13767/A Candle in the Wind

A Candle in the Wind
Date of Scene:	29 August 2021
Location:	Cove Cottage - Conneticut
Synopsis:	Snuffed, like so many things. Not meant to be.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer

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Sinister has posed:
The sound of the sea is a lulling thing. With a window cracked open, the roll of waves on the jetty are a rhythmical thing, soothing to the ear. When nights occur here at the Cottage by the cove, it can measure out the drift of dreams and the depths of breath.

But it is the wolf's hour; the time between four and five in the morning where the wolf comes scratching at the door, of the mind that is insomniac. When it is always darkest, before the dawn.

Contemplation of eyelids will not last tonight, for there is silence. A pertinent, time-slowing kind of silence that freezes the flow of the ocean to the shore, outlining a figure by the window. Short in stature, unassuming, bowl haircut, a little bit pudgy, understated, underdressed. She arrived with barely a woosh of wings, instead taking the approach like an owl. Of all Lucifer's siblings, she is perhaps the most kind, for her saddening sacred duty: Azrael. She waits, quietly.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer can always tell when that slowing of time occurs. When one of his ilk approach for whatever reason. He opens his eyes slowly, glancing to Sinister who still sleeps soundly and for whatever reason is actually caught on the other end of the time differential.

He shifts from bed, glancing around before spotting the figure outlined thru the window on the other side. A breath taken, he stands and at least has the decency to pull on robe over exposed skin and slips on a pair of black silken boxers. Moving towards - and of course through - the wall because he can, Lucifer approaches his sister. Azrael. He gives a sort of sad smile before coming an arms length or so before her. In this moment, he bows.

"Hello Azrael. My dearest sister. What brings you to my all but humble home this night?"

Sinister has posed:
Soft brown eyes look up at him. She was born soft to look at. Kind, for the sake of what she must do. Her smile returned is a sad one, looking over at the cottage and back to his face. Slighty asian looking, she is. "I truly am sorry, Lucifer. I don't want to be here, but... I must."

She moves a little bit, sitting down on one of the rain drums and looking through the window to the bedroom inside. The little balcony off of the bedroom is barely more than a stand-and-receive-that-first-breath-of-the-day space, with a railing overlooking the back garden below. "I think you know why I'm here."

Lucifer has posed:
There are times when it is such a good thing that Lucifer does not need the air in his lungs, or the beats of his heart. For a long moment both stop their work in his mortal frame as he looks from Azrael back to the window, to the woman sleeping so peacefully in bed. He glances back to Azrael after a moment, a million questions running through his mind but - in the end she's right - he knows precisely why she's here.

"Well...it was...a wonderful thought while it lasted..." He manages to say before turning entirely away and looks out over the balcony. "I suppose even prophecies and edicts can win over me sometimes...." Azrael is one Angel he will not fight, not get in the way of. Even in this moment, when he knows who she is here for. The two unborn babes. "I have a question...and a favor..." He pauses. "Will...whatever you have to do...hurt her? And... will you please...look after them..."

Sinister has posed:
Azrael watches him, gives him the moment that he needs, even when everything else has strangled the quickening within. She slips off the rainbarrel, coming to his side to put a hand on his back, rubbing gently. Sisterly, as there really is no malice in her. Many are born to fight in the armies of heaven and hell, some are born simply to be kind at the end.

"For my task? It will not hurt. What comes from it, that is something that is not mine to sooth, brother. But I will give you a truth and know that it is the very word of this. They chose this -- if they were born she would die. It is the price. They chose not to. They will go were they are supposed to go."

Lucifer has posed:
"Aye. What comes of it when Sinister awakens and realizes...that will be for me to help soothe." Lucifer offers, but as Azrael speaks on the twins having chose this, he blinks. "I haven't even really met them...and yet they already make me so humble." A shaky breath is taken. Ultimately, anything more he does at this point is stalling and so he looks back over to Azrael and gives a single nod of his head. "As you need, sister."

Sinister has posed:
Azrael nods her head solemnly, a knife taken from her hip. It is small. A slim thing. A slender thing. Oh, so very slender. She bows her head though, turns and walks through the wall, just as he had. The headlights of a tugboat hauling a tanker through the channel briefly illuminates the window, shows the shape hovering over the bed, a small form on either side of it.

Then in a whoosh of wings and a flutter, the deed was already done. Time restores, crawling its inexorable way, toward oblivion.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer waits for a moment, even after the deed is done and Azrael is gone. As time restores back to it's usual pace. He stands at the balcony door still just watching his love sleep in bed for a lingering moment. Imprinting this into his head as a final time of them all being together...before moments took them apart.

He opens the door slowly, lets it shut quietly, and then moves over to her side of the bed. Kneeling there, watching her face a moment, he leans in to kiss her forehead before resting one hand on her belly. It's a soft whisper of words from the angel, but they are both aloud and in her head. A single phrase, that is full of pain, anguish, but oddly enough surrounded by acceptance. "<<I'm Sorry, My Love.">>

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's eyes dart open, disoriented in the moment that thought an sound collide in a way that makes very little sense. Deep meditation had her very soundly dormant. She looks up, eyes wide and round, trying to process, looks down at his hand upon her and ohhh, the cry. Hands clutch there, one on either side of his as the Banshee itself could not make such an anguished sound. She sits up, bolt upright, lips skinned back in a rictus from her teeth. It is a madness, an ecstacy of her fingertips pressing through her own flesh, attempting what unfortunately is impossible and she gasps, gasps again, starts to hyperventilate momentarily...

And lastly looks from her belly to his face, searching for an answer. He might feel the edges of the house of cards inside her mind start to crumble, falling away from the outside inward, because of the bewilderment of the moment. Not again! "Noooooo. no, no, no, no, no..." the wail becomes a plead, becomes nothing but the slow collapse against him sidelong, face turned to his chest and the dark of the robe.

Lucifer has posed:
Oh if he could take all of that pain away from her. Alas, he cannot, but he does hold her after that moment of her sort of pressing and processing. He knows he won't be able to soothe it all away. There's no way to do such. He waits, lets her wail and cry and process. Tears finally fall down his cheeks, but they're more for his hurting love than what occurred just moments before.

"It's my fault." He says. "This is my doing. I was too ambitious... and I... I put you in harms way. Completely and totally. If you were to birth them...you would have died." He explains. "So they...they chose their fate. Chose to go...in your stead...and it is...my fault."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister listens. TO be sure, that's something that occurs here, but perhaps she doesn't really hear. He has no reason to lie, instinctively she knows that, but such a claim seems preposterous as pre-destination. Forgive her if there's a couple of open palmed slaps to his chest. Oh, that stings! There's a thump of a fist too, which at least rocks the frame of the bed and where he not indestructable by mortal means, would leave a heck of a bruise. She sniffles, forehead brought to rest on skin, then in a very quiet voice, which if it wasn't for the fact that she's in his mind, could be missed.

"It takes two to tango."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer actually winces at those slaps, but he takes them and the punch of fist that comes next. "Maybe it does. But you asked me several times if I was sure. We went through a lot to get to this place. I..." He can't help but feel somewhat responsible.

"I will explain everything soon...but...perhaps we should rest a little longer." He offers this, but doesn't move. Feeling she might protest the idea anyway. It will be up to her to determine if they are up or down. At some point, their day will get started. Eventually.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister tssschuhs, sniffs again. "Bloody hell," the epithet is appropos at least. A hand is swiped under her nose and she sags back from him, looks at his face at the words of cold comfort? "I could do with another warm body to keep the cold at bay."

There's not much effort to do more than flop and turn to the middle of the bed, to await the dawn. At least the world is safe from the potential of their spawn.