#belial.

Redraw of the screenshot of A24 Charlie.

So yeah say hi to Belial!

it’s been avoiding everyone.

that ain’t new, though.  big, busy house, way too fanciful, residents just a little too hospitable for its liking,  no.  nobody’s surprised by the anti-sociality.  even belial don’t seem to wanna look at the creep  --  who can blame him?  --  so it don’t got business with ruth or her people.  without belial’s attention, there’s nothing for it here.  nothing but dirt and trees and sleep and the ever-fading hope for its second wing.

then there’s this weird noise, coming from inside those walls, one day, and the creeper identifies it immediately as belial’s.

big shadow covers the moon and makes its way swiftly down the chimney:  a high leap into a flat dive, wing to its side like a broken bird.  lands in a cloud of soot, kicking a real  mess  up from granny’s grand old fireplace.  tracks that shit through the house, too, stepping all around the furniture and hopping up onto it, wings dragging across the floor, streaking black like tires gone haywire.  it’s expecting blood, even though it don’t smell none.  the creeper’s always expecting blood.

so what’s it actually find, after that grand search-and-anticipated-rescue?  what the  fuck  does it find?

belial, stuck halfway in the  god-damned window,  ‘cause the clasp’d gone undone on the lock while he was hanging a fucking  bird-feeder  and trapped him right behind the shoulderblades.

it wants to yell.  or laugh.  wants to do  --  something.  wants to smack him, kinda, for being such a dumb little shit;  for refusing to go outside to hang it for fear of bumping into the beast, because it  knows  that that’s what this shit’s about.  and it does smack him, across the only thing available:  his ass.  with the brim of its hat.  like a  whip.

   “ HAW. ”

   “ sssSSSTAY. ”

cold hands;  scales chipped around the knuckles, bloodied.  a bite-mark on his forearm, dried blood clotted into the cracks of his armor, digging beneath the chitin.  dulu turns the key in the ignition  --  shoots a venomous stare at the toothy brat occupying his passenger’s seat.   ( I’D HAVE SLIT YOUR BELLY OPEN IF I DIDN’T NEED YOU.  YOU’D BE DEAD.  YOU’D BE  DEAD.  YOU’D BE DEAD !! )

   “   ..  i’unno, i  ..  i wanna hate the guy.  you     know?  ..   i wanna hate ‘im just ‘s much as     anybody else wants t’ hate him;  but it feels     too  ..  easy. ”

they’d never gotten the full story.  nobody’s heard from the man in decades, after all, and gren can’t imagine what he’s off doing now  --  what kind of person he is, what he’s accomplished.  could be, for all they know, good stock.  could be a good man that’s made some mistakes, and  ...  and weren’t they both, at a time?  good men who fucked up?  fuck-ups with good qualities?   ( the line gets blurred by history and exaggeration, erasure and the steady passage of years gone by.  grendel can barely remember his left from his right, some days;  how is he to know what to call himself?  what right’s he got to judge? )

   “ like  ..  if we hated everybody we were, uh,     supposed to hate, we’d probably hate each     other.  i’d probably hate muds.  but that mo-    -uld is shit.  it’s aimed against people like us.     i mean  --  he might be like us, y’know?     ...     he might actually  ..  get it. ”

grendel twists off the open end of his bag full of peaches and sets it in the baby-seat of the cart.  maybe not the best conversation to be having in the middle of a grocery store, but he’s sure he’s pulled off worse.

Belial apareceu com um sorriso satisfeito, seus olhos ardendo com uma chama de triunfo. Ele se recostou, claramente à vontade em seu novo papel, e falou com uma confiança fria e implacável. "Reinar no Inferno está sendo tudo o que eu esperava... e mais. O caos, a destruição, o poder absoluto — é como se tudo estivesse finalmente em seu devido lugar. Eu sempre soube que estava destinado a algo maior, e agora que o trono é meu, vejo o Inferno moldar-se à minha imagem." Ele passou os dedos pelos cabelos com arrogância, como se apreciasse o símbolo de sua nova autoridade. "Lúcifer sempre teve suas dúvidas, suas... distrações. Eu, por outro lado, sei exatamente o que o Inferno precisa. Não há misericórdia, não há hesitação. Apenas ordem através do caos e a totalidade do meu domínio. E, devo admitir, estou gostando de cada momento." Ele sorriu de forma cruel, deixando transparecer que seu reinado estava longe de ser tranquilo, mas exatamente como ele desejava.

Belial surgiu com um sorriso arrogante nos lábios, seus olhos brilhando com um misto de satisfação e crueldade. Ele parecia relaxado, mas cada movimento seu carregava a certeza de quem sabia o poder que agora possuía. "Ah, finalmente, um pouco de reconhecimento. Ser o novo governante do Inferno é... divertido, para dizer o mínimo. O caos está exatamente como eu gosto, e devo admitir, a coroa cai perfeitamente em mim. Lúcifer pode ter abandonado o trono, mas estou fazendo o que ele nunca teve coragem de fazer." Ele riu, um som baixo e cheio de malícia, como se cada momento no poder fosse um prazer incomparável. "Então, o que posso fazer por você, agora que sou o superior por aqui?"