Chapter Text
Vassago stood in the grandiose palace of the prominent Duke Malphas for the raven's wedding reception. The duke and his new bride, a lovely young bluebird, were still receiving well wishes from other members of the Goetia. The prince's eyes briefly skimmed over the joyous couple before searching around the room for nothing in particular, catching on the glittering lights of the hanging chandeliers.
Somehow it was all dreadfully boring to him; he could not see the stunning beauty within the opulence on display. He debated leaving the party of lords and ladies he found himself among to partake in some of the delicious desserts laid out for guests that were being ignored for idle gossip and hollow small talk. No one here had an interest in discussing fencing maneuvers or a riveting game of chess, which were some of Vassago's recent interests that held his thoughts in a vice-like grip.
He looked to his compatriots once again, his excuse to step away at the tip of his tongue when he noted Prince Stolas was within their gathering. He was also staring off into the middle distance, not engaging in conversation much like Vassago. Although he seemed to be keeping a steady flow of alcohol raised to his beak, it was not an uncommon sight for the owl.
Perhaps he would strike up a conversation with the fellow prince about plants. He knew Stolas had quite the renowned garden among the royals, and even more impressive, he was directly involved in the cultivation of his plants. Vassago slipped around a few people to get closer before speaking out, “ Hola Prince Stolas, how is your collection of spatium praereptor?”
Stolas did not react to his question, still staring off. Vassago glanced the way Stolas was looking. There was a rather large window in his line of sight, the starry night sky visible from it. Stolas was particularly entangled with astronomy; he knew the prince could also divine prophecies from the stars, although Vassago’s abilities extended to past and present events with no reliance on the skies. His interest in the stars was perhaps not as deep anymore, having moved on to another curiosity when one sparked his attention.
Vassago cleared his throat. “Stolas?”
Slowly, Stolas blinked and brought his attention towards Vassago. Now he noticed the tiredness surrounding his eyes and the lack of sheen in his grey feathers. “Oh my apologies, Prince Vassago. I was… distracted for a moment. How are you?”
“I am quite well. I was curious if you have added any-” His question was cut off by a shriek within the crowded room.
“Oh fuck you! Not like you’ve never seen an imp before bitch.” A voice rang out, and at the sound, Stolas groaned.
Vassago looked towards the source, watching as Goetia practically threw themselves out of the way of an imp who was racing past them. He smirked at the women who had screamed, offering up two middle fingers, and Vassago was instantly struck by this man.
His smile was stunning, brimming with ease and confidence as he quickly strode through the crowd of demons who towered over him, not only in height but power and station. His skin was deep red, his face nearly split in half from a white marking and a splash of yellow with his eyes; it was so very much like his own colour patterns.
His horns were large and curved enticingly, as if begging to have a hand run across them. Surely this demon must be incredibly strong to carry these all day and maintain such grace while moving.
He was stalking forward right for Vassago, his gaze intense on his goal. Vassago felt so entranced by this demon, his heart was racing wildly. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to touch and make sure this person was real, ask for his name, his whole life story.
art by: Doria
The imp was nearly upon him, his pace quickening before he fell face first on the ground, seemingly tripping on nothing, yet Vassago felt a tingle of magic in the air. “Go away,” Stolas snapped, looking down at the man.
“Stolas!” He scrambled to get up. Vassago looked between the imp and Prince Stolas, who was turning away slightly, arms crossed tight around himself. The demon pulled a paper out of his jacket pocket “Will you wait just a second? All I wanted is– was a second alone with you so I could…” his eyes squinted at the words before he continued, “explain things!”
Vassago tilted his head, even more intrigued at what was happening here. This imp was trying to profess something to a demon prince… who seemed to know him and be entirely uninterested. In fact, as the imp was speaking Stolas had subtly waved over security.
Two hellhounds approached from behind the imp and attempted to scoop him up. He dropped the sheet of paper to grab for a flintlock pistol within a shoulder holster and snapped, “Why the fuck do they even need you guys? These fucks are stronger then us combined!”
Before he had the gun fully out where it could be visible by too many, it was awash in a cyan and violet magic forcing it back into place. He was unable to remove it and glared at Stolas, knowing the owl had done this. Vassago found it very curious. Stolas must care somewhat about this person to help him this way; if that gun had been pulled out, another Goetia might have popped his handsome face for the slight.
“You can’t just avoid me forever, Stolas!” he yelled as the security guards dragged him off, kicking and shouting profanity the whole way. Stolas turned and stormed off deeper into the palace as members of the Goetia started to titter and whisper about the interruption.
Vassago leaned down to pick up the dropped paper. The writing was messy, becoming less legible as it went on, suggesting the writer was a bit impatient. The speech looked oddly familiar to him, perhaps he had heard it in a film once. Vassago followed after them, leaving the wedding reception behind.
He stepped outside in time to see the hellhounds tossing the imp unceremoniously down the steps. Before returning inside they gave a slight bow to Vassago, who breezed past them. The imp was on his hands and knees scooping up dozens of papers scattered to the ground, softly muttering to himself. Vassago knelt down to help him gather the pages.
He noticed that some of these were covered in that chaotic writing while others had drawings. One, in particular, depicted the imp carrying Prince Stolas bridal style down an aisle as he flipped off another man standing at the altar, whose face was scribbled out and P.O.S. written on his shirt.
“What! Are you here to make fun of me!” The man was looking at Vassago now, his voice startling him back to attention. He nearly lost his breath when those eyes bored into his own, so sharp and focused.
“No, I was just trying to help.” He held out the papers he had gathered.
The imp chewed on his lower lip, eyes glancing down while his tail slowly swished behind him. He finally took the papers, adding them to his pile “Thanks.” Vassago stood up, offered a hand to help him stand as well but was ignored.
“May I ask what you were hoping to accomplish in there?” He stepped after the imp when he turned to leave. It would be a shame if he did not at least gain this man's name before he disappeared.
He hesitated a moment, looking Vassago up and down a few times, his eyes clouded with skepticism. Vassago found himself tugging at his collar while being scrutinized and thoroughly judged by this stranger. “He likes rom-coms.” The imps' voice was low. “It’s stupid and real life isn’t like that… but he likes them, so I’m trying.” He paused for a moment, Vassago thought that might be all he would receive as an answer but he continued, “They always have those big romantic speeches, y’know? Like an ‘I object’ speech at a wedding. I thought it might work.” He shrugged, “Guess I’ll try the next thing.”
So the imp was trying to win Stolas’ affections, and not very successfully, it appeared. “Don’t those things happen at the romantic interest’s wedding? This was another Goeita’s wedding reception.”
“Yeah, well he is already married so it’s a little late for that.” The imp started walking towards the gate but looked back at Vassago, who took this as an invitation to follow and continue talking, which thrilled him to no end.
“ Vaya, I heard they were separating.” He watched as the imp perked up at that news, his eyes widened and his tail whipped around excitedly for a brief second.
“Oh shit, I don’t want him to get remarried though. Do you think one of those stuffy fucking lords is going to ask him? He’ll probably have a bunch of those assholes trying to get with him too, he’s so fucking pretty.” He turned back to the palace entrance, glaring daggers, then he flinched, realizing what he said and looking up at Vassago hesitantly. “Uh no offense to you… um…”
art by: minkas
He felt the feathers in his crest lifting with his excitement. “Vassago.”
“Aren’t you a fancy lord or duke or something?”
“Just Vassago is fine.” He felt as if this man would value someone uninterested in their title and the weight it carried.
He scrutinized him briefly again then held out a hand. “Blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent.” Vassago eagerly gave him his hand, nearly missing the name as he focused on the heat of his large palm engulfing his gloved hand. He wished he did not have those gloves on. He wanted to feel his skin against his talons, the tickle of his claws against his wrist; he had never reacted this way to a simple handshake before.
“I’m sorry, what ‘o’?” he asked, frowning when the imp retracted his hand.
“The one in my name.” He looked at Vassago as if he was an idiot for even asking, then broke into a small smile, like he was enjoying his inside joke, before reaching into a pocket and producing a small card. “Here, this is my business card.”
It was a clever logo design with the letters I.M.P with the M fashioned like a pair of imp horns. Under was the business title ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’. When Vassago turned it over, he saw Blitzø’s full name featuring a hand-crossed out ‘o’, company phone number, and personal cell phone.
“If you need someone dead on Earth, give me a call. I’ll give you a good rate.” Blitzø flashed a toothy grin at Vassago and he felt his feathers raise once more as heat spread across his cheeks. “See you around, Vassago.”
They were standing on the street now. After saying his goodbye the imp pulled out a set of keys and approached a banged-up van, Blitzø gave Vassago a final wave after climbing in. He watched the vehicle drive off into the night, clutching the card to his chest.
When Vassago had woken up this morning no part of him expected that by the night's end, he would know the experience of love at first sight.
Vassago had finally returned home. He had spent the rest of the reception passing through the groupings of nobles hoping to glean some interesting gossip about Blitzø. Naturally, everyone was more interested in speaking of Stolas, no one seemed to know who the imp had been, so Vassago excused himself early.
He was lying on his bed holding the business card in one hand, the other grazing over the embossed lettering of ‘Blitzø Buckzo.’ Involuntarily, he felt his magic swirling to life around him, the siren call to gaze into future events. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths until it dissipated. He did not like gazing into his own future, had stopped many years ago when he’d seen himself tangled in the sheets with someone he could not stand.
Vassago shook his head, trying to physically force the memory away before it took hold of his thoughts again. He pulled out his cell phone instead, looking up Blitzø’s business; it had been open for a few years now and it boasted speedy assassinations of humans on Earth. He found it to be quite the clever idea, capitalizing on vengeful sinners, especially since it was nearly impossible for an imp to start their own business.
He scrolled through photos posted on the website dating back to their very first human kill. Someone else must have taken over this portion of the site as the pictures went from selfies of Blitzø in front of rather grotesque murder scenes to clients smiling while shaking hands with one of the staff, sometimes holding a bloody weapon, presumably used to kill the target. Or candid shots around the office. Vassago thought he might have spied Stolas’ feathered tail in the background of one.
Vassago ended up saving a photo of Blitzø taken in front of a dry-erase board. He had a manic smile on his face as he proudly showed off a ‘flawless murder plan’, as it was titled. It took a bit of work for Vassago to read the writing, but it was just another thing he found so charming about Blitzø.
art by: minkas
When he’d run out of content, he set about simply searching Blitzø on Vooxle. Not much came up, there was a poster for a one-night circus act he found odd, not expecting Blitzø to have a background in clowning.
He wanted to see the imps' past, how he went from clown to assassin, how he had crossed paths with Stolas, and the nature of their relationship. When the magic once again stirred around him to entice him to peek, Vassago got up from his bed and went to his study.
Trying to refuse the urge, he instead started up a solo game of chess. He had been practicing a more aggressive response to the Sicilian Defense opening; surely this would keep his mind occupied enough that he would not give in to temptation. Still, the magic curled around his body, begging him to look even momentarily. Vassago gave up on the chess game after staring at the pieces for ten minutes, opting to pace through the stacks of books.
“¡Basta! ” he shouted to no one but himself when he finally gave in and let his magic do as it beckoned. Gazing into the past, his sight was overcome with a memory. Two young boys were running around a palace, clearly one was Prince Stolas and the other had to be Blitzø, although the imp's face was unbroken by the white mark. They were shoving all manner of jewels into a large sack. The memory abruptly changed on its own, green flames swirling around, practically making Vassago choke on the smoke in its suddenness. He forced it to shift once more, and now Blitzø was being dragged by Hellhound security guards. It was not from tonight's event however, it was at Stolas’ palace. And instead of sending him away, the prince led him to his bedroom.
art by: minkas
Vassago shut down the vision. It was clear where things were headed, and he was not interested in seeing any bedroom sport the two may have engaged in. His magic seemed content with this though, his own mind clearer after its use. There was some guilt settling in his gut; he really tried not to spy on others. He was often required to use his magic in court trials, as it made judgment much easier when Vassago simply showed the crime being committed.
He slumped into a nearby armchair, feeling worn down from his brief use of magic, which was not uncommon when viewing past events that held deep significance to someone. Once again, Vassago took out the business card, this time adding Blitzø to his phone contacts. He wanted to meet him again and find some reason to reach out. He debated hiring I.M.P. but that would not accomplish what he wanted. Perhaps he would invite him out for coffee and hope for the best.
It was a few days before Vassago gathered the courage to call Blitzø. He had tried the morning after they met, calling the business line, but a woman answered the phone and he promptly hung up. So now he was trying the imp’s personal cell phone, he listened as it rang over and over, debating just ending the call when it finally clicked on.
“What?” Came Blitzø’s impatient voice.
Vassago cleared his throat, “Hola Blitzø, it is Vassago, we met the other night-”
“Yeah, I remember, what's up? You have somebody you need dead?” Vassago could hear a door closing in the background.
“Actually, I was hoping we could meet for coffee.” His heart was practically leaping out of his chest.
“Hm, if it's about a target I don't usually do out-of-office meetings.”
“Well, it's not quite work related… I was thinking we could go to this cafe, Espresso Emporium.” He listened for Blitzø to respond. The imp was making a noncommittal sound. Vassago decided desperate times called for desperate measures. “Actually I was hoping to help you with your rom-com endeavor. Stolas frequents that cafe. Perhaps the two of you would run into each other.”
“Like a meet-cute!” Blitzø practically shouted. Suddenly Vassago could hear papers being shuffled around. “Does he really go there a lot? Do you know when he might go next?”
“Um, I’m unsure of his personal schedule, but perhaps he will visit for a drink today.” To be fair, he did not know if Stolas had ever actually gone to this cafe. He’d seen him at Richest Cup a handful of times, but with the business slogan ‘ Where the poor pour for you ’ , Vassago thought it would be best to avoid inviting Blitzø out there.
“I could be there in a few minutes, let me just tell everyone to go for a long lunch. Oh, I guess I should ask if you have portal magic too?”
“Sí, I can be there at a moment's notice as well.” He was so excited that Blitzø agreed to meet with him, he would find a way to keep these meetings recurring.
“Okay, I could’ve gotten you if not, I’ll just meet you there.”
Vassago cursed himself out, he should have lied. “See you pronto.” Blitzø gave a goodbye and they both hung up. Vassago leapt up and checked his feathers in the mirror, tamping down the ones at his crest that had lifted in his excitement.
He opened a portal to the cafe and decided to grab a seat for them by the window. It was an especially cozy establishment; large plush chairs at two-person tables, a shelf of books at one end of the cafe and hanging plants created a soft and intimate atmosphere.
Vassago gazed out the window, watching for Blitzø to arrive. After a few minutes, a crystalline portal opened and out stepped the imp. He must have worked under Asmodeus' jurisdiction, which Vassago found very intriguing; he would have to ask how that came about.
When Blitzø walked in, he looked around quickly and Vassago waved him over, relieved when Blitzø smiled and returned the gesture. He climbed onto the chair as Vassago asked, “How are you? How has work been?”
“Uh, work is good, taking on a lot more contracts.” Blitzø rubbed the back of his head. A waiter came over before they could continue. Blitzø ordered an iced coffee with extra sugar and Vassago chose a vanilla almond latte. “Are you friends with Stolas?”
“Not really. More like acquaintances,” Vassago answered truthfully.
Blitzø frowned. “I think he has a lot of those.”
“It’s more common than you might think. Nobles can be quite capricious.” He did not count many to be true friends, most were quick to turn their backs in light of gossip or far too ready with a cloaked barb. “Tan volubles.”
“Yeah, so why do you want to help me out then?” Blitzø had a skeptical look in his eyes. Vassago once again felt as if his very soul was being laid bare in this gaze, as if Blitzø would be able to discern his inner thoughts and desires.
“Curiosity. You have piqued my interest.” It was the truth, at least a partial one. He did not actually wish to help Blitzø gain Stolas' attention, but his own.
“Okay.” Blitzø pulled out some folded paper from his jacket, the same ones from the other night. “So I’ve been trying to win Stolas back using those cheesy rom-com tropes he likes so much. I have a list, I've tried a few but it hasn’t worked yet. Might help if I have someone to… get him places where I can try some other ones.”
Their drinks arrived and Blitzø immediately sucked back his, letting out a happy moan. “That's fucking delicious.”
Vassago smiled, feeling the feathers around his neck ruffle at the sounds Blitzø was making. “They do have amazing coffee here.” He sipped on his own drink, licking the foam off his beak.
“Yours sounded good, can I try some?” Blitzø looked at the mug in Vassago’s hand.
“You– want to share from my cup?” His face must have been completely red now, based on the heat he felt spreading across it.
“I don’t have cooties if that's what you're worried about.” Blitzø rolled his eyes, “And you can have a sip of mine if you want.”
art by: minkas
“Oh, I don’t mind!” He tried not to be too eager as he passed his cup to the imp, distracted as he watched Blitzø’s lips press to the rim, his eyelids hooding at the flavour and the foam coating his upper lip. How Vassago wanted to brush it off with his own talons and taste it, but instead he was treated to the imps forked tongue poking out to clean it.
Blitzø put the mug back in front of Vassago. “Thanks, that's good. You didn’t want to try mine?” Without meaning to, Vassago shook his head. “Suit yourself.” Blitzø shrugged. “Anyways, these are my ideas to win back Stolas.”
He held the papers out and Vassago opened them up, attempting to read over the writing (thankfully there were plenty of drawings accompanying the list), while also trying to nonchalantly turn the mug so he could drink from the same place Blitzø had. His heart raced from the indirect kiss they were sharing.
Returning his attention to the page, he looked over the title ‘ Win back Stols ’ surrounded by hearts and what Vassago could only assume were horse versions of Stolas and Blitzø. The list read as:
- One bed - my couch?
Boombox outside window- Anonymous pen pals/magic mailbox - knows my handwriting
- Crash wedding - don’t marry that
ugly fucking twunkguy speech? - Meet cute - maybe if he got amnesia
- AMNESIA! - Stolas falls down the stairs? Don’t want to push him
Or pretend I have it? Have to fuck to remember! - Train - say the thing
- Rain confession - what if it's sunny out… use a hose?
“You certainly have artistic talent.” Vassago couldn’t help but laugh at some of the drawings — an incubus gentleman being shot, Stolas surrounded by question marks saying ‘ Blitzy ’, the two of them eating burgers at a Wacdonalds, and a rather large drawing of a train. He pointed at the train. “This one—”
“That one would be good. Do you think you could get him to go on a train?” Blitzø excitedly interrupted him.
“Why?”
“So I can tell him not to get on it, keep up.” Blitzø shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Hm, I don’t know how that would come up naturally.” Vassago continued down the list, there were a lot of ideas notated. “What have you tried so far other than the wedding?”
“I did the boombox outside of his room. Really thought it would work.” Blitzø’s tail swished behind him like he was nervous to talk about what happened. An idea struck Vassago.
“You know I have a particular… knack for seeing events. They can be future, present, or past. If you’d like, I could take a quick look and be caught up on your previous attempts.” Blitzø looked hesitant, so Vassago lowered his voice. “I know it can be difficult to articulate oneself sometimes.”
Blitzø thought for a moment then said “Can you just look at the future and tell me if any of this even works?”
“Lo siento, I really try not to dabble in the future, it's rather fickle.” His mind flashed that memory of his own future, his talons running through white feathers, and he took a large pull of his drink, letting it burn his tongue to refocus his mind.
“Yeah, I figured. Stolas has said that before.” Blitzø sighed “Okay, you can look.”
“¡Maravilloso!” Vassago removed his gloves and Blitzø looked at him curiously. “I must make direct contact with you to look into your past. You’ll have to remove your bracer as well.”
“Right, makes sense.” Blitzø pulled off one bracer, completely unaware that Vassago was lying. He didn’t even have to be in the same room to view someone's past, he simply could not resist a chance to touch his hand, skin to skin this time.
Vassago held one hand out, Blitzø placed his hand on top then Vassago placed his other over it, letting his thumb stroke across his skin. The imp had such large hands, so warm, and the tips of his claws were calloused over. He found his bottom hand curling slightly, watching the slight uptick of Blitzø’s mouth when the motion tickled his wrist slightly.
Vassago wanted nothing more than to pull this hand to his beak and press a kiss to it, or intertwine their fingers, but he felt his magic curling around him, excited to explore as Vassago had stated he would. His vision swam, and the Blitzø sitting in front of him faded away until Vassago instead saw the imp scrambling over the palace wall into Stolas’ garden.
He was carrying an old stereo, and suddenly one of the plants latched onto his pant leg. “I will play with you later,” Blitzø muttered, shaking it off before running over to a balcony. He looked up at the darkened glass doors, took a breath, and hit the play button, raising it over his head.
Music blared out in a cacophony of guitars and drums flowing out from the speakers. The song had started part way in, and the singer’s voice rang out, ‘ Taste me, you will see more is all you need dedicated to how I’m killing you. ’ Before they began the next verse, Blitzø was being lifted up by glowing celestial magic, his radio pulled from his grip as Blitzø was promptly dropped into the swimming pool.
The imp swam up, spitting water out as he shouted, “Hey, I’m supposed to be getting you wet right now not the other way around!” He climbed onto the concrete, noticing his radio was completely shorted out from the magic. Blitzø looked at the still-empty balcony, then gnashed his fangs and continued shouting, “Oh come on, that would’ve made you laugh!”
Blitzø was lifted once more and tossed back into the water. This time when he resurfaced, Stolas was staring down at him. “Ha. Ha.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and disdain. He spun around, walking back into his room, slamming the door behind himself.
art by: minkas
Vassago was about to retreat from the past when he was once again overwhelmed by Blitzø’s memories. Green flames emerged, quickly shifting the scene to the imp kicking open a door while screaming at Stolas, “Can I get a fucking minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich asshole!” He paced in circles, “Treat me like one of your little butler imps! You can't just dismiss me like that!” Tears built in his eyes.
Vassago forced the image away, closing off his magic, tasting its annoyance on his tongue when he severed the connection. He took a few breaths, recentering on his surroundings, and he briefly felt Blitzø’s hand squeeze against his own. “You good?”
“Sí, it can be a bit… draining.” He forced a smile, “I see that didn’t go very well, may I ask why that particular music?”
Blitzø looked at their still touching hands. “I know he probably would’ve liked some fancy orchestra stuff, but the tape was jammed in there. I was hoping the gesture would be enough.”
“Hm.” Vassago also looked to their hands, resuming his gentle stroking.
“Um, you said Stolas comes out here, yeah?” Vassago nodded and felt Blitzø tug his hand back slightly. “I wouldn’t want him to come in and get the wrong idea if he saw this.”
For the second time today, another brilliant idea popped into Vassago’s mind. Trying to be more bold, he slid his hand further up, a talon sliding under Blitzø’s sleeve. “Would that be so terrible?”
“Uh…” Blitzø’s eyes got wide. “Yeah.”
“Are you sure? Maybe it would be good for Stolas to think you're losing interest. Have you not heard the saying, ‘the heart wants what it can’t have’?” Now he gripped Blitzø’s much larger hand with his own, pulling him in closer.
“I mean, sure, but—”
“Perhaps we could make him jealous by pretending to date. You know, fake dating is a very common rom-com trope, I think you missed it on your extensive list.” He let his other hand trail up Blitzø’s arm and caress that white cheek.
Blitzø pulled away completely, and Vasssago frowned at his advance being turned down. “He wouldn’t believe we are dating.” Blitzø’s voice was pained, and he left unsaid what he believed Stolas would assume about the nature of their intimacy. Vassago had a guess based on the argument he gleaned at the end of his foray in Blitzø’s past.
“¿Por qué? This right now could be a date, are we not enjoying coffee and getting to know one another? It’s not so terrible being out with me, is it?” He wanted to convince Blitzø to engage in this farce if only to give Vassago the opportunity to date the man and prove he would be a much more preferable match than Stolas.
“No, but—”
Vassago cut him off, trying to sweeten the pot and sway Blitzø to agree. “Plus, I could grant you access to all the Goetian events and establishments you would otherwise be barred from. No more pesky security kicking you out if you are there as my date. You can hardly pursue Stolas if you cannot even get close to him.” He didn’t believe for a second that Blitzø would let anything get in his way once his mind was set on a goal, he just wanted that goal to be himself.
Still, Blitzø faltered. He sucked on his iced coffee before answering, “Maybe. I want to try a few more things first.”
“Naturally.” Vassago gathered the papers, folding them back up and handing them to Blitzø. “Think about it and let me know, my offer will stand.” He would wait an eternity if need be, his very soul knew this man would be well worth it.
A week after Vassago met with Blitzø, he decided to reach out once more. He had received an invitation to an art gallery, the theme of which was Azathoth’s Tears. Vassago had a plus one and knew Stolas would be in attendance, so he sent his extra invitation to Blitzø’s office along with a note.
He had not received a response, but felt certain the imp would arrive. Even after Vassago waited outside the gallery for twenty minutes before moving inside due to the cooling night air, he knew Blitzø would show up. Vassago hovered around the entrance, barely taking in the photography of the once-in-a-millennia event.
Nearly an hour into the evening, Blitzø quietly slipped through the front door. He stayed close to the wall, eyes alert as he took in the room. Vassago watched curiously, feeling as if he was privy to Blitzø at work, especially since his clothes seemed to be sporting a fair amount of human blood.
Soon those yellow and red eyes landed on Vassago, and his posture relaxed a bit as he made his way over. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Work has been fucking hectic.”
“That's quite alright, the exhibit is open for a few hours yet.” He wasn’t even the least bit annoyed at the tardiness, only further impressed by Blitzø’s character. He had priorities in his career, yet still made time for his romantic interests. “How has your venture been?” Vassago gestured forward and they started walking around.
Blitzø grimaced. “I tried a couple more things… the first one really didn’t go well.” Vassago looked at him patiently. “I tried to give him amnesia. I know that place like the back of my hand, so it wasn’t hard to sneak through one of the servant passages and leave a skateboard at the top of the staircase.”
“Díos mío…” Vassago could tell this would not end well.
“I mean, would a fall down the stairs really hurt one of you guys? Immortal Goetia are pretty fucking hardy… for the most part. I just wanted him to bump his head and, ya’ know, forget the last couple of weeks.” Blitzø’s tail was lightly curling around his legs.
“I suspect he remembered everything after his tumble?” Vassago indulged his urge to place a hand on Blitzø‘s shoulder and give him a reassuring pat.
“No,” he dragged the word out. “He didn’t even get near it… One of his annoying little servants stepped on it first… went flying right down.” He flinched, recalling the incident. “Nasty broken leg, I offered to help pay the hospital bill, but Chippy or whatever tore me a new one and now Stolas’ whole staff is keeping an eye out for me.” Blitzø let out a sigh.
“That is unfortunate.” Vassago led them around a corner. The room was getting more crowded, and Blitzø tucked a bit closer to Vassago.
“Well, those little shits aren’t guarding the mailbox, so I dropped off an anonymous letter last night.” Blitzø tossed up a devious grin Vassago’s way.
“And how does that one play out?” He couldn’t help but return the smile.
“He reads the letter and is compelled to write back. Then we start talking more and more, he falls for the stranger at which point I reveal it was me all along. Boom-” Blitzø clapped his hands together “-we are back in business.”
“Hm, ‘business’?” He was intrigued by the word choice.
“Yeah, or whatever.” Blitzø frowned a bit, glancing at the crystal on his bracer before shoving his hands into his pockets, closing off somewhat. “If it all goes well, I won’t need your help.”
“Vaya, then why did you come here tonight?” He dared to hope the imp would simply say that he just wanted to see Vassago.
“I just wanted to see,” Vassago’s breath caught as Blitzø was looking up at him, but his gaze shifted slightly, softening as he said, “him.”
Vassago turned slightly, catching sight of Stolas standing in front of a blown-up shot of one of the comets streaking across a supernova. His daughter was right by his side, taking in the art as they spoke to each other animatedly.
When he looked back to Blitzø, Vassago was unsurprised to see so much longing in the man's eyes as he took in Stolas, a wobbly lovestruck smile on his lips. How Vassago wanted that gaze set on him. It was an effort not to take Blitzø’s chin and tilt back his way.
“Oh fuck,” Blitzø muttered. He grabbed Vassago to turn them both and look at some nearby art. “I think he saw me, just pretend like we aren’t here.”
“Blitzø!” Stolas had swept across the room in an instant, standing behind them and talons tapping against the tiled floor when they did not react. “Are you honestly acting like you cannot hear me?”
“Oh hey! Stols!” Blitzø caved, giving an awkward laugh. “Fancy running into you–”
“Enough.” Stolas cut him off. Vassago did not fully turn; instead, he glanced at the two until Stolas shot him a pointed look, so he pretended to be very interested in the nameplate under the photograph and just listened. “How dare you stalk me here.”
“What! Stalk! I’m not doing that.” Blitzø’s tail whipped around.
“Oh, so this is purely a coincidence? Really. You have such a deep interest in art all of a sudden?” Stolas’ voice was rising slightly.
Blitzø whispered, “You know I like the stars.”
There was a moment of silence and Vassago wanted to see what was happening so badly. Finally Stolas said, “Go home Blitzø. Oh, and I’d better not receive another one of your ludicrous letters in the mail too.”
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Stolas let out an annoyed snarl at his response.
“As if this would be the idea of anyone else.” Vassago felt magic tickle the air. “You scared my daughter, I am being kind in warning you to never do this again.”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean for that to happen, Stolas–”
The prince cut him off, snapping, “Of course not.”
Blitzø tried to speak again, but Vassago heard Stolas’ talons as he walked away. He turned back to Blitzø, who quickly rubbed at his eyes to rid the evidence of tears in them, holding a crumpled paper in his hands. “I am sorry about that Blitzø.” He was so torn. Part of him would love it if this was enough for Blitzø to let Stolas go, but it also saddened Vassago to see him hurt. “What did your letter say?”
Blitzø handed the page to him. When Vassago opened it he saw a multitude of cut-out magazine letters glued to it, spelling out the message ‘GonNa MaEk U MniE 4 EVaR’ with an anatomically correct heart next to it. No wonder his daughter had been frightened.
Blitzø must have seen the grimace that crossed his face. “Maybe we should try your idea after all.” He sniffled slightly. Vassago pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Blitzø. “Thanks.”
“We can discuss it more later. Would you like to leave?” Vassago glanced towards Stolas, who was ushering his daughter further into the gallery, tossing a final glare Blitzø’s way before leaving the room.
“Probably for the best.” Blitzø shuffled back to the main entrance, and Vassago followed after. “You don’t have to bail too.”
Vassago shrugged. “I am content with what I have seen. Allow me to at least see you out.”
As they stepped out into the cool night, Blitzø immediately pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Vassago, who turned it down. He watched Blitzø take a long drag, and how the smoke curled around his fangs and lips when he opened his mouth, letting it spill out on its own.
Together, they walked around the block. When they approached the van, Blitzø dropped his smoke to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around soon.”
“Yes, would you like to meet for coffee again tomorrow?” Vassago stood back as Blitzø slipped into his vehicle. He pulled out his phone and frowned.
“How about the day after? I have another contract to get done that’s going to keep me late.” He looked back to Vassago. “Same time and place as before?”
“¡Suena perfecto!” He waved to Blitzø, watching as he drove off until the van was completely out of his vision. His heart swelling with excitement, Vassago immediately went home to look up popular date spots in Hell. He was going to sweep Blitzø off his feet so thoroughly the imp would be saying ‘Stolas who?’ in no time.