Please Don't Pick Me Up [Anzy] [PG13]

[ωΘĿƒ]

Coyle nodded again, less vigorously. Hmmmm. How flat. How boring. Mortals thought in such black and white terms. Sure, there were the black and there were the white, but even something called the mortal bell curve showed - most of everybody else was gray.

Him? He liked to think of himself as black. Yes. He liked that. How nice it was to be "evil." Evil got all the fun and none of the rip off. He did what he want, when he wanted and he bowed down to no one. He was sorry for nothing.

That was wonderful. Why did the pious have to be so tortured? Priding themselves on how far they could bend backwards and kiss God's fat ass. The image was laughable.

Why not be better than that? It worked. He'd tried it. He'd met godlike entities all over the goddamn place, and he didn't pay them homage in any way.

Hell, even here, he was a godlike entity. He didn't die, didn't grow old, didn't eat, didn't sleep. He could kill and control. He had wealth and power and a whole little world of his to play with.

The only thing he wasn't sure he could do was make life. Could he make life? That would be pretty awesome if he could. He'd make little objects just to play with them - to poke and prod until they collapsed. Then he'd start over again, building a better toy to play with.

Hmmm... He wondered if that was what God did? If he did, it would be awesome to be God.

"You things here." He said, distractedly, flipping through the pages without much interest in what was being depicted.

"You can make life, right? You have like, babies and sex and stuff? That's odd. I've seen that before. Never quite thought of it myself, though I have tried it a few times."

He laughed.

"It's fun."

[Anzeh]

Moss wouldn't lie. It was boring. It was so boring that most of the time he didn't want to drive himself into a snore by thinking about how stupid it was. Of course there was a grey area. How could there not be one. Unlike Coyle who was definitely black, Moss fancied himself to be on the darker side of the grey spectrum. One that had been charmed by the darkness of the seven deadly sins that enveloped him and made him what he was. If you don't remember, that was a raging worm baby of hormones. He didn't know about the others, but he was proud to be a worm baby.

Religion was supposed to be something simple that everyone in the world could follow. it was the cover poster for the perfect afterlife, just wake up early every sunday and put on your best clothes to sit on uncomfortable benches and barely keep awake while an old man prattled on and on about the graces of a God that you sometimes doubted even existed. That thought alone drove to hell. Meanwhile everyone else on the planet partied their asses off, laughing at you peons trying to drive your soul into a place it obviously didnt want to spend eternity. Why else would it be created evil?

Once again, Coyle began to speak and the oddest sequence of words hit his ears. He'd asked if those here could create life, and even went on to explain that he'd seen it before but never thought of it. Why in the world would he be thinking about something like that in the first place unless he wanted something--a particular result.

Every now and again, he wished he could just go and read Coyle's mind. Even though his brain might explode from the pressure, it was something he wished he could do sometimes. This, most definitely, was one of those times.

"Yeah... Uh... why would you be trying?" he asked. He understood that Coyle was older than he looked physically, but Coyle being a father? That was the most frightening prospect Moss's mind could have ever concocted. Nothing more sinister.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Coyle, too wrapped up in the immense visions of being possibly the worst God that ever could have been conceived, barely registered Moss' words. Eventually though, they bled through all the grandeur. He was questioning. Why questioning? That was stupid. Curiosity was good, but questioning for the sake of timidity was foolish.

He could hear Moss's doubt, and it made him angry.

"Why not?" he asked, smiling slightly, still thinking. "I'm not specifically trying, but why not consider the concept? Can't everything with life make more of it? Can't you do it too?"

He flipped a page, and one of those bigger, longer pages flipped out. He held it up, without hesitation, scanning it not like something intent on getting a thrill, but more like something looking for an interesting object to possess.

He liked possessing stuff. Controlling it. He had come to the conclusion, after a long while of searching, that he could have anything he wanted, just by looking at it.

"...are you scared? You? Of that? Hehehe..."

He flipped the page closed after he had seen all he wanted to, sliding the magazine back into Moss' hands as if he were discarding it.

"Now I know you're not a fighter... but you have to have your conquers. You don't have to kill something to conquer it."

[Anzeh]

"Can't everything with life make more of it? Can't you do it too?"

The last thing Moss wanted was to make more life. If there was more life that meant more responsibility for him which was the opposite of what he wanted. He needed a carefree and nurtureles environment to function. If there was a life, a baby, involved in that somewhere then his whole life came tumbling down around his ears, and that was something he could not have.

His hands located his pockets and he forced himself into laying down to get his brain and blood to relax. He wasn't frightened of some little grimy worm baby-baby, he could handle that. It wasn't fear that coursed through him at the possibility of pregnancy, it was dread. He didn't want kiss this way of life goodbye. This was a life he liked and he never wanted to let that go.

Moss knew better than anyone that conquering something didn't mean it had to be defeated. In fact, Moss had always conquered things and people in one way that he knew he always could, and that brought his lecherous smile right to his face. Yes, he knew about conquest without violence. But the question now was, what did Coyle mean.

"I'm not afraid." he stated without a flicker of emotion to betray him under the surface. "Conquests? Sure."

[ωΘĿƒ]

Not afraid. He didn't sound like it, but then again he could be lying... It didn't matter. What mattered was not what was thought with these things, but what was said. With him, they were one and the same. With his kind, it was exactly the same.

The difference between him and his kind was, he was still drafting his unspoken thoughts. Still working on them. They'd be let out eventually.

"I know you aren't." Coyle shrugged. "Why would you be? You're good at it. Look at me..."

He sighed. Not faking it. Never fake the emotion. It was too cheap if you faked it.

"I've never understood that crap. How do you do it? The exact opposite what I do. It's a little heady, isn't it? But not for you. You seem to have it all figured out.You do it all the time. How? I can't do that. Not now, and not in a thousand years. It's too complicated for me. Too delicate an operation. I can only kill, ya know? Sucks."

He shook his head, reveling in it for a moment. He could break things up and be done with it, but what was this thing Moss thought? Maintenance? Of a life? He never needed maintenance. He plopped into the world ready to maim things. So easy. He was born with a purpose, and as soon as he came to be, he was fulfilling that purpose.

He still was. Though, what that purpose was, he could only guess. Worked out though. He was doing great.

"Hmmm. But you can't make life, can you? not with me. Not with a male. Wrong stuff. Hehe."

He wondered... It might actually be impossible. Not on this plane! Why? What was the point? But it was worth a shot...

"I'm not even male. Fake body. All the right parts, but none of the workability. I guess I slacked off there..."

Oops! That was wright! He did drop the ball on that one. He really should be more careful. He should have made a workable body. But it was just so hard and he didn't want to.

"It's easier to make the looks, and fill the inside with the real me. I'm a bit slimy though. Kinda gooey in this plane. I'm pretty much a glob of black organic matter. But I clean up good, don't I?"

He smiled his perfectly sinister smile.

[Anzeh]

Moss smirked. This was getting awkward, but he fed off awkward situations and tried to turn them to his andavantage. Luckily for him, more often than not he knew just how to make even the most awkward situations sexy. For him at least. Not much could be said for everyone else, but to him almost everything could be sexy with the right incentitive.

"Mm... perhaps... but, you know, I don't do what I do to make life--" he spat the last word-- "but because it's fun and it feels good. Isn't that why you maim things?" Moss asked, sitting up, and smiling.

That's right, he was going there. The very same mission that had brought them together had not altogether been aborted. It had been pushed to back of his mind and allowed to loll around in there, but it had never been altogether forgotten. Now, with such a perfect opportunity, all Moss could think about was the mission. He took what he did very seriously. He'd never thought to do it as a profession--that was gross--but it was fun nonetheless.

After a little, he nodded. "Not in this world at least. Maybe somewhere else, but not here. All the fun without the problems." A little smile wormed on to his face, and he felt drunk. He couldn't explain why he felt drunk but he did, or maybe that was his bear need rising, making his blood boil.

Most were attracted to the sinister types because they mistook their malintent as strength. Moss knew full well that malintent was malintent, but he didn't care. Moss never cared. He just wanted wreck himself.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Coyle pause for a moment - just a brief second of time where the world wasn't his plaything and he wasn't on the warpath to get exactly what he wanted right now because he could.

Just a second... to consider the truth in Moss' words.

"You're right." Coyle smiled, and this time, it was a bit less viciously - more with a deep-rooted understanding of what was being said. "You're exactly right. I don't want to kill things."

And at that point, it sounded nearly fake to him. Nearly- but wait! He had to finish, to get his point across. It was the exact point Moss was making...

"I've never wanted to kill things, and to this day I don't have an opinion on the matter... But I always did want to have fun, and that comes with a few actions most people don't appreciate."

By this time, Coyle just shrugged, nearly forgetting the reason he was here. It was so hard to remember, after all. He never really was good at remembering things...

"And I guess that's what you do... Hmmm. Never thought of it that way..."

He wasn't sure if it was the drunkenness or not, but he was completely unaware now of what he was doing. He still had that plan in mind now, but it wasn't nearly as clear and sharp as he would have liked. It was like staring at a picture at the bottom of a disturbed pool of water.

He sort of knew what he was doing, but it was damn shaky at best...

Probably was that last drink that did it...

[Anzeh]

It was just as the young barguest had thought. He was like him, wanting nothing more than the pleasure and the sheer fun of the act. He didn't recognize what he was doing as being wrong. It was just a lot of fun. What other reason could there possibly be? None that he could think of. As much as he loved having deep and meaningful conversations about the fun in killing and sex, Moss really wanted to get to what he liked best.

"Now," he said, his signature seductive voice creeping into his words. After all this time, his body just knew which sounds to make to inspire the right emotions. At this point, everything he did was not done with thought. His body did these things of their own volition, and he was powerless to stop what his body wanted and desperately needed. "I've already felt the rushing exhileration of your world. would you like to see the sinful fun in mine?"

That being said, his arm draped around the temporal beast's shoulders and grinned his devilsh and seductive smile. "Welcome," He said, "To my funhouse."

And with that, Moss went to work and did exactly what he does best.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Coyle went along for the most part with whatever it was Moss was doing.... and it was confusing, what he was doing.

For all the demonesque grace and frivolity that Coyle exerted while doing the many unspeakable things he did, he was still a child - uneducated in the concepts of higher morality or reason for such human behaviors as were to be prescribed to him throughout his life.

But like we had seen earlier, he was a quick learner...

Coyle observed and imitated whatever his unwary teacher did, and in time he came to understand the motions of it.

But that's all they were - motions. He felt no real connection, and no real pleasure. It was just something more to do, and something else to figure out. This might be Moss' cup-o-tea, but it was in no way his.

Still, he played the roll, and after the last act was played, he didn't stick around for the curtain call and the bow. As soon as Moss was asleep, Coyle was gone, off to nurse his hangover and rejoice at the victory he'd just won.

He had got what he wanted...