#zestials

@fizzarollitm @waywardsculs @rockange @origiinis @queenhells @chthonicrage @cardedsoul @helhime

Thank you for listening and giving me advice on my situation. You reaching out meant the world to me. And helped me out in more ways than one. I would also like to extremely thank those who left encouraging messages on the post as well ...

@zestials @voxistem @jizzlords @cxncrie

I appreciate and love you all so much and I'm sorry I bottled so much inside. 🥺 Thank you for the reminders and I'll always do my best to spread sunshine and be there whenever I can for you guys as well. ❤️

I'M PUTTING THESE ALL IN ONE POST BECAUSE THERE'S A LOT OF THEM OKAY THANK YOU.

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

x

It was one thing to hear fables of Zestial, to be told that he should be feared—an Overlord of his caliber did not garner the kind of respect he did on baseless accusations, after all. Alastor would know that as well as anyone.

It is another to witness what he is capable of, watch that polite demeanor splinter and crack when all the wrong buttons are pushed, and the Radio Demon's suit had been collateral damage.

He does not find himself disturbed ( that would be hypocritical ), feeling something more akin to awe. It almost feels like a level of trust, to be among the few that can testify to what power Zestial really holds.

If it were anyone else, he may politely decline. Gore strewn across his clothing was nothing new and not something he minded; it could be cleaned in his own time, and sometimes he quite liked the embellishment of a little viscera.

However . . . it would be impolite to say no outright.

With one last hum of interest at what little remains of the body at their feet, he turns on his heel to follow.

ll Continued - @zestials ll

Rosie was still with shock for a moment. She wasn't quite sure which was more surprising. The fact that he gave her the go ahead to drink from his wrist or his acceptance to her invitation! Shock so great that she may have pierced a layer or two of skin to sample his acidic blood. His blood had quite the bite to it, but it wasn't a distasteful flavor for the cannibal woman.

He was such a dashing gentleman, a faint grey blush dusting her cheeks as he gifted her a brief kiss upon the back of her hand. Manners between demons was so few and far between. It gave her a sense of gratitude to know that chivalry wasn't completely dead.

Rosie took a brief moment to unhinge her jaw from around his wrist, licking the blood that threatened to be wasted upon the ground before looking up to her fellow Overlord companion.

She gave him one of her charming smiles, curling her hand within his claw. "How delightful! It's been such a long while since I've had company at my table. Any requests for a meal to share, dear? It would be quite rude of me to invite someone and not have anything on the table you would prefer."

          there are a lot of things he never asked for regarding his current position. he never asked to be at the centre of a generational curse for one, nor did he ever once express being desirous of infernal affection; he never hoped for prince paimon to interrupt his attempt on his life and drag him into the bowels of the earth, nor did he lust for the 'chance' to live amongst others suffering like he was. he most definitely had not fucking asked to be killed down here by a blast of holy light and then brought back as an underling for paimon to do with as he wished.

           what, he's supposed to be grateful? this is perhaps the worst afterlife ever.

           above all though ( yes, even above the dying thing ), was the demand for his sociability now. as if he'd ever been prone to hanging around lots of people and occupying spaces full of life. even before any of this, peter had been the kind of kid that stood in dark corners at parties. he'd been more of a background prop than a person, melting into wallpapers and street signs like he was a chameleon. now, as 'rook'? he isn't even afforded the privilege of hiding.

           rook glances down at his suit with a look of pinched distaste. if he's honest, paimon has a great eye when it comes to fashion. the colour's an alluring, regal shade of blue, a masterful amount of room left for his wings to poke through and spread wide unimpeded, and the golden accents make him look very distinguished— but he'll forgo being honest for the sake of spite.

           uncomfortably, he sidesteps a loud, vaguely canine-looking overlord, the stem of his glass clutched tightly. goetian parties are the absolute worst. he's naturally drawn to a corner with a tantalising curtain hung in front of it. if he can just...

           he's almost there when he feels himself walk into something. something incredibly tall and thin. after turning and feeling the plumage around his neck fluff up with an open sense of horror: "ze —for— please forgive my clumsiness...!"

head tilts & eyes narrow as the room falls to near silence . the overlord turns , peering over her shoulder to see what or rather who had caused such a stir . the shadowed being caught her eye immediately . a roll of her eyes came thereafter . she watched as sinners all through the tower disappeared into the back ground , fear evident . " scared of a little fossil ? bunch of pussies . " velvette finally spoke , her words directed at the various figures whom had previously lined the room , vying for her attention . eyes were almost ablaze as she looked toward her fellow overlord . " you ' re scaring my staff , old man . "