Vampire and demon go to the beach for @hortusanguis

[forrestertailor]

Luka stands on the sand at early morning, with the sky breaking blue over the black water. He wears a long overcoat and feels the wind on his bare legs. In his pockets he has their signed, wine soaked contract, a sarong folded to the size of a handkerchief, and a pocket square wrapped in tissue paper and a flimsy cardboard box. When the demon arrives he’ll negotiate hand off of the pocket square, then run into the surf to be in deep enough water to swim away when the spell is cast.

He doesn’t doubt that Crowley would transform him on the sand and let him flop there suffocating for four hours. An ounce of prevention equals a pound of cure. He’ll do the handoff waist deep in the surf if he needs to.

He wonders if there are any other marlins nearby. Or what the sky looks like reflected on the surface of the waves.

Comments

[forrestertailor]

“I was very excited about how well shaped the word ‘marlin’ was, especially. I would not have ruined it so.” Says the man with longer reach, more reckless strength and a penchant for goblets. “The damage is done. We will move forward with the contract’s original terms.”

He offers the box with the pocket square in it, watching Crowley sternly.

[hortusanguis]

And this man pokes fun at Aziraphale. If they actually met each other, surely, they would argue, but Crowley can easily picture them passionately debating the shape of words and melody of poems, among other similar topics.

Crowley eyes the box and takes it, opening it to check. He raises his brow and whistles.

"Nicely done. Is that silk?"

[forrestertailor]

“It’s brocade.” Luka has to stop himself from spitting it at Crowley. He shuffles the stained contract back into the safety of his breast pocket, then stands with his hands in his pockets. Even for him, it’s cold out here with the dawn yet to break over the water and his legs all out.

He nods to the surf.

“So you’re paid in kind. Let’s go do what we came here to do.”

[hortusanguis]

Crowley examines Luka's work for another moment, before closing the box back up and putting it under his arm..

He rubs his hands together.

"Right. The fish thing. Moray, was it?" He lifts a hand, ready for a snapping motion.

[forrestertailor]

Luka’s eye twitches but he keeps his hands to himself. He pinched the air to help punctuate his reply, annunciating the whole way.

“Marlin, devil. A marlin, a swordfish, the kind with the long sharp nose.”

[hortusanguis]

There's a barely contained toothy grin to Crowley.

" Right, right. Long and pointy. That's the one. Ready?"

[forrestertailor]

A muscle in Luka’s jaw ticks and he balls his fists to keep still.

“The long pointy fish, blue in the body with a sword for a nose. Yes, now let’s have it done”

[hortusanguis]

The demon's smile never fades. In fact, one could say it just grows even more wicked. Which should be warning enough.

So, he raises a hand, and snaps his fingers. With just a little touch of a miracle, Luka is immediately turned into something else.

A narwhal.

Bruh right when I'm starting Moby Dick too? Synchronicity

[forrestertailor]

The big blue fish with a sword for a nose lands on the sandy beach and Luka takes in his environment from a position a few feet higher than he usually stands. He knew, deep in his undead heart, that Crowley was going to screw him on this one and now the time has come.
The weight of his round new body pulls him over onto his side, on eye a foot above the sand with his spiraling horn pointed up at the sky. If he could talk he would be calling Crowley every four letter word he's ever known. In lieu of a working voice box he moves his bulbous head and swings his horn hard at the demon, slicing it through the air at him and following up with a ruthless stab. Actions, in Luka's experience, do tend to speak louder than words.

Its all coming together

[hortusanguis]

Crowley cackles.

Of course they both knew this was coming. Crowley, a demon, Luka, a vampire, both creatures of darkness, well versed in contracts and lies.

The demon steps back to avoid the furious jousting from the now sea mammal, and he just keeps on laughing. Good thing he doesn’t need to breathe.

“What’s wrong? Look at you! So majestic.”

[forrestertailor]

A mournful bellow comes from the animal as he thrashes the sand, stabbing viciously at Crowley only for the little slip of a demon to evade him. Luka, seeing red, throws his bulk around and hauls his head down, grinding sand to turn his blowhole on the demon. He would much rather spear Crowley and devour his insides still warm but this will get him from afar a lot easier. With a huff from his enormous sea-lungs he lets out a hard, salty, spitty blast, spraying Crowley with sea water, hot air and putrid whale breath.

[hortusanguis]

Crowley does his best to dodge the shot, but still gets some on his coat, and its bloody disgusting. Still, he knew there would be some risk involved, and he can miracle it clean whenever he wishes.

“Come on, now. It’s really not that bad. You got that sharp nose, and no fishy smell.”

In an act of self serving mercy, he makes it so that Luka regains the ability to talk. Mostly because its funny.

What a cheeky fucking icon I love it

[forrestertailor]

“—and your mother gives birth to a six horned goat and your father’s tool rots off!” Fluka’s voice is long and low and bellowing, the sound stretched out by his enormous lung capacity. Still, it wouldn’t appear that his inability to talk halted his need to communicate. His eyes are black and flashing, he throws his weigh to one side and manages to lay upright on his belly again. Fluka gives Crowley another swing and lance with his horn before giving it a rest for the moment.

He flaps his thick tail on the sand and tries wrestling his weight from side to side, seeing how well he can move like this.

“Bring the water up,” he grumbles. “I’ll spend the better part of an hour trying to reach it from here.”