every transgression must serve as a lesson

It is always thyme for tea..💭☕

The Overlord was in no state for a conflict, be it physical or verbal. Since losing his status, being kicked out of his own company, his title of Overlord being thrown into question, all drive Vox had once felt had evaporated. He hadn't been seen or heard from in days, self-exiling himself to his room while Valentino and Velvette moved on without him.

Today hadn't diverted from his new routine -- rotating between rotting in bed and attending to the one thing he felt he had left, his babies sharks. It was a mercy that he was whisked away during the latter. At least he didn't look as pathetic to the angels now staring him down.

The sweater that had been rolled up to his elbows is quickly pulled back down to his wrists, the task of hiding the (still raw) scars on his arms automatic. All while his mind reeled at the sudden change in environment.

『 ..Was zum Teufel.. 』

It takes far too long for his brain to catch up with his audio receptors. This is-- What the actual fuck?

His body acts before he can stop it, eyes wide as saucers as he moves to a seat across from the giant fucking angel bird. A confrontation with Heaven's forces had been expected -- hoped for, even -- but this? A discussion as opposed to an execution? That wasn't something he accounted for.

Not that he had plans for much of anything going forward.

『 ..No-- No, tea is.. Tea is fine. 』 In sharp contrast to just a few weeks ago, his body is attempting to make itself smaller, tail curling around himself, shoulders slouched forward, hands nervously sitting in his lap. None of the confidence he held during his rally, no attempts to prove himself better than the angel staring him down. 『 ..Thank you..? 』

His entire body language is that of fear as he curls in on himself, tail wrapping around his frame and posture slouched. There’s none of the cocky self-assured nature that had been showcased during his video message, and though the Speaker is very much aware that he likely still has access to the weaponry he had used and could very well still be a threat….he’s not exactly showing any signs that he’s interested in such a thing now. Vox is afraid. Hurt. And it brings no joy to her heart to see it.

“Splendid,” she says, pouring him a cup before setting it on a saucer by him. She takes a diminutive sip from her own cup, poured from the same kettle, as if to silently demonstrate that the beverage isn’t poisoned. “Now then. I take it you not deny the charges that you stand accused of. I do not seek to insult your intelligence by implying otherwise. But what I wish to know is the reasoning behind them. You have connections in Hell, after all.” She waves her hand, and images appear, made of golden light. Val and Velvette by his side, the masses hanging on his every word, all the products that Voxtech has ever put out—even his efforts to rescue his sharks and give them a better home. “Hell itself seemed quite fond of you before this. So why seek to change things? Why seek to rise to an even loftier station? Surely you would have sought out a way to strike at Heaven much sooner than this, if that was your ultimate goal.”

Vox seems intelligent, after all. If he had wanted to strike at Heaven before this point, he could have easily found a way to do it—she believes that without a single doubt in her mind. The images switch to him on top of the Might of Lilith after a moment, screeching that as long as he wiped the smile off of Alastor’s face, he didn’t care what happened—

“You are hurt, deep down inside. Hurt by this Alastor, and yet….I do not think he is the only one who put the hurt there. And to understand this, I must understand you.” She leans back, conjuring—where on earth did she get an entire file from. She flips through it idly, letting her hand rest on one of the first pages with a quiet hum of consideration. “You have been known by many names throughout your life, my child. But there is one in particular that I wish to know about.”

She flips the file towards Vox, letting him see the image of a version of himself that he more than likely never wanted to see again.

“Tell me about Margarethe, if you wish to. I have heard of this desire to be someone other than who you were born as before, but there are many justifications for it. I wish to hear yours. I wish to know how she became you.”

"Oh...oh wow...Hi ma'm." *Well shit. That's literally all she can say.*

“Is there something I can help you with, my child? You seem startled.”

wanted to see how she'd look in my style cuz i liked her design 👉👈