![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
002. enemies
Enemies! A good prompt. A solid prompt. Most of the enemies in my imagined plot are faceless, so the characters can conflict with each other. Do I want an antagonist? Do I need one?
I think I do.
title: click
setting: post-fall, pre-death, while eriol and berkant are on the run from demons. (tag used it 'plot-era', as it's set during the main plot of my theoretical outline - compare/contrast with academy-era, which ought to only show up in flashbacks)
warnings: threats of violence, nothing explicit.
characters: Eriol, Berkant, Melchom. Mentions of Lars, implied Odette.
word count: 555
notes: This turned out better than I expected! I now have a named villain who's all kinds of cruel, a moment where Eriol utterly loses control (this doesn't happen often for her) and all kinds of plot established. Also demonology!
~
"They're Melchom's men," Berkant says as he wraps the bandage around his arm. There's blood dripping on the floor, not that Eriol mentions it. It's not her home, and she's not paying the hotel bill.
She doesn't know if Berkant is, either.
"That name means nothing to me. Would you mind telling me something useful?"
"He's a conquered god, turned into a lesser demon. Arrogant little bastard," Berkant says, securing the bandage. "Paymaster, too, so he's not the fighting type himself. Hires his own guards, demons - men."
Eriol stiffens. "How are we paying for this room?"
"Why - oh. Don't worry about that. Disposable account. He can't trace it. That's the kind of mistake you only make once."
"I take it I'm about to hear the story behind that statement."
"I can sum it up, if you'd prefer?"
"Do. We don't have time to tell each other old stories."
Berkant sighs. "If I have to - here you go. Demons adapt to modern technology scarily well, while most angels lag behind at least a decade. They're improving, thanks to fatality." He makes a face. "You would not believe how many skirmishes have been lost thanks to demons coordinating with cellphones."
The scholar in Eriol wants to take notes, but the practical side of her is in control, primarily so they don't wind up shot.
"We need to rendezvous with Lars and get moving. Tell me you know how to contact a handler?"
It's almost funny to watch, the way Berkant's face shutters off and twists into a pinched, pained expression.
For a moment she thinks he won't answer, that the situation isn't yet that desperate, but then he speaks:
"I only have one number," he says, quiet. "I don't know if she'll pick up, if it's me."
"Then I'll call. Give me the number." Eriol holds out her hand, and he jerks his head towards the phone on the table.
"Use that."
Eriol's reaching for the phone when it rings, and Berkant immediately grabs her arm - how did he get over to her so quickly? - and drags her down as a light illuminates the curtain.
"Berkant Thresher," says a woman's voice from the phone. "Come out, come out. I promise safety to the boy if you do come."
Eriol picks her cheek up off the floor and leaps for the phone, grabbing it off the base and almost bruising her cheek as she brings it to her ear.
"I am not a boy!" Eriol shouts into the phone.
"Oh?" The voice is male this time, just as silky smooth. "My mistake. The records will be updated to reflect this, Eriol. Or have you changed your name as well?"
"No," Eriol says through gritted teeth.
"Noted," says the voice, and its tone changes, getting deeper. "However, you have made one crucial mistake, girl." Almost a sneer. "The boy in question is one we already have in our hands. One who goes by the name of Lars."
"Shit," Eriol breathes.
"Thank you for providing my with the correct hotel room. It will save us from needless property damage. Come out peacefully, or we will execute the boy."
Click.
~
I think I do.
title: click
setting: post-fall, pre-death, while eriol and berkant are on the run from demons. (tag used it 'plot-era', as it's set during the main plot of my theoretical outline - compare/contrast with academy-era, which ought to only show up in flashbacks)
warnings: threats of violence, nothing explicit.
characters: Eriol, Berkant, Melchom. Mentions of Lars, implied Odette.
word count: 555
notes: This turned out better than I expected! I now have a named villain who's all kinds of cruel, a moment where Eriol utterly loses control (this doesn't happen often for her) and all kinds of plot established. Also demonology!
~
"They're Melchom's men," Berkant says as he wraps the bandage around his arm. There's blood dripping on the floor, not that Eriol mentions it. It's not her home, and she's not paying the hotel bill.
She doesn't know if Berkant is, either.
"That name means nothing to me. Would you mind telling me something useful?"
"He's a conquered god, turned into a lesser demon. Arrogant little bastard," Berkant says, securing the bandage. "Paymaster, too, so he's not the fighting type himself. Hires his own guards, demons - men."
Eriol stiffens. "How are we paying for this room?"
"Why - oh. Don't worry about that. Disposable account. He can't trace it. That's the kind of mistake you only make once."
"I take it I'm about to hear the story behind that statement."
"I can sum it up, if you'd prefer?"
"Do. We don't have time to tell each other old stories."
Berkant sighs. "If I have to - here you go. Demons adapt to modern technology scarily well, while most angels lag behind at least a decade. They're improving, thanks to fatality." He makes a face. "You would not believe how many skirmishes have been lost thanks to demons coordinating with cellphones."
The scholar in Eriol wants to take notes, but the practical side of her is in control, primarily so they don't wind up shot.
"We need to rendezvous with Lars and get moving. Tell me you know how to contact a handler?"
It's almost funny to watch, the way Berkant's face shutters off and twists into a pinched, pained expression.
For a moment she thinks he won't answer, that the situation isn't yet that desperate, but then he speaks:
"I only have one number," he says, quiet. "I don't know if she'll pick up, if it's me."
"Then I'll call. Give me the number." Eriol holds out her hand, and he jerks his head towards the phone on the table.
"Use that."
Eriol's reaching for the phone when it rings, and Berkant immediately grabs her arm - how did he get over to her so quickly? - and drags her down as a light illuminates the curtain.
"Berkant Thresher," says a woman's voice from the phone. "Come out, come out. I promise safety to the boy if you do come."
Eriol picks her cheek up off the floor and leaps for the phone, grabbing it off the base and almost bruising her cheek as she brings it to her ear.
"I am not a boy!" Eriol shouts into the phone.
"Oh?" The voice is male this time, just as silky smooth. "My mistake. The records will be updated to reflect this, Eriol. Or have you changed your name as well?"
"No," Eriol says through gritted teeth.
"Noted," says the voice, and its tone changes, getting deeper. "However, you have made one crucial mistake, girl." Almost a sneer. "The boy in question is one we already have in our hands. One who goes by the name of Lars."
"Shit," Eriol breathes.
"Thank you for providing my with the correct hotel room. It will save us from needless property damage. Come out peacefully, or we will execute the boy."
Click.
~