Memories-Sebastian/Invites

[Linx]

Tyrion groaned as he staggered along the quiet streets of Hallowton, clutching his aching side. He pulls his hand away with a grimace, noting the blood coating his glove. He sighs, replacing his hand to keep the pressure up, using his other to steady himself as he moves along, his crimson eyes weaving back and forth beneath the cowl of his cloak, seeking the one place he needed more than anything at the moment. After what felt an agonizing eternity, he found what he was looking for. A bar. He forces his legs to work, carrying him inside to collapse in the corner, clenching his teeth against the pain. As the waitress approaches hesitantly, he smiles politely, wincing as he shifted to not appear so weak. "Bottle of whiskey please, or whatever's strong. And a shot glass to go with it, if you'd be so kind." he says softly, closing his eyes as she went to the bar.

He groans softly, squeezing his side to try and keep it from bleeding, waiting patiently for her return. When she does, she quickly placed his order on the table, fleeing from the crimson eyed elf to the safety of the bar where she and the bartender both kept a wary eye on him. He pours himself a shot, raising it in silent salute to the both of them before downing it. It burned going down and he suppressed a growl as the warmth spread through him. He shakes his head, pouring and taking another shot. He needed to dull the ache if he wanted to do anything about it after all. Shattered ribs were never fun. Gods alone knew what Sir Integra would think, let alone Sebastian. He sighs as he eases his hand away from his side, the bleeding finally having halted as he rests his arms on the table. He pours a third shot, taking this one more slow than before, letting his mind wander across the battle and what had been happened. He had been all but useless, easily taken out and ignored. He sighs, shaking his head. He sips at his drink, the burn more pleasant than before, his body starting to warm at last as the alcohol began circulating.

His mind wanders further back, thinking of his homeworld. He hadn't been nearly so useless there, he'd risen to power and prominence in his quest for vengeance. He'd honed his hatred and sorrow like immaterial blades and used them to drive him on and on to greater heights and accomplishments. He found himself thinking of his family, the ones he never knew. He knew their faces of course, but they had blurred over the years. He'd never truly known them, raised in slavery to the harshest person on the planet. Every day had been hell, but he'd never felt the way he did now. Weak, inadequate, useless. What was the point to fighting, if all that would result was failure? Why should he be alive and free, when so many that deserved it weren't? He shakes his head, pouring another shot as he leans back against the wall, his eyes clouded with pain and drink, trying to forget, if only for a little while, that he even existed.

[sebastian]

This area of Hallowton was crowded to the bursting point. Most everyone who had been near the battlefield had fled here; seeking distance from the danger but not quiet wanting to leave their homes entirely. Of course, when they returned; they would be disappointed to find nothing remained. Everything had been sucked up into the nexus which created that massive demon. The massive demon which he had tried to bring into the Faustian Realm to no avail. The damn demon had apparently been summoned by its creator, which meant he had opened that portal for no reason. Now, he felt drained; weary. Not exhausted exactly; he hadn't left the pathway open long enough. But that didn't mean he wasn't suffering in his own way at that moment. The wounds he'd received from the lava demon had healed over, but his energy was low. Yet he still had things to do. At that moment, as he moved through the milling crowds of fearful denizens; he was desperately struggling against voracious appetite to swallow a random soul. The contract dictated he was to have no other souls until his bond with his master was null; Integra in this case. He would be fine within a few days after some rest. But taking a soul now would have allowed him to recover much faster. The Faustian Contract could be such a burden at times...

Sebastian had taken a moment to return to the Hellsing manor in order to replace his torn and bloodied clothing once the demon had gone; it just wouldn't do to go search for Tyrion with blood spots on clothes... Blood spots which suggested injuries which would have killed a normal human. There would have been some questions if he moved about in the public with the large red stains all over his slender frame. Now as he moved through the filled streets, he didn't look as if he had been involved in the battle at all. Most people were too distracted to notice the butler gently pushing his way through their ranks, but there were a few who took notice of the Hellsing coat of arms pinned to his chest upon the head butler pin. He ignored the questions which were sent his way from those who recognized him, he had one purpose for coming out here; and it was to check up on and retrieve Tyrion. It took next to no time at all for him to follow the elf's muddled scent to the bar. It was so different from the jumbled human scents that there was no mistaking it.

The moment he entered, his gaze zeroed in on the huddled mass in a corner. The waitress and bartender knew who the butler was, he had visited them often to restock the liquor stores within the Hellsing estate. He spared no glance for the others who had come to this bar to drink away their problems. There was only one thing for him to do now. He approached the front counter, tilting his head toward one of the private side rooms. "I'm reserving that room for Hellsing for the next hour." He said in a firm voice, placing the proper amount of currency upon the counter before turning away. Without waiting for a reply, the demon walked toward Tyrion, once again ignoring looks from any occupants. A gloved hand extended to offer help in standing up to Tyrion, his face an unreadable mask. "Come, Tyrion. It's time to patch you up." He said in his usually eerily soft voice.

[Linx]

Lost in thought, he hadn't even noticed the butler come in, until his demon sense twinged. He peered up blearily at Sebastian as he approached, shaking his head. "Patch me up? Oh." he says, blinking again as he looks down to his blood stained side. He'd forgotten all about it. Sitting practically motionless held it's advantages after all. "No no, I'll be fine. The only medicine I need is this." he says, indicating his whiskey. He reaches out to take his hand regardless though, groaning as he regained his feet, swaying lightly. "You won't take no for an answer though, so I might as well save myself some trouble." he says, wincing as a wave of pain emanated from his shattered ribs and punctured side. The bleeding had stopped, and the alcohol had taken the worse of the edge off it, but it still stung something fierce.

He grimaces as he moves with Sebastian into the recently reserved room, sinking down into a seat as soon as he was able. "Gods above that still hurts." he groans, taking a pull from the bottle he'd brought with him. He sighs, shaking his head. "Look at me Sebastian. My first engagement for Hellsing and I all but get myself killed. I was useless in that fight, no good to anyone." he closes his eyes, sighing sadly. "My people will never be free you know. Not now. No one but me ever cared to try. No one but me was stupid enough to try and face the might of one of the strongest nations on my world without an army. Or several, as the case may be." he grimaces as he sits up, taking another pull off the bottle before holding it up for Sebastian. "Want some? I've always heard that you shouldn't drink alone. It's bad for your mental health, they tell me." he snorts, shaking his head again. "Not like anyone ever cared about my well being. You know what people saw when they looked at me? They saw a monster. Maybe to you I'm just an elf, but you don't know what it was like there. Demons found more acceptance than a Chaos Elf would. Were born from the union of elf and demon, most often by rape. Tainted with demonic blood and fel energies, we were monsters the world over. Shunned at best, actively hunted at worse." he says sadly, gritting his teeth in pain as his shifting brought another wave of agony. "No matter where I went, no matter what I did, no one ever could accept a Chaos Elf into their midst. Omens of bad luck, monsters, abominations. That's what people thought about us." he says, heaving another sigh.

He barks out a short laugh, "And look at me now! The monster king of a destroyed nation and enslaved people! No friends, no family. My childhood was hell, I'd have been better off left for dead. I was a slave in the most brutal place, the personal slave of the Mistress of Taros. Each day I had to watch my family killed, my mother raped. I was beaten, insulted, barely fed. I was kept like an animal for her amusement, the enslaved prince, before my father died working the darksteel mines in the smoking crown. Then I was her enslaved king, a child, no more than ten. I don't even know how old I am." he says, rambling to himself, not caring if Sebastian was listening. He sighs before taking another pull off the bottle, shaking his head. "Not that anyone cared. It was no secret what she did to my people, what she did to me, no one in the world cared. I had to fight the other slaves, just for a crust of moldy bread for my meal. Zombie gruel if I was lucky enough or preformed well enough in her service." he sighs, turning his eyes to Sebastian, as if finally noting his presence. "You know what I want more than anything? I want to die. I'm a failure Sebastian. I've failed my people, I've failed Sir Integra, and most of all, I've failed myself. I'm no stronger now than I was as a child. I'm still weak and worthless. A broken king trapped in a foreign land. I'll never get home, I'll never get the strength I need." he says sadly, shaking his head as he closed his eyes again, his body bowed in grief. What could he do? No matter what he tried, nothing had ever changed.

[sebastian]

Once Tyrion had seated himself, Sebastian wrinkled his nose. The smell of alcohol, how disgusting. He couldn't see how anyone could drink that liquid, much less enjoy it. He knew how it dulled the human senses, and provided an escape from suffering; but that only added on to the disgust he felt toward the stuff. Why use such a thing to hide from suffering? Suffering was what made one strong; when one found the courage and strength to move forward through the pain. As Tyrion began to speak, the butler took a knee at the foot of the chair and took the forefinger of his left glove between his teeth. In a smooth motion, the glove which concealed his Faustian Symbol was slipped off; and the right glove soon followed. He tucked the fabric safely into a pocket; there was no need to soil the white with blood. Tyrion reeked of blood.

As the elf began his long monologue; the demon only listened with half an ear; more focused on the task at hand. He would pull whatever ragged clothing remain on the elf's upper body away from the ravaged creature; folding the garments and resting them neatly on the ground. The puncture was rather gruesome, and the ribs obviously broken as suggested by the swelling and color change. Sebastian started to draw some materials out of a small box he'd brought along from the manor; setting out the small bottle of cleaning and disinfectant liquid, bandages, a soft cotton cloth, and a few other medical supplies. here wasn't much he could do for Tyrion. True, a demon's saliva had healing properties. But he doubted Tyrion would take kindly to having his injuries licked to speed the healing process. He wasn't exactly fond of that idea either; the man's blood scent was sickening enough.

When the liquor was offered to him, he firmly shook his head and ignored it; sniffing pointedly. He wasn't too happy about this all, but Integra would be quiet upset if he just left a Hellsing employee to die. The solution from the bottle was poured onto the cloth; and he began to wipe away the crusted blood from around the injury; taking great care so as not to put any pressure on the ribs. It would sting quite a bit to have the injury cleaned, but he didn't think Tyrion would feel a thing now that he was rapidly approaching being entirely drunk. Once there was nothing to see but the clean hole in his side; Sebastian wrapped one of the bandages tightly around the elf's torso, just tight enough to staunch future bleeding but not to the point of cutting off circulation. By this point, Tyrion had started to speak about his family and losses. Again, the butler only listened with half an ear. He had begun to wrap the upper body in a bandage which would provide some support and help set the ribs as they healed; but that was all he could do for the bones.

"You know what I want more than anything? I want to die. I'm a failure Sebastian. I've failed my people, I've failed Sir Integra, and most of all, I've failed myself. I'm no stronger now than I was as a child. I'm still weak and worthless. A broken king trapped in a foreign land. I'll never get home, I'll never get the strength I need."

Sebastian sighed audibly and he picked up Tyrion's clothes and started pull the garment back onto the man. He guided the hands through sleeves; shifting the liquor bottle between hands as he did so. Once the elf was clothed once more, Sebastian finally rose form his kneeling posture by the chair and returned the medical supplies to the box. The demon was silent for a moment as the Elf finished talking, but a strange glitter had sprung up within the ruby-red depths of the intense eyes. There was little to say, Tyrion seemed pretty far gone in a combination of his depression and drunkenness. He wasn't under any inclination to provide some reassurance, and he felt any words pf comfort would be wasted under the alcohol's influence. He pulled his gloves back on, and finally turned that piercing gaze to the elf. But he supposed trying wouldn't cause any harm.

"Failure... Is there something wrong with that? Failure is merely a setback; and postponement of achieving a goal. There is no such thing as the 'impossible', and the word 'never' is nothing but a lie to set one's hopes and dreams in a grave. Have I not already proven that? I am a demon, yet you have admitted yourself that I am a 'lesser evil'. You've been through your own living hell, and all you can do is continue placing one foot in front of the other; stop wallowing in self-pity. Your sense of helpless loss of everything is something I never felt, nor will I ever feel. But something tells me that you can handle it, that you can continue along your path to achieve your dreams. You just need to pick up your chin, and act like the king you are." His voice became more serious as he spoke his next words. "What is lost can never return. So you must believe that you haven't lost anything; be it family, friends, beliefs, or anything of the like. This is a rather displeasing sight to me. You of royal blood, reduced to a pathetic creature who thinks there is no way forward." He shifted over to stand directly in front of Tyrion; tall and imposing, a fire within the crimson eyes. "So what will you do now? Will you return to the estate, or will you continue to drown yourself in drinks here and lose yourself?"

[Linx]

His eyes narrow as he grits his teeth in pain, the sharp sting bringing him back to his senses, at least partially, as Sebastian bandaged his wounds. He takes another pull off the bottle to dull the ache, listening as Sebastian finally decides to say something. He sat through the rather stinging words Sebastian gave him, before turning his head away in shame. "You don't get it, do you? King or peasant, it wouldn't change what I am. Sebastian, look at me honestly. You see a weak and frail creature, do you not? You're a demon, a being graced with extraordinary power and ability. I'm just an elf, tainted by darkness. There are limits to what I can do, what I could ever hope to achieve." he says, shaking his head. His breath hisses out between clenched teeth, anger and despair warring for dominance within his heart, the pain dulled by the whiskey. He'd never spoken to anyone so candidly, and it was if all his worse fears and thoughts were suddenly pouring free of the dam that had held them for so long.

"I have taught myself all that I've come across, mastered a weave of magic most beneficial to my cause, train night and day with my blades, and where has that left me? Still an outcast, weak in the face of true power, those creatures of darkness blessed, or cursed if you prefer, with great abilities that know no bounds. What can I do in the face of such odds? I try my hardest, but what do I have to show for it? I've made no progress in a decade towards my goals, no progress in my fight against the creatures of darkness, to protect people. No matter what I do, people die. My people remain enslaved with no hope but this wretched excuse for existence named Tyrion." he says, gesturing to his bloody and ragged form. "Reduced to bloody and broken ruins from one fight against a foe I've spent my entire existence studying, what does that say for me?" he asks sadly, shaking his head. "How can I ever hope to measure up against foes that so outclass me, that I'm nothing to them? No real threat or challenge, just a nuisance?" he asks, seeking the answers he never found, in the only friend he'd ever known. Already an idea was sparking deep within his thoughts, but he wondered if he dare voice it.

[sebastian]

Sebastian rested his head in his hand; an open display of slight exasperation. Tyrion had no idea what he was talking about. Gifted with grace and ability? In a way, yes. However, he sounded as if it was a good thing to be a demon. "You have your limits, and I do as well. Every being in existence has limits; is is a natural thing as perfection can never truly be achieved." This entire display was starting become irritating. He hadn't thought that Tyrion could break down like this; the man had put on such a strong face since he'd first joined Hellsing's ranks. Along with the irritation though, he was also a bit amused by it all. Weakness on any creature's part was a form of entertainment for him, but it was his duty to dispel weakness like this. He had a feeling Integra wouldn't approve of this emotional display had she been here; and he would have to report this along with everything else there was to say when he spoke with her later.



"When I first met you that day you came to become employed; I saw an elf with a resolve unlike any I have seen before, with strength to follow his goals and dreams no matter what happened. But now, I see exactly what you just stated... 'A weak and frail creature.' You couldn't take on that enemy, so what? You need only to continue to strive for strength. Might I mention that I was also stabbed a number of times; I sustained injuries just as you have. Those foes were powerful; there is no shame in losing against it." He turned his back on Tyrion and began to move toward the door. "It seems as if you've chosen the option of losing yourself among your drinks... You seem determined to continue throwing your pity party. Very well then, I have my own duties to return to. Stay here or return; do what you wish. But I assure you... Integra has no use for one who breaks down because of one failure. Should you display this weakness you have shown me; then I can promise that she will disapprove even more than I do."

There was no point in trying to bring the elf back to his senses now. He viewed the man as a friend; or as close to a friend that a demon could have. But if the elf was choosing to remain in this sorry state; then he had no choice but to move along without him. There was no place among Hellsing for the weak, and wasting precious time to try making one subject understand that wasn't worth it. Let him drown in his self-imposed misery; why should he care? He was a demon, after all; and trying to help another in such a state didn't come as a natural instinct to him. Perhaps he had started to develop a small sense of comradeship with Tyrion; but he wasn't one to cling to a lost comrade.

[Linx]

He hung his head in shame as Sebastian continued to berate him. The harsh reality of his words injecting an amount of sobriety into him. "I...You're right. Of course you are." he says, shaking his head with a self deprecating chuckle. He heaves a slight sigh, "I'm sorry Sebastian. I've held these fears for years, and have taken no counsel but my own. It...feels good, to be able to unburden them. Even if the listener doesn't care." he says with a half smile. He reaches out, resting his fingertips on Sebastians arm as he made to leave. He wasn't so foolish as to believe that he could force him to stay, and didn't exactly enjoy the thought of losing an arm on top of everything else that had happened to him. "Stay awhile?" he asks him, uncharacteristically hopeful. He wasn't sure what it was, perhaps the pain, perhaps the drink, but he felt like talking, and Sebastian was the only friend he had.

"I am sorry for my disgraceful state, but oft times, we simple people lose heart. We need a friend to help us find our way out of the darkness." he laughs softly, shaking his head. "You're the only friend I have Sebastian, sad as that may be. I feel...nostalgic. I would appreciate a companion for the time being." he says, offering a light smile. He takes a small sip off the bottle, letting the warmth flood through him, trying to ensure he remained at least partially clear headed. He had a decent buzz now, but that only made him feel like talking. "I don't know why I'm like this." he says, speaking quietly. "Never before have I felt such despair. I think, perhaps, it's because I know that I'd face creatures such as that, and more, in my fight against Taros. To be so outclassed..." he shakes his head. "It's hard, to feel like your entire life's effort were for naught." he finishes, running his hands across his face. "It's a poor excuse, I know, but it's all I have." he pauses, toying with an idea in his mind. "Tell me Sebastian, what is it that makes you and your kind different demons? What makes a...what is it you are? A Faustian Demon?" he asks, wondering if he'd be left alone to his thoughts after all.

[sebastian]

He had to admit, the touch to his arm had been unexpected. Was Tyrion really so desperate? By this point, was was as good as begging to keep the butler there. And considering that the elf sheltered a great dislike of demons; Sebastian hadn't thought that he was much different from other demons to him. The man had knelt and hopefully asked to form a contract with him shortly after they had first met in his interview with Integra. He had expressed real disappointment when told that a contract was impossible between them; and not just because he was already under one such bond. Now, the once proud king had truly been reduced to almost nothing; and he was asking a demon to stay and talk for a bit. Sebastian was aware that Tyrion highly disapproved of the contract between him and Integra; yet here he was... Once again displaying intense weakness before his greatest enemy. Now that he thought about it; many beings had ended up displaying weakness before him. But why? He was a demon; an impure, untrustworthy being who took advantage of and exploited weaknesses...

The demon halted in his steps at Tyrion's touch, resisting the urge to pull his arm away and continue moving. The elf continued talking, and his comment about his only friend nearly made the butler start laughing. Friends? With a demon? There was no such thing. There were people who could get along with the creatures, but friendship was not in a demon's vocabulary. But he could understand where Tyrion was coming from with his words. He knew that his entirely unusual attitude, despite being a demon, was a point of great interest for the few who knew what he was. But his differences didn't change his species. And yet... He somehow found ways to quickly win over trust; without even trying at that. It was something he'd never understand.

Then Tyrion asked his question, and Sebastian waited a moment before replying; considering what words could be said. When he finally turned about to face the elf again, there was a new trace of amusement burning within the crimson eyes. "I believe I already told you the main differences back in the training room that one night. My kind are normally not such savage creatures as other demons, and we chose to serve humans in order to gather our quality meals. I am different in my own way from other Faustian Demons; setting me further apart from the monsters you are used to fighting. The ways in which I am different should be quite obvious, so I will not speak of it here. He raised his left hand, taking the forefinger of the glove between his teeth, starting to pull the fabric off. "But to answer your question about Faustians in general... It is this which makes us different." The glove came off and he tucked it away into a pocket, before raising the left hand to his eye level so that Tyrion could see the Faustian Pentagram which stood out harshly against the pale flesh.



"A Fuastian Demon has its own unique symbol; of its own creation. It is through this pentagram that we create our contracts; and we forma bond with only those willing to give up their souls." A rather malicious smile trailed over his face for a brief moment. "Of course, we can be quite manipulative; so the 'willing' part may not be entirely true. We are demons after all. That is how I differ from other Faustians. I do not rely on any form of trickery or deception to create my contracts. I simply state what becomes possible through me, and I explain the terms. Then I allow the human to decide. Should they accept; I seal the bond. Should they decline; I move along to find another, no matter how desirable that soul may be. That is why you might refer to me as a 'lesser evil'." He lowered his hand, an unreadable gleam etching itself into the piercing gaze. This was the first person, apart from Integra, whom he had shown the mark to. It was his personal secret identity of sorts, displaying it to anyone was something he rarely did. He trusted Tyrion enough to not run around and spread the word of the contract to others. "Now I have a question of my own... Why is it that you express such interest, such curiosity, about my kind? Is a demon species which doesn't consume every soul it comes across really that unknown to you?"

[Linx]

He frowns as he listens to Sebastian explain his kind, his mental gears chugging along through the haze the whiskey had brought on. Perhaps...just perhaps, there was hope for him yet to gain the strength he needed. As Sebastian finished with his own question, Tyrion decided to respond to that first. "Quite frankly? Yes. The demons of my world use souls as currency, and as food source when they feel like it. And, of course, as entertainment. Most are confined to the hells, twisting nether, abyss and so on. They rarely get to visit the prime material plane, which is what my world is called in planar dynamics as the others are...pocket planes, or worlds, attached to our prime world of Dominaria. By attaching themselves to my world, they can survive the mana imbalance that would normally result." he says, explaining briefly how his worlds were organized. He frowns as he considers his next few words, thinking back on his experiences.

"The demons I know you would, perhaps, be more familiar with. Since they can only set foot on our world by the summons of a wizard, sorcerer or priest, they naturally have much they desire to do. Avarice, gluttony and wrath are their main attributes. They desire destruction, to feast on the bodies and souls of the citizens, though with less restriction than yours I admit, and to acquire artifacts of power to advance their own standing in their home planes." he continues, chewing his lip thoughtfully. It was a rather long winded explanation, but he was certain Sebastian wouldn't mind. He took the break in his monologue to mentally examine and study the symbol engraved on Sebastians hand, comparing it to dozens of circles and symbols of power he new, trying to find anything familiar in it. His own magical knowledge was quite extensive given his field of magic, and he felt certain he could puzzle out the symbol in due time. "How are Faustian demons created? You explained to me before the nature of your contract, so that much I understand. However, I've never encountered a Faustian demon aside from yourself." he says, continuing slowly. "Forgive me if this is rude but, is it a choice to become one? Or is it a naturally occurring species? To the exten of my knowledge, demons are spawned in the various realms they call home, but I've never read anything that made mention of your kind before." he finishes, hoping he hadn't insulted him.

[sebastian]

Sebastian listened carefully; starting to pull his glove back on to once more conceal the mark. Tyrion's world sounded so strange... Yes, he knew of the demons which the elf had mentioned and he was no more fond of them than he was fond of any other demon. They were mindless creatures with no real sense of purpose. And even to him... What was said about the soul's usage sounded far too similar to abuse. He swallowed souls for his sustenance, yes. But to misuse those souls in such a way... It disgusted him. Unless he really held a grudge against a master; he had tried to make taking the soul as painless as possible when the time came. So to use souls as currency and amusement... That was a bit to vile for him. Yes, many souls amused him; but they did it on their own, he didn't force them into become entertainment. Avarice, gluttony and wrath... Yes, those were indeed traits of a demon. Even he, no matter how civil, fell to such feelings at times.

The demons Tyrion spoke of certainly had much less restraints than he did; they had next to none at all, actually. But the powers they didn't have to restrain were no where near on the same level as his own powers; of which is was required to restrain. Faustians possessed so much power, so much ability; more so as they aged... That it was necessary to have some form of shackles. His of course, were the terms of his contract. His contract dictated that he was serve a chosen human, submit entirely and carry out all their wishes. He was to be ruled and owned by a mere human. In turn, he would be allowed to prepare an already desirable meal; to make it satisfactory. Whatever he did for the human, whatever levels of power the human reached through him... It didn't matter. As long as he got his prize in the end, he could care less if the human utterly destroyed the world.

He remained silent throughout Tyrion's musings; trying to picture the world which was being laid out for him. Of course, it wouldn't be long before Tyrion voiced questions of his own. Sebastian raised his eyebrows in skepticism as the elf spoke. The questions... He already knew what Tyrion was hinting at. It was an easy matter to piece together the purpose for such longing for knowledge; and the demon disapproved entirely. Tyrion was curious... For one reason alone. He wanted the power of a Faustian Demon, that was why he had requested a contract not all that long ago. And when it was made clear that a contract was't possible, he now had his eyes set on becoming one himself. It was amusing, really; but also a great disappointment. To think this man would go to such lengths to attain power; so save his people... It was admirable, certainly. But it was also quite desperate.



"A Faustian demon is born from another Faustian demon." He began slowly, crimson gaze darkening. "When one lives for eternity; eternity becomes boring. Most seek out a way to destroy themselves once the boredom exceeds their tolerance. One such way is to 'reproduce'. Once certain terms are met; a new Faustian splits directly off the parent. However, the process greatly weakens the parent and detaches the soul. The newborn devours that soul; and proceeds with its life. That is how we naturally occur. But due to the power we gain in time; other hell spawn fear Faustians and set out to destroy any new ones, before they can become a threat. It is survival of the fittest. That is why you haven't seen one of us before; we are an extremely rare species due to devouring our makers and being killed off at a young age. In fact, so few of us exist that we are able to track and keep up with what others are doing; and we tend to avoid each other unless competition finds its way into the equation. Another reason we are rare. We hunt the weak ones, root them out and destroy them where other hell spawn fail. It is a brutal existence. As of right now; only 14 Faustians are in existence in all known realms which exist, scattered far and wide. Out of the 14, I am the most civil-tempered one."

Here he was, sharing some of the deepest held secrets of the Faustian existence; and for what purpose? It wasn't as if he would be rewarded for this. Perhaps he was subtly warning Tyrion against his desire to become Faustian? The dangers which would crop up would be things he'd never experienced before; and Sebastian doubted he would last long. He supposed that Tyrion would have relied on him for protection; but he wouldn't have done so. Besides... Tyrion had no idea that Faustian existence was impossible for him, anyway. "It is possible for one to become a Faustian demon; but only with the help of another experienced Faustian. There are certain terms involved; one of which is that you would have to be a pure-blooded demon to even stand a chance at choosing the Faustian path." The butler shook his head at Tyrion; a genuine sorrow in his voice. "Tyrion, I understand your desperation... It is only to be expected. You have no chance at becoming like me, so you may as well drop that desire. You are not a demon; your are merely tainted with demon blood. Even if I were to agree to help you; and we attempted it... Your very being would be destroyed. You would be neither demon, nor elf, nor human. You would be a manipulated soul which would never know rest. I'm deeply sorry; but I will not be the one to cause such a cruel existence to befall you."

[Linx]

His eyes darken as he listens to Sebastian. Naturally the clever bastard had figured out his plans. But even still, he couldn't take no for an answer. He had to try. No matter the cost. "I see. However, there is more to my...condition. Yes I am a half breed, but there is a...choice, that comes with being with this. We can stay as we are, half elf, half demon, calling upon darker powers and even our own demonic form that vastly increases our power, but that's not all. The weaker of us, driven mad by the hatred and fear other species display towards us...we can choose to let our demonic blood flourish." he says. He was sharing some of his own dark secrets about his kind, but why shouldn't he? Is wasn't as if Sebastian would ever use it against them, they couldn't be hated anymore than they already were. Besides, he had been forthcoming enough, Tyrion could only do the same.

"I could choose the same path. I could become a true demon, and from there, I could become a Faustian Demon, could I not?" he presses, determined to make Sebastian understand. "Before, when I asked to enter a compact with you, you denied me. Understandably so, but you promised you would help me. So I ask you now, help me. Please." he says softly, keeping his eyes locked onto Sebastian's. "You say you won't inflict a cruel existence upon me, but that's what I already have. I do not wish to become a demon, I don't wish to sacrifice my eternity, but I will. By all the gods in all the realms I will. If it means saving my people, I will do whatever is required of me, I will pay any price." he says, his voice growing stronger as he remembered his convictions, the very goals that set him on this path so long ago. "I don't care what happens to me, I couldn't care less even. As long as I can save my people, I will do whatever it takes. I will become a demon, I will become a monster. I will feast on the souls of the living, I will bow down and accept servitude." he pauses, his eyes seething with rage, "But I will not accept defeat. Not ever. Not while I draw breath, and I will be damned if I balk at any opportunity to advance my power to save them, no matter what is required of me." he spits out, voice ringing with anger now.

"I ask you, as my friend and as one who's promised to help me to achieve this goal. If you won't do it, then fine. Help me and summon a Faustian Demon who will. Whether or not they choose to help me, I will make them. Maybe you are powerful, maybe you're out of my league, but I don't care. I will get stronger, or I will die in the attempt. No creature is immortal, nothing is unkillable, not even you. Perhaps I face such creatures as you if I choose this road, but so be it. I will become stronger, by any means necessary. So please Sebastian." he pauses, choking down his pride as he continues. "I'm begging you. I will pay any price, I will do anything you ask of me. Please, help me become stronger. Make me into a Faustian Demon." His eyes reflected agony deep within his soul as he watched him, the decision not an easy one. But if he had to become the creature he hunted, so be it. If he had to sacrifice his life, his eternity, his very soul....so be it. "You know I'd rather have my nails torn out than beg. And I am begging you. Please Sebastian, I'm not strong enough on my own. Help me." he finishes quietly, hoping against hope that Sebastian would not refuse him. Deep within, he felt the stirrings of the corruption and power he'd taken from the leader of the demons they had fought, and he fought back a grimace of agony, though his hand went to his stomach, as if in pain. He needed strength to control the corruption, and he needed strength to free his people. Sebastian was his best shot at the strength. He could only hope he'd help him.

[sebastian]

This was getting out of hand... Way out of hand. The man was so desperate, so persistent... So set on achieving his goal of rescuing his people... The demon could not help but admire the resolve. It was such a human with that attitude that would have made a perfect soul to contract with. But Tyrion wasn't human... And he was begging for the impossible. It wasn't that he didn't want to help the man, but he physically couldn't grant that wish. Tyrion could not become a Faustian demon, even if he did give in to his demon self. You had to be born a demon, you had to live a demon, you had to have pure-demon blood running through the veins. Tyrion could take on different forms; different amounts of the blood in a way. But he wasn't a pure-blooded demon. And he was still begging, still hoping against hope on this one fantasy. He wanted the power of a Faustian; and he would give everything up to do so. The alcohol running through his veins was most likely not helping him think coherently, either.



The more Tyrion said, the more irritation began to rear its ugly head in him and the more disappointed he became. Such a powerful creature; sinking to the level of bowing and begging a demon, his sworn enemy. True, it wasn't a bad feeling to have the elf in such a state before him; there was a certain pleasure for Sebastian which came from having such a strong creature broken and entirely at his disposal. It was a power most demons reveled in. But the fact Tyrion was so willing to throw everything away... It disgusted him. If the man had nothing to lose, then perhaps he would have been more willing to grant his wish. But Tyrion did have something to live for; he had people to return to. Sebastian, being a demon, had no such bonds with anyone but his single master; so he would never truly understand why the resolve was so great. But he was certain of one thing... No way in hell was he going to grant Tyrion's desire.

There was a dark fire blazing within the intense gaze as he stepped forward toward Tyrion. A hand extended to close powerful fingers on the front of the elf's clothing, enough in his grip so that the fabric wouldn't tear. Then he was raising the man single handedly up into the air; Tyrion's feet would be lifted from the bar floor. Sebastian tilted his head back, glaring into those eyes; eyes which seemed to be beyond insanity. "Listen to me, Tyrion..." He said, a very real growl starting to sound in his throat as he tried to make certain the man was paying attention through the haze of his drunkenness. Normally, he wouldn't have resorted to such physical actions; but the man was completely lost in his despair. It was a sorry sight, one that didn't befit the great creature he truly was.



"You beg against your will, you make yourself weak at my feet; the feet of a demon. You have lost yourself, Tyrion. Wake up, and see sense. I have already told you that you must be a demon to become Faustian; not a half-breed which can change between different level of Demonic energy. You cannot become a Faustian. If I consented; you would cease to exist. And then who would be left to save your people? Absolutely no one. Your resolve is impressive, I can give you credit for that. But your desperation is sickening. True, you may not be strong enough now... But you speak as if you never will be strong. I promised I would help you, and I will; but not in this way you desire. Even if I were to summon another Faustian to carry out your desire; I assure you... All the others would laugh at how weak you are showing yourself to be; and they would amuse themselves by watching you suffer. You have hope Tyrion; you can still save your people. But you have to make yourself stronger; and not rely on what someone like I can do."

He shook his hand slightly; jarring the body which he was holding up before him. "Do you hear me Tyrion?" He hissed, finally returning the man to his seat. But the demon still had one hand on one of the elf's shoulders, while the other hand had his chin in a firm grasp; forcing him to make eye contact with those piercing crimson hues. "I can tell you one thing... The first step to saving your people right now is putting down that drink; and wait until you're sober. Recover from your injuries, and then hone your skills. Gather allies to aid in your fight; you already have me as one. You've admitted you can't do it alone; and even with me at your side, there is no guarantee of victory. Perhaps you could speak to Integra about having Hellsing also aid once the current war is won." Sebastian finally removed his hands, and stepped back; a trace of that fire still smoldering in his gaze. What a fool...

[Linx]

As Sebastian raised him, Tyrions eyes locked onto his, fires burning bright. He did not take kindly to being manhandled, despite Sebastian's...well, not good intentions, but intentions. His eyes slowly, and deliberate, slide down to the hand he'd raised between them, before moving back to Sebastian's. If he cared to look, he'd see the hand crossbow pointed at his stomach. Tyrion was certain that he didn't care, but even still. The explosive quarrel would be rather annoying, certainly messy, if nothing else. And it'd ruin Sebastians suit, which he knew that he'd hate. Tyrion was still in his armor, and it would protect him, mostly. The explosion wouldn't do anything, but slamming into the wall in his condition might very well do him in. Not that he cared at the moment, all he knew is that Sebastian, despite being a friend, was very quickly bringing his rage to the forefront. He glares as he listens to Sebastian speak, before growling out his own terse reply. "Put me down. Friend or not, I will blow your insides all over this room. I do not take kindly to being manhandled, especially not from a demon when I've already cast my pride aside to ask for your help. To beg even." he growls out slowly.

As Sebastian lowers him back down, the crossbow disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, though he still wore a scowl. "You could've just said no." he huffs, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. He rakes his fingers through his hair before shaking his head. Nothing like a murderous rage to clear the mind. He calms his breathing before responding, wondering why he cared to make him understand. Perhaps because Sebastian was all he really had. "I've not lost myself Sebastian, never fear. I still want to kill every demon I can. But if setting aside my own pride and hatred for your kind, if even becoming the thing I hate and hunt will free my people, then I will do it. I can't let my own misgivings and hatred stand in the way of my goal." he shakes his head again, growling in frustration. How could he make him understand? He sinks back into the seat, contemplating what to say before speaking again. Maybe he never would, but Tyrion felt he had to try. Friends owed each other that much.

"On my own, I will never be strong enough." he states bluntly, holding up a hand to forestall any replies forthcoming. "That's not self pity or despair Sebastian, that's a fact. The woman alone is more than capable of tearing even yourself asunder and devouring your strength, binding your soul into servitude till the ends of eternity. And she is the least of the powers there, truly. Taros is home to mighty warlocks, necromancers and even liches. Each of them is mighty, surrounded in their places of power, their towers and bastions they've spent literal centuries perfecting and upgrading. The amassed magical power is formidable enough alone, without adding in the troves of dark artifacts they have accumulated." he pauses, forcing down the despair that threatened to consume him once more. Even discussing it...it was rather bleak and seemed hopeless. But he couldn't give up the fight, not ever. "Aside from individuals, they have their own minions, loyal and trained in addition to outfitted to destroy people like me that make a habit of studying spellbreaking with impunity. I wouldn't get two steps past the border without encountering at least three powerful individuals. My entire world lives in fear of the day that Taros decides to mobilize it's forces and launch a campaign for conquest. No one will move for fear of bringing down their wrath. So my only hope is truly myself. Pitiful as that hope may be." he says with a shrug, looking back at Sebastian.

"So, with my personal feelings aside, it's truly a bleak and lost cause. But that doesn't mean I'll stop. I know that I'll die in the attempt, or die in attempting to gain more power, but that's fine. My only hope is that I can at least bloody their nose, in the hopes that my actions will give the nations of the world a reason to move against them. To prove that it can be done. If one person can bloody the nose of the Mistress of Taros, then surely that can make them mobilize. If not...well. I tried. That's all that ever be asked of me." he says with a shrug. "So yes, maybe I'm pitiful to you, maybe I'm desperate, but I don't care. I will take power by any means available. I will grovel and beg, I will be the fool for an entire nation if it means I can get that power. In the end, the only thing that matters to me is gaining power. No matter how I feel, it won't stop me from doing whatever I have to in order to gain that power." he says, before pausing to glower at Sebastian. "And if any Faustian but you dares to laugh at me, I'll open their throat from ear to ear and devour them, body and soul for their power. My Chains were designed to do exactly that to a demon, and I doubt even a Faustian could break them." he huffs. "But I'd rather make allies then enemies, so if begging and grovelling can get me that power, that's what I'll do. Better than having to kill someone and make a whole new roster of enemies. I have those aplenty, I don't need to add more." he finishes, shrugging lightly. Maybe Sebastian would understand, and maybe not. But he'd tried. That was all he could ever do, was just try.

[sebastian]

Sebastian had been well aware of the aimed crossbow during the entire confrontation; and he had ignored it. The sudden light of fury within Tyrion's eyes had been a relief to see; it meant that the chaos elf was indeed not quite lost. It was more like the Tyrion he knew, even if he didn't know much. It seemed that being manhandled was just what he had needed in order to emerge from the haze of drunkenness. "If I had just said no, then you wouldn't have seen exactly how foolish you sound right now. Begging a demon for help; begging me to change you into a creature that you despise; expecting me to make my own sacrifice in an effort that will most likely wipe you from existence. I don't think Integra would take kindly to the fact I killed you if it all went wrong." He turned his back on the elf, taking a deep breath as he held back a sigh if exasperation.

"You said you would not accept defeat... By sinking to the level of a demon, you will be admitting you lost; you will admit that you had no other way to even come close to saving your people. And if your people share your views on demons, I doubt they would see you as a their savior if you succeeded in your goals. They would see you as one who threw everything away when he had everything to gain; and became the very thing he swore to destroy. I don't think they would take kindly to it. I know nothing of your people, but I am speaking from a logical standpoint." Tyrion was proceeding to speak of his world's defenses in the enemy's hands; and the demon felt an amused smile cross his face as the elf spoke of the powerful Mistress. Without turning back to face him; Sebastian spoke. "On the contrary; this woman alone could not 'tear me asunder,' as you say. No matter how powerful she is, she is still vulnerable. As you said, everything has a weakness. I serve Integra. If Integra orders me to win, then I will win. Your Mistress could try all she wanted to enslave me; and she would not succeed. The Faustian Contract has it's own powers, it's own abilities. If something happened that forced me to flee; I have my ways of leaving in a way that no one could follow. Of course, I will not be sharing all of my Faustian secrets with you; so use your imagination. But to make it simple... My service comes with a price. If that price cannot be given; then there is no service."



He fell silent as Tyrion proceeded to speak of his world and the dangers of the control it was under. At the mention that Tyrion himself was the only hope; then was enough to make the demon rest his head in his hands again as he chuckled quietly. "You forget of Alucard and Joanne. No matter how powerful your enemies are; I'm quiet certain Joanne and Alucard could take on the entire army of this 'Mistress of Taros' you speak of. Let's not forget, Joanne is purely Holy; and she has wiped out entire civilizations of unholy enemies. You have yet to meet Joanne; but I have stood before her, I have felt her holy energies and seen what she is capable of through Integra's mind. You won't understand the full extent of her power until you also stand before her. Going into this battle alone would be foolish, Tyrion; especially when you could easily request that Integra send in her own troops to lead the charge. You call this a 'lost cause'... I disagree entirely. But you believe what you wish. I don't bother with trying to change what others believe; it is not my place to do so. Joanne could utterly annihilate all of those enemies with a single swing from her sword; I am confident of that."



"And if any Faustian but you dares to laugh at me, I'll open their throat from ear to ear and devour them, body and soul for their power. My Chains were designed to do exactly that to a demon, and I doubt even a Faustian could break them."

At that; Sebastian finally turned back around to face the elf, shaking his head slowly. "You designed them to do such a thing to demons you are familiar with. Our reality; our very being is different. We are not the same entity. A Faustian is an entirely different species that those demons you know; we are not affected by the same things as those inferior scum. You know nothing of us, Tyrion... So be careful with how much confidence you put in your Chains. You seem to be under the impression that all demons are similar, if not the same. I now speak to you as a demon... Such a thought process will be the death of you, if you aren't cautious. Be careful with the species of hell spawn you chose to pick a fight with; you will bite off more than you can chew."

There was a solemn warning in those words. Tyrion's faith in those chains was a dangerous thing. Even holy energies didn't affect a Faustian the same way as they affected other demons. Their weakness, while numerous, were entirely different from other demons. Most demons would be repelled or annihilated simply by being near holy energy such as Joanne's, or if the said energy touched their skin. With a Faustian, a physical touch would burn; but not kill. It would have to be a direct fatal wound to the Faustian, wounds would not heal when inflicted by such energies. Whatever Tyrion's chains could do; he would find that a Faustian would not be easily ripped open or separated from their souls. Tyrion's faith in that single ability was almost sickening to Sebastian. He didn't know what he was up against, and it was his greatest weakness. The demon sighed irritably as he turned back toward the door to take his leave. "My answer remains the same, Tyrion. No, I will not make you into a Faustian Demon; I still believe your very being would be utterly destroyed by the bonding of Faustian Genes with your own. And becoming a Faustian will not guarantee you victory over your enemies; only gathering enough powerful allies will. Integra is your best bet; she and those beings she controls."

[Linx]

A tight smile found its way past his scowl as Sebastian spoke, shaking his head. "Maybe I am foolish, who knows? But you are certainly wrong on one point Sebastian. I don't expect anything of you. Well, nothing but contempt, a vague hint of amusement and impeccable service." he says, a short laugh shaking him, forcing him to clutch his side and grimace in pain. "Ah ha ha, laughing hurts. I'm not expecting you to try Sebastian. I'm asking you, as a friend. Laugh all you want, yes, you are my friend. And if you'll recall, you extended friendship to me first, that first night in the Manor." he says, shrugging lightly. He sighs, sinking back into the chair, passing a hand before his eyes. Why did he have to feel so old all of a sudden? Old and cold, that's how he felt. He chalked it up to massive damage and blood loss, but he felt there was more to it. Perhaps the rather depressing conversation? Maybe. But then again, he was a rather depressing person.

He shrugs in response to Sebastians next lines of thought. "You'd really have to have been there to understand Sebastian. True I don't know Joanne," he pauses to eye his injuries, "I am however familiar with Alucard, to say the least. Or at least, his power. But regardless, assuming they went to fight with me, which I highly doubt, even they would be hard pressed to survive. Besides, I highly doubt Sir Integra would lead or send her forces half way across reality for a fight on my behalf. She's got her own wars to fight, and I wouldn't even think to even think of taking two of her most powerful agents. I have a feeling I'd be reprimanded on principle." he says with another thin smile. "Maybe it is a lost cause, maybe it isn't. I certainly feel it is, but that won't stop me from fighting it. No matter what, until the day I die I will keep fighting against them, gaining power by whatever road is available to me." he says with a shrug, taking a quick sip off the bottle. He needed the warmth right now, and this debate had cleared his head considerably. He wasn't in danger of losing himself in the drink anymore. Not yet at least. After this, he planned on getting extremely drunk, even if just for one night. He could do with a dreamless rest for once.

He smiles as Sebastian cautions him against the prospect of facing a Faustian demon, chuckling lightly. "But you yourself told me how to make it work, don't you recall? You said the innards of a Faustian are extremely sensitive, I could merely channel in one of the demon souls I've devoured and do them harm from the inside. Besides, I don't exactly have the nerve to rely solely on the Chains against opponents such as yourself. I'd much rather use them as a last resort or supplementary in a fight. But they are certainly effective against rank and file demons of no consequence." he says with a shrug, contemplating what more to say. His throat was starting to hurt from speaking so much, that was the curse of a silent and solitary individual he supposed. He really needed to get used to this whole...friendship, thing. Even if it was with a demon. "Besides, if I ever get in over my head, you'll be there to bail me out. That's what friends are for." he says, flashing a grin at Sebastian. He was only half jesting of course, he knew Sebastian wouldn't always be around, or even care enough to help him unless ordered, but it was part of the point he was trying to make. They were friends, even if Sebastian scoffed at the notion. That's what friends did, they helped each other out, even if they thought they were in error. The 'I told you so's' came later. Most often in a jail cell.

He pauses to consider his next words, wondering what more he could say that he hadn't already. "I understand your points Sebastian, and the risks. I truly do. But isn't it my choice? There is no threat to you, no threat to your existence nor to Sir Integra. Should it fail, I will die. Sir Integra might be mildly put out that she lost a soldier, but that's all. Should it succeed, she'll have an more powerful soldier in her employ. And even if I do die, she doesn't really lose anything. She all but said it at our first meeting, I'm expendable. I'm easily replaced. However, a Faustian demon would constitute a major gain for her. Not to mention your own benefit. You gain a new Faustian in your employ, one loyal to you, who will defer to you in all matters. You gain a powerful ally should you ever have need of it, and you advance Sir Integra's cause and strengthen her defenses." he says, laying it all out as best he could. He doubted whether Sebastian cared enough to be persuaded by logic, but he had to try. "Through it all, it only represents a minor inconvenience to you should I live, having to help me adjust to my new reality." he pauses, taking a breath to steady himself. He couldn't let anger cloud his judgment, not this time. Too much was riding on him being level headed.

"You are a demon Sebastian, we have no misunderstandings about that." he begins, as careful as someone walking across frozen water would. "As such, even if you are different, in the end it means you don't care whether we live or die. We are nothing next to you, mere distractions from boredom with which to entertain yourself. Is that not so?" he asks, certain that he had him pegged now. "As such, why do you care so much if I desire to make this attempt? My life is nothing to you, and it is my own to use as I please. I have asked you, as a friend would, to help me attempt this road. I know the risks, I know the dangers, and I still wish to chance them. Should I succeed in this, then somehow free my people, I..." he pauses before his next words, something else he'd never confided to anyone, for there had never been any need. "I wouldn't stay with them. I couldn't. Even as I am, tainted by demonic blood, I am not fit to rule them. I would leave and live out my life where I must, doing what I could to help people. As a Faustian, that would enable me to better do that, would it not? I want to attempt the change Sebastian. If you won't help me, then I'll seek another Faustian that might. If you are truly my friend, as you claimed when we first spoke that night in the manor, then help me. Would you leave me to attempt this with a demon that would certainly kill me, even if I had succeeded? Or would you rather be the one to bring Integra such a gain?" he finishes quietly. Time to see if Sebastian would stand by his words. A friend would help him, and it was time to see if Sebastian was truly the friend he claimed.