Who: Belial and Abibaal What: Meeting for a private show. Where: The Celestial Realm When: Saturday night, 4/7 Warnings: TBA
Not that Belial was anything less than frugal with compliments, but the Celestial Realm was one of his favorite places. He and Astarte had always had a fairly comfortable rapport, even after she became the consort of Ba'al. In a number of respects they were much alike, and though he could no longer trust her with the full content of his thoughts like he did when they were very young, considering who she spent her time with, he still held her in high regard. They had spent many afternoons in one another's company. She was almost... almost safe.
That's why it was such a pity that Ba'al had taken her from him. Sloppy, disgusting Ba'al, who deigned to position himself above him and be living proof of how much his lord's heart had moved away from him –
Belial did not want to think on it now. It would do no good to ruin his facade with anger. He had a goal in mind that night as he stepped into the burlesque uncharacteristically alone. No crowds of followers to pad his aura, just himself and the frosty minimalism of a white suit and loose, flowing hair. He permeated the crowds on his small frame and in a way almost looked fragile; a white slip of a shadow against the busy organic lines of the rich decorations. Belial had purposely posed himself this way on this night because he wanted to seem a little more... approachable than he usually did. He didn't need the first child of Astarte and Ba'al to fear him. He needed him to open to him, to trust him enough to reveal his potential to him and let himself be guaged.
Still, Belial was Belial and he wouldn't have been had he not included something sharp and beautiful in his image. A clutch of diamonds created dagger angles in the soft pit of his throat, glistening like ice, and dripped from his ears whenever his hair swayed away from them. His keen eyes found his goal in mind at the bar, chatting with the bartender. From the outside, Abibaal looked like a fine, healthy spawn – such glamor, and such an attitude. That alone was enough to make Belial want to play with him, and it made his task so much easier. He approached casually, gliding up from behind and letting his presence soak in before he did, then leaning his hip on the bar beside Abibaal and giving him a narrow-eyed look of inquisition.
"Hey, boy. Are you getting my drink?" He held his ground in the seriousness of his tone, but there was a hitch to the corners of his mouth as if to say that it was some sort of elaborate joke.