Who: Astarte/Astaroth & Beelzebub. What: Star felt lonely. When: Before Star has fully settled in Boston. Where: Zim's Compound. Rating: TBA, but probably will be 'mature'. Status: Incomplete
The room was beautiful, though it was not in a fashion which Astarte herself would have decided upon. It felt monotone, really. There was a balance to it that Astaroth enjoyed, of course - for it brought a type of relaxing symmetry to the senses which the feminine aspect of the shared shell could not appreciate at her core. She didn't complain, at least not out loud where she could be heard. After all, Star wasn't supposed to be there. She didn't want one of her favorite mate's followers to find her there before he did himself. So, as she sat on the bed - the best part of the large room aside from the weaponry on display - she turned her thoughts inward as usual. The one who sat inside of her brain, shared her body with her, listened with slight disinterest but a much different conviction on the view. It was nothing unusual, really. They could be as different as night and day on most things, at least the random and rather unimportant ones anyway.
You do know that this room is built around a concept many consider the height of beauty, yes? Astaroth's deep voice purred within her, and she rolled her eyes in a silent show of annoyance. Outwardly.
Those many are fools who have no idea what beauty is. Considering my role within civilization, I'd think my opinions far outweigh your own, or those of any other being. Astarte's inner voice was haughty, the snobbish outlooks empowered by her personality something she had no care to ever censor.
Ancient civilization, Astarte. Astaroth's droll return made the almond shaped eyes burn as if they contained blue-violet fire, and as she let out a vocal growl in to the room, Astaroth's inner laughter came with ease. You know that it is true. You should not feel bad, of course. Taste is a fickle thing, is it not? Changing between beings so easily. Calm down, please. I do not think that he'd appreciate you ripping his fine belongings to pieces just because you and I have disagreed upon them. Then, a soft sigh was shared between them. Besides, think on this. . . He thinks that you are beautiful, oh great Queen of Heaven. Does that count for nothing where his tastes are concerned? Do not be so quick to dismiss the calm balance of such beauty to be found here. Not all can be the wild morning glory wrapping her tendrils around all she touches. . .
"You could melt cold Heaven with that tongue, you young snake." Astarte said out loud, finally - her voice a mere whisper. Together, she and Astaroth both laughed - a strange, eerie mix of a feminine giggle and a masculine chuckle that combined in the air around the small, delicate form. Astarte, dressed in a revealing white lace dressing gown and nothing more, lay back in the soft comfort of the sheets of her favorite lover's bed, closed her eyes as she smiled, and waited for the one who owned the room to come forth from wherever he was hiding. She'd been so lonesome for him, after all. Even Astaroth had approved of the teleporting in, and that was rare for the masculine aspect to willingly indulge the feminine without an argument.