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Snippet #2458268

located in New York City, New York, a part of Somewhere Between the Fallen and the Damned, one of the many universes on RPG.

New York City, New York

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Asmodeus Character Portrait: Kazehana Fuhen
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With everyone else off doing who-knew-what (well, okay, he had a pretty good guess, but nobody liked to think about their daughters that way), Kazehaya found himself in that miserable party of single people on New Year’s Eve. Well, it wasn’t really a bother to him—he still loved Chiyo now as much as he had the day he married her. Knowing that she resided somewhere in paradise, waiting for the day when he would once again be allowed to ascend, brought him comfort now that he had accepted it. Indeed, over the years, the selfless love of parent for child had brought him much closer to his own divinity once more than any fallen had yet attained.

His daughters were, as he had relayed to Asmodeus, the makers of miracles. Once he’d learned to see past his own nose again and remember what he still had in this world, he’d devoted himself to them, and his work as a doctor. It had slowly been healing what in him was broken ever since. “You know,” he said conversationally to Morgan beside him, as the two watched various drunken humans wander around, most of them with company of some sort, “we probably should have thought this through a little better, you and I.” There was a pause, and the man once known as Uriel rubbed at the short beard coating his chin.

“I know a guy who runs a bar not far from here. You wanna go watch some humans get wasted, maybe see which one of us can last the longest before passing out? Loser foots the tab?” Just because he knew she was waiting for him didn’t mean he ever stopped missing her, of course, but he wasn’t an alcoholic or anything. He’d never do that to his girls. But hey, it was a time of celebration, and he hadn’t overindulged in a while. Plus, he had a feeling Morgan could use the distraction.


Morgan was a liar, to himself most of all. It hurt, watching Kazehana with Asmodeus, almost as much as he was happy that they were happy. He shook his head slightly, chasing the thoughts away. He had other things to worry about. Like the fact that he needed some plan to stop As. He knew As still planned to go through with being the sacrifce for Asaroth's ritual and then reverse it on him, and Morgan would be damned before he let his brother do that. Not after what had happened to him with Kaz. His red eye swiveled over to Kazehaya, listening to his proposal. He'd never been one to watch humans drinking, but he had to admit, his interest was peaked at the contest. A smile played on his lips.

"Should be interesting, you're on."


Kazehaya smiled, and it was a bit odd, actually—the mischievousness in it could be likened quite a lot to the one his daughter wore, sometimes. It was easier to see the resemblance when they were intent on trouble, though physically, he looked much more like Tsukiyo. “Yeah, all right. I’ll even carry your ass home when you pass out.” That being said, he led the other man through the thickening crowd, until they hit that bar in question. It was packed, but fortunately, the owner was a regular patient of Kazehaya’s, and immediately cleared room for the doctor that had delivered his twins a few years before. It had been quite nearly a disaster, but with some work (and a little bit of angelic healing), the boys were safe and sound in the end.

“Hey, doc,” the bartender greeted warmly. “The usual?”

“Mm, best not, Hakim,” Kazehaya replied, just as friendly. “I’ve got a kid to school tonight, yanno? Start us off with a couple pitchers, and keep the tab open till one of us isn’t moving.” Hakim laughed, but nodded, serving up the requested items and setting two each in front of Kazehaya and Morgan. “Mozeltov, Momo,” the doctor said with a wry grin, lifting his pitcher and inclining his head. “To the things we can’t have and the things we’ll always care about, yeah?”


Morgan almost snorted. "School me? Come on, I wasn't born yesterday." He did nod to the bartender, though, clicking his glass against Kazehaya's, chuckling slightly. "You're too perceptive for your own good, you know that?" He took a long drought, the alchohol burning the back of his throat. It had been years since he'd drank, in actuality, the last time had been back when the three of them were in Germany, and As had taken him along to go to Beerfest. Morgan still couldn't remember most of that week. "But there is no denying that we'll always care about them."

Kazehaya was, indeed, a very perceptive man, more than most people gave him credit for. This was intentional, of course—he preferred it when people didn’t realize that he knew the things he did, and honestly, for a large number of years, it had been safer for his daughters that way, anyhow. He didn’t usually see the point in being all that serious, but there were occasions that just called for it. “So I’ve been told,” he replied simply, drinking deeply from his own container. He set it back on the counter with the thud of heavy glass on good wood, and sighed heavily.

“I was always a big believer in fate, destiny, all that stuff,” he said conversationally, staring into his beer for a moment before shrugging and taking another quaff. “In some ways, I still am. I think that in the end, some things just are unavoidable. That some people will always draw you in, like gravity.” He smiled wryly, then shook his head. “Happens to the best of us just as surely as the worst. But I learned the hard way that such things don’t ever leave unscathed.” Unbidden, the image of a woman, golden-eyed and smiling, rose to the forefront of his consciousness. Damn, he missed her still.

“Sometimes, they’re taken from you too soon. Other times, they were never yours at all. But it never goes away.” He’d had a fair share of other options, being who and what he was, but the girls had never had a stepmother, nor anything remotely like one. Because it had been right the first time, and would never be quite so right again. Polishing off his glass, Kazehaya refilled it from the pitcher. “But in the end, I wouldn’t change a thing about it, you know? It made me better, ironic as that sounds from someone who was once what I was.”


Morgan smirked again, staring down into his own beer before draining it. "We've all turned out the better for it, really. You may not have them yourself, but it's enough to know that they're happy, and that your actions can keep them that way." His face pulled into a frown, thinking slightly. "I know you talked to As, and I take it you know what's going on and what's going to happen. I've got a sword over my head. But do you know what As plans to do?"

Kazehaya was halfway through his second beer by the time he responded. “I know enough,” he said with a shake of his head. He’d always believed in fate, but over time, he’d come to hate parts of it with a serious vehemence. “And I can guess. But I can also guess other things, Morgan.” He glanced meaningfully at the one-eyed demon. “I’m never sure whether I’d prefer to be right or wrong, honestly. Sometimes, there are no good solutions.”

"Then you know I'm not letting him go through with it. Not after Kaz. There is no good solution to this problem. We're no closer to stopping Asaroth than we were a month ago. I'd say I'd be damned if I let As take the fall for me, but then, I'm a little late to call that. Still, As is being an idiot if he thinks he's just going to leave her." By now, Morgan had drained his fourth beer. It became noticable that he was slurring his words slightly. "You know the guy took my eye? Just ripped it out. Hurt like hell too. We regenerate from almost anything, but we can't regrow stuff. But I never hated him for that. But I also know that I will never forgive him if he does this."

If Kazehaya could have taken on that burden of sacrifice himself, he would have. But he was no demon prince, and, with any good fortune at all, he never would be. He shook his head mournfully and chugged the last of his pitcher. He wasn’t slurring quite as much as Morgan was, but he wasn't unaffected, either. “Then…” he pronounced ponderously, turning the idea over and over in his mind, as though looking for a loophole. “I guess you know what you’ve gotta do. Worst case scenario, anyway.”

He glanced over at the other man and sighed. “Probably everyone else would be too mad at you to even consider it, so I’m gonna do it: thank you, for that. For thinking about them, and being willing to give up that much, for them. For her.” There weren’t many people in the world who’d ever seriously consider a sacrifice like that for another person, let alone go through with it. But he knew Morgan’s resolve was strong enough to take it. “Well, come on then. We’re not near wasted enough yet.” He set into his second pitcher much faster than the first. Some things, after all, didn’t really bear much thinking about.


Morgan grinned, grabbing the beer set in front of him. "We all got shit we don't wanna do. Gotta do it anyway. But the idea of getting wasted is looking better and better. And I'd do it again, if I had to." By the time he'd finished the sixth one, he was swaying where he sat. He looked at Kazehaya with a rather goofy grin on his face, and said, "I love you, man. I love you all."

“That’s the spirit!” Kazehaya replied, clapping Morgan on the shoulder with enough force to smack him into the bar. He was something of a boisterous drunk himself, and it was hardly surprising to his daughter when she dragged As along to find the two miscreants to note that he was wearing a huge, goofy smile. Rolling her eyes, Kaz peeled her flame-haired friend off the bar and shot an apologetic smile at Hakim, who was just chuckling to himself more than anything. “Dad, you’re such an idiot. Hey Momo, you okay?”

Morgan groaned at being slapped literally into the bar, and blinked confused-like when he was pulled off it. He looked bleary-eyed at someone with purple hair, his face splitting into a huge grin. "Kazy!" He threw his arms around her, hanging off of her like a child would a parents' legs. Asmodeus sighed. "Oh good grief. It's Beerfest 1876 all over again..." The white-haired demon peeled his brother from his lover, scowling at him as he realized suddenly that Morgan was snoring. "Yep, definitely Beerfest 1876. Come on, let's get these idiots home."