helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

If it's ability to graduate, I can think of half a dozen assholes I've seen with far worse crimes than you who've come through here, graduated, and gone back to doing exactly what you were doing. The Necromancer in Charge doesn't seem to give much of a fuck. And like I implied, I don't care how long it takes. I'm here until I'm forcibly removed from this ship.

[He tilts his head, catching onto the real meaning behind it all]

So go on. Do you want to graduate or not? I'm asking because if you don't care, I don't care. If you want to, I'll help figure a path out for you that both keeps your personality intact and satisfies the Necromancer.

Edited 2024-03-24 10:21 (UTC)

[At this point, Blitzø is staring enough at Trevor that the man may be forgiven for thinking that the imp has either stopped understanding whatever language they all speak or that Trevor himself might have sprouted a second head or something. He wants to ask why Trevor even cares, but doesn't know if the answer would even make any sense, that it might just be who Trevor is and that's just... weird.

So instead he tries for something smaller to begin with.]

You think I can? 'Cause I'm a fucking demon who kills people, not sure what the fuck Admiral Dickwaffle even wants me to do here.

[Oh Blitzø. Trevor knows he's weird, even on this terrible ship full of weird people. At this point he tends to ignore it all and soldier on through.

He shrugs, leaning forward on his knees. Decides he has to give a concrete example for Blitzø to start believing graduation's even possible for him]

The Belmonts have...had an ancestral enemy. An ancient vampire who'd been around for at least five hundred years when I was born. Who directly murdered at least twenty of my ancestors and impaled or drank the blood of thousands of people we'd sworn to protect.

The last few years of my life, he'd made a decision to kill the entire world and had an army capable of doing it. We - me, two others - managed to kill him. We spent the next year making sure no one could resurrect him from Hell.

And I died, and came here. And he was here. That son of a bitch graduated right in front of me. Rubbed it in my face, told me he didn't want to kill all the world, just the people responsible for wrongs committed against him. Even stayed on as a warden.

So...yeah. You can. The Necromancer doesn't steal the irredeemable dead. And he has a very loose definition of the word 'irredeemable.'

How the fuck does anyone know what they have to do to graduate then?

[Alright, he can get where Trevor is coming from and maybe think that the guy does actually think he's not a complete loss, but that just seems to open up the floodgates on like... everything he's been sitting on.]

Some used cumstain drags me here and I'm supposed to fucking graduate but no one fucking knows what that means, other than vague bullshit about being better like that makes any more fucking sense?! Better fucking how?! And who the fuck gave him the right to say I'm not fucking good enough?!

[oh that's a very bitter, tired smile Trevor's wearing now. His 'line' of warden-inmate pairs - Lark, him, Dimitri - all had the same anger and pissiness against the Admiral that Blitzø is even now starting to display. He wonders if all inmates go through this or if it's just their own special brand of asshole]

One of the many reasons I hate him. Sure.

He gives a file to the permanent pairs but it's sometimes worse than useless.

[He stills completely at that.]

...what kind of file?

[He withdraws Blitzø's file from his cloak and holds it out for him to take]

[He takes the file and flicks through it just enough to see what it says, know exactly how detailed it is.

Then he will try to tear it to bits. He imagines that the Admiral has probably made it impossible, but he's sure gonna try.]

[well he should have figured that was going to happen. Trevor watches: the file is only made of paper, nothing magical about it.

He knows firsthand how intrusive these things can feel]

[Blitzø is clearly surprised as not only the paper tears in his claws, but Trevor makes no move to stop him. His gaze flicks to the other man and he pauses for a moment, clearly waiting for the reprimand or grab for the file, but when it doesn't come he immediately shreds the thing into as many tiny pieces as he can manage.]

How much did you read?

All of it. Once.

[And it didn’t really turn him off - on the other hand, it cemented in his mind how much of an asshole the Admiral was to pair them.

He read it to be prepared for what he was going to go into, not so much to be intrusive. Even if it felt that way. (It always feels that way to him)]

[His tail lashes like an angry cat.]

Right, so guess you know how much of fucking failure I am. Kinda surprised you even wanna try this fucking graduation bullshit. You know it won't fucking work now.

[yeah fuck you too, Admiral. Trevor rubs at his face, rather than curse that entity out loud]

Actually, I was going to say that you’re not half as bad as some people here.

Christ on a stick, were you dropped on your head constantly or something? Aren't you supposed to be a monster hunter or something, and you're being nice to an actual fucking demon?

[in a tone that indicates he’s pretending to be hurt]

No, I wasn’t dropped on my head.

Most actual fucking demons I meet are trying to kill me at first sight.

Your coffee’s shite enough to be poisonous though. If I shit myself to death in an hour I’m going to be pissed off.

…

[serious tone back now!]

You’re not genocidal. You’re fucking annoying and you kill for money but you at least kill for understandable reasons. There’s plenty here who do it for fun or out of boredom. Already you’re not half as bad.

And you’re not needlessly cruel. You don’t torture. You don’t play with your food. Already that puts you ahead of almost every vampire I’ve ever met.

You don’t hurt animals. You’re not out here honing your skills because you love the sound of screams. You don’t eat what you murder, you don’t make contracts with kids. All these are people on this ship I’ve met at one point or another. So I’m not trying to bullshit you.

Yeah well, if you shit yourself to death it's because you weren't fucking tough enough to deal with it. [Blitzø retorts, then sniffles but not because he's fucking upset or touched or anything, it's because his apartment is a dusty mess, shut up.]

Probably have an easier time if I did do all that shit. Then you could just tell the Admiral where to shove it.

[going to do the kindest thing he knows how and just pretend like Blitzø isn’t tearing up]

I already do. Often. Just not for shit like this.

Look, I didn’t come here because I wanted to tell you what to do or to hold your file over your head. I came here because an evil Necromancer who kidnaps the dead wanted us to play nice. I never respected the warden inmate divide when I came here as an inmate, probably never going to, because there’s good inmates and bad wardens same as there are the reverse. It’s a game to him.

You were handed shit in life. And I hate being a warden here. It’s where I can do the most good by the inmates but don’t think for a second I won’t demote myself if I feel it’s the right thing to do.

I don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be here. I’m tired of deals made off the backs of the kidnapped dead.

[He'd already known that Trevor had been an inmate before becoming a warden, but if there had been any doubt about that, it's dispelled now. He can't imagine anyone who agreed to this whole warden deal would talk about it like that.]

Don't fucking demote yourself, shit for brains. Seems like this place could use more fuckers like you. And I don't want anyone else to read up on me either.

[Blitzø mutters a curse and scrubs at his face.]

Satan's ass, you're right this coffee is shit. Maybe should use a deal for that.

[He gives a self-depreciating sort of chuckle]

Funny, that's what Sweeney tells me. Same insults and everything.

[He nods, setting the mug down on the table]

Yeah, it is. C'mon. Got something stronger in my cabin.

Fuck me, don't tell me I'm getting predictable on this shit too.

[He jumps down, picking up Trevor's cup and taking both of them to the little kitchen to dump out the contents.]

Maybe you should listen to him then, been here longer than I have and probably knows what the fuck he's talking about.

No, I think I just have that effect on people.

[He nods his thanks, getting up for the door.]

I think I've been here as long as he has. We're friends.

That long, huh? [Oh right, he remembers someone else who's friends with both of them as well.]

Met another warden who knows you, said she doesn't like your style much. But did share a rumour that you've got a pretty big fucking package.

Shaw.

[And the temperature in the room drops several degrees at the mention of her name]

Yeah. I know.

[Oh that's interesting. Shaw had said she didn't like Trevor's wardening, but this smells like beef between them and he's immediately curious.]

Ohhh something fucking happened between you two? Spill. We talking arguing about how to warden better or bad break up, someone pissed in someone's cheerios, something like that?

It’s a long story. Just not a very interesting one.

Short version is…

She doesn’t listen to anyone and I hate the way she treats inmates. After the last port we were in, I decided I was done. I don’t know why she still wants to irritate the people who were willing to die to get her out, but since all it would do is end in yet another argument, I figured she can just find another convenient target for her shit.

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