Sir Raime
King of Celephaïs
Ophidius awoke in the massive, comfortable bed of what he assumed to be the penthouse suite of a hotel. Oh, and he was spooning Okurigami. A little part of his soul shriveled up and died. Ophi slithered out of the bed silently so as to not wake 'Hanzo.' As the old saying goes, let sleeping dogs lie. Then again, it wasn't often he got the drop on old Okurigami. An occasion like this called for sharpies......Okurigami was going to be furious if he ever discovered the words "Property of Mephistopheles" scribbled on his left buttock in permanent marker.
Five minutes later, he wandered off into the hallways of the hotel to intercept any staff that may have been delivering food to paying customers. He spent a good half hour or so crawling on the ceiling for maximum stealth until he ambushed a hapless worker drone pushing a food cart loaded with a magnificent breakfast to another part of the hive. Ophi savored the spoils of war. Another few sessions of ambushing the occasional random passersby led to Ophi subduing a few of the hotel’s wealthier occupants and plundering whatever they had on them at the time. Sorting through his prizes, he counted two tickets to an opera in the local demon community, a pile of fake diamonds, an oyster and a tortoise. This gave him an idea….
Later, at the gang’s hotel suite…
Ophidius watched events unfold from behind a couch on the far side of the room. The wolf girl woke up, ate breakfast and went back to sleep with the fallen. Nothing out of the ordinary. For Ophi, ‘nothing out of the ordinary’ was absolutely unacceptable. He leapt from the shadows to perform an intricate imitation of Isaiah Mustafa.
“Hello, ladies, look at your angel, now back to me, now back at your angel, now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using ladies’ scented body wash and switched to Ophi Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re in a hotel with the demon your angel could smell like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again, the tickets are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man smells like Ophi Spice and not an angel. I’m on a tortoise.”
That’s right, Ophi was standing atop a very slowly moving tortoise. This was just an average morning for Lucifer’s (least) favorite creation.
Five minutes later, he wandered off into the hallways of the hotel to intercept any staff that may have been delivering food to paying customers. He spent a good half hour or so crawling on the ceiling for maximum stealth until he ambushed a hapless worker drone pushing a food cart loaded with a magnificent breakfast to another part of the hive. Ophi savored the spoils of war. Another few sessions of ambushing the occasional random passersby led to Ophi subduing a few of the hotel’s wealthier occupants and plundering whatever they had on them at the time. Sorting through his prizes, he counted two tickets to an opera in the local demon community, a pile of fake diamonds, an oyster and a tortoise. This gave him an idea….
Later, at the gang’s hotel suite…
Ophidius watched events unfold from behind a couch on the far side of the room. The wolf girl woke up, ate breakfast and went back to sleep with the fallen. Nothing out of the ordinary. For Ophi, ‘nothing out of the ordinary’ was absolutely unacceptable. He leapt from the shadows to perform an intricate imitation of Isaiah Mustafa.
“Hello, ladies, look at your angel, now back to me, now back at your angel, now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using ladies’ scented body wash and switched to Ophi Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re in a hotel with the demon your angel could smell like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again, the tickets are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man smells like Ophi Spice and not an angel. I’m on a tortoise.”
That’s right, Ophi was standing atop a very slowly moving tortoise. This was just an average morning for Lucifer’s (least) favorite creation.
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