Title: The L Word (Mythklok, Chapter 21)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Declarations and departures
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking, character death. Just a general FYI, these next few chapters are going to be kinda dark.
Notes: This is part 1 of a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to
capslokdethklok.
This is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,
tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. I've also written a
general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap: Wotan married Raziel last time, and both of them ended up with strange powers in the bargain. Sariel got some new powers too, but they mostly annoy him, as he can’t use them to grab his cigarettes. Also, maybe as a consequence of the marriage, Nathan Explosion can read Raziel’s Book of Secrets and Mysteries, even though it’s written in High Angelic, which supposedly only Seraphim and New Ones and the Creator himself can speak. Oh, and Ganesh’s parents are annoyed that he’s going out with Sariel.
The L Word (Mythklok, Chapter 21)
Not so long ago...
Trance music throbbed, as the dancers writhed and weaved.
Two beings stood just outside the discotheque, one enjoying an oddly thin cigarette. The smoking being resembled a tall, handsome man of Indian origin. The smaller being looked very much like a 30-ish dark-haired woman.
"What about the one with the purple hair? He's awfully cute?" In their last few encounters, Lady Raziel had seemed to get it into her head that she needed to fix up Lord Gamesh with some suitably attractive man.
"Boring and shallow."
"How the hell do you know that?"
"That's how all men are. These last two centuries, give or take. I had so hoped things would perk up with the Twenty-first century, but I was sadly mistaken."
"Tsk," Raziel tutted. "I'm certain there are droves of splendid men out there. What about that one?"
"Shallow and boring!" Ganesh puffed, exhaling smoke elegantly.
"You didn't even look!"
"I shall only tire my eyes."
"You're impossible! You're as bad as Sariel!"
"Now, you know, your brother...."
"Wait. Sariel?" Raziel broke in.
"Well. Yes. Unless you have another brother?"
"Oh god." Raziel appeared to be hyperventilating. "Oh god oh god oh god oh god."
"What?"
"Look, Ganesh, you know you are one of my favorite people, and I like nothing more than sitting at a disco with you making spiteful comments about the other patrons."
"The feeling is mutual," the god laughed.
"My Honored Brother is.... Well, he's anything but shallow and boring." She sighed, and frowned at a man in a rather tacky outfit. "I can try to drop a hint with him. But please. Think carefully before jumping into the Black Pit of Sariel."
"Sounds a bit like a challenge," Ganesh said.
"Um. Yeah."
The present day....
The being was man-shaped.
But this meant so little.
He stood patiently and waited.
The angel alit.
"Do you have the item?" the angel asked.
The being held it out. A roll of papers: architectural drawings. But, they had been a beast to come by. Some other beings had not survived their theft. But that was the cost of doing business.
The angel ripped off the rubber bands and studied the drawings.
"These had better be what you say they are," the angel growled.
"They are."
"I am not a forgiving man."
"You will be satisfied."
The angel flourished his hand, as one would to magick a sword. The being cringed. But it was not a sword the angel held. It was a sack.
The angel tossed the sack to the being's feet.
"What is this?" the being asked, confused.
"Payment. The usual," the angel muttered, still studying the architectural plans. The angel rolled up the plans, and, with a curt nod, departed,
The being stooped over to retrieve the sack. He opened it. There were silver coins inside.
Thirty of them.
Sariel was not a creature who seemed comfortable with physical contact.
Lazy Raziel’s analogy to a cat held true. Although Lord Ganesh has spent many a contented evening sleeping deliciously entangled with the sweet naked body of his angel, there were just as many evenings when the man would sit in the opposite corner of the couch, not discontented, but apparently self-contained, and a most tantalizing distance apart. Ganesh regarded this eccentricity. He did not find it personally offensive, though it was a source of a small amount of frustration.
But Lord Ganesh was a clever man, and one who prided himself on this quality. He had thus divined from Lady Raziel the equivalent of an ear scratching - a neck massage. Although Ganesh lacked Raziel’s tiny but quite powerful hands, he had, in fact, a nearly inexhaustible supply of extras, which also seemed to do the trick. And not only did this seem to instantly dismiss whatever issues of personal space, in fact, Ganesh would solemnly swear he could hear the irascible angel producing a purring noise during the sessions.
These encounters were not necessarily a prelude to sexual intercourse. Most times, Ganesh would work out a knot in Sariel’s neck, and then the angel would contentedly allow the god to drape an arm around his shoulders for the duration of a DVD. Lord Ganesh was beginning to develop a taste for American madcap comedies of the 30s era. But tonight, as it happened, he had tugged a quite willing Sariel up onto his lap for better purchase upon a recalcitrant shoulder muscle, and was finding the angel’s movements and contented moaning to be more than a little arousing. This was yet another advantage of having so many hands at one’s disposal, as a pair could be sent downwards to see if the feeling was at all mutual. Upon ascertaining that it was, clothes were swiftly dispensed.
Although as a rule Lord Ganesh disdained too many erotic events happening without the confines of his private bedroom, he was not one who stood foolishly by rules, so now he was kissing his delicious angel's luscious mouth, while a pair of hands guided Sariel's hips as he moved up and down, though not too quickly, never too quickly. So graceful. He would make a fine dancer, Ganesh had decided. And then Sariel's legs were spread very wide over his own, leaving him to be pleasured by yet more of Ganesh's soft, skillful hands.
Ganesh could tell it would happen soon, from his lover's writhing, and the feel of his rapid pulse. Ganesh loved to slow things down ever so slightly at this moment, to see if he could eke out a second, five seconds, ten seconds more. But then suddenly Sariel's mouth tore away from his.
“I love you,” Sariel gasped.
The words hung in the air.
Sariel was brushing his teeth. Ganesh tried to hide his frown. If he thought that as a general rule matters of a sexual nature were best confined to the bedroom, then it was only more so regarding oral hygiene and the washroom. But, angels were stubborn creatures, and one did what one could.
"Ganesh. I just. I mean." White toothpaste dribbled at the edge of Sariel's mouth. "I don't wanna be that kind of person. Because I know.... It's just. I've now told you. Twice...."
Ah. That. “I do apologize. That was an oversight, I will admit. The simple answer is that I cannot reply in kind. As I simply do not know.”
“Oh.”
“One thing you might understand regarding me, and that is, up until quite recently, my life has been quite solitary.”
“OK. Wait, do you mean-“
"You're his first long term relationship?" Raziel asked. Instead of sliding her sunglasses down her nose, this actually rated the complete removal thereof: she perched them instead atop her head, and sat up in her beach chair.
Ofdensen frowned. He stretched his legs on his own beach chair. He felt like an asshole, out tanning in Asgard in mid winter. But he felt like a bigger asshole sitting there in an overcoat, trying to talk to bikini-clad Raziel. And the space heaters did do a rather nice job. And the tiki drinks were delicious.
"Yeah," he said.
"Meaning...."
"I'm the one with the experience."
"You're doooooooomed!" laughed Raziel.
"Yeah, thanks for the support."
"Look, you'll be fine. Unless you're not. Why not be happy with how things are instead of expecting the worst."
"Because that's what I am."
Raziel chewed on the end of her sunglasses. "By the way did you ever figure out how to use that push power?"
He grimaced and flicked his fingers. Her tiki glass tumbled over.
"Hey! I bought that on the Pleiades!"
"That's about it. I can push, but I can't figure out how to pull."
"Yes, being able to knock over an archangel without using your hands is pretty fucking lame."
"What good is a power if I can't even use it to grab a cigarette."
"Cigarettes? Didn't Wotan tell you? You have a responsibility!"
"Yeah, to tan and drink rum? Like you?"
"Hmpf. And this suit does not make my butt look fat!"
"What?"
"Asshole."
"Wait. I didn't say that, did I?"
"You just did!" Raziel insisted.
It was now Ofdensen's turn to sit up. "Raziel," he said.
"What about armadillos? Wait, how did you do that without moving your mouth?"
"Try some more! Try some more." He was silent again for a moment.
"Plasticine?" He nodded. "Tuning forks?" He grinned. "A rainbow colored zebra? Are you high?"
"Damn. I wonder if I can only do this with you?" Sariel wondered.
She shook her head, and appeared to be concentrating. "Are you getting anything?"
He cocked his head for a moment. "No absolutely nothing."
"Why can you do this but not me?"
"Obviously because your head is just emptier!" He ducked as Raziel tossed her pillow at his head. “You’re just jealous because I finally have a power you don’t!” he taunted.
She sniffed. “A fucking USELESS power!”
Ofdensen grinned. An entire realm where he could talk, and Raziel couldn’t?
He suddenly loved this earth god business.
The angel showed the drawings to his minions.
"Come, my lovely ones. Your master has a favor to ask."
The beings rejoiced. How they loved their pretty, pretty master.
They were inside a mountain.
Not atop a mountain, mind you, but deep inside.
Ofdensen wore a hardhat, which the safety-conscious Surtr insisted everybody don prior to viewing his construction zone. Deklok's manager was trying to work out how a small scrap of plastic worn atop the head was supposed to help in the event of an eruption.
"I believe thissssss to be my masssssterpiece," the black god Surtr hissed, "It issssss basssssed on Kilauea, which hassssss alwayssssss been a sssssspecial favorite."
"Uh, yeah," Ofdensen agreed, as they moved aside to let silent worker trundle a cart through the narrow tunnel.
"Sssssssssome are more inclined towards Vesssssuiviusssss. Is that also your tasssssste, Ssssssariel?" Surtr inquired politely.
"Uh, well, I suppose, there are thing to be said for both...." Ofdensen trailed off uncertainly. Why hadn't he delegated this to Nathan? That guy was the one who wanted the fucking volcano built.
"But sssssometime ssssssscelebritiesssss favor Monsssserat."
"Ah, yeah, I can certainly see that."
They proceeded through the tunnel, and into a larger chamber.
"And thissssss isssss the control chamber. Here....". But Surtr was cut off by a whispered question from one of his foremen. "Will you excisssssse me?" he inquired, stepping aside for a hushed conference.
Ofdensen began to pat his jacket. He extracted a Marlboro from his pack, and then began a search of his pockets for a book of matches. He found a couple of cocktail napkins, evidently with scrawled telephone numbers on them. From the bachelor party, he wondered? Condoms. Well, that at least made sense. A pack of guitar strings. Ah!
He opened the matchbook. Only one left. He tore off the single match, and closed the matchbook. He thumbed the match...
And was knocked off his feet by something very large and black.
Ofdensen lay on his back, Surtr on top of him, straddling his chest, and gripping him tightly about the wrist of the hand that still held his last match.
"Abssssssolutely no sssssmoking in the control room!" Surtr warned. "It could caussssse a premature eruptsssssssion!"
"I'll uh.... I'll try to remember that."
Lord Ganesh walked quietly down the hallway of the Eastern Kingdom's main offices in the Imperial City. He was not looking forward to this. The monthly board meetings had become infinitely worse now that Skanda had been brought in. He had been given a title, but almost no power - his mother's doing, thought Ganesh, which was a surprise. His presence was enough of a disruption however.
The board meeting dragged on endlessly. At one point, Ganesh made a proposal that was the opposite of something he had said previously, just to confirm that he father would noisily contradict him. He made a note on his electronic pad. He needed to talk with Shiva. Ganesh’s annoyance and discomfort were one matter, but it was truly inappropriate to bring family unpleasantness into company business.
He paused by a window in the corridor following the meeting, trying to calm his breathing, to stay his heart. He looked out across his splendid city. From the high floor of this, the tallest office building, one could view the tops of many of the fanciful office towers that dotted this, north side of the city. And then down to the meandering river that split the city, today busy, as always, with sailing vessels. And thence the ancient realms, of temples and zig-zagging streets, and his father’s palace.
“Have you considered our bargain, Ganesha?” It was Shiva’s demanding voice. He spoke, as he usually did to his son, in Hindi. Ganesh’s father had never grown comfortable with English, despite centuries of practice.
Ganesh sighed and turned. “This is not the place for this discussion, Father.” He replied in English, if nothing else, to irritate Shiva. He needn’t have bothered. Shiva was already quite irritated.
“You must consider.”
“Sariel is not a chip to be bargained. That is not the place he holds in my life.”
“The relationship is not appropriate.”
“Your dearest friend just wed an angel.”
“That relationship was of mutual benefit. Asgard now lies safe. What benefit have we from the silvery one?”
“What ‘benefit’ has Skanda ever brought upon our house with that string of ninnies he’s been fucking?”
Shiva frowned at the profanity. Ganesh had absorbed too much of this angel’s influence, that was clear. “I am demanding on you, my dear one,” Shiva admitted. “Our business, our empire, our city: all is dear to us. You hold a great responsibility. For the family. For our people.”
Guilt, thought Ganesh, turning back towards the window. That should work. It always had in the past.
"Have you considered Wotan's offer? Of security assistance?"
"We must reject it. A man must not be frightened within his own home."
"On this, at least, we agree," Shiva told him.
Gamesh gazed upon the river, and the palace of his father.
Raziel was waiting in the parking lot outside the volcano, standing beside a red Ferrari. "Surtr! Sorry I'm late!" she called when she saw them.
"My greetingsssss, Queen Razsssiel," Surtr told her, bowing politely.
"This is looking amazing!" she gushed, waving a small hand at the mountain. Kilauea?"
"Yesssss!" Surtr puffed proudly.
Ofdensen removed his hard hat and rolled his eyes.
"It's so much more dignified than Monserrat. I think, anyway," she opined.
A late model convertible had pulled up. The driver popped out: a very handsome young man who was, in truth, wearing very little to cover up his tribal tattoos. He was clad in a colorful sarong. He lightly danced around the car to gracefully open the passenger side.
A stunning woman emerged, wearing an exquisite floral patterned muumuu. Dark-haired and full figured, he face was half hidden behind an enormous pair of rhinestone-studded sunglasses.
She looked familiar.
"Pele!" squealed Raziel.
"Raz! Sistah!" Pele called, her voice smoky and warm as a good Scotch. She tugged off the sunglasses and wrapped the little angel in a generous hug. "I haven't seen you since da wedding! You still got dat honeymoon glow on ya!"
Raziel had the goddess by the elbow and was dragging the bigger woman over to where Ofdensen and Surtr stood.
"Aw, thanks. You look gorgeous, as always. Who's the new man?" She hiked a finger back towards where the tattooed young man, who remained leaning against the car, grinning in a most Leonine manner.
"You like? Dat Hoki. He kinda cute. But, he know he kinda cute, dontcha?" the last was directed at the self same Hoki, and only served to widen his grin.
"You know Surtr, of course," Raziel said.
The black god bowed deeply and politely. "Of course! Everyone in da business know you, brah!" Surtr may have been blushing blackly.
"Honored Lady, I greatly essssssteem your magma," Surtr told Pele.
"Hey, you kinda pretty, too, hon," Pele told him.
"And have you met my brother, Sariel?" Raziel continued.
"Howzit, brah! I saw you at da wedding. You going wit' dat adorable Hindu boy, yeah?"
"Uh. Ganesh."
Pele shook out her beringed hand, blowing on it as if she had just been burnt on the stove. "Ow! Dat boy hot! Reminds me of my second husband."
"Oh. And. Uh. What happened to him?"
"Oh, he got killed. Somebody t'row his cute ass into da volcano. On reflection, maybe dat was me," she laughed, to gales of laughter from Raziel and Surtr.
Ofdensen sighed. Volcano people.
The misshapen beings moved clumsily but quietly through one of the most secretive residences in all existence. There were many traps to evade, and magical charms to bypass. But they knew the way around. Thanks to their master, they knew the way.
Their master was beautiful. So beautiful.
They had one objective. To serve their master.
Nathan Explosion walked the corridors of Mordhaus, idly thumbing his Gameboy.
Charles had had a typically weird Charles reaction to that mysterious secret book, or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be. He was having Nathan fucking read it to him. Like, what, he was a kid? Creepy. And Lady Raz - actually, Queen Raz, though that sounded totally weird - had come in a couple times after she got back from her honeymoon to listen in. That was weird on top of weird, as she supposedly wrote the fucking thing.
Nathan pushed buttons to loose more arrows at the cartoon monster. It was hard to imagine Lady Raz as a writer, even harder than imagining her as queen. Weren't writers all creepy little dudes with big thick glasses who hunched over ancient typewriters and never got laid?
He swore as he missed a monster and lost another life. Fucked up fucking game.
And then he turned a corner.
And emitted a very non-Nathan scream.
There was something big there in his path.
Someone big and black. Hiding in the shadows.
"Nathan Exssssssplossssion?"
"Surtr dude! You fucking scared the shit outta me!"
"I am sssssssorry, Nathan Exsssssplossssion."
"Just Nathan will do. What the fuck, Surtr?"
"I come to beg for your asssssissstancsssse."
"What, in building the volcano?"
"No. Another matter. A perssssssonal matter."
"Uh. Yeah?"
The black god looked very far away for a moment. "There issssss a lady. A lovely flower. Of the mossssst delicate kind."
"Ooooooohhhhhh," rumbled Nathan. "GIRL TROUBLE?"
"I fear I cannot resssssssst until ssssshe is mine!" Surtr sighed.
"Surtr dude, you have come to the right place!" Nathan enthused.
"You will assssissssst me, then?"
"Yeah, just," said Nathan, looking slyly up and down the corridor. "Do me a favor? Don't ever tell anyone about how I, you know, kind of screamed.
"It will be our ssssssecret!" Surtr gladly assured him.
"Now," said Nathan. "Tell me about this chick."
Raziel sat on Ofdemsen's desk, knitting. They had come to a compromise. She could continue to do so as long as she promised to never, ever, ever show him what she was knitting.
"I've made a list," he announced.
"So you're Santa Claus?"
"Yes, and you're on the naughty list."
"Cool."
He pointed to his laptop screen. "This spreadsheet shows a list of the 29 people to whom I've said the L word since I have been on earth.
"29?"
"27 men and two women."
"Whoa, you're kind of a slut."
"Look who's talking."
"I'm a respectable married woman!"
"For what? A month? Most of which you've spent sitting around drunk and half naked!"
"My version of monogamy. So who were the two women? The Countess, right?"
He suddenly lowered the laptop screen as she leaned over for a closer look. "Hey!"
"Aw! You brought it up! And no, this outfit does not make my skin look sallow! Quit pushing thoughts into my head!"
"I know, they must be so lonely up there."
She scowled and tipped his screen back up. "Oh. Her? Ew."
"I need to point out the features of this spreadsheet! In this column is whether the party reciprocated. Here is my estimate, in weeks, of the duration of the relationship, prior and afterwards...."
"Sariel, do you have pie charts too?"
"No. That would be stupid. But maybe I can construct a bar graph-"
"Sariel!" Raziel slammed his laptop shut.
"But I didn't save my chart yet!" he wailed.
"Sariel! No. Just, no!”
He glared at her for a bit. “OK,” he sighed, sitting back and looking miserable. “What then?”
“I dunno. One of the girls in Parvati’s knitting circle may have a love charm.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Would that be ethical?”
“Ethical? You’re a fucking lawyer!”
“True.”
Shri Ganesha, Lord of Hosts, walked distractedly through the hallways of his residence. He was distracted more often than not these days. There were many issues that preyed upon his mind.
He thought of Sariel, white toothpaste dripping from the corner of his mouth onto Lord Ganesh’s freshly cleaned carpet, awkwardly broaching the subject of love. How could a being who wielded a flaming sword with agile grace turn into a bull in a china shop when confronted with the problem of dental hygiene. And how could someone who commanded the world’s seventh largest economy be reduced to a stumbling mess when speaking of simple affection.
It was part of the man’s fatal charm, Ganesh concluded.
He turned the corner to approach the room that held his sacred wardrobe. Even in his distracted state, Lord Ganesh never approached this particular room the same way twice. For Lord Ganesh was a careful man.
He knew something was wrong. Even from a distance, he realized the magic he had used to secret the room had been tampered with. Someone must have broken through the spells somehow - though who or what he could not say - and had then attempted to lay them back down, to cover their tracks. But no one cast a spell quite the same way as Lord Ganesh, and he recognized the foreign magic in a trice.
He thought briefly of retreating, then and there, going back and calling for help. But lord Ganesh was a prideful man, one of his few failings, and besides, he did not think it honorable to be fearful in ones own home, on one's own ground.
He quietly slipped off his shoes, and extended an extra set of arms. And thus he proceeded, holding at ready multiple blades as well as his trident, and slipped skillfully through the clumsy spells without making a disturbance.
What he found inside the room was beyond belief. All of his fine elephant heads, as well as his spare human heads, smashed. He quietly crouched down to look at an elephant head that was by his foot. One of the splendid good-tipped tusks had been broken. His anger was beyond words.
He turned and killed the first one very swiftly, as it tried to sneak up behind him, sword through the soft stomach, and then beheaded, the thing's head gone to join his smashed ones on the floor.
But then he looked again.
And then he knew.
His last thoughts were of pride, that they had sent so many after what was, to be fair, only one earth god such as he. Even in planning his murder, there must have been a certain measure of esteem for him. He managed to slay a couple more. But then they were upon him.
And so in this manner, with a terrible honor, the spirit of Lord Ganesh, Lord of Hosts, Remover of Obstacles, MD, JD, COO and chief legal counsel of the Eastern Kingdom, LLC, departed this world for the next.