6981/The Long Dark Sipping of the Soul

The Long Dark Sipping of the Soul
Date of Scene:	17 July 2021
Location:	The Griffin
Synopsis:	Satana and Thomas get audited!
Cast of Characters:	Thomas Blake, Satana Hellstrom

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Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake got the dye from the bomb in the money bag off after a while. By the time he was clean he was seething. Satana might have gone on to further hijinks. He was not so mercurial. In fact holding a grudge to your dying breath was in his wheelhouse.

The clothes were a loss and he exited the basement in his birthday suit, the three jagged scars quite prominent on his chest, hands clenched. Silently he padded up to the bedroom, where he last saw her heading. This was it. He had enough.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Tomcat!" Satana called out from the bedroom. "While you're here, could you bring another keg of the good stuff? This one's almost empty."

She probably means the beer.

"I don't know what keeps happening to it. I don't drink that much, and if you did you'd taste a whole lot different." She's probably not talking soul taste here. "Is it Bloorg that keeps doing it?"

Thomas Blake has posed:
Positive visualization is the key to success. He comes through the door, screams, leaps and strikes, all three too fast to separate. Why does she even keep drinking his stuff? Not like it gets her drunk... He takes a deep breath and enters the bedroom. He leaps. He growls.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
He leaps. He growls. She falls back with him onto the bed.

"There you are!" she says. "Did you bring the ke...?"

For a moment she seems taken aback when this doesn't seem to be his usual form of attack. More like he's actually angry and trying to harm. Confused she asks, "Is something wrong, Tomcat?"

Thomas Blake has posed:
She's down! She might be bulletproof. She might be able to lift a car. But she's 115 wringing wet after a big lunch with loose change in her pockets. Mind magic could make a mountain of her but he gave her no such chance.

He strikes!

<<Thwap>>

He turns her around to face him, hugs her almost violently and buries his face in cinnamon and sin.

"I gave the other keg to the neighbors. They're having a barbecue and invited us." His voice is muffled most pleasantly.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"A barbeque?" Satana asks as she gets twirled around and hugged and held in ways that trigger ... things ... in side her. Her eyes half close as she wraps her own arms around him. And legs.

"I got bad news for you Tomcat," she purrs in his ear. Her voice starts changing. Deepening. Getting that odd high-pitched rasp on top of it. Her demon voice. "We can't make it to the barbequeue."

The physical transformation always starts with the eyes, going square like a goat's. Her pale skin turns red, and her red hair, cowlicked as it is on each side above her forehead, makes way for the genuine horns starting to pop out.

"We've got things to do, Tomcat," she growls--literally--into his ear. Fingernails become thicker. Longer. More pointed. Talons. "The only question is ... will you survive them?"

She's joking. Maybe. Probably.

Her body temperature rises to fever heights.

"'Cause while you get everything you ever wanted out of me, I'm drinking and getting totally fucking shit-faced on you!"

Thomas Blake has posed:
There is no submission here, no fear. Thomas Blake bites down on her shoulder. What would be a major wound in a normal human triggers a soft gasp and merely leaves red welts. Better to die a lion than live as a sheep. She wants to sup on him, let her work for it! His arms around her waist would snap an ordinary spine. Even she notes it, he is sure.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Playing rough are we tonight?" Satana-the-demonic says, laughing. "Get it out of your system Tomcat! I'm your toy tonight!"

Her hard, demonic body writhes beneath him in ways calculated to drive him further down the path into madness.

"Whatever you like, loverboy. Whatever you want in wherever you want. Both ways. I'm game for it all!" Her demonic visage, eyes now golden yellow with red sclera, stares up at him. "Slap me around? You got urges, babe, and I can take 'em. WANT them! Get it all out...and into me!"

Then, to goad him into more, she jabs her talons into his back, just near the kidneys. A silent threat: they can go deeper. Much deeper.

"GIVE IT ALL YOU GOT, TOMCAT!"

Thomas Blake has posed:
He did.

And then some.

The soul feeding takes his toll, as do other things and in the end... he remains conscious. He blinks and holds up a finger. Point of query?

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The sated demoness, both physically and spiritually, lays sprawled lewdly across the bed. "You're ... getting ... more durable," she says. "I almost lost control, you tasted so much of rage and hate and sin!"

And truth is, not all that long ago if she'd taken as much as she did today, Thomas would find himself being crapped out in Hell.

"What's your question?"

The room lights up. One half in white, the other in red. Two creatures stand there: one a shining vaguely humanoid figure lit up so bright white that any details are lost in the glare. The other is more classical demon: cloven hoofs, goat legs, curling ram horns, leathery wings, flames.

Both, oddly enough, are holding clipboards.

"Is this an inconvenient time for your inspection?" the demonic one asks, his voice indicating that YES, PLEASE MAKE IT INCONVENIENT! "It will be short. Only a few dozen hours of your time."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake takes his upheld finger and points it at the intruders. "Friends of yours?"

"To ask my previous question why the hell am I not dead, emaciated, unconscious, all that good stuff? Are you going soft? Getting tired of me?"

The glowing humanoid steps closer, "That's a good question. Why isn't she hurting him?" it asks the demon.

The demon scratches his horn, considering.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Wait, are you fucking AUDITING me?! Here and now!?"

Satana's bloated, supine splay turns into an almost instant cross-legged sit on the bed, accidentally sending Thomas flying. Fortunately onto the plush giraffe, sparing him a broken tailbone.

"You're not supposed to be doing that kind of shit in front of mortals!" she hisses. "They see this and it's going to fuck up their entire worldview!"

The demonic one rolls his eyes and makes a note in his checklist. "Him knowing about the Eternal Realms is already enough. You spilled that milk ages ago. Stop fucking whining about it and answer the question."

His pen points at Thomas with disdain. "Two questions really. First one, why is he not dead. Are you softening? I'd hate to have to report a temptress going soft. You know how they harden you up again, right?" The eyes of the interlocuter light up with lust. "Hardens me up just thinking about it," he says, making the angelic side turn its head away in disgust. The noise focuses the interlocuter. "Oh, right. And here's the second question, which is more personal interest. You actually let these creatures ... inside ... you? I mean I understand the feeding. Heaven, I approve of that. But ... you ... let it ... discharge."

He produces a stained handkerchief. "You might want to do something about that. It's really distracting."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" snaps the angelic side. "Do you always have to be so repulsive while doing this? We have to work together. I don't like it. You don't like it. We're both being punished in this job. Do you HAVE to make it worse with your ... your ... twelve-year-old's innuendos!?"

The angelic being turns its attention to Thomas. "You, fallen one, what is your impression. Did she draw less from you or did you somehow give more and still survive?"

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake gets up and looks around for his pants, finding them under the giraffe. He gets dressed, considers his reply and gives the auditors the finger. "Go fuck yourselves. Also would you guys care for some coffee? I have this new creamer with brown sugar. Delicious. I think coffee is needed."

He walks past the angel and gives it a pinch. "Fuck your 'fallen one' bullshit. I got a lot to give." He leaves the bedroom, middle finger upraised.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana watches Thomas' performance with pride. "Now you see why I keep that one alive," she says to the demonic one. "Fuck your insinuation that I'm going soft. That one does more to cause Falls than all the imps I own!"

"Hey!" one imp voice pipes up from underneath the bed. "That hurts ma...OW!" The outcry caused by Satana reaching underneath and pulling the creature out by its ear.

"You were down there the whole time?!"

"Well yeah. I like the noises you guys make. Ah ... gonna need some cleanup down there."

"That's not important. You saw me drain him, then, right? Don't lie about peeping."

"Sure did."

"Was it weaker or stronger than normal?"

"Way stronger. I thought you got tired of him and was gonna husk him. Bit disappointed you didn't. I'm gettin' hungry and the husks you leave behind are delish!"

"Was it shorter or longer?"

"Normal time. Maybe a bit longer? Look on his face was precious. Like you gave him a lifetime's worth of climax in fifteen secon...." The subsequent splatting noise was the imp being tossed casually away now its purpose had been fulfilled.

"There you have it. Stronger than usual and at least as long. I'm not getting soft, he's getting hard." At the snort from the demonic auditor she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Not now. Not in that way. That won't be working for hours. Maybe days."

The angelic being, after resisting the urge to smite Thomas for touching it, turned its attention back to Satana as she grilled the imp, pen tapping against its teeth.

"It seems she's complying," it finally decides, addressing the demonic auditor.

"Yeah. Seems is the right word, though. This is Satana Hellstrom. There's been red flags on her account for ages." He turns his attention to Satana. "You're in the clear now, honeybunch, but we're keeping our eye on you. This ain't over by any means. Your audit is still ongoing."

Thomas Blake has posed:
The angelic auditor makes a swipe of its hand.

The auditors step out of time for a brief discussion, leaving Satana oh so lovely but frozen.

The angel looks around nods in satisfaction then creates a holo display titled 'Blake, Thomas.' The angel dims its glow and stands revealed as John the neighbor. "Muriel... this is not funny. His soul strength did increase. His resistance increased. Now you can pull my halo all that you want... but we got a human benefiting from demonic forces. And she is going soft, by your rules, as he lived past the first feeding. And when she does kill him eventually through carelessness or him cheating on her, she'll make him a dang trustee or a demon in training. Hell kind of loses its sting, which is bad for me. So we got two choices... you go tell Marduk Kurios his little girl is becoming domesticated or worse, is in love, orrrrr." The angel stabs at the control panel it called forth. "I do a hard restart of him, restoring his sould to when he first met Satana. Look, he's fourteen solaces less. When she doe s a soul drain like this last one he dies! Problem solved, we can have our barbecue, and split this realm."

"What, why are you looking at me that way? I never said I was the angel of mercy friend."

Downstairs Thomas is frozen kicking Bloord in the ass, the little demon still hanging onto a keg of beer.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Tricky there, 'John', but I'm keeping us sideways to time here. What you call 'soft' I see as 'planning'. I mean look at the guy's rap sheet. He's responsible for more souls being sent to Hell than most mortals. My girl here recognizes talent and is fostering it. You call her soft? Ask the guys she fed on in Gotham if she's soft. Ask the security at the bank that she soul-fired with that pain thing she got goin' on if she's soft."

'Muriel' steps up in his human female form as the neighbour's wife. "I'm not signing off on that reduc. We keep watching Hellstrom. And if the balance sheet tilts the wrong way, we end 'em both. He gets packed off to Hell and so does she. But for now, leave the dumbass free. Shut the fucking book and get your nose to the grindstone."

It raises its hand in a 'stop talking' gesture before the angel even starts.

"And if you're going to accuse me of wanting to hang around this realm to cause mayhem, well, fucking DUH. If I'm gonna be stuck here with one of you stinkin' lot, I'm gonna enjoy myself. But it don't change why I'm stickin' around. Hellstrom is a flake, but she ain't stupid. She's smarter than you. She may be smarter than me, even. She's not soft. She's planning something."

The angel, defeated, knowing it needs a second signature on the reversal order, shakes his head. "I'm going to make sure the guy upstairs pays extra special attention to you while you're here."

"Yaw..."

"DON'T SAY HIS NAME! And no, I meant Michael." Tight smile. "My boss."

"Aw, shit man!"

And in the kitchen Thomas' kick finally lands.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Does Satana get a glimpse of John before the light of Holy hits her in the eye? Probably not. The angel frowns and continues his argument via thought, "He /sent/ people to hell yes. He ended them. They were already lost causes. That poacher in Africa had three guardian angels quit on him. All right. We wait. I can't wait for Kurios to call you on the carpet and wants to know why his little girl is wearing an apron and making mortal filth pancakes. A frilly apron." It turns back to Satana and smiles and bends lower to her, lifting a sheet up to cover her.

"Decorum little one. Just so you know... I'm fast tracking a request for salvation enabling for Blake. I can do this without M... my partner's signature. But please... do be all soft and cuddly for him in the meantime."