The Grand Highblood sat very still on his throne. He slumped as he sat, his purple eyes half-lidded. The throne room was empty and utterly silent, which was rare. The domed ceiling and size of the room meant that any sound echoed, and silence could get louder than the screams of the tortured sometimes.
There was a thud that seemed a thousand times louder than it should've been as one of the many doors opened. His eyes shuttled to the side, but he gave no other sign that he'd heard. He recognized her instantly. The vivid teal and candy red gave her away as a legislacerator.
While they had plenty of legislacerators in the fortress, she was the only one who acted completely at ease. The others wandered through the dark corridors with terrified eyes, jumping at every little sound. In contrast to that, she stalked right up to his throne, her heels sending up a cacophony of smart little taps that echoed through the room. Fearlessly, she came up right in front of him, mutant red glasses glinting in the torchlight. "Well?" she snapped, her sharp teeth flashing as she grinned tauntingly at him, "You going to drag your lazy ass to sleep?"
He blinked slowly, lethargically. She leaned close to to him and giggled. Messiahs, how he hated her giggles. They grated on his ears and insulted laughter. He snarled, "You're all up in my motherfucking personal space, Pyrope."
Her giggle turned into a full-on cackle, and she clapped her hands onto his cheeks. "I'll get further into your personal space, my big clown asshole."
His eyes flashed a myriad of different colors, but her glasses needed to be off for the chucklevoodoos to effect her. Well, that could be easily remedied. Too lazy to pick his hands up, the Grand Highblood lunged forwards. His sharp teeth slipped easily over her pointed shades, and he pulled them off and spat them into his lap.
She blinked at him. "The fuck?" Lips curling upwards in irritation, she slid her fingers up his face, smudging his paint as she did.
"Gotta see your eyes, candylawyer," he said, his own lips curling upwards into a terrifying grin. Her eyes were lovely, an even more vivid teal than her blood (which was fun to play with). Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.
"What've you been smoking?" she demanded.
His eyes flickered different colors again, and he felt a spike of pleasure at the fear that jolted up her spine. Her hands grow clammy against his face and her breathing became short and raspy. The Grand Highblood's grin widened. Motherfuck, but she looked hot when she was all riled up like this.
The grin vanished when she stepped on his foot, because her heels hurt. His eyes returned to their normal purple-red color and she snapped, dark brows drawn low over her eyes, "Fucking shit, Kurloz! I told you not to use your damn chucklevoodoos!"
He chuckled at that, his foot sliding out and knocking her off her feet. She yelped as she fell, and he unceremoniously grabed her and pulled her onto his lap. She was sharp and bony, her elbows digging into his flesh painfully. She was also very small, especially when compared to him. "But they're all up in my think pan, my wicked pailmate."
She shot him a withering glare and searched his lap for her glasses. Unable to find them, she snapped, "We're not pailing on your throne again! I nearly broke my legs last time."
He laughed again, his eyes gleaming unnaturally in the dim light. "Nah, I'm not feeling up to pailing and all tonight."
She groaned deep in her throat. "Why the hell did you call me in here for?"
"I didn't call you," he said sagely, "Must've been the miracles."
"We both know that's bullshit," she said bluntly, teal eyes narrowing, "I was in the middle of very important work when one of your asinine followers told me to come here."
The Grand Highblood's tongue dropped out of his mouth as he thought. He was very calm right now, the way a lake could seem like glass if it was calm enough. "I never sent nobody, Latuliza."
She blinked at him. "Huh." He rested his chin on top of her head and she promptly pinched the skin between his thumb and forefinger. "Damn it, Kurloz, you know your chin is bony!"
"Sorry, candylawyer." They sat together in silence. It wasn't quite cuddling, as they were both too bony to cuddle comfortably, but it was something. She kept wiggling, trying to dig into his legs as much as she could, and he took to rubbing his face paint onto her face. Used to it, she let him trail his long fingers around her lips and eyes. She didn't normally paint her lips or eyes teal, but today she had. He loved it, loved using the teal and the grey and white to create a subjugglator's mask for her.
Their scuffles were broken when a loud knock came from one of the doors. Immediately, she hissed, "Let me up."
The Grand Highblood promptly flopped over, pinning her between his legs and his torso. She let out an undignified screech and clamped her teeth down into his bony wrist.
He sat up and blinked at her as if she were a very interesting fish. "That's not right," he informed her, and she released him. Tiny droplets of purple blood sprouted about his wrist.
"You taste horrible," she retorted wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, smudging the paint. Her eyes lit up when she spotted her glasses, which had fallen to the floor. Leaning down, she slammed it onto the bridge of her nose and sank into the darkness behind his throne.
The Grand Highblood roared, "All up an' come in, wicked brothersister!"
The door directly across from his throne swung open. A female subjugglator entered, bringing with her a short blueblood girl wearing garb typical of a gamblignant. The subjugglator's purple eyes shuttled from the Grand Highblood to the Neophyte and back again. Her lips curled into a smile beneath her face paint, and she said, "Your Lordship, sir. This wicked sister wants to get her talk on for you."
The Grand Highblood's expression immediately became fearsome, his vacant purple eyes coming alive with a red glint. "What's your name, sister?"
The blueblood bowed, the jewelry in her antler-like horns jingling as she did so. "I'm the Magician," she said.
He let out a roar. "I didn't ask for your motherfucking title, did I?!"
Eyes wide, the blueblood shook her head. "N-no. I'm Selmie Hiddil."
The Grand Highblood leaned forwards intently. "What are you all up and here for, little saltblood?"
Her expression remained impressively impassive. "I'm here with information about heretics."
The Grand Highblood's eyes twitched to the side, where Redglare stood in the shadows. She hadn't managed to wipe all of the face paint off. His lips curled into a grin. All she'd managed to do was smudge it.
The Magician cleared her throat. "Your Lordship?"
The Grand Highblood looked back at her. No, he didn't feel like talking to her right now. He'd been having fun with his kismesis, and now that she'd come in, things were boring. "Why don't you get your explain on and hurry it the fuck up?"
The blueblood blinked. She was nervous, although she hid it well. "There's a group of trolls near my hive, and they've been going around wearing the heretic symbols."
Boring. "Do something funny," he ordered, "Get your motherfucking humor all up and on."
Bewildered, the Magician asked, "Your Lordship?"
The Grand Highblood's eyes began to flash different colors. The blueblood began to sweat, her fingernails biting into her palms and her face growing pale. "Tell. Me. A. Motherfucking JOKE, saltblood!"
The blueblood was stammering, eyes growing wide. She'd lost all composure. She shook like a newly birthed woolbeast on a windy day. Cackling delightedly, the Grand Highblood leaped nimbly from his chair, his colorful clubs suddenly clutched within his massive hands.
Behind him, Neophyte Redglare unsheathed her blade. She didn't move however, and the subjugglator who'd brought in the blueblood let out a whoop, backing away to watch the carnage.
Blood will be spilt this day.
The blueblood never stood a chance. The Grand Highblood completely, utterly destroyed her. He did it slowly, laughing hysterically whenever she screamed. And oh, did she scream.
First he ripped her arms off. He let her run, sobbing, as she struggled to open the heavy doors without her hands.
But the doors opened inwards, and she was cornered as the Grand Highblood smashed her legs to dust. Pale blue blood — the color of the day sky — spilled across the dark floor. It was a pretty enough color, for all that it was blue, and the Grand Highblood dipped his fingers into it as her screams echoed across the domed ceiling. He beckoned his kismesis over, and she willingly padded closer.
"Look at it," he told her, his wide grin eerie beneath his red eyes, "Such a motherfucking pity, isn't it? Spilling it all over the floor like that? Such a motherfucking pity, candylawyer."
She raised her eyebrows beneath her glasses. "You're high," she said bluntly, "High off blood, you ass."
He touched her face with his blood soaked fingers, smearing sky blue beside the grey and teal already there. She swatted his hand away. "Hurry up and kill the thing already," she said, smirking at him with that self-satisfied smile he'd have loved so dearly to smack off her face.
"Not gonna get my hurry on, lovely girl, not even for you." Despite his words, he turned and flat-out ripped the blueblood's head off. Blood spurted in a fountain, spraying both the Grand Highblood and his girl. She hissed in distaste, stepping away. Always so crisply clean, her clothes were now stained with blood.
"I'm gonna kill you for that," she declared.
"Not before I get you," he replied firmly, dragging the troll's head towards his throne. Running his hands along the severed neck, he began to paint the walls. She wrinkled her nose as she watched. There was a pattern to his art, she knew, although the pattern was beyond her understanding. The sky blue fit prettily beside purples and greens.
The other subjugglator took her leave then, but neither the Grand Highblood nor the Neophyte noticed. He was too intent upon his painting, and she on trying to figure out the rhythm of his art. When he'd finished, there was still plenty of blood leftover, not to mention the limbs scattered across the room.
"Candylawyer, do a brother a favor and cull those motherfucking heretics."
This was always a precarious part of their relationship. She had no trouble hunting down and bringing criminals to justice. But he would never let her forget her own dabbling on the other side of the law, just as she would never forgive him for his part in bringing the ultimate heretic to justice.
Still, she smiled at him, all sharp teeth and wicked eyes. "Anytime, brother mine."