Thread: Greed, At Times, Is Good (Lila Lupin & Erit of Eastcris)

Far away in a big city, a besuited man idly tapped his fingers on the inside of the door of the limousine he rode in, the driver focusing intently on seeing his employer safely and swiftly to his destination. On the surface, it was simply another wealthy person being chauffeured to some private business, beyond the concern of the working class. And even beyond the surface, in some ways that's exactly what it was the physical embodiment of Greed, known to some as Mammon, to others as Oeillet, and others still as Arthur Varis, was indeed in town on private business, collecting on a debt long overdue. Of course, how long overdue it was didn't truly matter to him, for eventually all things of value became his, whatever his coal-black eyes fell upon being, in his view, property that simply didn't realize it belonged to him. Even that which he gave seemingly freely would eventually find its way back to his grasp, be it money, luck, or treasure. Sometimes it came back in a different form, as it would today, but without fail it came back. Greed leaned back in the black leather seat, taking a sip of the champagne he held in one hand and idly tapping the doorframe with the other, sunlight catching on the golden watch at his wrist and the golden ring studded in black diamonds on his middle finger, the hue of the metal matching well with the deep tan that covered his svelte physique. Long golden hair fell in waves around his small, subtly-tapered ears, and a pair of sunglasses rested in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The city rolled by outside the limousine, eventually giving way to suburbs and then to a gated community atop a hill, as the diver closed efficiently upon his destination. Not an hour after he had arrived in that city's airport, the man who was Greed itself, now wearing his sunglasses and carrying a gold-capped cane of polished obsidian, stood at the doorstep of a certain family who had, twenty generations past, placed their names upon a contract with him. The doorbell rang without him needing touch it as, with an infuriating swagger, one of the Devil's seven faces walked up the steps of the front porch. The house was large, an exercise in arrogance with its grandeur bought on his dime paling in comparison to what he possessed. Its towering double-doors of worked and polished mahogany tried, and failed, to impress the creature whose unfathomable wealth had provided them. They swung open at the hands of a servant, a youth who barred his passage in ignorance and asked his business. Greed bade the boy to fetch his employer, to give them the name Arthur Varis and that his business was of a kind they could ill afford to sweep aside. The devil's force of presence sent the young butler scurrying, and the sin made manifest passed over the threshold in his absence, the door swinging shut without complaint behind him. A commotion was made elsewhere in the house, and the young man returned with a hurried step, asking to lead their honored guest's way, that the master of the house would see him in the living room. Mammon strode behind the boy, cane tapping softly on the hardwood floors he'd gifted the ancestors of this family. No doubt the master of the house was anxious over his benefactor's visit, the wheels and cogs within his mind searching for some way he might renegotiate the contract his ancestor had signed in his stead long before. But he was not his brother Lucifer he would not be stricken low by Pride blinding him to a weakness in his dealings. The agreement was iron-clad, and only by the hand of the Almighty Himself could one renege on it. The guide and the devil arrived at the threshold of the living room, the current generation of the family apprehensively awaiting their guest's arrival. Good afternoon, Greed began, a wicked smile showing a flash of wicked teeth and a forked tongue, It is good to see you all are doing well in my absence. I believe you understand why I am here do you not, Mister Avendale? Many hundreds of years ago, the name of your family was placed upon this contract. the binding agreement so mentioned appeared in his hand, flying forth from his sleeve and still bearing the signature in glossy onyx ink blood was more Sathanus' shtick. Your predecessor, desperate to escape eternal poverty, found themselves before me and accepted a deal in exchange for their line needing never to want for wealth again, the Avendale Family would provide to me their eldest daughters as wives in perpetuity. By some fluke of confluence or another, their line has birthed only sons since that day, The contract vanished in a whisper of inky smoke, and Greed's hand moved to pull his glasses away, midnight irises sweeping across the room and those in attendance. But some years ago, now, you were fortunate enough to be borne a beautiful little girl. I am late in collecting, as I understand she came of age some years ago, but I am not impatient as others may be. I am, however, a very busy man, and would like to bring my bride-to-be to her new home without delay. The cane tapped softly on the floor as he planted it before him, I will take your daughter now, Mister Avendale will you be a fool and try to combat this arrangement, or do I find myself in the presence of a more honorable man?