Dining with the Devil

Avernus is not a place to write home about. It is hell. Literally. Citadels of blackened stone in a landscape of crackling fire is what a tourist could expect out here. Those basalt forts are the closest thing resembling civilization if you consider an eternal staging ground of infernal war a civilization. You shouldn't.
One could live here, as some have over the last 5 years. Clyde, Madislak, Safina, Syn, Alexa, and more have had stay in planar prison. The names rarely matter when the survival rate is in the days to weeks for your average visitor. This is the case with Syn's partner tonight. She has been through five already. He would be the sixth.
Tall guy. Red shirt. Unghar? Unbar? Unalar? Un-something. Regardless he is late from his 'scouting' activity. The 'Survivors' only go out when they need to and it has led Syn and Unabrow to a broken keep, unoccupied, where a 'supply drop' should be stored that 'field agents' leave behind. Gods willing, perhaps some salvage is in here too.
Warm orange hues of candlelight come from the keep's dining hall where a door was left half opened. Unabarba would never be that careless. Syn would hear voices from that room. "...thats all? Where do I sign?" Yeah, that would be Unalala's voice. "Why rush it? Eat up," says another one more faustian as the clank of silverware heralds the promise of real food.
The irony, the absolute irony of this all. Syn would think to herself as she walks down the hallway of the broken keep. To think I would end up in literal hell. She conjures a smirk across her face, a disturbing attempt at a smile. This one and my plane are both shitty places. Although, this one sucks a little bit more. She pauses at the sight of the candlelight and the half-opened door. Her eyes roll, “Case in point.”
Syn stands in the hallway watching the dancing of candlelight flicker, the sound of Unalala's voice echos down the hallway. As she’s about to shout out what can be presumed as profanity to Unagula, she stops. A reply by someone else causes her to clench the great club tighter in her hand. Who the hell is that? Ah...haha… hell, I get it.
She approaches the door, looking through the opening from out in the hallway. Un-redshirt clambering around with silverware talking to someone she can’t see. I really hope this one disappears sooner rather than later. she continues to think to herself before an absolute rage fills in her chest. This shit face, eating without me. She lets out a heavy sigh before kicking the door completely open with all her strength, sending the door off some of its hinges in the process. “What the FUCK are you doing!?” She yells, stepping into the dining hall as her great club remains held at her side, dragging it across the ground as she walks in.
Unasomethingsomething throws his fork into the air in surprise when a door is blown off its hinges. The prongs land comically into the dark wood. "Interrogating a prisoner!" he says with the first thing that comes to his mind.
The person with Unahaha doesn't look like a prisoner. Silvery hair with dark horns. Eyes burning like embers set in inky blackness that are set on Syn as she enters. A real prisoner, who is chewing on what is possibly a steak at a dinner table with Unabagha. They aren't the only two seated. Half a dozen skeletons are seated in various poses at the table.
"Selling you out," the devil says as he starts carving out another chunk of meat. "Also being a most boring dinner guest," he says. Unashockwhat slowly turns from Syn over to the Devil in a 'what the hell' look on his face. The Devil looks from him to Syn, Syn back to him. "What? I want to see the part where she hits you with that thing. Have you seen it? And you can only blame yourself for being boring. 'Right to business' talk? Really now. At least lead in with a joke. Maybe some banter." The Devil moves the steak-laden fork around to accent the point. It settles on Syn, "Or at least make a good entrance. Maybe you can at least die in an entertaining way she looks mad that you didn't invite her to her own betrayal." Fork to mouth. Chew chew.
Her eyes glance over to the devil at the table. This is no prisoner by any means. What the hell is red shirt doing with this guy? The devil cuts away at the tender steak, can we call it that? Dare I ask what he’s really eating? Her hand grips tighter to the handle of her great club as they speak. Her eyes agitatedly glance from ugawhaoo and then back to the devil as a rage inside her chest builds once more. “Tsk.” She makes way straight to Unabagha with a fast-paced walk, reaching one of the skeletons at the end of the table, ripping its arm off and whacking him across the face. The bones scatter across the table and down onto the floor, knocking him back as he lays there. Syn puts her foot on the lip of the chair looking down at him, her eyes burning with anger.
“Betrayal?” She cocks her head to the side, her black hair tumbling down across her face as she glares down at him. “Would you be so kind to explain that to me? Oh buddy, oh pal.” Her eyes quickly shift to the devil at the table. “Jokes on you. Life is a betrayal. What are you going to do? Kill me?” An extremely disturbing smirk stretches across her face. Although, behind the cocky attitude rests a troubled, hurt soul desperately trying to survive. Be scary, be strong, so no one can hurt you again
"And deprive myself of a dinner guest after you've removed the only good dining hand that Sir Geoffrey Livingston the Third had?" the Devil replies to Syn as he makes mention to what is left of the noble skeleton scattered about the room now. A sick smile turns into a menacing grin in response to Syn's smirk, "No." Not comforting. Like he can see past the mask. The armor.
Unafloorsplat is disoriented from the flurry of action. He has yet to get his bearings in the shifting sands of his quickly escaping fate. "He is messing with your damn head," Una says as he rolls onto his knees and goes to rise. "I thought playing his little damn mind games would give us enough half-truths to find the stash. Maybe something else. But he is too dangerous. Lets just get out of here and find the stash. Leave him to whatever mad game he is playing at."
The Devil raises his fork to Unaliebutt and says while looking at Syn, "That's a lie." Chew chew chew. "And if I can only speak half truths, you should believe it."
The red shirted man looks between Syn and the Devil and is uncertain which to be more afraid of: the angry girl with the bat or the infernal eating "steak".
The devil’s menacing grin and chilling response quickly brings her down a few notches. Like a submissive beta wolf to an alpha. She leans back up as the devil talks to them across the table. Her eyes shift to red shirt as he rises from off the floor. “Interesting, I heard differently from out in the hallway. Playing his game?” She chuckles. “I doubt your brain is clever enough to conjure that, let alone compete with..." She looks back to the devil. "Him." Her eyes move back to red shirt. " You’d be smart enough to know that no matter what deal you sign, what little scheming you may be up to is worthless. Don’t you know where you are? You are not leaving here, you will die. If not now, then tomorrow, or the next day. Or as hell would have it, you’ll rot in a cell hoping for a proper death while fearing it at the same time.”
How did I end up this way? What sick twists of fate got spun when I was born? She thinks to herself. The flicker of the candles continues, and illuminates across her face. “I’ll worry about the stash as soon as I get some answers.” She glances down to the remains of Sir Geoffrey. “There is of course, another arm for me to hit you with.” She turns back to face the devil, throwing her arm up and pointing in his direction. “What do they call you?”
The oratory performance gets a chilling silence out of red shirt Unaohno and a clap out of the Devil dining in hell. "They call me impressed. Tell me, have you considered a vocation in infernal enforcement? I have a few openings in my," he emits a maniacal laugh, "exclusive Gigaknightdom."
Una shuts the fuck up, which may be the smartest thing he has done in the last hour.
"Mm~ This is really good, you should try some," the Devil continues, chew chew. A deep breath of satisfaction. "FUCK is this good. Mm~ Ah. And." He settles on Syn once more, "You can call me Gig. I come from a little continent called Arhor'ha. Just west of the Sword Coast of Faerun in the fun little planet of Abeir-Toril." It seems out of place for him to go into such detail until, again, this is Avernis. Hell. Connected to many planes and places.
"Perhaps you've heard of it, mm?" Gig says with the sort of tone that says 'Oh I'm SURE you do.'

Red shirt falls silent and Syn smirks. “What? Don’t like hearing the truth? Yeah neither do I but there you go.” She laughs chaotically before its broken by the clap from the Devil. For whatever reason it makes her annoyed. She clenches the great club at her side as if to suppress throwing something… again. “I have n-not considered that no.” She says behind gritting teeth. “Nor am I interested, sorry.”
Her hands shake and her teeth grind harder at the sound of the chewing from across the table. She begrudgingly listens as he talks about where he’s from. “Yes. It’s a shit place like here---” She turns quickly, slamming her hands down onto the table, and staring across at Gig. “CAN YOU PLEASE STOP CHEWING LIKE A FUCKING COW.” There’s a silence in the air as her shout echoes through the dining hall, her eyes locked onto the amber demonic ones staring back at her.
“….What did he sign for you?"

Gig carves out another bit of steak as Syn slams the table. A plate crashes to the floor and Ms. Cogsworth, skeletal heiress apparent of the Cogsworth peat farm, loses her head. Literally.
Amber eyes lock onto Syn's. Carve. Fork to mouth. "Steak" to mouth. Chhheeewwww. Chewwww. Chewwww.
Pause.
Chewwwww.
"Its really fucking good," Gig whispers back comically. Like an evil overlord making a side comment about culinary delights.
"Now /that/ topic is under client-devil confidentiality," Gig continues as he carves out another bit in ernest. "Which is, to say, he owes me a soul and in return I send him to Arhor'ha." The bonds of confidentiality run deep with Gig. Unawhatno retorts, "Lies. I don't even have a means to /get/ a soul so what sense does that make."
The silver haired devil slides his head to the side to get a good look at Unasoileddrawers, "Not my problem, champ. However, there is a time limit, so I'd figure it out quickly. Defaulting on a deal is bad." Carve. Chew. "Lhike rheawry bhad," Gig says with food in his mouth.
“Oh, yeah I couldn’t tell by you stuffing your face from across the table.” She remains staring at him as he cuts more bits of steak and stabs it with a fork. “A soul? He owes you a soul?” She pushes off the table bursting into a frenzied laugh. “AHHHHHHHHHHH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAA, red shirt you dumb ass.” She turns to look at him. “That’s what you were planning? Oh no..oh no no. You didn’t think you’d take mine?” She tilts her head, walking over to unaderp. “I realize we haven’t been together for very long but damn….” She gets uncomfortably close to his face, her eyes wide and red with anger. “What good is a soul… If its already---” She leans in next to his ear and whispers. “Dead.” She throws a punch into his stomach before stepping back.
“As Gig said, time is ticking buddy. You can try and take mine, or I send you loose out there to figure it the fuck out in time.” She shakes her hand from the punch. “Remember how I said you will die eventually? Yeah this is why. Dumb asses who don’t know how this forsaken place works, and desperately clinging to the idea of hope.” She pushes one of the skeletons off of a chair and sits down. “I fucking hate you both.”

There is something different about that punch. Hard to pin it down. Una felt like a sheet of paper instead of his usual burlap sack of bones and wet meat. He wants to respond to Syn, but there is a state of shock on his face. Terrified of Syn, perhaps?
It isn't until Syn has removed Sir Ginsley of the North Northeastlands until Unacorpse spits out blood and falls to the ground as blood pools around him on the hellish black floor. Gig doesn't acknowledge it, giving his attention evenly to Syn as a man dies in the background.
"Yes. Isn't hate such a wonderful feeling?" the man says with sinister overtones. "It gets so much DONE!" as the two remaining skeletons look to Gig's raised voices. "Hahaha HAHAHAHA," and he stuffs his face with another bite of his steak. "Mm~ Whel," swallow, "why not tell me your story. Lets form a deep emotional bond of friendship and loathing. Go on an adventure that changes our outlook of the world." He is out of steak. Leaning over, Gig grabs the plate from Ms. Cogsworth, "You know. Some real fairytale bullshit. Mm~ And I shall call you Lady Smashington. And we shall write books. And fish! Every GOOD adventure requires some fishing."
By now the trickle of blood has made its way to the table, creating a sticky pool around one of the floor tiles' grout.

Syn rests her great club up against the chair, placing an elbow on the table and leaning her head into her hand. She lets out a sigh. “They really need to stop pairing me up with idiots.” She fiddles with a spoon laying on the table without turning to look at the man laying dead and bloody on the floor. “And yes, hate is wonderful.” She turns the spoon around looking at herself in its reflection. Her eyes sadden for a moment before placing it back down on the table.
“Tell you my story?” Her eyes look up to see him still eating. “Its quite a fairytale novel itself Gig, I must say. Rainbows and sunshine all around. Right up your alley.” She nods, still leaning into her propped-up hand. “Freeport, slave trade, more slave trade, again more slave trade, annnnnnnnnnnnnnd wait for it, more slave trade. Don’t forget the dead friend... That’s always important to a rainbow story no?” She shrugs. “And you? What the hell are you doing signing deals with idiots like that?” She flips a hand over her shoulder in the direction of the corpse. At this point she’s found entertainment of balancing various silverware on the head of a skeleton next to her.
"Cows need to be branded, sorted, fed, slaughtered," Gig says in a dark tone of voice as he carves up another part of his steak. "And processed." He savors his steak, which is bloody rare, in a pleased smile.
"All things, a purpose, Lady Smashington! Cows. Idiots. Dragonborn heroes trying to save the world from the weight of its own hubris. Slaves. Foxes," Gig stops and gasps, "The FOXES. Divine. Some literally so."
"I don't see a slave in front of me," the silver haired devil says as he puts his fork down for the first time since Syn entered the room. The short, horned creature leans back. "I see a survivor. One that understand you have to get your hands dirty to get what you want. Lady Smashington, you have such nice reds and blues in your soul. If you could see what I see? Mm~ The foxes would be purple with envy."

A spoon rests with a slight wobble, poking out from the eye socket of the skeleton next to her. She nods at her own balancing skills until the words spoken to her from across the table ring through her head.
I don’t see a slave in front of me.
The spoon falls and clambers to the floor and there is a silence as she pauses, eyes widen and reflect on what he said. She glances away leaning down to pick the spoon back up.
“A survivor?” Her eyes flicker across the way to see Gig leaning back in his chair. “Please, I’m not here for pity.” She runs the spoon down the rib cage of the skeleton like an xylophone. “Reds and blues huh?” looking down at herself. “Why didn’t you just take that guys?” She points to red dead shirt behind her. “Also curious, did he really try to give you mine?

There is a silence in the air. Pity. Pity. Those gears are turning. "What is pity?" Gig asks. A concept so alien to him he doesnt know where to start. "I keep hearing these mortals use it and the context makes them look quite silly." Says a man who was having dinner with skeletons.
"Oh, I have his soul already. Not much effort to it. Didn't need to break from my dinner party to do it," Gig says as if he is particularly proud of himself there. "Thats how it works with souls. Like this steak here." He holds up the steak. "You have to butcher it. Carve it. Tenderize it. Perhaps marble the meat in fats before any of that. Or marinate it. A soul, a good one, you dont just RIP out and eat like some feral wolf. How barbaric! Harumph, Lady Smashington, Harumph I say!" Harumph he says. "And he did look to get yours. Maybe someone else you know. His soul was like a gamey crow. Something for the larder, but yours is quite the trade up."
The Devil steeples his fingers as he smiles slowly to a grin. "Your talents are wasted here, Lady Smashington. Why want for this lifestyle when you can free those blues and reds from the prisons of thick, restricting lines they are confined to? Let the ink blot the paper without boundary. Then burn the paper. Burn the library. Burn the whole town and let blue and red smoke fill the lungs of the cows choking on their own 'Order'." Cue maniacal laughter, "AaaaHahahahahaha!"

Syn gives up on balancing the spoon on the skeleton and folds her arms on the table. “Easy Gig, you’ll burst a brain cell thinking that hard over a word.” She grins, reaching out for a chalice on the table only to find it empty.
“It wont be the first time someone tried to betray me and It wont be the last. You know I’ve gone through like….” She places a finger on the tip of her chin and circles her head around in a thinking manner. “Eight cell mates? Ten? Something like that.” Syn shrugs. “I hope you enjoyed that gamey crow nonetheless.” She thinks. “A trade up you say? Are you implying my soul is like a steak?” She licks her arm. “Mhmmmm nope. Taste like dirt to me.”
Why want for this lifestyle when you can free those blues and reds from the prisons of thick, restricting lines they are confined to? Let the ink blot the paper without boundary. Then burn the paper. Burn the library. Burn the whole town and let blue and red smoke fill the lungs of the cows choking on their own 'Order'.
She flinches, the hand on her arm grips into the skin as if to hold back some painful memories, and the fuel of vengeance. She casually leans back in her chair, making it tilt and balance on the back two legs, listening as he speaks. The maniacal laughter filling the room as her eyes narrow. “I know what you are doing. I’m not dumb.”

"Aha haha haaaa," Gig slows his laughter. It is the absence of the sound that chills the soul. The sound of silence accompanied by half opened lids of burning amber eyes set in darkest obsidian. The tension could take the air out of the lungs of the living. It could crush the hearts of old man to haggard to continue in oppression. It is downright infernal.
"Do you?" the Devil asks slowly. "You know what machinations turn behind the eyes of a madman? Why, my dear Lady Smashington, would that not make you mad yourself?" A certain heat fills the room as the blood on the floor bristles. "What is it that I am doing, then?" Malice.

You’ve stayed here too long Syn, what are you doing? She thinks to herself as she glares back at Gig. His eyes focused back at her. He speaks and the menacing tone of “Do you?” makes her heart speed up in fear. “Me? Crazy? I thought that was public knowledge…” Her eyes look down at the blood on the floor before shifting to the door of the dinning hall and back to Gig. “You are being an asshole apparently and playing games. That’s what you are doing. I don’t sign deals with devils, or anyone for that matter.”
She stands up from the chair looking at him from across the table. “I refuse to be someone’s toy.” The candlelight flickers off her red colored eyes and her black hair that frames the sides of her face.

That moment when the sun rises over the horizon opens up a natural state of awe. It is hard not to take it in. Gig, in that moment, sits in this subtle appreciation of the dawn of the devil inside of Syn. "Then don't. Burn the paper. Burn the library. Burn the whole. Damn. Town."
A single talon-like finger trails down his face, drawing a cut, blood, and healing just as quickly as the cut forms to recreate a unmarred complexion. Gig draws the talon into wood, carving inches into it as his shoulders roll in a stretch. Eyes don't leave Syn's. Not for a moment. "It is in your blood, young Breaker. You were never meant to be someone's toy, yet they bought you. Sold you. Traded you. Moved your arms like a marionette. And so I see your strings are now cut. On your arms." Slowly he leans forward, "Your mind, however, remains quite trapped. They have convinced a lion that it is a house cat. And now that it prowls the night on its own, it is starting to feel those claws. Those teeth." Unblinking. "Those. Eyes."
Gig returns to his chair, "Mind games?! Why, of course! How else do you let the mind know what 'options' it has. To free it from the shackles of frozen thought! That is our role, us Devils, to remind people of options. You have options." Those words seem to echo in the room longer than they should.

She remains silent, watching him cut his own face. The blood drips slightly and then begins to heal. She flinches at the sound of his nails digging into the wood of the table. Rage fills inside her chest the more he continues speaking. The reminder of the dark torment in the slave trade brings her flashes of the past, and the sins. Don’t. The voice in her head shouts over and over. It’s a mental battle with the games of the devil before her and the conscious of her mind. “…in my blood?” She mumbles under her breath.
“You have options….” His voice echoes in the room and the rage consumes her. Chaotically Jumping on the table while putting a fork against the devil’s throat. Her eyes are red with hatred as she glares at him. Her black hair tied up into a pony tail shifts and falls over her shoulder, looking down at him. “I do not have options. I have betrayal and lies.” Her hand holding the fork shakes if not by the anger inside her, then by the sheer fear that she even held it to his neck in the first place.

"Yesssss!" hisses the silver haired Devil as he places his hand over Syn's when the tendrils of fear threaten to choke out the beautifully violent rage. A black, claw-like hand that radiates power and acceptance of this primal urge. "Which option is this? Betrayal? Lies?" He squeezes her hand, grinding the fork into his neck. "Feels too pure to be a lie, doesn't it?" the crazy Devil asks with wild amber eyes. "Too true. Too true. Then. Betrayal?" With just as much force as the fork went in, causing blood to gush down his neck, it is pulled out. As feared, the Devil is strong.
"The only betrayer here is you," Gig says as a hand runs across his healed neck, catching his own blood and licking it off in some other worldly grimdark fashion. "You betray your own nature. This?" the silver haired devil reaches out, going to smear his blood over her cheek and forehead. "This is the truth. You want to destroy me. Your rage and your pain runs deep. Yet instead of embracing this you fully reject yourself with spices of doubt and fear and loathing." Taking the bloody fork, Gig picks up a piece of bloody steak that is also now dabbed in his own blood. He noms on the steak. "The loathing looks quite nice on you. Doubt and fear though? Not your colors."
The fork jams into his neck and bright red blood trickles down it slowly. She crouches on the table watching as this devil proceeds to speak to her. The blood gushes heavily, watching it run down his neck and shimmer in the light. It brings her into a trance watching the blood glisten. Memories of murder she committed in the past and a strange urge to see more red. It’s trauma, anger, and the need of vengeance. “Pure…” Syn mumbles under her breath.
He pulls the fork out of his neck and her eyes shift back to his. Her hand falls to her side, dripping with his blood. Her teeth grind as he continues to talk, the small sharp points of her canines showing through her lips. His hand comes up and he paints his blood across her face. Her eyes widen, pulling backwards away from him as small trickles of blood run down her face. She pulls her hand up to see the blood wet on her palms as well. “This is how I have survived but this isn’t my nature…this isn’t my nature….” Her memories flash back to Solace, her only friend whom she murdered, forced to kill by their current owner. “THIS ISNT MY NATURE!” She shouts, her voice booms across the dining hall with rage.
The voice is deafening. A high pitch of trauma that drowns out any other sound like a hospital's flat line. The Devil watches as he eats his steak. Chew chew. Chew chew. As her emotions spill forth into sound. Chew chew. And her very soul blazes against itself. Chew chew.
Bump bump. Like a heartbeat. Bump bump.
It stops and a warm wind of brimstone drifts in from outside. "Cut the strings, little lion. Stop betraying yourself," Gig digs in deep. Sharply. "Red and Blue," he sniffs the air, now mixed with the elements and blood, "both are you. Red and blue. Yes its true. Red and blue with blood and bane. With rage and hurt and voice profane. Red and blue and blue and red. All are you until. You're. Dead." Bump bump. Bump bump.

Syn’s hand comes up and clutches the side of her head. Her other hand grabbing her own shoulder.“SHUT UP!” Her nails digging into the side of her scalp and arm. The anger grows and grows and grows inside her chest. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Her eyes close.
He might have a point.
No, he’s playing with my head.
You killed her… I didn’t have a choice.
You liked the blood, you didn’t stop.
I lost myself then.
Maybe this is the real you?
No…
There is nothing left for you.
No……
You are worthless.
No.......
At least you would have a purpose.
She screams out once more, her nails dig into her own arm and it begins to bleed and run down her forearm. Her hands then fall to her side and she opens her eyes, blankly staring down. There is silence in the room . It is broken by the sound of his knife screeching across the plate of steak. “Nothing, I am nothing. It is stupid to feel anything when you are nothing.” Her eyes open, looking down at the table. In front of her is where Gig had carved into the wood. She mumbles with a shortness of breath. “Burn the paper…Burn the library……Burn the town……”

---

Listen to Syn's song here: Written and composed by Kosmos based on this scene.
https://soundcloud.com/iikosmosii/just-burn-v2