Match of the Millennium

Description: Freshly glutted on Catholic guilt, the Darkstalker invasion raging on through the city outside, the Demon Queen seems to have pulled a complete three-sixty on her captive dragon. Cookies, tea, and a shocking confession are in order.

[LYRAELLE]
It's a small cafe in the west side of downtown Southtown. Between the time of night and the state of emergency in the surrounding city, the place is locked down, the front windows barred and curtained with plywood stuck behind them. Nevertheless, it looks as though someone ransacked the place at some point; racks of prepackaged foods and various condiments for meals and beverages have been looted or dispersed on the floor.

Cheerily, though, there's a kettle brewing in the kitchen, where the lights are on low. There's a staff lounge in the back with a sofa, used now as a makeshift bed for a certain unconscious captive.

From the front, there's an ongoing sound of someone moving around, along with a squeaking noise and occasional sloshing. Accompanied by those noises is the sound of a young woman's voice; one that sounds a bit chirpy, and possibly familiar:

'Puppies are cuddly, puppie are cute, they're never nasty or mean o/~
I'd give a home to all the lost puppies, if ever one day I were queeen o/~

[WALTER]
As a certain cheery asailant works on tea, Walter Bardsley is having a pleasant dream despite how banged up he is. The dragon-priest is bandaged up, shirtless, and duct-taped to said sofa by wing, tail, and arms. Not really enough to keep him in place normally...except for the fact that he's pretty darn wiped after the savaging he got from Lyra. He couldn't fight back if he tried.

And wasn't in la-la-land. Walter is dreaming of curiously royal nuns singing hymns, brushing his hair, laying back in comfortable laps as pillows...it's an indulgent, comfortable dream. He aches, even there. His inner dragon is oddly pacified by it all. Really, the Priest is indulging in way too much mental comfort and his own repressed desires right about now.

The nun outfits are definitely not standard issue, and there's a lot of pink going on in their hair. Or failing that? Kitsune tails. Don't judge him!

But it's not to last, as a particularly hard throb of his skull has him jolting awake. He lets out a roar-rumble that's very, very unpleasant. It filters through to the kitchen even as vaguely familiar song-sing hits his ears. Ow. His world is pain. At least there's a nice, cheerful voice to it all.

"What the bloody hell hit me this time? Feels like a party on Zack Island." Shudder. He tries to bludgeon down /that/ memory. Then he tries to roll to his feet. Strain. Straiiiiin. Thee's the sound of protesting duct tape, protesting bones, and upset dragon priests.

"As far as kidnapping goes...this is about seventh on my list as far as these things go! Will...get out of this in a second...and thrash you like you deserve, git!" Hurrrrgh, rumble! He collapses back.

"Sir Kiske is /not/ finding out about this one." He mutters to himself. Ugh!

[LYRAELLE]
As Walter raises his voice, the singing from the other room stops. There's a sound of rolling something-or-other approaching, and then a familiar face pokes itself around the side of the doorframe. Pink ponytail, black demonic horns, pointy ears, incredibly green eyes; Lyraelle is easily recognizable to those who've seen her. She gives a winning smile.

"Oh, good, you're awake! Sorry about all this. I've just been cleaning up~"

As if for emphasis, the head of a mop, dripping with cleaning product, swings into view from behind the Demon Queen.

"Just hold still a moment, please! I'll finish up, and -"

The whistling of the kettle steaming in the kitchen suddenly interrupts.

"- Oh, sorry, I'll get that!"

The pink-haired hellion disappears once more, and there's a sound of clattering ceramics.

"How do you like your tea?!" the girl's voice shouts from the other room. "And do you want any cookies?"

[WALTER]
Between the splitting headache, his wounds, and now /this/ change in attitude? The tirade he was trying to whip himself up into deflates. Eyes widen, his mouth drops as he spies the arrogant Queen with a mop. It's like night and day, and for a long second he just stares.

Then another second, and another, and Lyra is back into the kitchen. She might hear Walter's mouth starting up and stopping. His words keep catching and he mentally chews on them. r
He's still agape until she is offering him cookies. "Are you MOCKING me!? I did not dream the other day, 'Your Highness'!" One can hear him practically spit out that last part.

"Or...or was that really all a stage persona?" Doubt creeps in. He can't stay angry, her voice is flipping adorable when she's not being an arrogant evil Queen. Or an evil Darkstalker? A Darkstalker playing up a stage persona? Once again his head swirls. This is due to a minor concussion, but also the mystery that is Lyraelle.

"Two cookies and whatever you have on the kettle please. Your name /is/ Miss Darkheart correct? And please untie me, my tail is losing circulation." Walter just sounds a bit exhausted at this point. He misses dreamy nun-laps at this point.

[LYRAELLE]
"Two shortbreads and... er... whatever the bags they have here are for~" Lyraelle replies from the depths of the kitchen. There's a sound of something pouring, and a few seconds later, the demoness re-appears in the entrance to the room. On her arm, she carries a tray of shortbread cookies - a dozen, actually - along with a piping ceramic pot of what smells like tea and two matching ceramic cups. She sets the down on a coffee table in front of the couch. She's dressed the same as she was before, except, weirdly, she seems to be using a white tablecloth as a full-body cloak, affording her a much greater sense of modesty.

"So... so sorry about the duct tape! It's just... you know... I couldn't leave you in the street, but I was also worried you'd be mad at me, or you'd run away and tell somebody before I could explain what happened..."

The Demon Queen - or Demon Waitress, as it were - gives what looks like a sincerely apologetic frown to the dragon-priest. "You're a priest, right? That means that if I give you a confession, you're not allowed to tell anyone, right?"

[WALTER]
Walter really, /really/ wants to believe this was all a mistake, a poorly-thought-out promotional idea, or some such misunderstanding. And Lyraelle is making it easy to believe so.

Part of him, the greedy cruel side, wants to rip through his bindings and put her under one draconic foot. His human side glares and batters the tiny wounded dragon id back into a corner of his Darkstalker mind.

The priest takes the bait. Lyraelle is convincing, sincere, and really Walter just wants to believe the best in his fellow children of the Lord. Especially the darker ones as he thinks she is.

"Well. Perhaps I'm a fool, but I am going to believe this isn't some elaborate scheme. Just keep in mind, the Lord hates liars my dear!" He says, forcing a bit of stern to his voice. It's a bit weak though. Walter sounds tired.

"I am very mad! But I'm also a better man than to give into wrath when you clearly have an explaination in mind."

She wants a confession? Really!? He eyes her harder than before, until his eyes shut as little black spots appear in his vision. Ugh. Squint. He wiggles mostly upright.

"Tea first. I'm only allowed to tell someone if you've, say, confessed to a murder. Failing that, it is between you, me, and the Lord. " Open mouth. Draconic teeth shine.

Should he be sufficiently tea'd? He tries to sound dignified at least.

"How long ago was your last confession, Child?" Starts Walter as kindly as he can.

[LYRAELLE]
Both cups of tea are filled, and as she's pouring them, Lyraelle's tail sneaks out of her tablecloth. Darting toward Walter like a snake, it seems as though it may be betraying his trust - perhaps even its owner's - but it turns out that its intention is to use its spade to slash through the duct tape binding Walter's hands, freeing them to take hold of cookies or tea - or the tail itself, if he's feeling particularly vengeful. It seems that he's earned at least some trust.

"Never~" Lyraelle replies to Walter's inquiry as she moves to sit down on the end of the couch. "I've never been very... well, actually, I'd rather not talk about 'back then' too much. Before I found my true calling. My birthright. But, since we're in confession time now, I can say something that I couldn't say before, and hopefully, that'll explain... like... everything. It's just... one sin that I want to confess to."

Her smile is both hopeful and apologetic as she holds her teacup demurely in both hands. "I... lied. I'm actually a Darkstalker. For real."

Her tone suggests that this revelation should come as a shock.

[WALTER]
The dragon-priest jolts as that tail lashes out. Oh yes, he remembers the effects it had on him! But as duct tape falls, he relaxes. More and more he feels like he can trust in Lyra for the moment.

Besides, anyone who makes cookies and tea for him can only be misguided evil, not unholy evil. At least by choice. He's had much worse times after a fight than this.

Chomp. Walter, now freed, offers over one of the soft pillows to Lyra as she sits down. He has to be a knight too! Nodding solemnly, he awaits her confession of her most horrible sin.

Walter's shock is non-existant. He plasters on a kindly smile, tries to not let his twitching insides relate to a twitching brow, and has to devour a laugh with tea.

Lyraelle, when not a domineering succubus demon queen, is /adorable/. His weakness is to such adorable. Summoning every priestly bit of professionalism, he crosses himself with a teacup.

"May the Lord grand thee forgiveness, Child! I'm honored that you would be so truthful. I will be blunt with you."

He leans in a bit. Stern. Almost, well, Fatherly in both occupation and the more familial sense. Peeeeer!

"To lie is a terrible thing, but given the circumstances, hiding your true nature is necessary. The Lord understands when one must deceive so that innocent lives aren't harmed. I know too." He wiggles his own rather shiney golden tail.

Then he deflates. "So just file that one under 'plausible deniability'. I could /feel/ it, that's no human's chi. And the thing with your tail was..."

He'll need a minute here. He has no words.

"Your penance Miss Darkheart is to use that FightTube channel for a charity event of your choosing. I'd be happy to help you set it up, if needed. But you must do the groundwork! Understood?"

Smirk. "You almost had me fooled though." Yeah, he's teasing here. "Almost as hard to spot as I am!" Wing-flap!

[LYRAELLE]
The Demon Queen's smile remains awkwardly on her face as Walter offers forgiveness, then condones her acts of deception. Or at least, offers a rational moral basis for them. She appears to relax a little under the cloth that she's draped in, and raises her tea to her lips for a slow sluuurpy sip.

Which she nearly chokes on when Walter utters the words 'Your penance.'

She coughs and sputters for a moment before composing herself. "S-sorry. I forgot about the whole 'penance' thing, but - sure, I can do that. I'll do a twenty four hour stream or a charity match or something. Or maybe twenty-four hours of charity matches?"

Before she can let her ambitions carry her away too far, she's distracted by Walter's sarcasm. "Oh! Well, I mean, I did a lot of work making videos to show how all of this is fake, right? But... well... I mean, I didn't think I'd be able to fool you after I, uh... tasted your power."

The implement with which she did so, her rubbery purple spaded tail, sneaks back up from under the tablecloth and peeks over her right shoulder. Her eyes flit to it indicatively. "See, this... this is my tail. It's part of my birthright. The Darkheart family bloodline. It... feeds on power. And see, I was fighting another Darkstalker, before I found you. He was really nasty and super angry, and I had to steal some of his power to beat him... but I got carried away, and, um, well, it was like drinking a can of rage juice. Then I beat up his bad guy friends, and I was chasing one of them when I saw you, and... well, you looked like fun."

The demoness bites her lip after saying so, looking to Walter's face for his reaction. "Sorry for... you know, being... naughty?"

[WALTER]
Walter slowly nods his approval of this penance. "Go with the Lord then Child. In Jesus' name, amen!" He crosses himself, then his legs, and sips more tea. Also cookie time. They don't last long to dragon teeth. Nomf! Chomp!

"I think you'll find that doing what you love for a good cause will be rewarding. Perhaps you'll make it an annual thing." Wink wink!

Leeeean in. He even pokes that power-devouring implement with his own tail experimentally. "Mmm. So basically you got drunk off of wrath. Would it surprise you to know I've been there?" A raised brow.

"Erm, not the 'eating power with tail' bit. That's for balance and beaning idiots on the skull. The 'rage drunk' thing. My other half..." Flap wing.

"Gets feisty. Good thing you tasted priest, not dragon, or you'd have an urge to horde things you like. And beat things down in a show of dominance." Pause. He peers.

"Any thoughts of dominance or increased love of gold?"

'Naughty'. One can watch the blush form on his face. Walter is very much keeping his eyes level here, and slowly sliding them to the right as he tries to play this off. He laughs. Like an absolute dweeb under heavy doses of repression.

"W...well...one might say that is a combat doctrine. Distractions and all! It's almost entirely slipped my mind." From the sound of his voice it has not slipped his mind at all and is probably very much on it. His tail is wagging like a dog.

"R-regardless, it's fine. I am not one to be taken by one's charms no matter how pleasant or generous." There's not much confidence in that statement. Bluuuush!

[LYRAELLE]
Lyraelle's lips curve into a slight but sincere smile of gratitude as Walter approves of her penance. Amazingly, she doesn't catch fire at the dragon-priest's blessing or recoil at the sign of the cross. Perhaps the demoness isn't herself. When the reptilian tail prods at her unnatural one, the spaded purple appendage seems to react almost with a mind of its own, attempting to coil around Walter's tail. He'll even feel a slight tug on his essence, before Lyraelle reaches out and pulls her own tail away with a chastising glare at it.

"Sorry! I'm still getting used to it," she explains with an awkwardly forced laugh, before her eyes drift to one side with a slight worried expression. "Yeah, I... er... well, it would be really great if we could just forget about that stuff. I mean, I wasn't myself, right? And it might look bad if people found out I was beating up priests. I mean, I'm trying to be a role model and everything."

She tilts her horned head a little at Walter's inquiry into the effects of his power on her. "Actually, I get those anyway. If anything, I feel less dominant than usual. I mean, with my royal blood and everything. Not that I'm all tyranny and entitlement on a good day. Mostly, I feel... weirdly guilty about everything. And like I want to drink tea and help people feel better."

She adds some sugar to her own cup of tea and stirs it, before taking a long sip. Her thin pink eyebrows raise slightly at Walter's reaction to her words, clearing her throat.

"Oh! I meant the whole... being mean in general! I guess... especially for that part, though. Must've been the, uh, rage juice."

Another awkward laugh.

"So, how come you don't just... hoard shiny stuff and bully people, if that's what you're naturally like?"

[WALTER]
Eep! Well, that's what you get for violating the personal bubble and poking at others' tails, Walter. He really should know better. At the very least, he doesn't sound angry any more about the whole thing!

"Your secret is safe with me. Honestly, it really does sound like a misunderstanding. ...This is not the first time I've dealt with situations like that. Blasted racist cops!" Huff!

He sips more of his tea, then crosses his arms. "Well then, perhaps you aught to nibble on me more often if it's getting you to feel proper things!" Pause. He looks away very suddenly.

"Let me rephrase that. A little good-natured guilt and helping people never hurt anyone! And if you are really a Queen, then you should focus on helping others. People like those kinds of Queens. Otherwise you'll get the demonic French Revolution. You're too oddly nice for that to happen to you. My holy two cents." Clearly Walter thinks this is the start of a beautiful holy demon queen reign.

Eyes close. He scowls a bit! "For very good reasons! I do not like acting like some sort of monster. The Lord gave me this burden and this power such that I can use it to /help/ other people. I have a...mentor that I visit from time to time who is training me in keeping it under control. Though I'll take tips if you know how to keep dragons from /not/ raging and hording everything shiney or cute. ...I once woke up to a bunch of gold rabbit plushies after a bad incident." Shudder.

"We should use our natures to help people. Not be ruled by them."

[LYRAELLE]
Lyraelle rolls her shoulders underneath the tablecloth she's wearing, slumping in her chair and relaxing her eyes for a moment. The effect of the chatty dragon-priest's promise to keep her wrongdoings a secret has a visible, profound effect on the penitent princess' state of being.

The effect when Walter recommends that Lyraelle should feed on him more often is twice as visible and twice as profound. She sits up in her chair, her posture straightening and pointed ears pricking at the priest's words. Her gloved hands shift beneath her cloth, finding her knees and squeezing her fingers around them tightly. Simultaneously, her purple tall lifts its spaded tip like the head of a serpent testing the air for prey. Her lips press together to suppress whatever emotion might slip through them until he tongue presses through to wet them. Her covetous green eyes fall on Walter's face.

"I, um... well..."

It's the sort of reaction that one might expent from a junkie being offered a fix, then being told that, morally speaking, it might be the /right thing to do./

"Maybe you're right? I mean, if you think it would help..."

Ironically, it's the lingering effect of tapping Walter's nature that forces her eyes to search the room for something other than the 'taste' of holy dragon chi to focus on. They flit amongst various posters advertising local services beore falling on a first aid poster and a medical kit beside it. "Oh! I have an idea for that whole penance thing. I can go rescue people!"

Setting down her tea on the table quickly, she pushes herself up to her feet and shuffles over in her sheet to where the first aid supplies are hanging. She gives the poster a look over as she slips a gloved hand out of her tablecloak and lifts the medkit off the wall. She lifts it and shows it to Walter. "See?"

[WALTER]
Idly Walter wonders if he's made a massive error. The offer was off the top of his head. Especially as he sees that /look/ and how she licks her lips. He kind of feels like a milkshake about to be devoured right now.

"N...now now! Remember, I'm injured. No putting the straw in the priestly slushie while he's wounded!" Comes the priest, only slightly chiding! He /did/ offer.

At least she's off to get something. He perks up at the mention of penance, and his eyes follow. Squint. Squint!

"That's certainly one way. There /are/ plenty of people needing medical help with all of the chaos. I approve! Congratulations, Lyraelle, you are blessed now." He's over to the medkit wielding demoness, and then he's finding something in a pocket. Holy water!

"May this medkit and the kind soul whom uses it spread health and holiness to all whom she meets! In Jesus' name, amen!" Yeah he's splashing holy water on the medkit. Also on her tail accidentally. Hopefully this won't be a problem!

"You don't happen to know where all of our fuzzy colleagues /came from/, by chance?" He wonders hopefully.

[LYRAELLE]
"I don't, but maybe I can find out!"

There's a sizzling sound, and Lyraelle gives a little jump as her eyes go wide.

"Oh, whoops. I forgot to turn the burner off," she realises aloud, turning around and heading off toward the kitchen as the medkit disappears under her tablecloth overgarment. As she passes by Walter, her tail reaches toward him again, stretching slowly - but just as it might latch onto the nearest leg or other appendage, she's moved on, and it droops down toward the floor again. A few seconds after the demoness disappears into the kitchen, the sizzling sound stops.

"I'd better get going soon, I guess. Are you going to be okay here? You know, without me to protect you?"

The pink-haired hell-maiden appears in the doorframe again as she asks the question, tilting her head to one side.

[WALTER]
"Mmm, as I thought. Yes, please. Here, my number!" Yup, Walter finds a pen and a napkin to write on, then he's laid out his number. "Consider this collaboration. We need allies if we're going to solve this wolfy mystery!" The priest sounds a bit excited about the whole thing.

And he avoids being soda-pop'd as well by that tail! His own tail droops as if it was sad that it didn't get to play with another puppy. Smack! Bad tail!

Walter laughs. "I appreciate your concern dear, but I'm tougher than I look! Besides, we have work to do. Be safe out there. Call if you need help! Hrrmn." He stands up, acheing a bit, and stretches. He points.

"And I'm buying you a proper dress or something! The tablecloth works in a pinch, but you're going to cut off the circulation in your wings. /Then/ I'd have to massage them into being un-tingly. It's not pleasant when your wings are asleep!" He raises his tea in salute of the demoness.

"Go with the Lord, oh Queen Lyraelle. May your works bring love, healing, and safety to all! I know you'll make me proud out there." Smile! Smiiile! He really does sound like he wants to believe she'll be doing good things!

[LYRAELLE]
"Alright! If you're sure," is Lyraelle's answer to Walter's dismissal of her concern for his well-being, accompanied by a maple-sweet smile. The number on the napkin is taken and tucked away who-knows-where, given that her tablecloth likely isn't equipped with pockets.

"Oh, don't worry about buying me a dress. I mean, it's not that I usually think of myself as underdressed, but I thought, well, with you being a priest and all... I've had my wings fall asleep on me, before, actually. When I tried sleeping on them, weirdly enough. That took getting used to."

She beams brightly as the commission is given.

"Thanks! I'm sure that I will! Oh, one last thing!"

A camera is produced from beneath the cloth and held up as Lyraelle hops over to Walter's side. She holds it up and points it at herself along with the half-dressed dragon-priest. She raises her free hand, forming a vee shape with two fingers by her face as she tilts her head and winks at the camera.

"Smile!"

*click*

Log created on 20:36:22 04/06/2020 by Walter, and last modified on 10:48:02 01/21/2026.