold blooded and all. One of my snakes likes to slide up under my blankets at night even though they have heated rocks to lay on." Atlas gripped Ziminiar's hand. "Hmph. They're more like playthings. Toys. They lose their luster after a bit of amusement. Though we keep the talented ones. The artists, the poets, the musicians. There's one jester at court, a favorite of the king, who is human. He's quite good at poetry, but he's gone entirely mad. The court puts up with him, but I imagine he'll die with the king. If they were to return him to the human world it wouldn't go well; he was taken from England in the sixteenth century."

Atlas paused thoughtfully. "Well if he broadcasted them, it's on purpose, isn't it? Eden strikes me as someone being more careful than to let something like that slip. The other guards I can't speak for, though, so maybe it did slip out on purpose...but somehow I doubt it." Atlas hopped up from Ziminiar's lap, taking both of his hands and pulling him up. "Well we can cross that bridge when we get to it. But before then I think we should eat."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: maps - maroon 5

"Faes and demons share a propensity for trickery," Ziminiar agreed. "There is always a way to get around an agreement or a rule. One just has to have the patience to find it, and exploit it." The Demon King peered at the chessboard, and made an amused noise that was more than a sigh but not quite a laugh. "Dear little pixie, are you asking me to surrender?" He lifted one of the chess pieces and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers. Ah, well, their wager was not such a bad one to lose. Ziminiar knew his way around a kitchen, and the little fae had already been warned about the spice that managed to appear no matter what Ziminiar cooked. (Perhaps it was a curse? He didn't know.) He set the piece back down. "Very well. I bow before your superior chess tactics," the Demon King decided.

"Quite high," Ziminiar confirmed, "but if the heat was so bad, I would not have selected an island here to dwell upon. The arctic would have been better suited in that case, would it not? I am accustomed to the climate, even in summer. Not unbearable, merely uncomfortable." He slipped his fingers between the pixie's, linking their hands together. "That is why some fae choose to admire mortals, is it not?"

The mayor sighed through his nose. "Eden is my closest friend. I am aware of his... habits," he remarked, "and that they have been broadcasted to anyone clever enough to keep their radar up. As for the rest... what happens with Vos would not be my concern, but they are allied with the Guard in the event of another hunter attack, and the display of weak points is... Well. Folly comes naturally to people, be they mortals or monsters. I have my measures in place, but it would be easier for me to do my job if the Dream Guards could do their jobs without jeopardizing everything they are supposed to be working toward in the first place."

@♛　Ziminiar "For fae as well. That's why most of us don't use even a part of our True Name. We just take up a nickname. There are some fae who lose their True Name in bargains. Those must be the dumbest of all fae. The dumbest, or the cockiest. That's too precious of a thing to bet. The only way you can get out of that kind of servitude is death, or the person with your name has to make a promise--an actual proper promise--to forget it, or to never say it out loud. But fae are tricky things; we find ways around promises and use our words very carefully to make loopholes. That's why it's better to avoid promises and favors altogether." Atlas moved his queen again. "Check. Are you going to keep running from me, or are you going to admit defeat?"

The pixie laughed, the sound a tinkling, lilting noise. "Summers must be unbearable for you then. Your core body temperature must be insanely high." Atlas tilted his head as Ziminiar inspected the cut, then shook his head. "It will heal. By tomorrow there won't even be a hint of a scar. Besides, I don't mind a cut now and then; I think blood is pretty. Such a lovely shade of red, but that color only lasts so long before the air turns it an ugly color. That makes it even more beautiful. But fae do love ephemeral things so."

The pixie nodded happily. He knew he wasn't the only one to have noticed how absolutely dumb some people in this city were. "Really they're rolling over and showing you their soft underbellies. I know the weak spots of most of the factions. Even with the Guard and Eden, it's clear that he's sometimes not fully sober. For Vos, they have a few members with easy weak points. So long as you're confident you can defeat them in a battle of brute force, the rest would be easy. Even a few I suspect to be hunters have shown weak spots, though obviously they don't start yelling to the universe about being hunters." Atlas shrugged. "I mostly just watch. Act like I know nothing. Talk about my pets. It's easy to play dumb."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: anywhere u go - tove lo

"Mmm." The Demon King hummed his agreement. "Atlas, then. Free will is quite important to demons, I would not want to take away your free will to make decisions." Coercion was all well and fine, trickery was allowed but to altogether take away the ability to make the choice was a thing considered taboo even in hell. After all, demon contracts were contracts for a reason and a mortal (or in this case, a pretty pixie) had to willingly sign away their soul. Not that Ziminiar wanted to take Atlas' soul. The demon blinked at the chess board and hummed, shifting another of his pieces. "I suppose, in a way, we could be considered like dragons," he shrugged, "and as for including myself..." His smile showed sharp teeth. "...Perhaps."

Ziminiar sighed. "Burns like it is hot," he responded. "I have heard that it boils, though again... it has been a long enough time that my memory is probably not as it should be." He slipped a hand away from Atlas' waist to cradle the pixie's smaller appendage. It was, quite literally, dwarfed within his own as he lifted it to his lips, gently brushing them against the pale line that marred the pixie's skin. "You should be more careful with sharp objects, then, little pixie," he rumbled.

"This is the nature of humankind; they are an impulsive, ignorant little race, violent and bloodthirsty. That is what makes them so perfect for demons to prey upon. Unlike other creatures, they are compelled as a /whole/ to seek power no matter the means." Ziminiar's chuckle was dark and unkind. "I know exactly what you mean. This is why Eden has disappeared from the chatroom entirely. He has a few... pet projects he is working on. But yes, I do believe the hunters have eyes and ears everywhere, even perhaps /within/ the Guard and Vos and not just in the chatrooms. But what do I know? I am just a politician who throws fancy balls and spends too much money on fast cars and large buildings. Everything has a purpose, however. People are too blind to see past a well-thought guise."

@♛　Ziminiar "Oh." Atlas paused. He hadn't even realized he'd let his real name slip. "Oak is my real name. Part of my True Name. I'm sure you know this already, but our names are powerful. If you have a fae's True Name, you can command them to do whatever you want. In the fae realm I'm known as Oak, but here I go by Atlas. I don't trust fae with my True Name, and I trust others even less. I will protect my freedom at all costs." The pixie happily moved his queen again. "Check," he declared again before looking at the king in surprise. "If there's at least one, are you including yourself? I didn't realize demons were like dragons."

Atlas brushed his hair from his eyes, letting out a puff of air. "Burns like acid, or burns like it's just really hot? I drew my own blood last night cooking." The memory brought a pout to Atlas's lips as he held up his hand. The wound had already healed for the most part, only leaving behind a faint pink line that would fade within the next day or so as well.

Crinkling his nose, the pixie shook his head. "Humans aren't capable of trust or peace, for the most part. Neither are my people, to be fair, but at least we have honor. Humans have none. They see someone even vaguely not human and resolve to cut them down where they stand. Human history has only ever been free from war before they began to band together. As soon as they started forming groups, they started fighting and competing. Silly little creatures." Atlas crossed his arms. "Strategically speaking, I am positive there are hunters that have befriended creatures. Really those who talk in the chat room are stupid. They give away so much it's no wonder an attack was carried out successfully. All you have to do is sit back and watch and you'll learn the dynamics of Vos and even the Dream Guard entirely. That's why I don't talk about my organization; I doubt anyone even knows I'm in it, which is what I want."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: why do u say - way ched ft. moon, ash island

"While it is poor behavior, it is good that you no longer allow it to bother you," Ziminiar remarked. "Forgive the question, but—do you strictly go by the name Atlas, or do you also use the name Oak?" Shaking his head, the Demon King stared down at the chessboard and pressed his lips together. "Quite a clever little trap you've set up here," he grumbled, moving one of his pieces so that he was no longer in check for the moment. "Hmmm, I disagree. I think your capability to entrance those around you would allow you to charm your way around Hell. I am positive there would be at least one Demon King who would bend over backward to keep a pretty thing like you pleased. Demons do like to collect things that catch their eye."

Ziminiar relished the presence of the blush that crested on the pixie's features and leaned back, his laugh one that was filled with mirth. "Ah, little pixie. It has been so long since anyone drew my blood, I could almost forget how it burns. It may have been cold in the North, but I have always been quite warm."

The mayor sighed as the pixie settled against him. "No, that he is not. It was certainly a terrible time. We were unprepared. Once peace, no matter how fragile, has settled in and begins to feel like a reality, people drop their guards and unfortunately... that is what happened. We let our guards down, and believed that there would be a place in this world where the war on creatures would not come—it was only a matter of time before hunters attacked. The attack was two months ago, and yet there still are no solid answers about who led the attack. It makes one wonder about the competence of their allies and the nature of their enemies."

@♛　Ziminiar "They didn't really care if it was rude or not," Atlas said with a shrug. "I'm not bothered by it anymore. I just reject the title of 'prince' altogether. I am not Prince Oak; I am merely Atlas." Atlas beamed as Ziminiar took his castle, taking the male's queen with his own. "Check," he declared, the board set up so that Atlas knew he'd be able to put the demon king into check again or check mate, the demon's king no longer protected by the queen. "I'm not sure I'd do well in hell either. I have the brains but not the brawn. I'm more of a behind-the-scenes type of person. I'm not particularly commanding or intimidating. I'm good at strategy, but anything past that is too much work."

The pixie's eyes fluttered in surprise at the kiss to his nose, but he was smiling. The very tops of his cheeks became dusted in pink as he turned back around. "It's not true," he said. "Maybe some types of fae have demon or angel blood in them, but we are of the earth. Angels and demons are of their own realms, and we are of our own too. My blood makes flowers grow. Usually poisonous ones, but flowers nonetheless." Atlas caught his lower lip between his teeth in thought. "What does your blood do, my king?"

Most people likely would have been uncomfortable with the hands of a very powerful demon situated around their waist. Atlas, however, was so happy he felt like he could purr. He nearly melted against Ziminiar, trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Well," he said, turning solemn to match the mayor's tone, "death is neve a welcomed guest, is he? The earth wept in April. Even I felt it. But I am happy to provide a moment of quiet peace here in my swamp."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: primadonna girl - marina and the diamonds

"That is quite rude of them," remarked Ziminiar. "I wouldn't want to mock you, so little pixie it is." Listening to Atlas talk about his family background, the mayor's lips drew into a frown. "Ah, the concept of legitimacy and blood. I will say, that is never a problem in hell. The strong reign and the weak... well, they are weak. It does not matter whose son or daughter you are, nor what percentage of a bloodline you come from... I do not think we track those things. All that matters is whether or not you can defeat those who would challenge you for your spot." Ziminiar's frown took on a contemplative edge as his hand hovered over the board. It was likely Atlas' move had been a trap, but—things weren't looking good on the board regardless. With a minute sigh, he moved the queen to take the castle. "Honoring a soul does not do much in hell," he shrugged, "it is the torture, the pain, that does it. You will not escape your torment early just because your family forgot to remember."

Ziminiar snorted. "That is an interesting theory," he commented. "Perhaps it is a true one—I myself would not know, though I will admit that you have the beauty of an angel but I assume you are capable of the cunning of a demon." The Demon King gave into temptation and kissed the tip of Atlas' nose when he turned his head. "But I would think that one would leave such questions to be unanswered, mmm? Knowing the truth of origin can be a curse, as much or more than it can be a blessing."

When Atlas settled into his hold again, Ziminiar chose to satisfy his curiosity and wrapped his large hands around Atlas' waist, hold relaxed and not intended to cause any discomfort or squeeze at all. "I will keep that in mind, and not try to eat any humans," he chuckled. His tone turned serious, he added, "I am glad you have no reason to be. I wish that it could be that way in the city, but unfortunately... there is strife in this world no matter where one goes. Sometimes I tire of conflict. April was bloody, and I can feel it in the air. There is more coming, and my city is ground zero."

@♛　Ziminiar The pixie paused to think, then shook his head. "No, I think I like little pixie better. I /would/ get called 'prince' sometimes in the fae realm, but the tone was usually mocking. If you're not in favor with the king your bloodline and title don't matter, after all. I am merely one of many unfavored members of the royal family. I'm illegitimate too. My father was a kelpie, and kelpies are respected but they're by no means noble." Atlas grinned at the board and was quick to move his castle in sight of the queen to bait the demon in. "Oh so it's basically for eternity. Interesting. Can a soul wear away from torture, or is it like in Mexican culture and some Asian cultures where you have to honor their soul for them to not be forgotten?"

Atlas pursed his lips in amusement. "I read once in a book written by a mortal that posed the theory of the origin of fae. They said fae were the offspring of angels and demons. Beautiful, capable of flight and magic. But dark. Twisted, like a juicy red apple with a worm hidden inside somewhere. Rotten. Neither drawn towards cruelty nor free from it." The pixie turned his head. "What do you think about that, I wonder?"

Now the smaller shrugged, reaching down to pick up one of his frogs off of the floor and set it on a plant beside the couch, the frog croaking in response. Atlas settled back into Ziminiar's embrace, wishing to never leave. "No? Well I don't recommend it; hard to find good human meat anyway. People are sometimes too stringy, sometimes too fatty. Hard to find one with the perfect fat to lean meat ratio. I don't think Monarch has enough brain cells left to have a preference on what he eats anymore." Atlas laughed. "And I can be cruel as well. I merely exist outside of reason to be."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: wild horses - bishop briggs

The pixie was a riveting creature. He was witty and educated, whether by a teacher or by himself—it did not matter which was the case—and had a sweet laugh. "Should I call you little prince instead of little pixie, then?" Ziminiar inquired, rather amused. He studied the board, curled his lip when he realized there wasn't much in the way of a good move for him to make, and opted to move his queen. "If you're damned, you are damned for eternity or until your soul simply... burns away or shatters from the torment. After thousands of earth years in hell, souls can begin to wear away. No matter what, if your soul is sent to hell... the only way out is for it to be destroyed, unless rebirth or reincarnation occurs."

The demon hummed. "I had heard of the fae and their favors, but I did not put much stock in it," he admitted, "my dealings with your kind have been very... limited. We do not cross paths often. If I was in your shoes, however, I feel that I would not want to be owe any favors, either."

Atlas' words drew a startled laugh out of Ziminiar. The Demon King gave him a gentle squeeze before he spoke, the amusement thick in his tone. "I have never eaten a human, but something tells me that your cousin will take care of eating them for me, hmmm? He mentioned that he likes the taste of politicians." Idly, Ziminiar wondered how much his fingertips would overlap if he wrapped his hands around Atlas' waist. Holding him like this highlighted how small the pixie was, in comparison to the mayor. "I am glad you have found yourself a little pocket of peace, here in this world. It can be... cruel."

@♛　Ziminiar Atlas nodded happily, then laughed. "Oh, my bad. A demon /king/, then. I guess I'm the prince between the two of us. Not that I really count as one, though. Just my technicality." The pixie made a face as Ziminiar described hell and what it was like. "Dante's Inferno described hell as having rings, or layers. He also said the final ring--the ninth one--was frozen over. Reserved for the most evil of sinners." Atlas slowly reached out to move his castle. "So when someone is damned to hell, is it for eternity or are there some cases of people having like, a jail sentence? Then would those years be counted in earth years? So it would feel like hundreds of years down there?"

Now Atlas sighed, shaking his head. "No; I'd owe someone a favor if I asked. No fae does something for free. I like to keep myself debt-free. Even the ones that owe me favors...I'd rather not waste them on drink. The brownie who does my chores owes me a life debt, but he's banned from entering the fae realm. He pissed my mom off, and I saved him, hence the life debt. But she forbid him from leaving the human realm."

Leaning back into Ziminiar's embrace, Atlas could nearly purr with delight at how warm the demon king was. "Good. Politicians do sound pretty annoying. You could always eat them. I personally don't like the taste of human flesh, but maybe if you cooked it right." The pixie shrugged. "I keep to myself. Here in this little cottage with my snakes, frogs, and alligators. It's peaceful."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: to the hilt - banks

“Then we shall not speak of the humans any longer,” Ziminiar uttered agreeably, watching as Atlas took his piece. He followed the move by shifting one of his pawns forward. “Ah. Not a prince at all, my dear. A Demon King,” he corrected gently. “The King of the North, as they call me. Everything is divided in the four directions, even hell. It is just my luck I got the coldest portion, mmm? I much prefer the warmth of Spain.” Drumming his fingers on Atlas’ hip, Ziminiar sighed. “No, hell was not boring. There was always much to do there. So many souls to torture and punish for their immoral deeds. I left for… a break, one could say. Time passes differently in hell; a month in time here is like hundreds of years down below. I sought more than a cold throne. They say hell is hot, but there is a variety in climate and the North was always cold.”

The demon’s laugh was soft. “It is good that you are enjoying your time away from the court. Is there no one you could send to retrieve wine or mead for you? I am not educated in the ways of fae courts or how they are run.”

“It is good, then, that I do not listen to what Monarch has to say.” Ziminiar rested his chin atop Atlas’ head, enveloping the pixie in his embrace. “And I do not find you stupid at all, little pixie. You are a source of entertaining conversation, which I greatly appreciate after a long week of papers and politicians clamoring for explanations of topics I hardly pay attention to. Something about April… the Dream Guard are doing what they can, I am unsure what two cents I am supposed to put in. Why would I tell the public that everything is fine when I should tell them to arm themselves in the event of another attack? The folly of mortals.”

@♛　Ziminiar Atlas made a face, scrunching up his nose. "I don't want to talk about humans anymore," he decided. "They're annoying, loud, they smell bad, and they don't taste very good to top it off. I want to know more about you." Atlas looked at the board and grinned; his move to offer a pawn as a sacrifice had worked, and now he was able to take the piece that took his pawn with his castle, setting the white piece down on one side of the board. "How does a prince of hell end up here? Is hell boring? Not enough to do? I'm sure you're kept constantly busy with all sorts of paperwork and complains as mayor. Now /that/ sounds like hell."

Atlas turned his head and leaned in to kiss Ziminiar's cheek, flashing a wide grin, showing off his own teeth that were just ever slightly too sharp, their shapes pointed just enough that a human might do a double take. "I left the fae realm because it was boring. And my lover died. I wasn't in love with him, but he was a good lay. It was a pity when he died. I didn't have anything else to stay there for. I can live just as quietly here, after all. Less hobs come asking me for favors here too. Although I do miss the sugar plum wine they had at court. And the honeysuckle mead. That was good."

The pixie observed the board, his brain already storing all the possible moves Ziminiar could make, knowing exactly what move he'd make after that, and then after that. His brain worked quite quickly with chess after so many years of playing, after all. He usually didn't have to think when he played. "I'm cute, but I only /act/ stupid, you know. Despite what Monarch says."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: the hills - the weeknd

Ziminiar picked up one of the chess pieces, turning it between his fingers for a few moments as he contemplated his move and listened to Atlas speak. “Humans have a tendency to make themselves out to be grand creatures, where they are small and insignificant like the insects they so frequently crush underfoot.” He made his move as he spoke, taking one of Atlas’ pawns. “Their lifespans are quite short, so of course it is difficult for many of them to leave a mark on this world; for the better, I would say. Humans are much like livestock; I daresay a sheep on my council would be of more use to me than a human member would be. But the little mortals resist their natural position at the bottom rung of the sentient food chain; they want to be the ones who dictate rather than the dictated, but have no power to attain this.”

“You will find, my dear, that humans are sensitive, regardless of whether they are intoxicated or not. Emotions run wild in the poor wretches, wilder than they run in any of us.” the Demon King sighed. “It makes them so very easy to manipulate and break. One merely has to find the right weak spot and exploit it until they can take no more.”

Ziminiar gave Atlas a light squeeze. “And what a shame it would be if I had to kiss you,” he laughed. “But of course. I will not be exceedingly confident, little pixie, especially with your chess prowess.”

@♛　Ziminiar Atlas had been born and raised within the fae realm. He'd only met his father a few times, and his mother didn't pay much attention to him. He was the result of a fling and his father wasn't anyone powerful, so she didn't care about Atlas much. The pixie had been raised by a nanny, a tall tree spirit woman who had an ever-present frown, the skin around her lips pinched and puckered as if she'd been smoking her life. She always smelled like pine and knobby fingers, but she was kind enough to Atlas. He'd not been around many humans his entire life, so they were still kind of alien to him. "The most experience I have with humans is the thralls," Atlas admitted. "I don't get out much, even though I've moved out of the fae realm."

Shrugging, Atlas reached over to move his knight up and over, leaning back once he finished his move. "The thralls were kind of pathetic. When I was a kid and would go to court, my cousins would throw acorns at them until they cried. I'm curious to meet more humans who aren't drunk on faerie fruit. I wonder if they're much better than the thralls. I suspect not, but I can still be surprised." The pixie laughed. "Most of them turn to dust without creating legacies or wars."

Glancing towards his kitchen, Atlas tried to remember all the ingredients he had in the fridge. "I don't mind," he assured. "Fae prefer sweets, of course. So if you make something too spicy, you'll have to give me the sweetness of thine lips," he said with a teasing grin. "I wouldn't be so confident; I've bested even the generals of all three courts in the fae realm."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: reminder - the weeknd

Ziminiar was quite amused with the way the young phoenix spoke of energy vampires and humans with awful personalities. The conversation was a breath of fresh air in comparison to discussions Ziminiar usually found himself having in his day to day life, and it was quite a relief to converse with someone who wanted to talk about more than political gain and, of course, the political climate in the City of Dreams—which could be particularly hostile, Ziminiar had to admit. "Music and art are appealing, I must admit—though I prefer entertainers who are not human, strictly for their longevity."

The Demon King himself had to snort at the image it painted. "Such is the downfall of the human race—their capacity to succumb to a lack of sanity after the passage of time, when they remain longer than their mortal bodies can handle." He shrugged, dismissive. "I am sure it shall put the wretched creature out of his misery when it happens. Humans are not intended to remain so long. That is what makes them such... interesting little creatures. What do they do, with their lives so brief? Some create lasting legacies and others wage wars."

Ziminiar picked up another of his pieces and moved it, his chuckle soft. "I do indeed know how to cook," he assured the pixie. "Everything I cook tends to turn out spicy, however, so if I do end up cooking I hope that you can handle a bit of heat. I am not, however, planning on losing."

@♛　Ziminiar "That makes sense," Atlas said with a nod. "Energy vampires are a thing too, but I've never met one so I don't know if they're real or if it's just humans that are extra y and just drain the life out of people with their awful personalities." The pixie scratched his head. "Hm...humans are silly. They don't realize how short their lives are until they're gone. The thralls that are kept at court are usually they're because they're beautiful. But most fae are beautiful. It's their dying nature that makes them lovely. Like cherry blossoms, or a broken merry-go-round. That, or they're talented. Fae love music and art, after all."

Atlas smiled slightly as he remembered something. "There's a poet at court who's been there for three hundred years. He was once a great talent, but now he's gone quite mad. Not that the fae mind; they prefer it. At revels he likes to shred up paper and make a nest in a corner while everyone laughs at him. I can't even bring myself to pity him anymore. The king likes his poems and the songs he makes, so he keeps him around and no one dares to kill him or drop him off in the human realm. I imagine once grandfather dies, the poet will too. They're tied together somehow."

Reaching out, Atlas moved one of the black pieces forward two spaces, smiling as he turned his head to look at Ziminiar. "Mundane it is. Then...do you know how to cook? We can say loser has to cook dinner. If we need any ingredients I can ask my house brownie to get them for me. Or I'm sure one of the nixies can get things quickly."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: reminder - the weeknd

"Something like that," agreed Ziminiar. "Incubi and succubi are the closest to vampires, as they feed off of ual energy and therefore also use their allure so they can feed." The demon laughed. "Those who sell their souls are guaranteed to go to hell when they pass on, and their contracts give them only a certain amount of time before their demon contractor comes calling to pick up their end of the bargain, be it ten years, five years, even a matter of months. Sometimes they are so desperate they do not stop to consider if what they are doing is worth it, but the demons are of course the ones to blame for the bad decisions of humans."

"That sounds quite a lot like hell. So many Demon Kings, and yet only four who are considered the true leaders of hell's powers. No matter where one goes, politics will be politics and politicians do love to make deals with devils." He knew that quite well, after all.

"Demons have to uphold our ends of our deals, or else we do not collect the souls we bargain for," Ziminiar replied. "I never did care much for those bargains," hence why he was a Mayor and had the power to make deals that would affect far more than just one person, "so let us wager on something that is not a favor or a deal. After all, why mix business with pleasure?"

"Thank you," Ziminiar murmured. The hand that had been on Atlas' thigh moved to pick up one of the pawns and move it, settling it two spaces forward. "I look forward to seeing how this plays out. It has been a while since I've played."

@♛　Ziminiar "So you're kind of like vampires," Atlas commented. "They're supposed to be alluring, too. Though their goal is to eat, not to buy their souls. I don't really care what someone does with their soul. Their choice and all that. Though I'm curious...when you have someone's soul, what do you do with it? Does it just mean that when they die they go to hell? Or are their other consequences for it?" he asked curiously. "I agree about humans being fools. I didn't go to court much, but there were often thralls there. Pets. They get warned not to eat any food and do it anyway, then they beg and beg for more until the fae all of the life out of them and get bored. Then they return them to the human realm, but by then decades have passed."

The pixie shrugged. "Oh, I'm not close to him. There are a lot of gentry at court. My mother has forty siblings and only two of her brothers are considered favored. The king probably doesn't remember that I exist. I don't mind though; politics are annoying. Everyone who attends court is only there for their own good, not the good of the realm or court. But that's all politics."

Atlas passed his hands over the chess pieces thoughtfully, a slow grin coming to his face. "We could play for a favor," he suggested slowly. "Fae are bound to the favors we make. We have to fulfill them. I imagine demons are similar, yes? But that sounds kind of boring. I hate dealing in favors. So what do you suggest we deal in?" he asked, looking at the demon king. "Something more exciting and higher stakes, or something more mundane? That might be a nice change for you." Atlas turned the board. "I'll let you go first," he said, motioning to the white pieces.

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: M A N I A - the weeknd

"You are not wrong," chuckled Ziminiar. "Demons are intended to be alluring, to draw victims in and tempt humans to sin and to sell their souls for personal gain... usually deals which aren't worth it for the human, but what can I say? If they sell their own soul, that's their choice. They sell their souls for fame, for fortune, for a woman or a man... Humans are gullible fools. You can charm them with a smile."

Ziminiar snorted. "She doesn't have to be, if she is connected to someone who has great power. That is how those who want to worm their way in, to get favors passed up the command chain, will view it." He smoothed his thumb across the back of Atlas' hand. "I am sorry to hear that about your grandfather, but such is life."

"Let us not talk about your cousin then." Ziminiar waved his hand dismissively. "I have plenty of time. I could take us to a place where time passes differently, if I so desired... but as of now, we have time." He wasn't expected back in the city that evening. He had made sure to inform his secretary that he would be occupied until the next morning. Once in a while, taking a little time to himself wasn't something that should be frowned upon; he was always working. "I do not sleep, so if you were to fall asleep... well, I would probably talk to your charming alligator friend until you awoke. But admittedly your attention would be quite preferable."

The mayor tucked an arm around Atlas' waist, holding him firm but not tight and resting his free hand on the pixie's thigh. "I would hardly refuse the chance to play a game of chess against you, little pixie. What are the stakes we're playing?"

@♛　Ziminiar "A flower," Atlas confirmed with a nod. "Colorful, pretty. Could be poisonous or carnivorous. But a lovely part of nature nonetheless. Nature is wonderful because it can thrive and flourish and produce wonderful gifts to us, but some plants can choke the life out of others and kill a species out and still look just as lovely doing it. Aren't demons supposed to be like that? I've never met one before you, so you'll have to tell me if that's right or not."

Atlas tilted his head a bit as Ziminiar grabbed onto his hand, but the pixie didn't pull away. "Yeah, well. My mom's not even in line for the throne. Grandpa won't be alive much longer, either. You can already see how flowers are less colorful, crops aren't doing as well, and water is less sweet. His connection with the earth is dying. Which means political turmoil, and I don't have the energy for all of that. Monarch's going to try to take over and has said I could be his strategist but..." Atlas shrugged.

"Anyway, enough about all of that. I really /don't/ want to think about politics or my cousin when I'm with someone as gorgeous as you are. I'm not sure if you're in a hurry, but I have nothing but time to devote to you. Not as much energy, admittedly, but I can promise I won't fall asleep on you and that you'll have my full attention. My full everything, really. If you want it, that is."

The pixie turned to look at the tall mayor and regarded him thoughtfully for a second before he stood and moved to sit in his lap, Atlas's legs hanging over the other's. "I did, didn't I?" he said with a grin as he turned the chessboard. "Do you actually want to play chess, or should we skip it? I'm a very good player though. I've beat all the fae nobility, but I've never had the chance to play a demon king."

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: reminder - the weeknd

"A flower?" Ziminiar repeated. That was a new one, for the Demon King of the North. "I don't believe anyone's ever told me that I looked like one of those before." Not even in any of his past forms, and Ziminiar had taken many. This, however, he would admit was his favorite—no one challenged him, when he loomed over anyone in his vicinity and had the teeth and eyes of blue electricity and power at his fingertips. Even hell left him alone, most days.

"I noticed, as I was walking through, that it is more beautiful than a mortal would care to admit," the Demon King agreed. "I can certainly see the appeal it would hold, particularly to a spirit of nature such as yourself." He wrinkled his nose. "Ah, the curse of the nobility—forever hounded by those who would want to use you to better themselves." It was the same for one of the Demon Kings of the Cardinal Directions, and it was certainly the same for a mayor. He understood the desire to avoid such nuisances.

Intrigued, Ziminiar's eyes followed Atlas as the pixie scooped up his snake friend. "I hardly mind snakes, Atlas. My best friend is a Gorgon who deposits snakes in my bed at each chance he gets. I find them... endearing." He ducked through the doorway after the pixie, forced to maintain a hunched posture as he closed the door behind himself and huffed a quiet laugh. "Not many buildings I had been in before the construction of the City of Dreams were built for men of my stature. It is hardly a bother."

Once Atlas was seated, the mayor sat on the other end of the couch. His brow quirked when the pixie touched him, but he turned his palm over and caught the young man's hand in one of his own, dwarfing the fae's dainty appendage in his hold.

"I am quite fond of chess," Ziminiar replied, "but I do believe you are sitting in the wrong spot—I seem to recall someone mentioning that he wanted to sit on my lap."

@♛　Ziminiar Atlas looked Ziminiar up and down, admiring the colors of his suit. "You look like a flower," he said absentmindedly before he looked back up at the demon and smiled right back, not minding the teeth; his mother had similar teeth, after all. Pointy teeth weren't rare for fae. Besides, Atlas found them oddly attractive, though not even he was sure why that was.

"Oh, don't worry. I have nothing but patience since I never do anything. And the swamp is beautiful; it's its own unique ecosystem. Things thrive in swamps. That's why I like it so much here." Atlas smiled at the compliment, opening his door further. "I prefer inside. If I sit outside for too long, other fae start to seek me out for favors. My mom's gentry so they think I can get her to do something."

Atlas stepped back into his home, nearly tripping over Spook, who had come to see what was going on. "Spook," he scolded, reaching down to pick the snake up and carry him further into the house. "Sorry, he gets curious since I never have other people over besides Monarch, and my house brownie. Anyway, watch your head. This hut was built for...well, not built for those with your absolutely attractive stature. Once you're sitting there shouldn't be a problem, though."

Setting the snake down on a heated rock he had set up in a corner, Atlas carefully sat on his plush couch, watching the tall demon, still not quite believing he was in his little swamp hut. The pixie slowly reached out to touch Ziminiar's hand, nodding when he confirmed he was real.

"Do you like chess?" Atlas asked as he straightened the chess board he had on his coffee table with a grin. "Or maybe Chinese Go?"

@♬　Atlas ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 6, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: party monster - the weeknd
↳ ᴢɪᴍɪɴɪᴀʀ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/14/31/88/1431881c12e1dfd08638a91c312e55da.jpg

After some debating, Ziminiar decided that he didn’t need to change out of what he had worn for most of the day. He had spent his day lounging around his home and taking his tiger for a walk, when he wasn’t at his office to sign a few papers authorizing the release of information about the attack in April (yadayadayada, the city’s mayor had been rather bored with that) before someone had abducted one of the other politicians in the building. No sweat off of Ziminiar’s back. He could care less.

He was more interested in the pixie that had messaged him. It had been some time since someone had the bravery to approach Ziminiar in such a manner, and longer still since the mayor’s interest had been sparked by an individual. The mayor didn’t have time for shyness or beating around the bush. He was a busy man, after all.

So when someone actually intrigued him, it came as a surprise to him.

Ziminiar enjoyed the stroll out into the forest, a place he didn’t venture often. Without any reason to go, he tended to stay in the city and attend to business matters. But today, someone had given him reason, and he took his time on his walk to enjoy nature and absorb the feeling of being somewhere that wasn’t overrun by cars and people and papers he had to sign.

The swamp reminded him of certain parts of hell as he walked through, occasionally stopping to enjoy the sight of the animals in their natural habits. He hadn’t heard of a pixie that chose to reside in a swamp before, despite his many years, but perhaps that was because his life was limited to hell, office work, and in the time before he had established this city, wandering in search of a reason to remain.

Arriving at the hut, Ziminiar paused to scratch the alligator beneath the chin before continuing on his path. He was about to knock on the door when it swung open, his gaze dropping to the pixie in the doorway. Ziminiar was accustomed to towering over those around him, but pixies were already a small species by nature, which contributed to the mayor having to gaze downward to look into his eyes.

“I did,” Ziminiar agreed, lips pulling back in a smile that showed sharp teeth. “Apologies on the wait, I rarely get to escape the city and took my time on the walk.” Giving the pixie a once-over, Ziminiar added, “You look quite lovely, my dear. Would you like to talk inside, or outside?”

　⤿ atlas's hut: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/31/80/e8/3180e88e3693bb35e0b23577c22e298f.jpg
　⤿ atlas: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/63/f9/aa/63f9aa1da07a301fea78f941503961c3.jpg

"Ziminiar is coming over," Atlas commented to one of his frogs in the enclosure nearest to him casually. Then he paused. His dark green eyes widened in horror as he sat up straight. "Ziminiar is coming over," he repeated, flinging the blankets off of his bed and scrambling out of it.

"," he cursed as he ran around his house, picking up the dirty clothes off of his floor and shoving them into the laundry basket in his closet. ", , ," he repeated like a mantra, stepping over his albino ball python and hurrying to wash up the few dishes that he had piled in the sink. Atlas quickly set them all on the drying rack, then headed to the bathroom next. Thankfully it wasn't too bad, he just needed to organize all of the skincare he had on the counter and hide away the trash can under the sink.

Next was the tiny living area he had, which was really just a large dark green couch covered in pillows and thick wool blankets. He folded the blanket and set it over the back of the couch, then cleaned up the trash from the tiny coffee table he had sitting in front of it. After taking a duster to the TV and his multiple gaming consoles, he let out a sigh of breath as he sank down on his couch, chest heaving since he was out of breath.

Spook slowly slithered up next to him, the snake looking at him inquisitively. "Company," Atlas explained, raking his fingers back through his dark fur. "I know. I usually only clean once a month, or the brownie does it. It's fine." Spook seemed to tilt his head at the pixie, and Atlas slowly looked up at his ceiling. "Uh...it's probably fine, right? He can sit down, and the entryway's ceilings are tall enough. Not like he'll be standing the whole time, right?"

Then one of his frogs croaked, and he heard a familiar low growl from outside from Sir Reginald. "I think he's here," he said to Spook, quickly getting up. Atlas was very glad he'd decided to shower that morning, and that he had on a nice outfit today. Going to the door, he opened it and smiled as he looked up at his visitor. "You made it."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN The interruption that seemed to come from the angel's soft spoken words seemed enough to drag the person before him from their trance. Youngmi could already feel a wave of relief rush into him like a wave to the sand the moment the spotted the glint of a ring in the man's hand. He knew quite little of vampires, only that they were creatures of the night, and supposedly had items that could prevent them dying in the wrathful sunlight. Though that information didn't come with experience, so he held it with a pinch of salt. He too drew himself up slightly, clearing his throat to hide the fact that he'd really been quite concerned by the sight of the other creature nearly falling prey to the sun's approaching rays. He gave the rising tips of the sun a slow glance, as though holding a staring contest with it for a moment, before he gave his head a gentle shake, the almost non-existent breeze barely ruffling his hair. It was definitely going to be a bright day. The sun was rising quickly, if Youngmi had decided not to approach.. He shook his head a second time. The vampire had known what he was doing and wouldn't have let himself burn.

With a second glance over the stranger once again, taking in the way the angry red marks were already fading and healing themselves. Youngmi took a few steps into the shade as well, sheltered by a few dancing oak trees in the meadow. "I think so. Eternity is a very long time." Bar the comfort of his own home, the angel preferred to keep his snowy wings tucked safely away out of the view of the eye. He had no need for flying, nowhere to fly to. It didn't rid him of the aura he held, but perhaps it made him a little less intimidating a sight to people. "Please, there's no need to apologise, or to thank me either," Youngmi said with a smile. The image of angels was one of coldness despite people's former image of them being messengers, but the gesture offered to the other was of nothing but warmth. "It certainly seems that way. I suppose coming here so early this morning was the work of Fate." The angel's eyes flickered briefly over the sight of the healed skin, and nodded lightly in approval. It was yet another relief that the marks weren't a permanent hinderance once they'd been created. He found himself sympathising with vampires quite a bit from even this brief interaction with the man. It must be difficult - a life without being able to feel the sun's warmth, and being hurt when it came, he couldn't imagine it.

"Are you well now? I'm glad you've healed so quickly, some of those marks seemed bad." Youngmi could heal to an extent, it came with being what he was, but it seemed he didn't need to offer his help. Now that the anxiousness of the moment had passed, the man had been left quite relaxed. He even let himself settle down on the grass, his knees pulled close, his fingers absentmindedly studying the texture of the grass as he spoke. He had faith that communicating further now that the danger had passed could be a positive route to go down. While he knew nothing of this stranger, had no additional information about him other than the fact that the burns retained from the sun marked him as a vampire, he was quite worried as to what thoughts could lose this man so much to make him oblivious to the concept of burning. "I'm Youngmi, I don't think we've met yet. Or at least not properly. it might've been better under other conditions, but it's nice to meet you."

@LEE YOUNGMI As the sun rose over the horizon to greet the earth, Valor basked in the warmth. When he wore his ring, he did not feel the full glory of the sun; it muffled everything, like a gauze veil over his skin. The sun would touch him but not warm him. Even though he was beginning to burn, the warmth was worth it. And in that moment, surrounded by the awakening earth in the warm embrace of the sun, Valor did not think about putting the ring back on. He was happy to be, and to become, but a voice nearby stopped him. The sound of their voice made the breath rush out of Valor, and just like that it was no longer the crisp morning hair that was sharpening him, it was a person.

The magic of the moment halted, and as Valor's amber eyes opened, he fully realized what he was doing. Valor's father always told him that everything happened for a reason. Someone disrupting him was enough of a sign for Valor that his time on earth was not yet done, and so he soundlessly slipped the ring back on. At once his skin stopped blistering, but was not beginning to heal just yet. He rose from his spot on the grass, then strode into the shade. With the sun no longer touching his skin, he began to heal. The blistered closed, and any redness faded to pink, then to white, leaving the lightest of scars on the vampire's pale skin. Scars from fire did not fade, but these would in a day or so. Sunlight was more forgiving than fire.

A slow smile devoid of any mirth spread across Valor's lips as he adjusted the ring, then fixed the cuffs of his sleeves. "It is a gorgeous morning," he agreed, gaze slipping back over towards the sun. "Too gorgeous to indulge in for eternity, it would seem." Now the vampire focused his gaze on the stranger, pausing as he took him in. He had a strange light, a sort of aura about him that made Valor think he had a touch of godliness to him. An angel, perhaps, or a demigod. It was the sort of light that rouse a strange sort of jealousy in Valor's cold, empty chest. "I apologize. I was caught up in my thoughts and was not paying attention to my surroundings." Valor lifted one hand whose knuckles had been burned, but now were perfectly healed. "It would appear the universe sent you my way. As for the reason why, I haven't the slightest idea. But I suppose I should thank you nonetheless."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN (This isn’t amazing as I’m on mobile, but I hope it’s okay to steal this thread! Please lemme know if I need to change anything as well)

Youngmi inhaled a breath of crisp fresh air. The peacefulness of the meadow at dawn never ceased to amaze him. The way dew droplets were just forming on the flower petals, making the place glow like a fairy garden from a fantasy movie. Earth was so beautiful, though he rarely took the time to fully appreciate it. He regularly had an early start to each day, waking up as the sun just breached the horizon to greet it and say hello to the morning, it was no new thing to him, but he never found himself taking long to appreciate the world around him. It was always a swift jog, then a retreat to the tasks he had for the day.

Frequently, the angel’s arrival and departure was swift. But as he approached the meadow in all it’s glory he could’ve sworn he saw another person not far away. Squinting briefly, he was even more positive of it. They were unfamiliar from all he could tell. Well, he hadn’t spent much time socialising outside of work yet, so most people didn’t ring a bell in his mind, but he was sure he hadn’t met this particular person properly yet. They were simply enjoying the sunrise and what the meadow had to offer, weren’t they?

For a brief moment, the angel glanced away, deciding it was best to get on with his run and not intrude on another person’s peaceful start to the day. Some unknown string of thought continued to snag at his mind though, leaving him standing looking very much like an alert hare staring at another person across the grass. It couldn’t hurt to just say hello, to shake the gnawing at his mind he could feel. He had no drive on where it stemmed from, why he even assumed anything was going on from how far away he was and the unclear view he had. With sure footed steps Youngmi approached, playing a mental game of chess against himself to determine how he’d play out the situation. This was more than likely just a person trying to enjoy their morning and the man was coming up to disturb them with chatter.

“It’s a gorgeous morning, isn’t it?”
The call was only gentle, even a little hesitant in nature. But the faint scent of burning sent his stomach twisting into constrictor knots in the pit of his stomach.
“Hey.. maybe it’s a good idea to come into the shade?”
It couldn’t hurt to speak to this person, entranced by the sunlight. They might just be enjoying their morning.