master_troven | (no subject)

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nick,
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Alexander leads Nick into a well appointed living room, with a pair of large plush couches facing each other in front of a massive burning fireplace. A small table with a glass covering on it sits between the two of them. The floor is hardwood with a thick persian rug on it. Sleeping on one of the couches is a small brown fire lizard. There are two doors in the room, one to the right and the other to the left. Both entrances are dark. Tall bookshelves line the walls and are stuffed with books and other interesting things, like a war hammer, a pair of bateranges, a collection of jewels, a set of rings and hundreds of other things from different universes. It is apparent that Alexander is a pack rat of the highest order. Nothing seems to be set in any particular order, but it is EVERYwhere.

In a corner is a skeleton of some sort of monsterous humanoid with the head of a bull. Next to it is a knight's black armor, missing it's arms and legs and coated in blood. There are several shields above the fireplace and an umbrella stand has swords sticking out of it. There's a liquor cabinet against one of the book shelves with all sorts of interesting shaped bottles.

Tossing his cloak onto a couch, he said, "Sorry about the mess. I don't get many visitors."

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Nick doesn't hear him, as Nick appears to have fainted.

"Well that's a waste of perfectly good brandy," Alexander remarked to Trey, who had woken up by this point.

Trey chirruped a question, to which he got a shrug in answer. He picked him up and carried him over to the couch. "He is a pretty one," he mused, running a finger lightly down the side of Nick's face.

Nick reacts to that, his eyes snapping open as he grabs Alexander's wrist- and that strength isn't human, and that isn't Nick's voice. "Where am I? Where is Hedge?"

Alexander wrenches his wrist free. "You're in my home. There are no hedges here. Ni."

It- whatever it is- narrows its eyes. "Who are you?"

"Alexander Raven Troven. Chaos Embodiment. Who are you, since we are giving ourselves introductions?"

A very, very irritated look. "You don't need to know that. How do I get out of here?"

"Oh, now you're just being rude. You're in my domain and no one leaves unless I say they can. And if you're going to try and awe me with a show of power, don't bother. I've already seen it, and I'm not impressed..." he pauses, "Orannis? Right?"

All right, the Destroyer doesn't look happy- at all. "How do you know that name?"

"I read it. I can do that. The threads of reality. They have your name written on it clear as day. It's only politeness that kept me from reading it."

Orannis growls, the tang of Free Magic- burning hot metal and blood- rising in the air. "Free me."

Alexander laughed at him, clearly not impressed, "Why should I?"

"I have no qualms about killing you to set myself free. I've killed many others to do so." Orannis glares at Alec, intending to freeze his muscles so he can neither move nor breathe.

Alexander is very uneffected by this. He sips his brandy. "That wouldn't work very well. No one's managed to kill me in ooh... about three or four thousand years now."

Orannis curses. It's amazing how someone who's been locked up in a ball all these years knows so many.

The curses are noted. Some are actually new to Alexander. "So, shall we try again? Or are you going to continue posturing?"

Orannis is trying to kill Alec with his brain. Succumb, Alec, succumb!

Alexander continues to sip brandy. When it's done, he let's a little bit of what he really is, the sheer and utter power that he poseses, how old he actually is and what he could actually do to Orannis if he felt like it, show through.

"...you irritate me." Orannis stops trying to kill Alec and contents himself with glaring.

"I irritate a lot of people. It's one of my functions in the multiverse. Brandy?"

"Please." He could crush him in an instant, he just doesn't want to. Of course.

There's another brandy in Alexander's hand. There wasn't one there a second ago. He hands it to Orannis before sitting down next to him, putting his feet up on the table. "You really couldn't, you know."

He sips, the glaring redoubling. "I could. I merely find it convenient to keep you alive so that you can let me out of here."

"No. You couldn't. But if it makes you feel better, you can continue believing that." He glanced at him and batted his eyelashes at him, "I do rather like the strong sorts."

Well, Orannis apparently is the strong, silent type. He has no words. None.