One Brother to Another [tag: Crowley]

[BELIAL]

Belial was aware that one of his fellow demons was around New York, one that he was familiar as the King of the Crossroads. He remembered him briefly in his time in Hell, watching him from a distance as he was twisted and molded into the shrewd individual he was today. Belial had saw potential in Crowley, though they had never physically met in Hell or on Earth when he was finally able to escape his prison and inhabit a human vessel. However, he had found him in the city and had been rather curious about him, after all he had not seen him in some many centuries. The white-eyed demon was pleased by what he had found when he had laid eyes on his fellow demon again. Of course, he was pleased to see another one of his kind on Earth, but the vessel was not a particularly unattractive male that Crowley wore quite well. Belial had made his decision to finally make his presence known to his 'little brother.'

It did not take long for him to find where he was dwelling for the time being, teleporting himself into the dark room with a gift in his hand of a bottle of scotch. He settled into a chair in the dark, setting the bottle on a nearby table. Carefully he crossed his thick leather-clad leg over the other while his hands nestle on the arms of the seat, settling in to wait for Crowley. When the crossroad demon would finally appear, he would be greeted by the sight of a leather bound giant of a man with long black locks gracefully falling about his broad shoulders and against his fair flesh “Hello, little brother,” he said in a low, deep-sounding voice that could send chills up the spine as it was purred from the large demon.

[CROWLEY]

Crowley felt exceptionally accomplished subsequent to acquiring yet another soul that day, adding to his collection and reputation as King of the Crossroads. He was serious when it came to his profession, thoroughly pleased that the newest deal had gone through without complication. The circumstances presented this time around differed from the usual arrangement—a young woman valiantly selling her soul in order to save her charming little sister from an untimely demise; really, it was commendable of her, however sometimes he did not understand humans at all. Practically anyone who was anyone was willing to put their soul on the market for fame and fortune, a few to save their so-called loved ones. They were such simple-minded creatures, though he did not mind in the slightest considering it benefited him in the long run. There was practically never a slow day in his neck of the woods, Crowley raking in business like mad on a daily basis. Following the completion of another successful transaction, he was in high spirits, or at least in a whole great deal of a better mood than usual, reveling in his victory. She had been a well-rounded hunter, at least that much he would give her credit for; her motive behind obtaining a one-way ticket to Hell more reasonable than the latter. Nevertheless, he still did not completely comprehend the act of giving up one’s soul to save another; it was a ridiculous move to make in his opinion, no matter how admirable it may be. You had to look after yourself or you would never get anywhere in this world, that was a given.

He had almost thought he had felt a tad bit sympathy for her, but that was not possible. In all probability he would never even lay his eyes on her ever again—he did not make an effort to stay in contact with everyone he made a deal with, there were too many too count, and not enough time to do so. Leaving Ohio behind, he arrived in New York in a fraction of a second, delighted to be home after a hard days work. The demon materialized into the parlor, instantly sensing another presence within his abode. He was not angered, only faintly irritated that someone had dared to drop by without a formal invitation. However, he would see what they wanted before he came to a life or death decision; it depended on how they conducted themselves while in his presence, and if—the key word being if—this individual was not as stupid as humans were, he would know Crowley was not someone to mess around with, that was for sure. He was high up on the demonic hierarchy and he held status among his darling sisters and brothers mind you, something he had been working on for centuries. Those who chose to meddle in his affairs were just asking for a death sentence, and he was willing to personally send them to their graves after some good ol' torture by yours truly. He did not object to getting his hands dirty every now and then.

Taking his sweet time, Crowley entered the sitting room, the lights turning on of their own accord as he did. His eyes flickered over to the large man making himself at home in one of his favorite chairs no less—how very rude. He was not accustomed to company—being a solitary fellow—and he definitely was not fond of surprises, most of the time they just managed to sour his mood. "And what do I owe the pleasure," he inquired, inspecting the bottle of scotch placed on the table; well, wasn't that nice of him— at any rate, he was considerate enough to bring a gift. He did love his scotch, but he had older, better bottles—he was a collector. They said it was the thought that counts; nonetheless, it surely did not impress him in the least. He had been around for a very long time; there was not much that did anymore. Setting it back on the tabletop, he gazed at the giant of a man, wondering what he was doing in his house of all bloody places. "Care to enlighten me, Gigantor? I don't have all day." Sasquatch was just lucky to have caught him in a good mood, otherwise he probably would have sent him straight back to the pits of Hell without so much as a glance in his direction; it wouldn’t be the first time. Heck, he was feeling generous today, Crowley might as well hear what he had to say; it couldn’t hurt after all.

[BELIAL]

Belial felt his temper flare when Crowley called him 'Gigantor,' a nickname he was not particularly fond of because it felt a great deal like an insult. Any kind of friendliness faded from his rugged good-looks that were framed by his long tresses, replaced by a stoic expression that seemed on the verge of annoyance. However, he could see that Crowley was a demon who valued his time and privacy, two things he was taking up. "You don't remember me in Hell do you Crowley? Of course, I was a great deal different then. But I remember you. I saw a kindred spirit, but I never had the chance to truly introduce myself to you.... until now," he said in his deep, eerily demonic sounding voice as he slowly uncrossed his powerful legs and rose to his feet, revealing his vessel's full height, which was nearly seven feet encased in black leather.

Finally, a faint smirk crept across his delicate lips as he offered his hand to him "I am pleased to see you have done so well for yourself brother... King of the Crossroads...I am Belial, the Lord of Darkness," If Crowley had a title, it seemed fitting that Belial would have one too. It seemed like a fitting title, considering he was a thing of darkness who embraced all things evil and immoral. The bodily pleasures and pains were all his domain like the way making deals was Crowley's domain.