The view settles in on a closed-in amphitheater, somewhere within the capital of Violence. It's large, built up of black and white bricks and glowing gemstones. Demons fill the numerous seats.
The amphitheater is in a semicircle formation with a large wall with an area hollowed out around the stage, with some balconies going across above the pews. There's a throne in the middle of the stage, and two decorated balconies on the sides of the stage are elevated over the throne. Right in front of the stage is a little pit in which an orchestra is performing.
Dukes, dutchesses, and other royalty of Violence sit within the balconies closer to the stage as rose petals rain down from other balconies, synchronizing with the music.
There are at least a couple dozen demons walking the amphitheater with food and drinks, expensive delicacies, and the most cultured alcohol.
The roof of the amphitheater has a large, open skylight where the light of the red moon pours in and onto the stage.
Catherine is sitting on the right balcony next to the throne, looking sexy as ever. She watches the crowd with a grin, taking in the sight.
After a little while, the music dies down and a feminine demon made up of lapis lazuli steps out onto the stage. She has pale grey skin and blue ram horns with golden bows wrapped around the bases, her black hair tied back. She has blue eyes and makeup, pieces of pyrite sticking out of her skin slightly, though appearing more like a dusting of glitter.
She wears a skimpy one-piece that covers only the things it needs. She has yellow socks with blue heels, and she has a collar around her neck. Her wings have been clipped off, apparent by the bare gemstone showing on her shoulder blades.
She looks to the crowd and says with a monotonous, seemingly annoyed voice:
"Hello, Violence. My name is Beryth Lazuli. Please welcome your leader," she raises her right hand limply, "Abaddon." She walks to the right side of the throne and stands there as another demon walks out.
She is a muscular, darker-skinned woman with pitch-black hair and red-black striped horns. Though, this appearance doesn't last long, as it crystallizes as she walks, becoming hard obsidian with glimpses of ruby and garnet as its limbs elongate and features become more hazardous.
Abaddon appears as a 12' muscular figure made up of various dark, warm-colored gemstones that seem to warp into shadowy smoke. It has seven various mouth-like holes on its torso that glow like burning embers from the inside, illuminating patterns that appear like teeth. Its face is entirely smooth obsidian with two holes, perfect circles, that glow like burning embers. Atop its head is a crown of seven horns made of garnet.
The orchestra starts up again as applause and flower petals rain throughout the amphitheater.
[ jPGLstKUO7Q ]
Catherine cheers, clapping for her prince. She couldn't help but find her attractive, who wouldn't?
Stolas gazes at Catherine from the other balcony. She didn't see him come in. He's late, but no one would notice.
The music dies down as Abaddon waves his hand [but the background music is still going because its fucking good].
He speaks."People of Violence, I bring you all news tonight. Great news. Earth has been dialed down into thousands of small factions, many of which are against one another, many of which have great amounts of infighting. When they are not united, they are easier to pick off in groups."
"Including that group centered in Mississippi. As you may know, they have slain Asmodeus and are trying to utilize the Light to their advantage. They didn't do a very good job of disposing of Asmodeus' remnants, though, and he lives on through the Rose's Floodlands."
A roar of applause and cheer comes from the audience.
Catherine cheers with the crowd, noticing Stolas and giving him a dashing smile.
"This seems to have registered him as the twelfth Nephilim, a great opponent for whoever is unlucky enough to go against him. I do have my theories as to who he may choose..."
"On that note, the Nephilim have been doing a wonderful job preparing the planet for the Third Trumpet, which we are inching closer to with each day." Abaddon leans forward on his throne.
"Including thinning out those factions."
In a burst of smoke, a teenage girl appears on the stage. She carries a hunting rifle. She's shaking, bleeding, and looking around at the demonic faces surrounding her. She's never been more scared in her life.
"This one is named Shyla. The rest of her group was killed off by the fourth Nephilim, and she managed to finish it off by herself."
Shyla turns to Abaddon and shakily readies her weapon, "What are you goijng to do tomn e??"
A vine of Impurity speckled with shards of pyrite impales Shyla through the heart as Beryth raises a hand, killing her. Abaddon pats Beryth on the head, before looking to the crowd.
"Once the Nephilim have done their duty and the Third Trumpet rings out, we will be ready to join the species we once belonged to, and we can become whole once again."
The crowd cheers!
"Stolas has estimated around two months before the Third Trumpet rings, and our realms merge. Prepare yourselves for war, to fight like you never have before. Do not discriminate, as they will not do so. They see you as a demon, even if you were family, lovers, or friends. They will only see you for what you are."
"A demon, capable of killing them and taking everything away. So do not be afraid to kill anyone. They won't be afraid to shatter you." A beat of silence. "The Sun will Rise. We will succeed. I will make sure of this." The crowd applauds and cheers and Abaddon stands. The puddle of Impurity that once was Shyla is absorbed by Beryth, and the pair walk backstage together.
People soon begin to leave. Stolas looks down into his wine, untouched.
Catherine teleports over to Stolas. "Something wrong?" She asks with a head tilt.
"Nothing. I just don't understand how these little pep rallies are ever bearable." He sighs, "Or how you all are ever able to organize them. Stuff like this just doesn't happen in Treachery."
"Fear and adoration are powerful tools. We need to make sure our people are in line if we want to bring the prophecy into reality." Catherine says with a little hum. "Would you want to help me with a little project?"
"Sure." Stolas looks up at her. God, he looks tired.
"You know Abaddon's pet Lazuli?" A geode of phosphophyllite appears in Catherine’s hands.
"Someone killed this poor phosphophyllite... I was going to try putting them back together, if you'd want to help?"
"...I can try? I probably have a book or two about Violence demon restoration somewhere in my library." Stolas stands up, putting his goblet of wine on a table next to his chair. He removes one of his gloves and feels around the geode. "Phosphophyllite, huh? Very brittle. Perfect cleavages. This'll be hard."
"Could we repair it with a stronger material? Like with gold maybe?" Catherine says, looking over the geode that was once a demon.
"I think we can work with what we've got. I'll try to find my books, though, so that we can actually do it well. We could probably also use Impurity, considering that'd be more sturdy and less heavy."
Catherine nods. "I collected as many pieces as I could. However, I'm sure there were a lot of tiny pieces I couldn't retrieve." She looks over the geode with a soft look in her eyes. "I wonder what they look like…”
"Well, we'll just have to see." Stolas puts his glove back on and continues looking at the geode. "Where'd you find it?"
"Earth. This survivor I was watching murdered them. It was cruel, especially for a non violence demon." She says, furrowing her eyebrows. "They seemingly killed them for no reason. At least violence demons would have a reason, even if it was only because of their gem."
"That's odd. Humans are... strange. It's odd not getting to be one, but at the same time it's hard to imagine being one and then ending up here." Stolas lets out a huff. "Our worlds, cultures, and customs are all so different from what they have up there. Not to mention how much they vary from layer to layer."
Catherine nods. "Agreed. Sometimes I find myself watching veils not yet under our influence. It’s... strange, how they go about their lives. Doing menial tasks and calling it happiness. In a way I almost envy them. They have no idea what's coming." She taps her finger against the phosphophyllite gently.
"It's strange, I don't understand how some of them can possibly adjust from being cramped in a box all day in front of paper and screens to... this," Stolas replies.
"Well, they're here for a reason. Perhaps arriving here and getting the opportunity to be one of us is fulfilling their fantasies. Things they could only dream of when alive."
"I suppose." Stolas looks out to the empty amphitheater. "At least it's easier for some of them than others."
Catherine nods. "To your library then?"
"I'm ready if you are."
She nods. "I am." She holds onto the phosphophyllite and teleports there.