Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

summer event: june 10th - August 31st
 

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 Feed The Soul, @Nik/Bart
Jan 27 2018, 11:06 AM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

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Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
The dinner would be ready. Aperitif: Crémant d'Alsace, a sparkling French wine made from a blend of wines. His would have a base of pinot noir, a red wine grape variety renowned for its complex flavor profile of currants, cherry and raspberries, and a pleasing, medium body. In case Bart was feeling a bit unhappy with his choice, he had another at hand, too, a double precaution for the most demanding of aficionados: a fragrant and friendly bourbon and blood cocktail, its name more on the underwhelming variety though its micture of several liquors, red vermouth, reserve bourbon, blood orange liqueur and tarragon leaves ensured a full-bodied flavor that wet any palate. The digestif would be a selection of fortified wines and pomace brandy, Nik’s personal favorite as everything he was serving today. Namely the dessert, although no menu began to describe its offers from the bottom up. And so next up were the hors d'oeuvres, grilled oyster on a bed of salt, although they came out of the oven disappointingly pale; Nik torched them to perfection.

The Robiola-Stuffed Figs with Pomegranate were a favorite, honestly, juicy, succulent, not to be digested by a vampire but regardless of that a marvelous treat sworn to perfection by the crafty use of figs delivered fresh to his door just earlier that day; Nik, had after all, had enough time to prepare for this dinner date and he had, planning everything to the smallest deal in a proof of his culinary acumen. Besides, the robiola cheese was a sin to hate, a soft ripened cheese made from a blend of cow’s, goat’s and sheep milk in varying quantities. Garnished with dill, this savory, sweet dish melted on the tongue in a fantastic prelude to the next amazing meal: the herbal chicken soup. Relying on the exquisite and surreal-looking meat of the black chicken, which tasted no different from a regular one though was a staple of refined preferences, it provided a peppery punch with the aid of fresh ginger and then the flavor explosion of goji berries, wood-ear mushrooms, and red, rare dates that tasted a lot like apples along with other potent ingredients in a powerful, lingering broth perfectly savory and sweet enough to energize whoever had the soup.

Next up would be Ossobuco, a lovely Milanese specialty that used veal shanks braised with vegetables, white wine and broth until the meal was fall-apart and succulent. Served on a bed of simple but satisfying Milanese risotto, yellow from the saffron, and garnished with gremolata, which was a herb condiment of lemon zest, garlic, parsley and anchovies, it packed another flavor punch to the already suffering tastebuds near aching for a pause. Almost done.

The last was Nik’s favorite once more, one amazing and mildly controversial Sanguinaccio Dolce which he’d fallen in love with on the day he first put it between his lips; a warm chocolate pudding made with blood and served in a container of hulled orange, its natural fragrance mingling with the pudding to give it further flavor. It could be scooped up with the delicate shortbread cookies he made, and all this would be served tonight as Nik shed the apron he’d been wearing for a while, hanging it on the inside of the door to his walk-in pantry, its light offed and the door left ajar as he took off for the front door. His patient visitor would have knocked on his door only once on this night threatening to cry. It would be dawning to a storm, since an hour ago the clouds swirling ominously above as though readying for a terrifying night. Nik knew enough of the city by now not to fear this storm; in their beds wrapped in flesh, their two valkyrie and incubus pairs would commence to perform only that one dance that wept this world like a parent weeping after a child swayed by blood and sex. It smirked him, lightly, as he walked to the front door in a glib step though no hurry, and his gaze canted to the side. He saw that dark, vapid sky of the outside, saw the hint of these writhing clouds, no doubt mimicking the legs and arms that wrapped around bodies moving in the night.

It was only a humorous tragedy that one of them happened to be son of--

“Bartimaeus,” greeted Nik, a smile painted on his lips. He gave the man a courteous, quick nod of his head by means of a bow, his pleasant, inviting features the perfect look on a host and without ado he stepped aside, the door opened wide.

He motioned him in.

Nik’s tone was an accented, melodic lilt gravelly around the edges.

“Do come in, old friend, before the skies break into an outpour. I hope your stomach is ready.

"I have prepared for us a proper feast.”

Jan 28 2018, 09:27 PM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

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i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980

He was actually fond of stormy nights. Perhaps it was on these days that the archdemon found that his clients would be more afraid to be taken on such a day. Screaming at the top of their lungs while his hellhounds would pull and drag them under where they would be for eternity. Pulled down to corrupt their soul and breaking down into the demise of lies with their fate. It truly brought the worst smiles in Bartimaeus but in the best way possible. Tonight wasn’t a night of work, which was very rare for him. No, today he actually had dinner plans and meant to deliver something to his company as well.

Like any client he went to the reaches of getting what he wanted and ten folding it.

He’d properly arrive, roughly only five minutes early with a mist of teleporting in and out of hell Having his can and wine bottle tucked under his arm, his other held a bag that was meant for the other. The demon would wait, hearing the small roars of the thunder build in the far reaches of the city as clouds piled together to grow darker and darker. Bartimaeus didn’t try knocking again known the man was possibly finishing up the rest of the feast he always did prepare.

Door opened, the demon would offer a subtle grin in return. “Niklaus,” he speak calmly taking himself inside so the door would be closed behind him. “I actually hope it storms. We’ve been needed a good down pour for months.” Already he could smell the food and as usual it smelled divine and he highly doubted he would be disappointed A hand would offer out the bag to the man as he promised him many moons ago. It wasn’t easy to get some of the iteams.

“As you asked. Specific spices and even found a container that was rather an antique that went swimmingly with it. Saffron, Grain of Paradise, Sumac, Amchur Power and of course Ajwain; there are a few more in there as well which is the reason for the length of time it’s been. However I prefer quality and quantity for the most use of the money’s worth.” Getting the most for your buck was something very common, even as someone that was greedy and spent money on expensive items, he still carefully would make sure it would be put into something to its fullest degree.

They’re walking would come to the dinner table, everything practically ready and displayed before him as the bottle of wine would be put down on the table to be opened. He wasn’t surprised at the amount of effort into a feast. The vampire was known for such a thing. “What sort of feast do you have tonight? Although I love surprises I’m indeed curious of you handy work as always.”



feed him~
Jan 29 2018, 05:42 AM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

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Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
The words made Niklaus’s lips curl.

Surely, Bart was aware that these horrid storms were telling of the forbidden union between a valkyrie and either a succubus and an incubus, and Nik’s contacts were mouthy enough to reveal that their lone pair of Zachariel and Daniel had recently been joined by a second; they had two forbiddens in their city walls and Bart was courteously appreciating the weather like all of them needed the reminder that the powers scales that kept their city together had recently been tipped again.

Nik angled his head up, as though to similarly appreciate this dark, foreboding sky--

And when he looked back at Bart, he only quipped, “Indeed”, in his friendly, courteous tone before bowing aside to let the man enter.

His gaze immediately fell to the presents.

He did close the door behind Bart, and he did look over the present with every amazing poise of someone accustomed to not revealing emotion. He was all class and panache. He glanced up, and watched Bart’s features as he prattled this all off.

He noted every arrogant fiber on the man that made their friendship so vapid and fake. Every arrogant bit on him that Nik recognized also on himself. Every arrogant flair on him that made this a beautiful pretense between tycoons that lorded over their own lands. Whilst it was undeniable that Bart was the more powerful of the two, and that Nik’s predilections for violence still placed him beneath the man in atrocities, Nik had always figured being the second best at something meant that you were the least likely person people blamed of superiority.

Second places were reserved for losers. Such was the popular opinion.

Look at this monster looming above--

Who’d expect crime to come to pass in his long shadow stretching vast?

“I thank you for that.” With a practiced, short bow of his head and a smile in place, hinting at a warmth shared between friends, Nik recovered the box, remembering to add, his tone as low as per usual, “You outdo yourself, as per usual. You are your own best enemy. Let me take your jacket.”

He did set the spices down and the jacket, if permitted, would he hung along with Nik’s own, and handled with the same delicate care observed in mothers with their small children, too frail yet to handle standing on the pavement. If not, then not and either way they’d traverse to the dining room, the spices left on the counter of the kitchen that oversaw the long dining table, and Nik pausing, his hands on the wine bottle Bart had grabbed along and his lips parting as though to answer--

He curled them, instead, dignifying the words with another curt bow of his head before saying, “In a minute, my friend, the answer and you require my full attention.”

He grabbed the corkscrew from one of his drawers (his kitchen was all dark mahogany, the home all warm colors), and peeled the etiquette that covered the opening to any wine bottle. It came off, without ado. Down the trash too.

The screw was stood perpendicularly to the cork, and screwed carefully in whilst he balanced the wine easily in his hold. He tipped it, wetting the bottom of the cork to ease the next step, and then righted it and pulled the cork and the screw with one gentle yank out.

Immediately, the air smelled like wine.

“Chateau Malbat,” he chatted, walking slowly to Bart and the table, the latter already lined with plates hidden beneath oval dish covers. All, naturally, were made of material friendly to both their species. Nik couldn’t imagine a more disappointing night than one where the host died.

He stood by Bart’s side, appreciating the cheap wine with look of calm, before corking the wine shut and placing it on the table and into a bucket of ice, letting it chill in the meantime. His tone danced with subtle amusement and warmth.

“You compete in hospitality. Had I know I was facing a contender tonight instead of a friend, I’d have gladly upped the stakes,” he slanted a look at Bart then, a bit of mirth in his dark gaze-- “Aperitif?” he asked, then, rounding the table to make a grab for a thick, crystalline bottle in the middle, described with-- “Bourbon and blood, a most wondrous cocktail. No innocents were hurt in the making of this drink.” He canted a look at Bart then, hinting at a mischief that went well with his stern face. Nik took the bottle, still chilled from its stay in the fridge, and commented further, letting his tone carry the weight of his words, “I also have Crémant d'Alsace, a sparkling French wine made from a blend of wines. My personal suggestion is to be unforgivably gluttonous about everything.

“After all, we live only once.”


At that, Nik placed the cocktail down and took the sparkling wine bottle in his hand, its rest in the ice bucket forced to an end and handled by his hands.

Drops dotted its surface, condensing along the circumference of its dark-green bottom.
Jan 31 2018, 08:28 AM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

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i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980
His jacket would slip through his arms as the host would properly hang it up to the side. Bartimaeus wouldn’t fight to pressure about dinner. He knew it would come eventually. A pop of a cork and the air around them would be filled with wine. True, wine wasn’t one of the demon’s favored drinks but for a dinner party it was more than acceptable to drink. A hand rested to his cane, lightly turning it in his grip as he waited for the host to signal him to have a seat.

“Don’t be so brash.” The demon lightly chuckled with a small tap of his cane. “We come from different categories of skill good sir. I merely wish to give you what I think would match yours. I also like to keep in mind of getting your money’s worth. I don’t just keep deals I like to triple in expectations.” He was a man of many dark sides of greed and power, but what made him a business man is his deals and structure. The only way aquatints could reach Bartimaeus is through business work. A fault one might say but he was more than happy with his workaholic tendencies.

Although with a plethora of different choices of drinks, Bartimaeus would choose to stick with just one, the Aperitif Niklaus had suggested first. He returned his gaze back him at the mention of ‘innocence’, a subtle grin tugged at his lips as he took his offer to that. “You are a gracious saint among men Mr. Falk.” A rumble of thunder would be heard in the sky, probably only a few miles out. Something that would eventually start to down pour once they began to eat in just a few minutes. He would have to make sure the docks were secure once he left his dinner party.

“I have to say there is more than just the package and dinner for me to come by. I must inquire you over a possibly job if you’re interested.” Bartimaeus took very small sips of his cocktail and placed it gently on the table. “Of course if you’re available to it. I am hosting a Gala for a few different influencers. I can let you know the time and date later if you’re up for the opportunity. But I don’t want to bore our talk with more business than we have to.”

After all he was here for dinner, correct?

When the time came they would be seated, his cane resting on his thighs to keep his hands busy while he waited further for the moment of truth to pass. The demon was never a fan of anticipation. He wasn’t very good at it. In just an ear shot a sharp sound of thunder would soon strike, and the down pour against the city would soon commence.
Feb 4 2018, 02:11 PM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

awards

Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nik’s lips twitched.

Smoothing into an elegant smile, he bowed by means of pouring his guest of honor a glass, and the thunder would answer a few seconds before he could, splitting the skies open and throwing a blinding white light across the above in a zig-zaging motion until Nik spoke--

“I have been called far worse names, my friend,” came his words, complemented by the bright throw of the split heavens, fading away and yet still managing to cast his features alight in a manner. All sharp angles and the smile looked like a smirk.

His eyes too dark and too pinned for a moment.

It faded, and Nik straightened himself, his jest, as his relaxed features would suggest, completed, and the man quickly walking to pour himself also a glass, though he certainly didn’t hurry anywhere. Everything had its time and place. The bottle would be returned among the rest, though he hated to clutter his table and thus he took it and the other one with himself back to the kitchen several steps away. He chatted into that, amiable.

“You flatter me, my friend. You arrive here tonight to burden me with more work. I assume you know how to keep a man busy. Many a man would dread you’re just a slave driver in a very intelligent disguise.” He arrived back with the appetizers, their ridiculous French name rolling off his tongue in a perfect accent, “The hors d'oeuvres, grilled oyster on a bed of salt”, and his form bending minimally once more as he placed a plate in front of his Bart, turning his head to look at him as he calmly spoke, his carrying tone level, “It would be a most convincing and charming of disguises.” Cue a smile. He jerked up, then, quite like he found a ridiculous level of humor in this kind of exchange, his lips tipped into a charming tight-lipped grin and his form abandoning position to place his own plate down in front of himself, his seat opposite of Bart’s. The distance between them would not be too large, and Nik settled down--

In front of a plate disappointingly devoid of anything.

Nik set his arms on the table, and smiled almost mischievously.

“You will have to forgive me,” he said, in full jest, “alas, my dietary habits have yet to forgive any solid human food.” He pointed at Bart’s plate, boasting with a generous offering of lovely oyster that sure enough watered the mouth of any proper connoisseur. The man was welcome to however many he wanted from the plentiful selection, even reject it if that was more to his preference. The wine he had brought was chilling already, the ice itself charmed to be stronger than anything usual your freezer spat out; soon, the wine would be the perfect temperature for consumption and they’d get to enjoy a dinner date fit for gentlemen of their caliber, a lot of fake mutual cock-fluffing and some dick swinging that would do them only a lot of good. Nik, after all, assumed so. He motioned at Bart’s drink, grabbing his own and asked, his tone charming and low, “What do you propose we toast to?”

Friend?
Feb 9 2018, 03:22 PM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

awards

i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980

Bart would give an amused grin, lightly shrugging at the suggestion of a slave driver. Perhaps it wasn’t far off from the truth and from a past self or in an alternate universe he was such a thing. If it weren’t so down upon now, he’s probably have more that he wouldn’t have to pay. Still, at the very least he make them all work for their money. “I suppose we do what we do best. Master too much into the ideal work scenario, and forgive me for asking at an inappropriate time. We can discuss later if you would like.” Or talk about even more slave driving that he could easily handle and get away with.

But no one suggested that.

Of course not.

Oysters first, Bartimaeus look a gander at the man’s handy work before delicately taking one to eat it. He was never the pickiest of eaters. As long if it was cook right and not any form of fast food he would be alright. Not the biggest on leftovers either because of the lack of home life he had. It would all go to waste if it sat in his refrigerator. He also had nothing he was allergic too. And now as an archdemon he doubted that any allergies he did have would not really apply in the afterlife. He gave a gracious nod at the first scoop of delight as he patted his lips dry. “As always you never disappoint from the start.”

It baffled the demon about the vampire. Staying in such a profession that he did little to gain from or even have the ability to experience it fully. Perhaps the taste alone was enough and not endures the bulk of carbs and food in his stomach. Still, such talents would be noticed and praised as need be. He wasn’t one to fall short of that. Only a few would be taken, before he felt his appetizer would have done its job. He knew there was far more to come.

Wine poured, the business man would reach to take his glass. The offer of a toast, Bartimaeus thought. He’d lightly push the rims of their glasses together momentarily for a light clink. “To…civil and charming disguises for men with the power and influence?” Meaning them of course, “perhaps, to something noble like the ‘greater good’…something a demon has yet to comprehend.” He chuckled at the weird thought. Only good that he needed was for himself and the man he worked for in hell.

Whatever toast came to pass, it was a toast among colleges, friend and business associates. By the time the next step in the Couse came along he’d hardly imagine what it could be. “You have me so eager Niklous. What on earth could you have prepared for a main course?”
Feb 10 2018, 11:27 AM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

awards

Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nik just tipped his head, his lips quirked in perfect, practiced amusement. “I am sure we will make room for many topics later, my friend.”

He touted that title like it was honest.

Bart did go for the oysters, and Nik was certainly glad to observe, even if sadly he couldn’t all throughout (it was impolite to stare, such). His content, even smug, however gently, expression remained pinned upon his guest of honor for brief moments at a time, even as Bart obviously preferred to eat first before toasting, quite the faux pas if Nik could admit that, however this wasn’t an official dinner party. Bart wasn’t just someone. His position of power considered, he was pretty free to eat however he wanted, or so Nik believed when he imagined someone gently nudging the Archdemon to do as they wanted. Silly, albeit courageous too. Something Nik may have wanted to see once at least before he departed from this world. His drink was in his palm, and he regarded the man with an amused, trained expression. His amusement was all low.

He hesitated.

His smile was charming and soft.

“To the greater good,” he said, his tone jovial in a part, a perfect mimicry thereof as though he had sat in rooms, listening to people’s celebrations, underneath his tone repeating their joy for only his own ears as though he needed to practice these quickly disappearing, firmly diluted, mighty useless feelings his kind had little true use for as their predatory ways advanced on to feel as the only real way of existing at all.

Vampires were predators. Just like demons were but that, demons. You didn’t expect an angel to kill in cold blood and similarly, vampires should not have been expected to coddle instead of devouring that which existed in a sprawling buffet in every direction.

To the greater good, Nik had said, and a literal second later he added, in a charming, suave jest, “To going against own nature.” And he drank to that.

He did not eat. He’d not, instead content to let Bart indulge, his hands clasped together on the table, close enough for his head to rest on them though it would not, and Nik smiled in subtle, contemplative manner, flickering his gaze on the man, silent before teasing--

“You’ll see.”

His tone was low. “Should we play a game, my friend?” Nik spread his arms out on the table, palms down, his back straight, his brow cocked in a facsimile of cheek he was still perfectly capable of despite his old age. His lips tipped, suggesting at a faint, entertained smirk-- he chatted into it, indeed conversational and tempting, “Perhaps I may have you place three educated guesses. If you do get it right, there could be something in it for you. Perhaps a bottle from my personal collection. Perhaps a night with a woman.”

He smiled surreptitiously, naughtily at that.

“I do not peddle flesh,” he facetiously said, “though I do match a glove with a hand when I see it’s missing one.” Electing to stand, Nik took the wine Bart had brought in, perfectly chilled, and opened it to let its aroma waft thickly in the air, teasing with its lovely undertones that might not have been perfectly up to his usual preferences, but helped enrich the air here as he began to pour them both a glass. He chatted away. “I shudder to imagine some people in the company of their partners. At the same, I struggle to believe that men of power could be anything but more interesting with an equal. Romances can be power moves, Bart. I’ve always wondered about the predilection of your kind for love. Do tell--”

He grabbed a perfectly folded napkin, wiping the bottom of the wine lest the ice that had melted against it in a wet coating drop, and asked, tone neutral, gaze focused on what was doing--

“Is it possible for demons to feel it?"
Feb 15 2018, 11:36 PM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

awards

i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980
Against their nature, yes of course.

Bartimaeus calmly looked across to his company when the mention of the game was offered in the open. No he wasn’t in the stance for such formalities unless he held the cards. It was a night that was sort of a day off and the last thing he wanted to think about was making sure his deal wasn’t shown. Hands would cross over another as they rest on the table. A brow slowly rose at the rigorous prizes perhaps at his dispose. The demon lightly waved both off in a polite manner. He didn’t desire either from the man. “I may be a man of greed but from you I wish not to take any prize from you.”

Plus they sounded boring; he had no actual benefit for those anyways.

He’d watch the wine pour, waiting and listening to his question. A though why he’d give him guesses when the answer itself wasn’t just left or right. Romance, love, why did it shown interest for the man? Still Bartimaeus would give a very calm shrug, just grinning back at the vampire. It wouldn’t be a straight answer, and possibly not the one he wanted to hear. Or did he just want to know about something else? “There are things call Valkyries. Some causes, I would imagine, to lead to such acts, could be things like love. Is it possible? I believe it is to an extent”

A pause would have his hand reached out to touch his glass. Not yet drinking but taking in the aroma for the time being as it swirled. “How far corrupted one is down in the depths of hell and torn apart, well it would be more difficult.” Shoulders shrugged with a glass placed back down to the table. “I’m not sure as to why you’ve given me three guesses on a question that is not simply answered, my friend.” There was the odd notion, that the vampire wanted to know about him. Even with that possibility, he wasn’t one to share.

“Fantastic question, however, Niklous. I don’t have an answer, my apologies.”
Feb 16 2018, 07:45 AM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

awards

Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nik inclined his head in a bow at that.

“Fair enough,” he simply said, his smiling, charming expression unfaltering. The fact that he found it extremely boring was another matter entirely.

Valkyries. Bart should know some about them, after all Nik had managed to borrow a few essential information on the topic of his fatherhood, but as far as knowing them in depth went perhaps they were on par. Nik assumed that. He pondered over what little he knew when it came to that kind, redeemed demons although what were the rules that surrounded this act, how it came about, what it entailed and it promised, a time away from hell but what it really promised in a detail, that Nik couldn’t tell. He was very much tempted to ask Bart.

Well, or not.

Inclining his chin up, he had to ponder in earnest why his musings were being nitpicked at so childishly, though with this itty bitty pageantry that tried to paint his friend here was being clearly the superior of them two. Were Nik on par with him power-wise, he knew he’d have dared to argue with him; how he was being asinine, quite literally, his weak argument showing he had nothing else of value to say and how his overt focus on the words of others showed he had no smart of his own.

None whatsoever.

Nik smiled politely at all-- and that cheer that entered his gaze was earnest, as well.

“Fair again,” he said again, off from his seat, making his way to the kitchen, again. The main course, of course, had to show itself. He was back in instant, smiling and full of ease and grace, snatching up the oysters to keep them balanced along his left forearm whereas the plate with another culinary delight, its lid taken off and Nik’s accented tone announcing the meal with a melody that made him sound fond. “Robiola-Stuffed Figs with Pomegranate. A fantastic treat I assure you.” He was quick on his feet, walking between the dining room which faced the kitchen, both sharing these open spaces though kept separate by a metaphorical line drawn across the floor by the kitchen counter that cut into the passageway between them. It made it narrower, although not narrow at all. A solid, easy walk from one room into another as evidenced now by Nik, who promptly brought over the soup, too, announcing it with a fond and charmed, “Chicken herbal soup, my favorite. I’m assuming you will not be guessing what is the main meal.”

Bore.

Spoken with a hint of fondness, too.

And then Bart’s options were numerous, the soup, the lid off the platter off and the bowl with it still steaming hot, evidently fresh and maybe an hour off the stove-- or the hors d'oeuvres, Nik’s constant favorite even if his enjoyment of them always ended with the first swallow.

He’d just about lifted the ladle to show Bart the consistency of the soup when he asked him--

“How’s the family, for the record? Have the things been as per usual?”
Feb 23 2018, 04:43 PM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

awards

i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980
“I never doubt your taste,” Bart gave a silent cheers to the chief. It was amazing what natural poise someone can have. Doing a job for so long and watching the action spew over its like watching a wave moving gracefully. He wasn’t surprised to see how easily the vampire moved back and forth as a server and the quality of the food itself. Niklous had trained, and studies such an art form that it would only be natural to be second nature in his muscle memory Being good at something always had it perks and advantages. He always believed if you were good at something, never do it for free.

That’s why he was where he was.

Two more appetizers displayed in front of him, the demon would calmly grin with approval. He didn’t need to guess what the main meal was. Whatever it was, he knew it was probably something exotic and in depth like every piece of meal that the vampire could create. “You have a way with food that I could never question. I’m sure I’ll probably ask to bring home left over with whatever you’ve made.” Even Bartimaeus was no stranger to having leftovers, however it wasn’t something his commonly did. Working so much didn’t make him bother to think about it.

Again, he was questioned about his family. The demon would lightly shrug adjusting his collar. “Yes, nothing beyond that.” He was far too busy to try in dig deeper to ruining the lives of his son and son in law. Yes, he was of course a man of keeping tabs but it was all rather boring to him. Projects and plans were in motion, so he had hardly the time to think of it. Merely only pushed aside for now. He did have all the time in the world after all.

The ladle lifted, he could smell the soup instantly. The steams waffled into his nostrils ever so smoothly with no other effort while it still felt hot. “You impress me with every dish, even just by seer presentation my friend.” He gave credit when it was due. He would take only a few figs, to his plate taking one bite after another to endure the taste. As always it was delicious. The demon would think quietly as he chewed before trying to speak again. “Pardon me for asking but color me a curious bastard.” Bartimaeus wiped away his lips between bits like he was some proper gentleman. Even that was full true.

“You’ve worked with food in your entirety even after turned. With no way of consuming your food, does it ever bring a scene of incompleteness? Creating a divine meal, with every spice and taste imaginable and not having the ability to ever consume it to the fullest? I wouldn’t imagine putting so much work into a project and not being able to enjoy the spoils of it all.” He was, after all, a dragon in his previous life. Hording all treasure, money and power he could, how could he ever not reap the benefits of it all?
Mar 2 2018, 08:10 AM
97
posts
66 psion chef
psion
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil. Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Nik/Klaus

awards

Angel or Demon
Eien
she/her/hers | gmt +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nik almost smiled curly at that, his mannerism ever polite and deliciously welcoming. “You’re free to.” It was a cordial offer, as well. It’d be a shame to throw it, the nurturer in Nik hated the thought. He had blood on his hands but he also had the genuine yearning to see the world fed. Fat like a suckling pig, right before he ate it. But those perverse additions to his fantasy were not available to public. Nik focused himself back on the food, imagining how Bart would react and hoping, earnestly, and not because of his own ego, that Bart did; seeing a disappointed customer or a disappointed guest was a haunting thing, no matter what confidence Nik had in his skills it could, it would happen with what wild array of things people were known (not) to prefer. Normally he thought it a challenge, nothing quite beat pinning someone down to the accent of spices in the sauce, and the looks of the dessert. But, back on the point, mishaps still happened. Nik tried not to watch how Bart ate, although as he himself did only have his drink to keep him company (and the effluvia of the cooking stinking up his senses, until he felt fat, and sated), there was little else to do. Nik smiled, certain now that Bart was--

Well.

He was who he was. Nik was hardly taken back by his lacking answers. And so he ladled Bart’s plate full, taking the appetizers once Bart was evidently done with them and back with his hands empty for now, the main dish in the oven. It waited. And it wouldn’t behoove a polite host to over-cumber his guest, therefore Bart would be spared this delicious torture, free to spit out a question that Nik had heard before and which he had every answer to, but also zero.

“It depends on how you view the craft,” he began patiently, once he was seated. His elbows were on the table, temporarily, his hands joined together, creating a little bridge he used for a perch for his chin. There settled, he watched Bart, patient, focused. Eerily, strongly so, with a particular, long heat to his expression.

“Perhaps you may feel inclined, as many do, to believe that the craft of cooking rests in enjoyment of food. Correctly, but there’s a line that separates a man who cooks for himself because he cannot afford to eat out, and his stomach is empty, so he’ll fill it, and a man who cooks for others be it just one person, or the hundreds of customers we get at Amuse-bouche daily.” He righted himself, elbows off the table and spoke with a tone ringing delicate and resonant. “The sense of completion of a proper cook comes from feeding the masses. The enjoyment of those I feed and their enthusiasm to return is where I get my fill. That is the ought of a cook, that the food is enjoyed and that its flavor is remembered.”

He spoke with wise, compelling humor.

“There is much to our palates even we don’t know, Bartimaeus. We might just be utter novices to our preferences, even though we’ve been living with them for a while. We trust a skilled cook to open the once believed locked doors.”

He smiled, surreptitiously, at that, looking a tad mischievous, and asked--

“How is the soup?”

“If you don’t mind-- I am curious myself.”

“I know demons eat souls.”
There was a dull, muted light in Nik’s eyes as he asked this. “What drives a demon to decide between the souls he devours, or the souls he sends to an eternity of suffering?”
Mar 9 2018, 06:09 PM
60
posts
1901 Demon International Trade of SF and Dock Master
Archdemon
I have one rule. Make a deal and keep it.
Hell
Heterosexual
Single
Mr. McLeod

awards

i have hell to raise
Yukie
she, her, thing | EST | 3/3/3 | Yukie#7980
For a man of his stature, Bartimaeus liked to eat at a pace. It wasn’t quick, he liked to enjoy the taste of his food every so often when he does. Typically he had no time to eat, not that he needed it. He hungered for other type of things. Bite after bite he’d enjoy the taste. Indulging with the host who’d had been opening about talking the craft he so well mastered. It was rather fascinating to hear. Truly they were two men of different markets, so it wasn’t hard to admire his point of view. He, of course never thought of it in such a way.

The demon would dab his lips every so often, cleaning whatever mess that might have dripped or left residue on them. Enthusiasm in return, the words quietly bounce back in forth. The idea that a cook is satisfied with those eating, enjoying an remembering the taste of his food was all he required to be successful. It felt rather noble, but perhaps he wasn’t all that convince. After all, didn’t everyone have a dark side? Bartimaeus rested his spoon to his bowl, letting the taste and load of the soup settle in his stomach before they’d continue.

“It’s delicious, as I expected and assumed no less.”

The napkin patted against his lips to clean himself as he heard another question, which made his head turn back to his host. He made an amused grin, slowly leaning back to his chair as he grabbed to his glass of wine. “Well, to every demon it’s surely to each their own. For myself however,” he’d give a small pause giving it some thought. He wasn’t very picky, but sometimes he would probably favor a certain type over another. “I suppose you can say if I enjoy hearing them scream for their life, I may throw them into suffering. Something entertaining for myself,” it was his usual stance on what he ate and didn’t.

Dinner came and went with the end of dessert to top it off. The night could have been continued with more conversation, however it wasn’t to his surprise he was message from his phone. Unfortunately it was an important matter he had to attend to, but he had at least reached to the end of the meal before he’d put back on his coat. Bartimaeus had the left over in one hand with his can tucked under his arm. He’s look to his graceful host in an appreciative smile. “You out do yourself. It was a delicious dinner, my apologies for leaving so soon, but I am a busy man unfortunately. I’ll be sure these leftovers will be put to good use. Let me know if you’d like to take on that job offer. My office Is always open for you.”

He’d give his proper farewells as he walked outside the door into the pouring rain before he vanished back to hell and to work.

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