13714/Until Death do us Part

Until Death do us Part
Date of Scene:	11 August 2021
Location:	Highgate Cemetary - London - England
Synopsis:	Sinister is attacked by Watchers when visiting his family tomb at Highgate. Lucifer gets to be badass and touchingly surprising.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer

---

Sinister has posed:
Sinister took some time to herself today, to work on a few things. FIrst off was looking over the various materials for the basement and the inner workings of the cottage. That didn't take long, as decisions were swift. Then with a kiss around two in the afternoon, she headed off to do lab work and 'some personal stuff'.

It rolled therefore to the evening in New York City, with summer thunderstorms pounding with lightning and flashing with thunder. No, wait, reverse that. And with the world turbulent outside, there's nevertheless a sense of peace and purpose in mind, far and away.

THat all changes in the blink of an eye though. From peace and accord of purpose to sudden alarm, anger, then fleeting pain and a cry <<LUCIFER!>>

On the other end of that spectrum, what was thunder and lightning in the atlantic US, is constant, black cloud downpour in Highgate cemetary. It's open to the public and for tours during the day, which if you happen to have relatives buried there, can be a little frustrating and annoying to deal with. Therefore, certain individuals tend to go after hours, particularly if such things as locked doors and security cameras are a non-issue. The rain pounds down on trees, making the air roar with the sound of hard droplets through foliage. It slicks the multitude of gravestones, of all shapes and sizes. Omminous, the closeness of ivy-clad oaks, the crawling against the houses of the Dead, which hunker down to the earth, keeping their occupants dry and enclosed. There is a sense of wrongness though, that presents itself with the perpetual feeling of being watched. The silence is deafening, by the rows of crypts, so much like tiny houses. Sinister hunkers there, between two of the low-rooved buildings, staring out into the downpour, left, right, behind herself, pressed against the stone. Blood pours down the gradient from where she curls, watered down as the rain takes it away, a terrible trail which mercifully seems to be stemmed at the source.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer thought nothing of it, as Sinister often takes time for themselves to do business elsewhere. Be it personal or for the benefit of them both is also a non-important matter, as there is trust there all around. Always will be. They are, of course, two people with business and matters for themselves to take care of. Apart, together, hand in fist one would say.

As day melted into night and the storms rolled in, he finds himself standing at his floor to ceiling windows just watching the storm in all it's glory. Perhaps considering finding a god or two to give them a personal thanks for this kind of weather. Not that Thor has much to do with the actual lightning and thunder in a storm but hey...whatever works.

Then it comes. A single, shouted word in his mind. His name. The pain surrounding it both when spoken and just slightly before and after has Lucifer dropping all else. No other thought. Just a quick feel of where she is and then...he's gone from his home.

Course he only gets a sense of a graveyard, and where she might be hunkered down. He appears from nothing, but his eyes blaze with hellfire and his wings - the brilliant white feathers that they are - all but flare behind him as he moves forward. Searching for her. <<Sinister?! Where are you??>> He says it in the mind first and then takes a few steps through the mire and the rain, a crash of thunder resounds before he manages, "Nathanielle?!" Though a wary eye looks out - or tries to - for something else that might be here. Steps taking him closer to where she curls, but alas, not quite there yet.

Sinister has posed:
<<Trust what you feel. FOllow the pull.>> The mind is a whisper, not from weakness, but out of an overabundance of caution that thoughts -might- be read. She isn't certain. <<Be careful. There's three that I saw. One stabbed me with a silly looking poking stick and was ever so surprised to be tossed clean across the cemetary. Ow. I hate being stabbed through the stomach.>>

There is is, the sense, now that the ring of panic and teleportation has settled, that feel of bretheren. Though who is unclear and it's not completely... right. Abruptly, there's the whoosh of wings from above, coming down at an angle in the pouring rain. Lightning illuminates for a moment, dramatic timing and also convenient backlighting for a youngish looking angel with gull-grey wings and a spear. Spear has blood on the end. Funnily enough, there's that last minute appraisal that occurs when the young celestial realizes who he's coming down on, though commitment to the movement has him following through.

Lucifer has posed:
Trust. Sense. Pull. Lucifer can feel the pull, and seems to perhaps relax a tad when he hears her voice in his mind. <<Stabbed through the stomach. That...>> No. He'll have to put aside the emotional. The worry. Not that it isn't there, but to focus on it will take his mind away from what is in front of him...and he can all but FEEL the presence of brethren.

A glance up from that whoosh of wings and then he sees the one intent on barreling down upon him with that spear. Holy weapons are his one weakness, that he can be harmed by them, and he doesn't necessarily feel like being harmed tonight. In the beat of a heart he draws his own blade right when the commitment from the young one is followed through. **CLASH** Blade upon spear is made, sparks fly, and those hellfire eyes take upon the angel before him with RAGE.

"How DARE you!" He pushes back, swings his sword around and then glances for the others. Three likely. A growl comes from him. "Did Father put you up to this? Or do you come on your own terms? SPEAK! For Heaven knows not the wrath that I can incur thru Hell on Earth." His entire voice has changed, it almost echoes as he speaks, his feathers brighten and it's apparent this Angel might be going Arch-Holy in a moment.

Sinister has posed:
The shaft of the spear is deflected -- truth is, Lucifer on paper is not as strong as Amenadiel, but it has been proved in the past that passion and desire and sheer determination catalyzes that Arch-angel and he has trounced many who have come against him. He is formidable when upset. Guess what, chickens, he's upset. It impacts into the gravel and the younger angel uses it to swing like a poledancer, landing in a crouch with wings raised. On top of one of the mausoleums, another angel lands, this one with the coppery red wings of a Rhode island Red, just to carry on that poultry theme. She crouches, all of her ready to launch but does not -- both young angels are clad in armour. It isn't shining though, which is odd. It doesn't look heavenly. The one that attacked Lucifer winces, a few feathers falling at the power of the Voice. "God moves in mysterious ways," he replies stoically. Lucifer can recognize a penant on a pin at his shoulder, holding his cuirasse in place: The Order of St Jude: patron saint of lost causes. These are Watchers, the selected, not the born. Once-human Host under the Metatron.

Lucifer has posed:
"Yeah, spare me the Holy version of a U2 song." Lucifer offers, and as he notices their armor, how it doesn't shine. The penant on a pin and what it represents. Another groan comes from him. "Look, whatever it is you came down to do... it's not going to be a success. Mostly because you got me to go up against...and while I may not be the strongest of all the Angels..." It's then that he bursts with holy light, the visage of the man who runs Lux fades into the golden haired, pristing bodied, bright armor and feathers still form of Lucifer Samael Morningstar. He cracks his neck a little and then takes a breath. "So why don't we just talk it out. Or better yet, you can go running back to your Host and have him come talk to me." A pause. He really does like to talk. There's a shift of his gaze, and then he tries to move, a side step, more towards where Sinister is curled up in a ball. <<All good, my love?>> He asks, in the mind, caring not if they can hear at this point. He'll keep them distracted if he can.

Sinister has posed:
<<Oh, peachy keen. It just itches now. Oh, hello...>>

There's a flash of red light, the counterpart to that brilliant white, then another. Thuds of concussive energy send a third angel, with speckled wings like a plymouth rock (yes, we're staying with chickens) quite literally doing cartwheels in the air thanks to the concussive blasts, to land on a gravestone with a satisfying crunch and crack. Feathers fly, one wing definitely doesn't look happy. Rhode Island hunkers her wings in low, looking at her two male team-mates nervously, then actually gives a soft gasp as the surprised grey-wing's spear is yanked free of the gravel and goes sailing over toward where Sinister has crouched herself. "My spear," says a sulky female voice in that direction. "Poke me with your pokey stick, will you?"

At least now all three are in sight, which makes getting ambushed less likely. Gull-Grey grimaces. "He didn't send us. We've been stuck on earth. It was all in the signs... we had to, Lucifer. We -had- to."

Lucifer has posed:
As the spear flies, Lucifer growls, sticking his hand out and draws the spear in his own direction. "Had to? Had to!? None of this is actually answering my questions, and my patience - as much as I've had time to let it grow - is QUICKLY wearing thin. Now. Someone tell me what it is you just HAD to do... and stop blaming it on being stuck on earth. Which also begs me to wonder why you three are stuck here to begin with and finally tell me why you would attack the mother of my child." It's at this point that he raises his free hand up and then down, slamming that spear into the ground, causing it to crack a bit and the sounds of countless souls moaning in terror rise from the crevice. "Anyone care to actually answer me before I get truly angry?"

Sinister has posed:
<<Oh, dear.>> Just a thought. She has suspicions you see.

Red looks to Plymouth, who is struggling upward, rather less composed than the other two, owing to pain and being broke against a gravestone. He spits out a tooth, then a second, struggling to his feet and staring at the crack into hell for a moment. "Shit, man, you're going to make us say it? We were going to kill her, before she ever got to deliver your spawn into the world." It's spat out and Red winces, because a pissed off Devil being told this just isn't going to end well for any of them. "You're not supposed to have any spawn, if you do? Well, the prophecies are all pretty clear on the literal shitstorm you bring with it..." he spits blood on the ground, bent over and clutching his knees. "Nothing personal."

NOthing personal?? <<Oh deary dear.>> YEah, like that is going to hold weight. Gull-wing's shoulders sag, but he then braces. Red hisses. "Get out of here..." vanishing in a flurry of wingbeats. Whether her brothers are quick enough, well... Angels at least are tough to end.

Lucifer has posed:
"Pretty sure there were prophecies and edicts about me leaving Hell for the permanant but as you can see...here I am and the world is still turning..." Lucifer says this softly, before shifting his gaze to Plymouth. "Is this how you spend your time? Reading edicts and prophecies and trying to figure out the ones you can actually do something to? Let me give you a little lesson on prophecies *children*." That last word is spat out, and then Red flees, Plymouth and Gull likely trying to get away as well. Lucifer snarls, picks up the spear again and sends it flying in an attempt to pin Gull by his own spear-end to one of the taller gravestone monuments. Which means Plymouth might get away. But Lucifer is going to make SURE that he has one to keep asking questions to. That chasm closes as Lucifer steps over it, and he makes determined steps towards Gull - hoping he managed to pin the Host-Angel down.

Sinister has posed:
There's the flurry of wings from Plymouth and his loudmouth self. Poor Gullwing. First to strike, last to leave. See, this is what impulsiveness gets you. Gull's eyes widen, he attempts to dodge with Celestial grace, but he ain't no Lucifer. Just a lowly watcher and what results is visually speaking quite epic -- Caught mid leap, the angel is pinned by the calf, wings a'beating, a cry of pain escaping him as his leg literally betrays him and now, pinned to stone with his own spear, his wings must keep on pounding the air or he'll falter and cause more injury.

Yet ever beat of the wings /also/ causes injury, with the uplift, downpress and he ends up, wings fanned out, landing on the top of the gravestone all crouched but for the one leg that cannot follow suit, reaching for the spear with a haste that borders on desperation as he glances at the Oncoming Storm.

At this point, Sinister detaches herself from the shadows, scurrying closer to use the lintel of a crypt as partial cover, peeking over and watching Lucifer closely. The look she wears is very nearly hungry, but altogether avid.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer reaches the pinned Gull, holding out a hand to encase the Watcher in a bubble so he stays still. Though the bubble doesn't encase the whole of the spear, which Lucifer then grasps and yanks *hard* from the Watcher's calf. He then reaches to pluck one of his white feathers, lets the bubble go, and thrusts the feather into the injured Watcher's hand. What happens then is what always happens when the feather is held by an injured one. The wounds heal completely, all of them that might have been, and quickly then does Lucifer ensure that Gull is on his feet, back against the headstone monument, and then comes that pitchfork. He doesn't like bringing it out because then people begin to whisper. But he angles it enough to thrust it forward so that Gull's neck is unharmed...but caught between two prongs.

"Thy will is strong, young Watcher, but I beseech thee to listen to these words true." He speaks. An unholy aura around him as he does, the Voice of Lucifer echoes with that crude dulcet of wicked undertones. "No one gets to Sinister but through me. No matter when, or where, they are protected by ME. There is no prophecy too strong, no edict too pure, nary a thing or a thought, or a desire that will outsource MY will upon MY wife and the child she bears." Wait. Did he just...? "Tell the other Watchers. Tell the Host. Tell Metatron himself that if ANYONE dares to defy the words that I henceforth speak into truth on this day, then there will be literal HELL to pay. I will rain it down upon the earth and damn to the depths anyone who gets in the way of it all. DO NOT TEST ME!" His wings flare, his eyes BURN with that hellfire glory and he stares Gull down. "Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear. CHILD?!"

Sinister has posed:
Surprise colours the young mortal-made-angel at the generosity of a feather given to heal. It's quite clear, in the look he wears, that the Watcher was not expecting generosity, even if it was a kind of indian gifting. Gullwing swallows. His head at the angle it's forced to, can do little but nod oh so slightly, with the bob of his adam's apple visible in the swallow. The Watcher murmurs "Heard and Witnessed!" in honour of the vow made. Of course, there are loopholes to those not bound by their honour, but likely the Order of st Jude and other Hosts are unlikely to directly do terrible things. As soon as Gullwing is made free, he vanishes in a flurry of wingbeats.

The rain continues to pound the cemetary, now in relative silence. Can Lucifer feel the wide eyes watching him, or hear the footfalls that come closer, squelchy as they are? Sinister's hand is on her breastbone, just below her throat and she sports a stunned look that cannot be faked as she draws near to Samael, the Lightbringer, pitchfork and all. Pitchforks are a commoner's weapon. She knows that truth. The people's weapon. The weapon of a humble man that has nothing to lose and takes up his tools for his own freedom. Pervert as you like, the original symbology has a meaning you can't escape. "..." lots of sounds, not many words. She makes it to where he's at, hair plastered to her face and shoulders, absolutely soaked to the bone, but looking up at him with light in her eyes. She touches his elbow, places hand on the pitchfork and pushes it lightly aside... then throws arms around him in silence, holding close. Oh so close. But it's not an action of fear -- swell of emotion, that recedes into the warmth of true affection and loving. She clings.... because she -can-.

Lucifer has posed:
The rain had been forgotten. Even now as it soaks into his golden hair, runs in rivlets off his armor, and puddles around him. The look he gets from Gullwing for the healing is one he expected. Lucifer, as much as many don't believe him to be, is not one to just leave someone hurting unless the hurt was intended to last. He knows the Watchers were just doing their duty, but he had a point to make, and so he made it.

Once the third is gone, their prescence abated, that deafening presence of Celestial dissipates and now he can hear all around him. The rain as it falls, the thunder that calls from a distance, and the squelching of footfall. As she pushes the pitchfork aside, Lucifer lets it disappear. An after thought as she then throws arms around him, and he in kind wraps her in arms and wings. Holding her close and tight because he can. Because she is HIS and he is HERS. Silence for a beat or two still and then, "Nothing on heaven nor earth, my love. Ever. I am sorry I did not feel them sooner..." He offers softly while holding her firmly. "...We should get out of the rain, my love..."

Sinister has posed:
At least it is summer rain and not chilling to the bone. The darkness is only pierced by his light and there will be some confusion on security footage on some of the cameras later -- it will be the fodder of supernatural investigation shows for years to come, the inexplicable light in Highgate Cemetary. It couldn't have been a car, there's no road there. Etcetera ad nauseum. Mind it gives them something to do, right?

Armour isn't the best thing in the world to cling to though and ultimately, Sin's reach ends up around his neck, pushing aside the sodden golden hair and smoothing it away from his countenance as she looks up, red eyes, soft smile, warm in the way she regards him. None of that just happened, it all occured to some other nepharious geneticist and her Guardian Angel. "Sure. But I came here with a purpose... it's good that you're here, actually." She takes him by the hand, withdrawing only that far... and squelch go the footsteps, mundane as they are. Wending through the crypts, she takes him to a modest, but still well cared for family tomb. On the door, the simple word 'Essex'. She weilds a key with a soft "Tadaa... I got interrupted before I could... nevermind." The unlocking is quiet.

Inside burns a single oil lamp, likely always refuelled. It cannot be seen from outside, but it lights up the interior well enough. Wall plaques denote who lies in state here. Admiral Erasmus Essex. Lady Mary Essex. Rebecca Essex. Adam Essex. Madelyne Essex.

She takes a deep breath, for at least here it is dry. "Rebecca...Mother, Father... I want you to meet my husband. You know him intimately and I dare say you've all got a cock-eyed idea. I don't care. I just wanted to tell you that our tragedy dies with this line. You see, /my/ blood is clean. And I condemn you, Rebecca. You cursed me, for your fault."

Lucifer has posed:
They could actually fix all of that, but then the supernatural advocates wouldn't have something juicy to feed off of. So, really, he's fine with letting it be debated all the ins and outs of what happened in Highgate Cemetary this night.

Lucifer's hold on her loosens a bit as she has to manage arms around his neck, and then she's finally releasing him. He releases her as well when she begins to move and lead him back to where she had intended on going much earlier. "Oh? Good that I am here? Why for?" He asks, but follows on, finding them approaching a crypt with the name Essex upon it. Ah! As she opens the door and they walk in, he takes a look at the nameplates. Shifting forward for but a moment and then he stops. Looks again and then back to her.

When she speaks, he tilts his head, when she declares him her husband, he smiles. When she condemns her ex wife he raises a brow and looks back. For the sake of purpose, he remains quiet. Perhaps purposefully not saying anything. A method to madness, and a sort of sombre approach to what is going on. He'll wait, and also melt away the armor into some regular clothing but ever still the golden hair hot-bod Samael ever is.

Sinister has posed:
"The Essex line is pure," Sinister says as a parting word, exhaling a lot afterwards. "May you all rest in peace. Even you, Rebecca. You turned me inward, but I would not be who I am, if not for your dying curse. No other fruit of this blood will die as Adam did. As Maddy did." She turns from the crypts then, looks at Samael and raises her chin up high. Even plastered with rain, she has a kind of dignity. "We will never be here. But the eternal flame should never burn out. I doubt it ever will, but the one promise I ask of you.... the one and /only/ one... if I cannot, please keep this flame burning."

She steps closer then, reaches for his hands to take. "I didn't think we were..." unfinished sentences are us. "That completely threw me. I didn't know." She sniffs, chokes up just a little, then exhales it out. "Worth getting stabbed in the stomach for."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer watches her for a moment longer, listening as she speaks to them. He wishes he could do more for her in the moment, and perhaps at some point he will learn to do such. Until then, when she asks of that one promise...he nods. "Actually..." Then he steps to the oil lamp, taking the lid off to levitate aside him, he pulls a bit of the flame to his hand so that the lamp still burns some, but the flame he takes, he cups for a moment. It then flares for a brilliant breath, flickering to a stronger life, and then he moves the palmed flame to the lamp, exchanging a dull flame for a brighter one. "My gift to you all. A true eternal flame. It will never dull. It will never need refilling. We shall come and go when the want descends, but this light will never go out. Your gift to the world is mine to forever keep safe, so may this flame keep you all lit in your eternal paths." Then the lid to the lamp is placed back, secured and he turns to her.

It is here that she has stepped closer, and he finds his hands taken. "I made a vow to you a bit ago. Or something akin to one. I know that...in mortal legal land...it may never be a thing. But what is a piece of paper to two souls who are eternally bound by their will?" He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I did not mean to make you cry, my heart."

Sinister has posed:
"Samael? Let me tell you a thing about humanity, even if I'm probably the last person to tell you about such a thing..." She chuckles softly at this, self-effacing and looks up at his beautiful face. Her gaze is no different now, than it is when he wears the more common, darkling one, now that she's accustomed to that otherworldly. The Truth still shines, irregardless. "Sometimes, tears are a good thing. Not a bad thing. Emotion, when it overrides us, can be either end of the scale. /Most often/ when I've let tears fall in your presence, they've been the good kind. And the other, well, I've hopefully been clear and taken enough culpability for them. You did not mean to, but you did and this time, you have no blame to take." She raises her chin and uninvited, she slips hands beneath his arms, hugs close and buries her fingers in the wings, gently tugging and massaging the pristine white of feathers, reaching palm to stroke beneath and generally speaking fussing over them.

And after all that, she does not accept the kiss on the forehead, kissing on the lips instead with purpose, not to spike desire... looking over her shoulder to the flame. "Thank you. I swear, I shall never ask more than you are willing to give without binding promise. I may have the will, but I do not have the right. Thus, this means that much more." SHe is silent a few moments, then looks back at him and up into the golden-boy face "...And just FYI, if you can get a driver's license, which you have, because I've seen it, you can get a marriage license. Heck, the state of new york is more rabid about driver's licenses than the other kind." SHe winks. "I teaaaaaaaaaaaase. JUst so as you know."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer gives a soft smile, shifting hands to swipe any remaining tears or streaks of such from Miss Sinister's face. "That is a good lesson to learn. I often forget that not all tears are shed from sorrow or pain." These words and then he looks back over to the name plates, considering them one after the other. Sinister had already condemned Rebecca, and in this moment, it is not the ill that Samael is looking for. He'd much rather bestow one more gift to his love while they are here together.

Slowly, he walks over to the name plate of one Madelyne Essex. The stillborn. His wings flare brightly, in fact his entire person takes on an ethereal glow. One hand reaches and touches against the name plate, Samael seeming to concentrate for a long moment before drawing his hand back. Tendrils of what can only be ethereal...smoke? Seem to come away from the wall, trailing his hand, and after a moment, he curls his arms as if to hold a baby and in a blink there is a cooing, babbling apparition of a child in his arms.

He glances to Sinister then. "Would you like to meet Madelyne?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's face stills as the trails of salt water are wiped away. The pride lingers in her upturned chin, but then fingers trail out of the feathers as Lucifer walks away, and she adopts a curious but puzzled expression as he takes note of the nameplates. That puzzlement sublimes though, a hand over her mouth soon met with her other arm crossed beneath bosoms, her eyes incredibly round. Dammit, we were done with luminescence in a gaze! But now it's right back where it had so recently left and she takes steps forward, fleetingly looking down at her damp self and altering her attire so that her clothing at least is dry.

THat's ridiculous, woman! THe baby is a ghost! Ghosts are not going to catch a chill! Yet, the momentary mental scold holds no traction, the instinct was stronger. Only when close, does she unfold her arms, release her mouth and reach. "Can she feel me? I mean, is she..." semi-corporeal? "...solid enough for that?"

Lucifer has posed:
Nope. Sorry. Samael had to go Angel in order to pull off this parlour trick. Of course the baby looks ghostly, but there is a bit of corporeal-ness to her, and at that question, Samael gives a nod. Placing the ghost-baby into Sinister's arms gently, he smiles. "She can. For the moment that she is here in this plane, feel and 'know' that she is in her father's arms." Of course, the baby is still cooing and babbling even when shifted. Ghostly children pulled from wherever children go when they are not meant for this world do not feel any discomfort. So she won't cry.

After Sinister gets a handle on the baby, Samael returns to the nameplates. This time, his hand placed over Adam's now and much the same, as he draws it back there's that ethereal smoke. Soon to form one Adam Essex, at the age he was upon his death, only looking and seeming a bit more healthy with his afterlife persona.

"My gift to you, my love, while we're here. A small family reunion. It is like the one and only time I can do this - to be honest with you. But I felt, in the whole of the moment, it's right."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister takes Madelyne in arm, the luminescence doth overflow as a whisper-mouthed 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' is made, she bounces the daughter who never once gurgled, or laughed or smiled. Who never even saw Sinister's face. "Oh, hi," it's a thick tone, naturally. "I didn't do right by you. I should have and there is no excuse for it, other than my own fallacy, little love. I'm your daddy," which seems ridiculous and therefore, and MERCIFULLY, his features manifest into the feminine, a careful alteration so that certain things are not transformed and subsumed in the process. Therefore, as Samael draws Adam forth, he is almost to his mortal face.

"Daddy!" -- Doctor Nathaniel Essex crouches, because he must in this moment, holding daughter in arm and upon knee, lest he fall over. "Why are you crying daddy?" Essex can but shake his head "...I'm just glad to see you one more time, Adam."

The child was frail looking, small for his age, but had that light of keen intelligence under sandy blond hair. "You never need worry about injuring yourself now, my boy. Are they good to you where you are at?" He almost doesn't want to know the answer and looks briefly to the archangel and back to his dead son, come quickened for a fleeting breath.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer shifts slightly, back a little so that the family can be together. Though he isn't far at all, more just to the side of Sinister to allow him a bit of room to crouch and greet. Should Adam hug Sinister, it will be felt by both, and there's likely knowledge - in Adam's case - that the boy knows he is dead. As to where he is and how he is doing, perhaps Adam will only answer that he is happy wherever he is. Children, in the eyes of many many faiths, get a free pass to a good after=life should they die young.

"I can keep them here for a few more minutes, my love, but then..." He doesn't say more, he figures he doesn't need to. It's a bitter sweet thing. A moment of happiness that he hopes will not turn into something completely sorrowful.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister hugs his children to himself, his eyes closing as intimate things are said by Adam at least. It's an odd thing, as the little boy steps back from his father, prepared to fade, he ages up. The life he never had, lived in eternity, he would have been a handsome youth. Ghostly eyes watch Sinister as he gazes on, knowledge exchanged of awareness of the passage of time. He nods to Lucifer, then walks back toward his grave, fading into so much ethereal energy as he reaches the stone.

Much in the same way, Madelyn smiles at the geneticist, her chubby cheeks sporting dimples that persist as the essence of her flows out of his arms and ages up -- innocence in feature, but nobody remains an infant for eternity, when the soul can grow. SHE actually touches Samael's shoulder as if in thanks and does not look back as she walks to her grave.

It leaves Sinister rolling back against the stone of the tomb, legs flopping out infront of him and placing both hands as if in prayer before his lips; it does not last as prayer, but becomes sheltering nose and mouth in the closed fold of hand, eyes closed as digits press to the bridge of that nose and the tears silently fall.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer watches as the children age up, first Adam, becoming a figure of the man he could have been before he fades back to his grave. Maddy next, in the same way, and that touch to his own shoulder has Samael giving a lowering of his head in both reverence and respect. In such a moment, he too has a few tears spilling from his eyes.

Once the children leave, Samael reverts fully back. His angel energy spent completely between all the events of the evening. Shifting, he lowers himself to sit next to Sinister, one arm shifting to wrap arounf the man's shoulders and - if allowed - he'll pull him gently aside so he can lean, rejoice, and mourn. Nothing is said in the moment as Samael is just letting Sinister ride this for as long as he needs. He is there, however, for as long as needed or wanted.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister is easy to move. That, all of that, passes him by under a world submerged beneath water.He leans into the warmth of arms, tension there as emotions work their way through. Eventually, a deep, somewhat snotty inhale is taken, and he lets his hands fall to his lap, leaning his head back to stare at the roof of the tomb for moments, as he fishes a hankie out to blow his nose with and damping his eyes. "Thank you," saying it this time, he balls the hankie in his fist, sighs a breath and briefly just looking at Lucifer in his darker guise. A smile, bittersweet, manifests. Then, as naturally as it is unnatural, he sheds the human and rolls himself bodily away from Lucifer, that he might face the wall, turn and rest his head in the Devil's lap, curled up a little. "That was cathartic."

Lucifer has posed:
The moment passes as moments tend to do. Listening to Sinister try and begin composing himself perhaps, even if just a little bit. "You're welcome." Samael offers these words simply after the thanks are spoken. Still letting Sinister process as he needs to. Finding those eyes on him, even briefly, he offers a kind smile and then shifts as Sinister rolls away only to face the wall and place his head in Samael's lap. Fingers shift to gently comb through hair, and he looks to the door of the tomb for a brief moment. "I'm sure we can stay here as long as we want, I don't mind. I can probably shut and lock the tomb door while sitting here if you want." Truth in the words, he'll let them stay there, in a room with a truly eternal flame of hellfire burning in a torch. Safe from the weather outside, and perhaps when desired, he'll simply whisk them away back home. Though he'll also want to sort of touch on this moment a bit, but that should be done later. For now, let a little quiet reverie sink in and settle.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister reaches up for Samael's other hand, interlacing fingers and bringing the back of the hand to his lips to kiss and hold the kiss there. Shuddering breath taken, the touches of fingers through hair is soothing. "I am not disinclined to processing the moment, but I'm also honestly not this morbid most days that end in a Y." The laced hand is pressed to his forehead, diamond touching there, then he looks up, spent of the outpouring at the least. There's a smile and he takes a deep breath, letting himself fade away, to restore his Herself to full prominence. "I didn't change anything but the shape of me. Foolish really, as they would have known me anyway, but reactions are odd things sometimes. Take us home, beloved. There has been enough disturbance in the resting place of my bloodline tonight."

Lucifer has posed:
And so, the tomb magically and mysteriously closed and locked by forces unseen, then does Samael gather his love for a quick cuddle. "I know you are not, but you also do not have an opportunity such as this on most days that end in Y." He says this with a soft chuckle, watching as the Herself forms again and gives a nod at the explanation even though it wasn't needed. "I figured you would do such a thing, it surely does not bother me any of course." And at that final request to take them home, he nods, keeps her gathered and shadow surrounds them. When it fades, not only are they back in New York, but within that King bed of their bedroom, nestled within mattress, sheets, and the scent of home sweet home.