Blood, Gore, Violence, Puppets and Kings of Hell (Closed OxO with Livs)

Nathaniel spat out blood from his mouth, the peachy, intoxicating scent ravaging his senses. With a haughty sigh, he looked up at the Puppet. His frown said it all. He had had enough of her bullshit. With a wave of his hand, his scythe moved from its current location to his hand. The king stood upon his shaky feet. "From my realm? You want me to get a broken soul from hell? Really? Are you fucking dumb!" A flick of his left hand opened a gate to hell. The floor broke away, falling into the chasm in the Earth. "Capturing? Come on?" He smiled, taunting the Puppet. "They bow to me and cannot do otherwise. The price is too great." A snap of his fingers closed the chasm, and Nathaniel held onto a white orb with red blotches. He scoffed. "'Captured'"

Nathaniel stifled a gruff cackle. Handing over the soul that was breaking at the seems, Nathaniel wished the poor thing luck, knowing it wouldn't survive in the Puppet's hand. Leaning against the blank walls, bored out of his mind, Nathaniel checked his nails. Blood was caked under the long, broken claws. "I am not really new to my kingdom— not as new as you think." He looked up from his clawed hands, smiling like a madman. "They like me better than father. They know the prices to anarchy against me. I have them wrapped around my thumb." His blue eyes glittered in the dim light, a light of hell giving his skin a faint glow. "Do not underestimate me, Puppet. I can do much more than you may think. It will be your eventual downfall." With a 'innocent smile', he returned to studying his scars and bloodied hands. "I am ever so bored."

“Your time would not be linear, of course. I've been around a lot less time than you have. Unlike me, you ancients are unable to construct a precise timeline of what has occurred. Two years have passed since the ascension, which you prefer to refer to as "mere minutes." Nathaniel huffed while adjusting his tailcoat. Unwanted heat was produced by the extra fabric layers that were layered on top of the linen. Instead of the warmth, he could feel the pressure. With a somewhat annoyed expression, Nathaniel removed his tail coat and held it in his arms. “Oh, I do find it strange that the only thing he and I share are the same last name. To me, we were nothing alike, but I managed to beat him at his own game. Some 'powerful' bitch he was.” A gorgeous wine glass materialized in his grasp with the snap of his fingers. It contained an odd, dark liquid that had the consistency of wine. He put the glass to his mouth and took a sip of the 'wine'. “Don’t you dare take away my power. That will truly be the end of you. Wouldn’t that be a joyous day?”

Nathaniel’s weary eyes panned up to the contraption and the soul. Many emotions reflected in his eyes. Annoyance, cruelness, joy. But from afar, they either seemed dead or worn out. He placed his arm around his waist and leaned his back against a far wall, sipping the wine. He stood up against the wall and regarded the glass door. The king quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the ichor. Such a strange color and consistency. His face twisted at the unpleasant groans of the structure. “Are you hoping for a hunted lab?” He questioned rhetorically. Nathaniel did not appear really amused or intrigued. "I do, in fact, see this. I do possess eyes." He grinned. "You're just a little god, aren't you. Does it bite? Because puppies in training do tend to bite.”

(Boop)

Nathaniel swirled the wine glass in his hand, spilling some of the dark, viscous liquid over the golden rim of the glass. It sloshed onto the ground, sizzling and burning the material that made up the flooring. He shrugged as a slight drunkenness rimmed his curious eyes as he looked down at the small hole that had grown at his feet. The king was basically drinking a strong acid demons called ‘wine’, but it didn’t seem to bother the king that something so dangerous entered his body without causing damage. In fact, it seemed to amuse him as a smile cracked upon his lips, turning into a wide grin as a crazed giggle came from deep in his chest. Maybe, perhaps, it was just the wine taking its effect. "I'd like to believe you know what you're doing, but it appears to be somewhat—in vain. Souls are not so easy to tame, especially when they’re not willing to go down without a fight.” His gaze landed on the Puppet, smiling like a delusional, drunk man. The wine had quick effects, taking over a demon’s mind quickly until they devolved into a strange, drunken state.

“Oh no. Please, I would love to continue and see. It is important if I want to see the outcome of your little experiment— or its extreme failure.” Nathaniel regarded the structure behind the Puppet. He observed how it shook and how the creature inside clawed for release. “Plus, if you try to blind me, I’ll break your pretty face.” His cheeks grew redder by the minute as heat flushed under his skin, flowing up to the tips of his ears. The creature he watched take shape did not excite him too much, at least not yet. Not until it started to take a humanoid shape. A shape that started to resemble him, well that— that made him tense. The grip he held around the black and gold wine glass tightened, his face twisted with disgust, and his muscles stiffened. “I am not a fan of this creature.” He wasn’t anticipating a creature resembling his own image, despite his blood being part of the equation. “Though the more I think about it, the thought is not so bad. Gods always create stuff in their own image. It’s what they do.” Did he just indirectly call himself a god? Yes. Yes, he did.

Breaking his gaze away from the creature stretching and melding into a being, he breathed a sigh. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath. It was clear what a glass or two of the stuff would do to a demon. What would it do to a creature like the Puppet? The heat under his skin grew stronger, his cheeks and ears flushing a stronger pink. With the flick of his wrist, purple smoke materialized into a scythe with a black and purple marbled blade. The saith appeared to be twisted layers of wood washed in an ebony stain. Nathaniel used the weapon as stabilization, nearly toppling over without the heavy scythe's help. "I feel stabby stabby. Killy killy." The demon king giggled.