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[ The world that Maki steps into is that of dazzling backlight against rugged stone, modern casino flashiness clashing with nature. On one end, the cave tapers to a close, reef-like structures of light hanging from the ceiling. The furniture is comfy, looking as if made of entirely nothing but slaughtered lambs - look in just the wrong way and you can even still see the blood.

On the other end is a bar, the ocean's bottom held back by a pane of glass. The bartender - half-man, half-goat - cleans a glass.

Don't stare too hard at anything here; focusing on any one object for too long results in seeing the world in 3D overlay: the past and present collide, blood spilling from the goatman and bullets and broken earth fill your periphery, the sound of screaming - the sound of lambs bleating. All in all, it's more than enough grounds to create a headache, but if that wasn't enough, the overlay breaks the glass and floods the whole cave - sometimes, it feels as if you can't breathe. Sometimes, it looks as if you've sunk into the darkest parts of the ocean, bioluminescent lights bright all around you.

Off to the side is a piano table with bar stools, broken and repaired and bloody and not. Lilith is seated on one of the stools, nursing a drink. Wrapped in and out of her dress is a yellow bellied sea snake.

There's no body present for either God or Amy, but what Maki does manage to bring - their souls, which really just look like ghostly bodyparts in slightly bigger sizes than "actually just dust" - starts to weigh heavier, the "skin" burbling like it's trying to re-shape itself but it doesn't know how yet to look. ]

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[Maki has made an earnest attempt to render herself anonymous, with a coat and mask that hides her face, hair, and to some extent her figure.

It also hides her expression at having to haul the dismembered ghost parts of her unitmates through a portal into a hell cave, which is certainly less than pleased. After some consideration she has managed to lash them together enough for transport, but when they start to move and take on the weight of real body parts, she drops them abruptly on the floor.]

...Sorry in advance.

Oh, you needn't be, dear.

[ the woman gives a laugh, setting down her drink ]

How thorough, and so thoroughly entertaining, too. A demon would be proud.

[ the pieces hop on the ground, come to life and trying attach to each other like jigsaw puzzles - though they don't quite fit together at first, not into one pile anyway, and eventually settle into two piles of wriggling flesh. ]

You haven't spoken to them yet.

[Her voice is dry.

After a few seconds of watching the flesh wriggle Maki is reluctant to keep looking at them, and her eyes wander around the space, taking in everything briefly before the flashes of the bloody past make her slightly queasy, and she returns to watching the bodies reform. That's not necessarily less distressing, but it is perhaps more informative.]

I'm looking forward to it.

[ rising from her seat, to step closer to the fleshpiles ]

You're dismissed, dear. I'll take care of the rest.

Just warning you. If you thought I was disrespectful...

[She sighs, which sounds a bit odd behind the mask.]

Take care of them.

[From her tone it's not entirely clear in what sense Maki means that? Perhaps Maki herself is not sure in what sense she means it. She certainly doesn't want them dead forever but some torture nightmares don't seem like they'd go amiss, either.

Regardless, she turns to return through her portal.]

[ The process of reconstituting your body is unpleasant at best, hell at worst - well, you are in Hell, after all. But as you can feel your soul stretch and expand and crack and tear to recreate your body, demon power fills the cracks to better hold your shape together.

As you're recreated, you can see it:

"It's her fault."

You can hear a familiar voice - whose voice is that? Someone's, someone's -

"She's the reason why all of these awful things are happening."

No, surely they could not be talking about you? Surely they could not be talking about you. After all, you're -

"She is no God. She isn't anything, or anyone important."

Who is that, spreading such lies! But you can see the people around you now - all the idols in Tokyo-F, even ☆ZRAEL - watch as hands from the Game Tower pin you down and nail you to the wall. It's painful, annoying - but more than that, after the initial show of interest, everyone looks away. They leave you there, to chatter with themselves - to go about their daily lives - without looking at you.

It's like you're invisible.

When they do say something about you, it's just that - "It's her fault." What did you do? Was it your fault?

But no one will answer you, even when you ask. Even when you laugh. Even when you feel yourself starting to crack -

No one gives you a look.

Finally, finally, you can feel the cool ground dispelling that horrid nightmare of yours.

Just where are you. . . ? ]

[definitely internally screaming until she comes to.

nah, probably still internal screaming.

she'll spend a good minute trying to push herself to her knees, at the very least, with not a smile! in! sight!]

[ there's a cup being set down in front of her, full of something dark purple and cloudy, by a goat man. at the bar, a woman sits. ]

Finally come to, dear?

[who the fucky fuck is this]

[SMILES with a little giggle]

The name is God—the one and only, with the capital G. Do use my name properly, it will serve you well.

[ drinks from her cup

as though completely ignoring her ]

[UNEASY, NO, IT'S COOL, THIS ISN'T THE NIGHTMARE, IT'S NOT THAT]

As I said... my name is God! With a capital G! One and only, that ♥ is ♥ me! Use my name properly.

Bartender, get me another glass.

[what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

what the fuck]

God has come to?

[ patiently waiting for a new glass of drink to be made for her, and then drinking it ]

[god shouldn't have to ask people to pay attention to her

even if they were upset at her, yelling at her, attention is attention

and yet, this person right here, isn't even upset??

she pushes herself to her feet and stumbles over to her]

You.

Do you hear that, bartender?

[ with a mocking tone, ]

The sound of God: complete and utter silence.

[black feathers are floating down from her wings—which were already looking sparse—forming a pile on the floor. her voice doesn't sound as smooth as she's made it to be. no, she sounds whiny.]

I am not silent! I am speaking! Listen to me!

Hm. This drink is a bit too dry. Give me another, bartender.

Is this a jest? Enough of it.... enough of it!

But what a silly little girl, bartender. Don't you agree?

[ still not speaking to scone, instead to the goat who doesn't respond ]

After all.

If she were to wear the mantle of God, then she'd have to admit that all of this is her fault.

Oh? This holy being was merely following the very objective that Her beloved Asmodeus assigned, so I did nothing wrong. I never do wrong.

[ with a snort, as she drinks from her glass again ]

[...]

Who is this being placed before me?

The light reaches your eyes and you can feel yourself beginning to move, rising for the next day. Finally, you've been born into this world. Finally, you've broken out of your shell, but -

A man - you know him, you know his face - picks you up from your warm nest, where you should safely be. His smile is perverse, familiar, and you can feel it -

"Just like a baby angel," he says, affectionate and almost gentle save for the vicious bite in his tone as he pulls at your wings between his index finger and thumb. He moves carefully, but with how big he is, how imprecise he is in comparison to how small you are, there's a level of clumsiness that hurts - yet, with a tiny snap that sounds to your ears like a sudden and terrible tear, your wings are torn off. Before anything else, your legs are picked off in much the same way. You squirm and squirm as much as you can, but you can do nothing underneath your own grip.

Meticulously, you're picked apart. Meticulously, you're broken up. You coo, you sigh, you're in pain, "How cute," you say, and then you squeeze yourself - you hear the squelch -

The light reaches your eyes and you can feel yourself beginning to move, rising for the next day. Finally, you've been born into this world. Finally, you've broken out of your shell, but -

A man picks you up from your warm nest, where you should safely be. His smile is perverse, familiar, and you can feel it -

"Just like a baby angel," he says, affectionate and almost gentle save for the vicious bite in his tone, "How cute," you say, and then you squeeze yourself -

you hear the squelch -

The light reaches your eyes -

You hear the squelch -

You can feel yourself being crushed -

The light reaches your eyes.

Finally, finally, you can feel the cool ground dispelling that horrid nightmare of yours.

Just where are you. . . ? ]

[ when he comes to, his face is honest for approximately two whole seconds before he's twisting it into some sort of scowl. it's better to look annoyed than... actually like his core was shaken.

he's sitting up with a hand to his head, gingerly pressing against his eyes. ]

Ow.

[ there's a cup being set down in front of him, full of something dark purple and cloudy, by a goat man. at the bar, a woman sits. ]

Finally come to, dear?

[ ...

.....

................ ]

Unless this is some sort of wet dream, it seems like it.

It could certainly be your deepest, darkest fantasy.

[ he might see his own shadow wriggle, as though it were made of bugs - no, isn't his silhouette different now? ]

[ he glances down, not moving otherwise, to look.

ignore it. ignore it. ]

Hahaha, it's starting off the way I like it, at least.

Oh, I'm so glad I haven't disappointed you.

[ his shadow begins to writhe again, splitting into smaller parts and then gathering together again ]

Take a drink.

[ it's unsettling, and he's not unsettled by like... anything. he doesn't want to get up, but he is, managing to act like he's got his shit together. ]

What's on the menu?

[ it's ok there's a drink in front of him anyway ]

Revenge.

[ that's the name of the drink. ]

[ oh thank you.

he is lifting the cup up like "cheers!" but isn't drinking yet. ]

[ lifting her own drink. cheers! before lifting it to her lips, and then waiting for him to do the same ]

[ this is probably a bad idea but you know what. whatever. he can turn the maco switch on if he has to!!!!

he's drinking now. ]

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Amy, cw bug crushing and torture

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