Forced Visitation

For God's sake...

"I didn't say 'ask nicely'. I said 'make them think listening to you is the best thing they can do'." he said, still calm, but staring in a somewhat more stern way. "Had you convinced Ambrose that he should want to keep the diatoma, he would have kept it. And now you're ruining whatever slivers of trust he had in you by throttling him half to death."

He didn't dare steal a glance at the struggling boy just in case the sight would make him do something stupid.

"I'm doing this right now, do you see?" he said, finally letting down the hand and crossing his arms. "I could try to pounce you and wrestle the kid from your hands, but I'd much rather make you see that what you're doing is not a good idea. Because it isn't. All cruelty of it aside, it's not a good solution. And honestly, what kind of manners is it to strangle somebody while being a guest? I'd expect more from a deity."
Every word he said was one more moment of Ambrose being deprived of breath. Hopefully he'd last that long... If not... he wasn't sure what he would do.

"I turned the diatoma into a bloody GOLD COIN, what more convincing can I give?" Diaster genuially asked, befuddled by how complicated the vampire was making this.

Ambrose, by now, had completely stopped breathing, but was still putting in a fight against the strong arm of the deity. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice the lack of air at all . . .

"Cruelity is often the best solution, vampire," Diaster grinned, raising a manicured finger to his lips. A signal of silence. "You can keep your manners, your problem-solving-- oftentimes, it is best to be direct with such issues. Watch."

Ambrose had obviously not heard any of the conversation, continuing to struggle against the arm and now even using his slightly-jagged teeth. Feeling like he proved his point, the deity unmerciously dropped the red-head HARD onto the ground. Ambrose jerked at the fall, then glaring at Disaster with knives.

"You ASS."

Diaster ignored such a blatent insult and the italics with it, turning instead towards their host. He raised a hand over towards the boy in a display-like manner.

"Ta-dah: immortality at work."

Ambrose still wasn't breathing.

Okay... Still moving. Still some time left. In fact, it was taking suspiciously long for him to be knocked out, and Richard began to wonder...

He couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. Honestly, the flamboyant deity was insufferable. Yes, sometimes it was good to be direct, but that was not the point - the point was that this was not one of those times.
As long as Ambrose was alive, though, it didn't matter. He watched him drop to the floor with a sorry expression, then returned an entirely unimpressed stare back up to Disaster.

He clapped slowly, twice, in an apathetic applause.
"Fabulous." he said. "What an impressive glare you have caused there. Any other benefits? Or were you just trying to prove a point in a convoluted way?"
He took a step back to lean onto the desk again.
"I know immortals can be tortured without leaving a scar on their bodies, trust me." he said somewhat sharply, as if offended at the notion that he could be alien to such things. "It's the mental marks that count. And the memories and the grudge that will last forever."

Ambrose, just entering the two's little conversation, was confused. "What are you two talking about?" Still not breathing, either . . . Disaster ignored the question for now and faced instead towards Richard, wearing a grim expression on his face.

"Proving a point in a convoluted way. It's the only way he learns-- turst me, We've tried other ways."

Ambrose was still on the ground, now sitting inbetween the two immortal figures. He watched carefully, eyeing the two but lingering on Richard. Watching. Waiting.

At 'mental marks,' Disaster flinched a little, glancing hurriedly at Ambrose and then back towards Richard. Did the idea seriously not come to him before?

"B-but-- look!" He gestured wildly, frantically towards Ambrose. "He's alive! He's okay! Isn't that . . . Isn't that enough?"

Scarring darling Entropy? No, no, that had never been his intention. He wanted to help him, above everything else. Luppa? A consequence of such help, but necessary help. He was one of the good guys!

Ambrose was alive. That was all that mattered. . . .

"He is alive, alright. But is he okay? I beg to differ." he said, gaze flickering to Ambrose briefly. "I sincerely doubt that hanging him from your arm is the only way he learns. Ambrose is not stupid. And even stupid people can be convinced through things other than fear."

At that point, seeing he made no motions of getting up, Richard stepped forward once again and leaned down, offering a hand to the boy. Really, he was sick of talking like Ambrose himself wasn't there. He wasn't sure how to speak to Disaster, either - he did seem to be some sort of an incredibly abusive parental figure. If this was normal humans he was dealing with, he'd call the police and have a restraining order put in place. But he wasn't. And the deity was likely to be one of the few people who cared about Ambrose at all, no matter how sick that 'care' ended up looking like.
Richard glanced up to the man with a slight grimace.

"It is likely enough to make him hate you."

Diaster stared at Richard; with each word the vampire spoke, his face fell more and more. Defeated. That was what he was. He . . . He had never considered that. Ambrose, in the meantime, gladly took Richard's offered hand and finally got up from the floor. His eyes, however, were fixed on the deity in wonder.

"H-hate?" the deity exasperated, taking a step back. "I never . . ." He turned desperately towards Ambrose himself, finally bringing the boy into the conversation. "You don't hate me, do you!?"

Ambrose looked towards Disaster, then Richard. He was trying to make his face seem neutral, but . . . there was definately a struggle there. Finally, he turned back towards Disaster, his face softened by recent events.

"I dislike you, but . . . never hated."

That was all Disaster needed, flailing his arms towards Richard in utter joy. "See? SEE? He loves me!"

"No one said that . . ." The boy went back to being annoyed by his parental-figure. "I just . . . don't blame you for what you do. I can't."

Once Ambrose was up, he took a step back again to rest against the desk and crossed his arms, watching them both. He was glad he was able to make the deity see there was something wrong with his behavior, but he was far from celebrating a victory. Long ways to go yet.

Remaining composed through Ambrose's hesitation, he nodded lightly at the words that were finally uttered. Half in approval, half to his own thoughts. He had heard out enough battered wives to recognize the pattern... It didn't matter how different the actors in the scene were, the script had the same basic shape. Whether the excuse was 'he has trouble at work' or 'he is a deity of disaster' didn't make much of a difference.

"That's very admirable of you, Ambrose." he said in a tone serious, but neutral, free of accusation. Sort of like this wasn't a life-changing matter, but a discussion about a movie. "But does that make his actions any less reprehensible, unnecessary and hate-worthy?"

Ambrose at first didn't understand what exactly Richard said. Unnecessary? He had never connected that word to Disaster before.

"You must be misunderstanding." The red-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows. "As much as I hate him, Disaster does nothing but help me. It's always necessary." All this time, Disaster and Dopamine had been helping him. Everything thing that they did to him and others was always with their favorite candidate in mind. Speaking of which . . .

He turned towards the deity. "Why the hell was choking me 'necessary'?"

"To help you get over your immortal crisis," Disaster answered bluntly, happy to contribute.

"See? He's just--"
Only then did Disaster's words sink in.

"Helping me do what?" Ambrose's anger flarred, the italics slipping in. Disaster merely turned towards Richard, frowning and shrugging his shoulders.

"See what I mean? Completely unappreciative."

He looked at Ambrose in thought, twiddling his thumbs. Maybe he was misunderstanding to a certain degree, or maybe he understood all too well. He didn't know anything about their relationship other than what was said and done on this very night, so there wasn't much to work with. He had to make do, but he had a feeling he wasn't that far off from the truth.
"It's not about whether he's helping you or not, it's about how he goes about it."

Ha... so either Disaster was only pretending to be flipping out about the diatoma, or he was lying now. Richard narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Well, do you think it worked?" he said, some sarcasm seeping into his tone. "Was a brutal demonstration really necessary to show another benefit to immortality? I do believe there are better methods of achieving that."
He bit his tongue before he spat out another sentence. From his point of view, being shown that you can be strangled while being deprived of the sweet relief that passing out would bring was hardly reassuring. But maybe Ambrose didn't see it that way, and it would be better for him if it remained so. The vampire cleared his throat.
"Anyway, let's put it in this perspective... No security guards will be able to put a finger on you, Ambrose." he smiled.

Ambrose pondered over Richard's words carefully, thankful for the distraction . . . but, in the end, merely shook his head. "So long as its done. Although," he glared towards Disaster, "its never meant choking me before."

Disaster merely shrugged at this, still taking the situation lighter than he should have. All of that carelessness vanished when the vamp mentioned 'benifits.' Oh, how They had tried that approach so many times. . . .

"Yes, I overheard . . ." He frowned slightly. "Quite intriguing, I have to admit. However . . ."

A crash of lightning filled the now pernamently-opened window. The remarkable light display reigned over the room for a time before Disaster continued. A clear display of power.

". . . he'll only accept what he wants, and reject the rest. He needs to accept all of it, not just some imaginary senario with security guards."

Ambrose did not answer. His mind was still on the security guards. It wasn't like they could touch him, anyways. He fingered the ever-present plastic fork in his pocket and sulked slightly.

He couldn't help but sigh silently at Ambrose's words. Sometimes ends justified the means, sure... But only if they actually achieved the desired result.
Was that the case here?

Before he could form a question to find out about that, the sound of thunder, now not inhibited by the glass, echoed in the room. Richard did not flinch, but it took a lot of his willpower not to wince. No matter how polite and 'friendly' they were being right now, he couldn't afford to let the man see any weakness like this. It took a second or two until the ringing in his ears ceased, and so he didn't hear the first part of what Disaster said. However, he was pretty sure he lip-read it well enough.

"Of course." he said. "Accepting the whole package is vital, however, the task can be much easier when you see it is not all bad. That one doesn't have to shirk all of their current hobbies and passions upon becoming immortal..."
He raised an eyebrow, giving Disaster a questioning look.
"Do they?"

Both figures Richard was addressing to flinched at the question. Ambrose pulled out the trusty plastic fork and was now fiddling with it as if his life rided on the distraction; Disaster attempted a recover and chuckled nervously.

"Well, I mean-- there's always a price," he reasoned, looking not directly at the vampire but rather over his head. "Not just with immortality, either, but with everything! I mean, think if . . ."

His voice dragged off a little before vanishing completely. Even the flamboyant deity didn't fully believe his own words. He glanced over at Ambrose before continuing:

"We're the embodiment of just one thing," he grimaced. "Other features . . . would just get in the way."

Ambrose flipped the fork in his hand with a serious expression on his face.

A plastic fork... A good a thing as any to toy with while uneasy, he supposed.

He furrowed his brow in slight annoyance. "That's quite the price to pay, even for things such as controlling lightning. No wonder you folks feel forced to use mortals and whoever you can as playthings, if you think you cannot do anything outside of whatever matches your domain."

Did the man make himself a fashion disaster on purpose...?

Richard cleared his throat, trying to pass his small chuckle as a cough. "I... Sorry. Anyway, that's a silly notion..." he trailed off, dumbstruck all of a sudden. Could he have misinterpreted what was said so severely?
"Did you perhaps mean... that it is part of the transformation?"

Disaster grimaced. "Two for two, vamp. How do you do it?" He applauded slowly, sarcasm dripping from those leather gloves of his. In truth, this was nothing at all to clap at--

The plastic fork formerly in Ambrose's capable hands was sent flying from one side of the counselor's room to the other, the utensil being promptly lodged into the opposing wall a solid half-inch.

Ambrose's eyes flickered red.

"Stop talking," Ambrose ordered with a glare to the two figures, not giving a crap for 'authority' and the like. He covered his mouth when the italics came out, however, and stopped talking all together, although it seemed like the red-haired boy had more to say.

Richard grinned, half embarrassed, half amused, and readjusted his tie. "Well, I am known around here for my math skills..."

He traced the line of flight of the plastic utensil with his eyes, flinching in surprise as it didn't bounce off the wall uselessly like he expected it to. Nice... He looked to the boy with renewed curiosity. Was the fork special, or was it Ambrose...?

Watching the boy in silence, he waited for him to speak again. There was nothing he could think of saying anyway. Should he advise Ambrose to accept a fate this grisly? Or fight, even though there was likely no way to win?
He couldn't tell him which road to take. The deity-to-be would have to decide for himself. Richard could only support him in whatever choice he made.
It was very little. Yes. But maybe it would mean something.

All attention was drawn onto the red-haired boy; even the Powers That Be (including Disaster) were completely silent in his mind, an occurance that happened rarely. It allowed him to think properly and to concentrate on speaking without italics.
The boy gazed-up at Richard, his face shadowed but his features defiant nevertheless. He took a deep breath . . .

What could he say? That he didn't want any of this? That it wasn't fair? On the contrary: it was completely fair. He brought this upon himself. He knew this, and yet . . . there was the regret. There was always going to be that regret. He knew that.

". . . No."

Still, that didn't mean that he was going to play Their stupid game.

"Screw Entropy. Screw all of it. I will never accept, and You All know that."

Disaster had to admire such gall, but he sighed regardless.

"You're acting as if you have a choice."

To that, Ambrose remained silent.

A little voice in his head suggested that he should try to convince Ambrose to cut his losses and accept it, wasting no more time and energy. Perhaps that was the reasonable thing to do.

But...

Had he himself never taken the impossible route for the most of his life? Trying to achieve greatness while being of low birth in a class-based system? Defeating death itself? Preventing that war...?
Anything could be done if one was stubborn enough. And Ambrose had that fire in him. He looked into the boy's eyes and nodded slowly, a calm smile on his face.
"A respectable choice. It shan't be easy, but it will be worth it." He paused, glancing to Disaster. "There is no comparison between that which is lost by not succeeding and that lost by not trying."

Ambrose stared at the vamp in disbelief, not able to comprehend . . . this. That someone was willing to help him do this the way he wanted it to be done. Such a thing was unbelievable.

Disaster glanced down and Ambrose even though they were of simular heights, then at the vamp. He was obviously displeased by such words, as would be any of Them. Entropy was necessary. The boy simply had to accept.

". . . I leave him in your capable care, then."

Disaster disappeared with a snap of his fingers and in a crack of lightning before Richard or Ambrose could say anything more. Ambrose could have sworn, though, that there was the slightest smirk on his mouth . . .

Disaster and Dopamine never did anything without it helping him. That went for this, too. He had to trust the two, regardless of action. It was all he had-- well, not anymore. Close, though.

Ambrose turned towards Richard, grinning but not at all meaning it. "My condolences for getting you involved."

He smiled lightly in response to the disbelief. It reassured him in that he made the right choice by not trying to talk Ambrose out of his decision.

Disaster's reaction was understandable, he supposed. He parted his lips to utter a goodbye and was left like that, mouth slightly agape, as the man disappeared. Well, that explained why he didn't hear him approach from outside, at least...

He shrugged and waved his hand in a dismissive way at Ambrose's words, but was clearly a bit disturbed, still staring at the spot Disaster occupied just moments ago. Just... what has he gotten into...?
"Don't mention it." he said. "It's my own doing."
Finally he pried his gaze off the floor and gave the boy an honest look.
"I do regret I might not be as useful to you as I would like to. I have seen a lot, but I know nothing of deities and their ways other than what I have found out tonight."

Ambrose easily caught the disturbed look of the vampire but said nothing in reply. What could he say? The Powers were definately something to worry about; worrying about them was the sane thing to do. Besides, nothing the boy could say would bring comfort. Nothing truthful, anyways.

"They are very tight-lipped with the particulars," Ambrose informed Richard, "but you shall figure it out." Just like he did. Just like everyone did . . .

He involved the vampire. There was no going back now. As for tonight, though, he had said too much.

The red-haired boy got up from his seat, his eyes still avoiding the vampire's. Guilty. He was guilty of this new chaos in the vampire's life. He had complicated it beyond reason.
"This is a lot to take in, I know. I . . . should leave."

Ambrose headed towards the doorway, that one word ringing in his head. Guilty.

He nodded. Yes, he would figure it out, eventually. He just wished he already knew so that he could have helped the boy more. Ah well. The fact that he had something new to learn about was hardly an issue... quite the opposite.
It was just a bit overwhelming. Suddenly, he had to accept that there were powerful forces in the world that he was completely ignorant about. Not an easy task, but he would pull through. He always did.

Richard watched with concern as Ambrose rose from his chair. Was he feeling guilty about this? He shook his head energetically, ridding himself of all uneasiness and laughed. The boy couldn't be allowed to leave on a note like this, could he?
"Wait, Ambrose." he said, pushing himself up from leaning on the desk to stand upright. "I wanted to thank you."

Ambrose was halfway out the door when the vamp's words hit him. WHAT? The red-haired boy was anything but understanding such a statement.

"You . . . Why the hell would you want to thank me?" he directly asked, furrowing his brow and flailing his arms wildly-- a habit he initially picked-up from Disaster himself. "I've just dragged you into a world where lightning loves striking thrice and THEY'RE always watching! Why are you thanking me, of all things?" He didn't understand it-- he couldn't understand it. If anything, the vamp should be cursing him; after all, the last time this happened, Luppa--

But, this time, wasn't it different? The vamp could take care of himself. He was an immortal being, just like Them. Just like . . . him.

It didn't help that he still wasn't breathing, even after all this time.

He bit his lip slightly to stifle a chuckle. Poor Ambrose hadn't expected to hear those words.

"First of all," he said, bowing his head. "I would like to thank you for trusting me. It really means a lot."
Looking up again Richard grinned, a twinkle in his eye making him look that much younger. "And secondly, thank you for giving me this exciting new knowledge. But, please, don't think I'm underestimating the seriousness of your situation. I am just glad to learn about this whole new world."
He crossed his arms, still smiling. "I'm not afraid of lightning and I don't mind Them watching. I will be fine, and I will do everything in my power to help you be fine as well."

He took a breath and held it back, letting complete silence reign over the room for a second. Then he let out the air in a laugh and shook his head. "A word of advice, people do grow suspicious when you don't breathe. Make a habit out of remembering that."
Finally, Richard swept all amusement off his face and gave the boy a serious, but bright look.
"Keep your head up, Ambrose, won't you?"

Ambrose hadn't realized up until now just how much trust he had now put into the vampire. He couldn't talk to many people about Them besides, well, others from Them, such as Disaster. He wouldn't have thought it possible before.

Richard's reassurances calmed the red-haired boy's worries slightly, but not completely. Perhaps . . . he was being paranoid. And, after Luppa, who could blame him? Nevertheless, Ambrose did not believe all of the vampire's words.
"Everyone is afraid of lightning," he noted calmly. "As for the annoyance of Them always watching . . . that will come later." The question was never 'if' but rather 'when.' When would the vampire grow tired of being someone's entertainment. . . .

Breathing? Ambrose found his hands going back up to his throat. "What are you talking about? Of course I--"
--wasn't. Easily able to put two-and-two together, the boy swore, took a purposeful deep breath in as if underwater for the longest time, glared straight at the chandelier . . . and gave it the middle finger.

Not nice.
Screw that, Ambrose replied mentally.

His head up . . . Ambrose took another breath in and smiled at the vampire, locking into his eyes directly.

"I'll try." It was all he could promise. Still, if he tripped along the way: "Can I . . . visit sometimes? When you aren't counceling others." The nights could become rather lonely.

Richard squinted slightly, rethinking the part about the lightning. Well, hm. Maybe he had a point. Thunder was quite deafening, and while he wouldn't be killed by lightning... it would be far from a pleasant sensation. Ah, well. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
The other part he still wasn't inclined to change his mind about. He could understand Them, in a way. As long as They didn't start talking in his head, They could feast his eyes on his rather boring existence for all eternity.

He smiled sympathetically. It took him a while to remember about breathing as well. Ambrose's gesture made him laugh sincerely, though, and when he looked into his eyes Richard was still grinning.
"Anytime. I'll be there if you need it."