helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

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"If you're hearing this then I can't be fucked answering right now or some other shit-covered fuckwich is going down on this boat so I'll get back to you when the fuck I can!"

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[The door to Blitzø's cabin looks like a typical shitty apartment door. Inside is pretty much exactly a shitty apartment. The door marked "Loona's room" does not open when tried and it appears that Blitzø himself sleeps on the couch. The walls are covered with images and drawings of horses, however every picture of Blitzø has his face scribbled over.]

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Yeah, Warden Gunshow. Gotta be weird seeing someone that far away from you though. Surprise, a whole ass kid you wanna watch out for and shit, even if they don't always want that.

[He takes another swig and falls silent, because that's a fucking mood and it's unsettling to think that Trevor might even know who he's talking about if he does mention Loona. So he doesn't.]

Eh, he's a demon, we're usually all the fucking same about getting our hands on whatever might give us an edge. Especially if we can also kill fuckers with it.

oh my god.

[Trevor mutters under his breath. Thank you, Blitzø, for that image. He drinks to clear his head of it]

It's hard sometimes. Most of the time.

[Watching Richter, wanting to protect him and knowing he can't.]

Guess all you can do is be proud of them and let them know it.

[He knows about Loona. If Blitzø doesn't want to bring her up, he won't either. But he'll imply, just a bit]

Yeah. I'd have figured him to be more hands-on with his kills. Sebastian's deadly, the gun might just be set dressing to keep those who don't know him away from him.

[Hey it could have been a lot worse, Trevor.]

Yeah, well. I hope you're doing that because it's gonna be fucking weird if anyone else does. Seems like he knows what he's doing at least, even if he should do something about that stick up his ass.

Guess that part's not from your side at least.

He's a Belmont.

[Trevor says this both in a way that indicates familial fondness and complete and utter exasperation]

That stick up his ass is probably one of the things that's kept him alive all this time. It props him up, like the world's shittiest scarecrow.

I don't know, seems like you got rid of yours if you had one.

[He takes another swig of his drink.]

So the warden who tortured you... they're not still here, are they?

Well. I'm kind of the black sheep of my family.

[He gives a grim smile]

No. Some of the sanctimonious ones are still here, but no one outright dangerous that I'd need to warn you about.

Fucking tell me about it. Pretty sure that the Admiral just flips a coin with some of them.

...what about the fucker who tried to use your sister against you?

Also gone.

[and he hated that one.]

It's just...when I look at the shit that I went through here, the ones who made my hair stand on end and my fists ache were almost always on the other side of things.

..So that's why Shaw and I don't really get along. She reminds me too much of the string of people that tied my hands behind my back.

[Well it looked like he didn't need to kneecap anyone right away then. Not that he's about to tell Trevor he'd been considering that.

Instead Blitzø takes another drink and shoves more knives over to perch on the bed as well.]

Yeah well, other than Malcolm being the biggest dumbfuck I've met when he puts on his 'warden' hat, most of you fuckers aren't that bad. Just don't go around telling people I said that shit.

[He chuckles and nods, the tension in his frame easing somewhat. He sits back against the bedpost, the one with all the initials carved into it]

None of them - us - get training in it. No instructions, nothing. I graduated and the next month I was handed the leash of someone who had been where I was a few weeks ago. It's horseshit.

Leaves a lot of new wardens stumbling.

So you could graduate, then be put in charge of someone you talked shit about wardens with like a week ago?

Satan's ass, Admiral Fuckhead has to be taking the piss at this point. You could flip everyone's roles just as easily and it wouldn't fucking matter.

I know. I know. Hey.

[he nudges Blitzo gently with his boot]

You’re in experienced hands. I already got one inmate off this ship. Helped a few more out indirectly.

Don’t worry. Won’t let anyone fuck you over.

Not just with the graduating inmates either, judging from that bedpost.

You gonna use those experienced hands on me, huh?

[He snorts, and shakes his head]

Sorry. Taken.

Anyway. This is..

[his hand trails up the bedpost. All the initials end with a B.]

I was twelve the last time I lived here.

[Blitzø leans over to get a better look at them and now he can see the pattern of last names.]

All your siblings?

One of them, before she got married and moved out to let me have it. Most of them are ancestors.

[A brief wave at the window]

This bedroom's part of the ancestral home before it burned down. Generations of kids used to live here.

[Trevor gives a tight, grim smile.]

Guess 'don't throw away anything useful' doesn't apply just to weapons.

Edited 2024-03-31 11:32 (UTC)

The kind of fuckers with 'ancestral homes' usually don't. They've got this kind of shit that lasts forever too.

[Which is actually weird as Trevor didn't strike him as coming from a well-off background. But maybe it's different with monster hunters.]

Why'd it burn down?

[Trevor gives shorter and shorter answers. He feels he owes it to his inmate to be honest with him, and he's never shied away from details here, but that never makes it any easier. Especially when they're sitting in the very rooms]

It was a pogrom.

[he smiles, grim and bitter and above all, tired of hateful people with righteousness in their hearts]

Apparently 'forever' means 'about four hundred years' before the good people you're protecting declare your family evil.

[Well that got dark fast, he immediately felt bad about bringing it up or making the off-colour jokes, and takes a hefty swig from his bottle to try and hide how badly he'd fucked it up. No wonder Trevor wasn't offering much detail.

But he can't just say nothing either without seeming like a bigger dick, so Blitzø tries to find some sort of compromise.]

Guess some people have short fucking memories and figured if they weren't getting in shit, it must be because the monsters weren't real and not cause of the fucking monster hunters.

[Honestly, Trevor feels it's probably better to get it all out there at the start than worry about treading around such an open wound. And Blitzø isn't trying to still kill him, which already puts him leagues ahead of his own countrymen. He doesn't say it's all right - it isn't, will never be - but he does relax his shoulders some when Blitzø doesn't choose to tease him further about it. That would have gone badly for all involved]

See. Knew you weren't so bad.

It's kind of why I don't get pissy when wardens here call me a hypocrite for sticking around to help inmates out in a system I'm not shy about criticizing. I'm still protecting the same people who murdered my family back home, or was. That was their legacy, their life's work. They died over generations to protect people. They'd want me here.

Like a good friend told me, "We're all, in the end, slaves to our families' wishes.'

Hey, don't fucking insult me to my face like that. I'm still a demon.

[It was closer to teasing than actually being insulted, although he can't quite buy that Trevor doesn't think he's that bad even after reading everything. (Or perhaps he doesn't want to)

But that last remark... Blitzø's face twists like he bit into a lemon.]

No, fuck that. I've got nothing to do with my family's wishes.

[He chuckles, and puts a hand up in defeat and acknowledgement. Yes, Blitzø, you're a very scary demon]

Maybe not your old one. You're trying to tell me you wouldn't do anything to protect your new family?

I mean...

[A flicker of guilt goes through him and Blitzø takes several deep, deep swallows from the bottle. He scrubs his hand across his lips afterwards, although the distraction hasn't helped much.]

Fuck. I'm here, does it still count?

Yeah. It counts.

[a shrug. Tired but feeling a lot better since he got a chance to talk with his new inmate one on one. It might be the beer he's drinking that has him searching the bed for a few good knives. Then again, it might be a convenient excuse and a way for Trevor to say "I've got you" without explicitly saying so]

Here. This one for quick stabs, this one for slicing.

[He hands over two knives, sized appropriately for Blitzø]

[Blitzø eyes them both before he polishes off the rest of the bottle and takes it with his tail to free up his hands. He tests both knives and gives a wicked grin.]

How many hours do you spend making sure this is all good to go all the time?

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