13795/The Experiment II

The Experiment II
Date of Scene:	08 September 2021
Location:	Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis:	Lucifer and Vampire Sinister spend some time together in and out of the Penthouse. Day 2 complete.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Sinister

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Lucifer has posed:
The day was spent hiding away from the world, curtains all drawn and blacked out to keep as much sun out of the penthouse as possible. Since they stayed up most of the night until the sun began to rise, contemplating the insides of eyelids could go on for most of the day. It is not until the sun begins to set that Lucifer allows himself to shift out of bed, a yawn and stretch given as he pads out to the kitchen and sets up to make some coffee.

Where did the vampire sleep? Surely not in the king sized bed with himself - though Lucifer wouldn't complain at all. He figures that the vampire will be hungry so also sets about ensuring that the remaining feeds worth of blood is body temperature still. All the while during this time he contemplates what may come from the next couple of weeks. Interesting times to be sure, but there might be moments where Lucifer will have to go tend to business at Lux, or elsewhere. Is he going to be able to trust Vampire Sin alone for extended periods of time?

Sinister has posed:
A question for the ages that -- And given that the California King bed held the sleeping form of the REAL Sinister, a double quandary. Mind, it seems as if the geneticist could share reasonably well, with his own self. Particularly when his self isn't waking up because it's occupying his other head. Who knows if there were darkling thoughts in the night though, in the deep recesses of the ID; either way Lucifer ended up with two of his lover in the bed with him, one warm but still, one cold as room temperature.

It is a little south of dusk, when the cold form in the bed slips free of it and sets bare feet to the floor. His toenails are in a similarly elongated state as his fingers and perhaps as a form of irony, he covers the face of his sleeping self with the sheet, leaving a humanoid lump like it was lying on a mortuary table. He might get told off for that later, but it seems to amuse him with a wry, black smile for the nonce.

His first port of call though, is going to hook himself up to the sensors linked to the computer to do a full set of bio-readings and neuroscans, watching like a hawk as warning flickers of yellow and red flit over his Calm inner Tree of Green. Coffee is almost completely made before he silently slinks up behind Lucifer, brushes a sharp nail of contact across the devil's hip in passing and picks up a blood bag, going to the corner of the kitchen with his back turned, to well... puncture it.

Lucifer has posed:
The coffee might take a bit of time, since Lucifer is being a bit fancy with his indulgence. He hears the stirring sounds of his lover getting up and going to get readings and the like. It's a strange thing to think that one could simply hook a vampire up to a computer system and perhaps know what it needs. No Green Tree of Peace? Feed it blood. Something else spiking? Check for other abilities. Like telekinesis... or telepathy. Which vampires have, really.

Indeed his coffee is just on the other side of being finished when he feels that sharp nail drag across his hip and he shivers at the feel of it. "Well...good evening to you as well.." Shifting his gaze as Sinister picks up a blood bag and then sort of...hides himself...actually drinking from it. "Shy drinker?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister grunts a little, a low rowl in the back of his throat punctuating that and with a little sucking noise, the absolutely empty blood bag is tossed into the receptacle for either refill/incineration, depending. A second whips from its warming tray and zips toward himself. A very soft tearing noise and the sucking continues. "...More that this looks stupid and if I do what my desire is to do, it will be very messy again. Blood bags are not..." **air-release-noise** "...very good sippy cups." The second follows the first, another and another and another floating over. Overall, he goes through /twelve/ of them before he seems to decide that he's slaked enough. "This is going to get very interesting, considering that local supply of soon-to-expire bags isn't precisely a bottomless pit. Unlike my stomach, it seems."

He turns at last, a couple of drops of the red on his chest, but otherwise far, far neater than yesterday eve, looking at the volume consumed, then up at Lucifer, gesturing at the empties. "Nearly three litres and I doubt I would be stopping, except that I have a rapacious need to be stronger than this. I could easily kill a person every day, which makes me wonder how many neonates actually make it past six months in the world, without vast levels of support. I can empathise with Vlad's lack of desire to sire."

Lucifer has posed:
"Right. Cause I assume what you want to do is just tear into them but like you said, that'd make a mess. I could get you a straw that can puncture the bag and then you can drink them like juice boxes.." Lucifer says, but it's not entirely clear if he's being serious or joking. Likely...he's both. He then looks at the number of bags that Sinister goes through and tilts his head a bit. "Mmn... we might need to look into fixing that. Or maybe Vlad could give a bit of insight into what might count as enough. You're still a fledgling though and it might not matter either way."

Still, he listens further as Sinister speaks again and then gives a nod of his head. "Yeah. I never really questioned that about Vlad. It seems fairly....tedious...and time consuming. There also might be considerations taken that if and when the number of his ilk grow, so too, do the numbers of those who hunt them down." A waved hand is given before he taps his chin. "I can get a further supply of blood if needed..but eventually questions might be asked... so we might have to find another source. Somehow..."

Sinister has posed:
Reaching for one of the empties, Sinister holds out the phlebotomy tubes, showing the bitten off ends. "Got the straw bit covered." The tube is waggled, looked at fleetingly and he returns the empty to the tray. "I can have a batch synthesized, but I'm not sure if that will satisfy the thirst, given that I suspect some of the sustenance isn't simply physical in nature. Would that even serve to slake? I'll have a couple of synthetic pouches sent over to test, overnight..." Sinister approaches, his gait smooth and steps silent, looking that fierce intensity into Lucifer's face, then at the coffee. "That smells like it ought to be delicious and isn't particularly setting off any pleasure centers in me. I can only imagine that that would be true of a good many things considered for a refine palate," he looks back, gaze dropping just a fraction to look at those delicious lines of blue beneath skin, eyes narrowing as he swallows once, heavily, looking back up to eyes.

"I find myself doing some base calculations here, on the accountability of the vampire nation, of varying stripes. I imagine the demon-born ones have different rules and likely a different survival chance. Plus, there's the Summers girl. The line of Tepes and their ilk, must have a police force; all it would take is one or two rogue neonates and it would explode like a highly contagious viral outbreak. THe fact that it doesn't regularly speaks volumes."

Lucifer has posed:
"Well, you're no fun..." Lucifer says with a grin and then listens as Sinister speaks on being able to synthesize some blood for testing. "That might be a good idea... maybe one extra... if it works for you we can see if Vlad can stand it." Then Sinister is near him before Lucifer can even register the man moves and smirks a bit at the comment. "You'd love it I think. I'm trying to blend some Turkish dark roast with some French medium roast for a sort of...perfect full bodied flavour." Dash of sugar and a drop of cream...the Devil enjoys a sip. "Might start serving it downstairs. Call it Lux's Lush or...something."

So the Devil fancies himself a drink maker. Fascinating. He nods as Sinister continues speaking. "Yeah, you're right. I'm kinda glad people exist to keep the numbers sort of even but at the same time... I have a strange sense of wanting them all to let be. I mean the monsters who have lost their mind are one thing, but then you have all sorts with their mentality in tact... should they be damned to perish simply because they're different?"

Sinister has posed:
"I suspect that would work rather well. Proprietary blend, you could do blond, medium and dark, with a variety of drinks. You could even set up your own plantations on fair trade." As if the DEvil hasn't thought of this himself, but you never know. He glances at the coffee. "When I have a different nose," he takes a step back, aware that he was rather quicker than he normally is the look he gives mildly apologetic. A glance is then given to his attire, PJ bottoms and shirtless, he concentrates a moment and manifests a polo-neck, slacks and a leather jacket, form fitting and the kind that usually is worn by the sleekly wealthy. Tailored, italian leather look. What's surprising though, is that he looks mildly leaner after having done so which he seems to be aware of of a sudden, frowning. A glance is shot to the computer station and he VOOMS over there, unrolling a sensor mat and stepping onto it after plugging it in. Staring down at his feet, he shifts and changes, growing by a foot and a half, two, three, until he's a towering grizzly bear on its hind legs, looking over at the computer screen -- the value indicated there doesn't change and he shrinks back to the attire he'd formed.

"Interesting. As a vampire, I can still molecularly shapeshift, but my mass no longer changes. I wonder how that works... dispersal of atomic structure I suppose. Hmm. I can look like a kodiak, but I retain the body mass I always have. I guess that makes sense in a way. These cells aren't alive to replicate and duplicate themselves, I have only what I have."

But that distraction over, he rolls up the mat, heading on back with that predatory stalk, looking up the Devil's form once again. "Vampires eat people. Not all of them do I suppose, but enough of them do that it makes them an enemy of the dominant species. Thus, they're hunted. Just like every other predator that threatens men. The difference is cleverness."

Lucifer has posed:
It's the Vooming that Lucifer is still having to come to terms with. Almost like being dropped in the middle of conversation because something suddenly grabs interest otherwise. He knows that's not what's going on, but Sinister has voom'd a bit more than he's used to anyone voom'ng so it stirs his brain a bit. Another sip of his coffee is taken before he ambles over to the couch to take a slow seat.

"Well that seems to make sense. Can't replicate what's not there to... though I wonder how you retain the ability to shapeshift...is it more because of the genetic mutations or the vampirism?" He questions, sips coffee, sets the cup down and then goes to light up a cigarette. "Lots of things eat people, and vampires that have their wits don't kill what they eat. They just have a nice meal and go about their merry." He argues, mostly for the sake of arguing. Like debating. Only nicer.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister is a voomster. But arguably, he's not really doing it deliberately for the fun of it, just realizing there's something he'd normally walk sedately over the carpet to do, at a regular pace, but the speed kicks in and it happens without him thinking about it. One can see though, why it might be distracting. Vooming more than he's ever voomed before, is definitely a slightly disconcerting novelty. At a much more sedate pace, he walks to the couch, watches Lucifer sit sedate and joins him albeit with a 'perched' quality. "I thought perhaps we could take a walk in the dark, through the park. As you'd suggested. In a bit," he indicates his clothing, but then settles back some, poised but less perched.

"I suspect it's the mutation, not the vampirism. My working theory seems to bear out, that physical mutations are fixed in, at their basic ability. Mental abilities seem to be unaffected, except that concentration is a challenge at times. If I was hungry, I do not think I would be quite as skilled -- but I am bloody minded at the best of times and this simply amplifies that." Playing devil's advocate is now a game, when the devil himself argues. "So do mosquitos, ticks, lamprey. If they do so unnoticed, they fly beneath the radar and the host simply has an itchy spot. Those that are noticed by one means or another, are summarily killed and usually without regret. Add fear into that and the logic behind culls and exterminations is obvious. Mob mentality applies also, which applies to the creations of genius as well as those simply born different." THis has actually never been broached an he considers a moment "... do you care particularly over mutant rights? Or any inhuman rights?"

Lucifer has posed:
Well, there is a knowing that Sinister isn't doing anything with any purpose in mind, especially nothing with malicious intent. Just something the both of them have to get used to. This is how Lucifer is dealing with it. He simply won't bring any attention to it and eventually it will just be a thing that happens. Eyes lift to watch as Sinister arrives at the couch to take a seat. "I would like that, yes. Lovely little park nearby that's never really occupied, so you won't be tempted for a snack. Start off there and then build our way up perhaps." He offers with a chuckle.

"I am a strong advocate for mutant rights, and inhuman rights, yes. I do care about both, et al. And those bugs you listed are, just that, bugs. If they actually had a mindset, a knowledge that was not just be born, fuck, lay eggs and die... then it would be a different story." He offers in protest with a grin. "But then I suppose that would make one wonder where that line is drawn, no?"

Sinister has posed:
"Dead men and women unfortunately have very few rights in society. Just look at any election," Sinister replies, spreading a hand. Yes, it isn't intentional and likely won't happen when he's got a handle on it. And even if it was constant, it's only for two weeks. "There's a case to be made for any individual that was turned, based on their rights before they were killed. When they are killed though, societal norms have a tendancy to dominate -- and in this society, socio-constructs based on pop culture have an impact. There's entire groups that are dedicated to what they'd do to survive the zombie apocalypse. Nevermind that we've survived at least five that I'm personally aware of. Damn guardians."

He smiles though, distracted in and of himself by the notion of walking after dark, quiet and then less so. Could he handle Time Square? Usually that's a no brainer, but at the moment, the jury is out.

"Mankind is notorious for segregating Us and Them. You know that to be a Truth. Do you do anything to promote incorporation? I do, but it's rather underhanded and involves a lot of lobbying and illicit supports. And a great deal of anger, resentment and violent protest, but that's how the cookie crumbles for me."

Lucifer has posed:
"I have my ways. I support up and coming mutants who want to make an impact in the world that doesn't resemble a ten foot deep crater made by eye lasers..." Lucifer offers and then he shrugs. "Lux is here for any and everyone. No one's blown the horn yet. I've got money where I think it might count... but I suppose in some ways I could probably blow some horns a bit louder." This much more as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

"Course the government has made milestones in beginning to accept mutants, and I suspect there are powers in place and play for all our intergalatic visitors. But that's also not saying much for those dead or otherwise." His face contorts in thought for a moment before his shoulders lift in a shrug. "If we're going to go for a walk, I should change..." A side comment made as he reaches to take up his cup and sip more coffee.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister looks over Lucifer's current attire. "Well, it would make a statement, but yes, I suspect you should." He grins, teeth a little sharp, altogether white, finally the Nosferatu he was dubbed in Auschewitz. The smile fades though, a cigarette taken and lit with a regular lighter, the cherry shaved after a toke, considered, stared at. "Politics are glaciers. It takes enormous and sudden societal change for the glaciers to speed up. So milestones are usually a decade, maybe even two or three, behind where society actually is. I pity the people that have to endure through it, usually. Not that I'm going to lift a finger to expedite that suffering unless it crosses my path, but..." he shrugs. "I occasionally get moments of uncharacteristic altruism toward my fellow." He says this as he watches Lucifer's face, taking a toke of his smoke and gazing unblinking. "I think I should probably blow up Genosha. What do you think? There's probably a monstrous irony there."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer finishes his coffee and cigarette, standing from the couch and gives a stretch. "Honestly, most of politics don't concern me. I just want everyone to have the rights and freedoms to sin equally. How that comes about is of little concern to me." Maybe he's just dodging it. Politics. If he were really into such he might not have fallen, or maybe let something more drastic happen. A small motion is made as if to indicate he's going to walk towards the back room, likely the bedroom so he can dress. "Is there any personal benefit from blowing up an entire island?"

Sinister has posed:
"Other than making a statement, not really." Sinister follows, for the sheer sake of watching. And watch he does; into the bedroom and into a spot where he can see Lucifer throughout. Of course, this also puts the fact he put the sheet over the face of his sleeping self in clear view.

"Genosha was a slave colony, with mutants as its slave base. They had a geneticist, whom I had nothing to do with, I might add, who would alter mutant DNA to subservience and function, as second class citizenry. It kind of blew up a few times, but it's still there."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer pauses in the middle of the bedroom when he finally realizes a sheet has been put over Sinister's other form which is laying still in the bed. He shifts his gaze over to Vampire Sin, lips twitching into a smirk. "Cute. Very cute." He offers this and nothing more while looking into his closet for something to wear. Deciding, soon, on black pants, a black tee shirt with the lips from RHPS on the front, and a grey vest.

"Oh. Well then yeah, blow that shit up. Cause fuck it, why not?" Lucifer says and then looks himself over a moment before glancing back to Vampire Sin. "Well then. Let's say you and me take a little stroll in a quiet part and see what sort of trouble we can get into, hmm?" Offering his arm and - once it's taken - he'll lead them to do just that.

Sinister has posed:
"Political statements, got to love'm." That said as Sinister owns his Morgue-table self, with a side-eye and an exaggerated look of innocence. He moves up close, at NORMAL speed and gives a sweep of a finger all around the lips on the T-shirt, rounding off with a touch to the chin and a lean in for a peck on the lips. "I am in your capable hands... which probably means quite a bit of trouble." He murmurs, then and there looping arms.

And that for a different slice of timeline pie.

Sinister has posed:
The trouble with Melville is, it doesn't have all that many proper parks. It has parkettes, those trendy places that people with varied degrees of money can enjoy a bit of wild around them on a park bench, whilst having a working lunch. Many of them are right next to coffee shops and bistro delis. That isn't really a 'walk in the park' now is it? That's more a quick amble around a square and out again.

So, out into the night, it's a little further afield; a small trip by air, across the bridge to Sunnydale, where Darlington should truly be called Darklington, under the canopy of night. It could be a scene from the Shock of Miss Louise, in Lost Boys, for it has its own little amusement arcade, ferris wheel, band pavillion, benches and paths by the oceanside. It also has darkness aplenty, where the model street lamps that light the walkways do not tarry to illuminate. Small pockets, triangles of illumination staggered in shadows abundant. Because SUnnydale? It's foggy at night, almost every night, or at least misty. ANd by the sea, more so. Things lurk, but what could be stalking the shadows that in all honesty, is worse than them? Landing on soft footfalls in a corridor of shadow, Sinister breathes in deep of oceanside air, the moonlight doing amazing things to a pale complexion.

Lucifer has posed:
Where Sinister's footfalls are silent, and perhaps even not actually making contact with the ground at all, Lucifer's steps are a bit more audible. In the depths of the mist and shadows - however - it more echoes into something that could only ever haunt a dream. Or come from a horror picture. Those eerie echoed steps of a predator or villain approaching that are noticed moments too late. And there's really nowhere to hide, even if the pair won't jump out of the shadows and scream 'Boo!' at you there are plenty a creep or creature who would in Sunnydale.

"I am now curious... if I wasn't such an activist as I am. If I took no interest in it for...whatever reason... would that change any current standing impression of me?" Asking this gently as they walk.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister tucks his hands into the small of his back, a gentleman of the moment in strolling upon the promenade after dark with his beau. Those footfalls make him gaze into the darkness, seeing more than he cares to admit. Shapes avoiding the pair, perhaps feeling...perhaps sensing...what walks amongst them. He seems to be aiming toward the light though, the funfair, small as it might be, with its life and vaneer of charm.

"I doubt it. Mind, if you weren't who you are and what you are, if you didn't involve yourself the way you do in the things that have sparked your interest, you wouldn't -be- you. If you took no interest and simply indulged each thing on whimsy without purpose, wouldn't you simply be a hedonist?" Sinister presses his lips, gazes up at the stars for a moment, shrouded as many are by light pollution and the mists. "What of me? If I did not seek to expand my understandings and my knowledge, if I wasn't so exceptionally sure about what I want, would you still see me the same way?"

Sharp lines stand out on his face, bonestructure pronounced under a night sky and by the fact that making his clothing made him a little more gaunt.

Lucifer has posed:
Ever the gentleman, Sinister is, and then there's his companion. The man who matches stride, but not appearance by any means. Who lights up a cigarette to enjoy as they walk, and loves the way his footfalls echo in the dark. As he listens to the answer that Sinister gives, there's a nod of his head and a smile. "I suppose I would be..."

Then the question sort of gets turned around on him and he thinks on it a moment. "Hardly. Of course, it is very much a part of you, and I am not sure our paths would have crossed otherwise. There is more of you I appreciate and love than your thirst for knowledge." He offers this as they shift under a lamp-light, shadows continue to avoid them. "Well...this is one way to go if we do not wish a crowd, I suppose."

Sinister has posed:
Revelling in an effect created? Oh, that's a fun passtime most times. Just not quite so much for Sinister right now, as the effect he's creating isn't quite something he has control over, for its novelty. It simply is and he's wearing himself over the that which is nouveau vitale. His eyes dart to the dark again, fixate there to stare, like a tiger prowling amongst smaller jungle cats. Then he looks back again, favouring that intensity of regard he's given since he awoke, changed. The sounds of the carnivale attractions are faint on the night air, the bells, the music, the fwoosh of thrill rides and their mechanisms -- to Sinister, they make his ears prick, a subtle array of shifts modifying his demeanor as a ding springs loud, as he hears something else, laughter maybe, a dissonance in machinery perhaps.

"My sense of fashion or lack thereof, perhaps?" He looks back, the smile coming late to that gig but no less amused for it. "Wry sense of humour? I can't imagine that there's much more to me than that." He winks.

Lucifer has posed:
"Oh stop it. You and I both know I love your sense of fashion, and you have a sense of humor that can match mine - so that's always a plus. There's also the little things. How you pay attention in moments and use little things to your advantage." Lucifer pauses in his words then. "And no. I am not going to give examples." He states, grinning still.

As they continue to walk a little longer, Lucifer notes how Sinister's ears are dancing to one sound or another. He waits until they are bathed in mist and shadow, pausing their walk and turning to wrap arms around the other man. "Lend me the symphony of the night that you hear, my love...what does it include?" He asks, hearing some things himself, and if he paid attention true he could likely hear everything as well, but he tends to block all the superficial out.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister stops his steps in the shadow, then quietly edges off the path, backwards, one measured step at a time. He unclasps his hands though, reaching both forth toward his companion in invite, as he's swallowed up by the night, becoming a pair of glowing eyes and little else but a darker patch in darkness. But Lucifer will still know where he is, could find him blind in the middle of the Labyrinth of Knossos, were he only to think about it, with utter infallibility. "I can hear the popcorn popping at the stand in the arcade. The chatter of teenagers there, most of them are a little drunk or a little high, given it's September on a school night." He replies quietly, words somehow breathless. "There's a carnie that's wheezing, chain smoker I think. The ferris wheel has an axle that needs greasing. I can hear footfalls on the fallen leaves, at least six or seven in this park, other than us, that are more than mere mortal. I can hear your heart beat, my dear. Steady as the drum that marches ever on. The sea on the pebbles. An ambulance on Fifth and broadview. I'm not the only vampire in this park -- but I think I'm the only one of the line of Tepes."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer listens as Sinister begins to explain what all he hears, and then he opens up his own hearing to take in a few of those sounds along with it. As they're explained, he nods his head and gives a little chuckle. "Ah...what a lovely symphony a night in Sunnydale makes..." He offers and then his ears perk a bit, his body goes still, and he listens for those within the park that are not just mere mortals. Lessar vampires? Demons? Mutants? Then the rush of the sea fills him and he noses against Sinister a bit more. "You are right in thinking that. Vlad has not sired for some time, and I do not believe anyone he has sired has survived for a long stretch of time." He offers and then, "Shall we continue along this path or perhaps stray towards the calling sound of the sea?"

Sinister has posed:
In Sunnydale, it's lesser vampires and earth-bound demons, the mongrels that mixed with men. The Celestial can probably sense each little mischief in its malice of forethought, all of which can sense something here is more than it seems to be and are warily watching. Well, the demons are, the vampires don't quite carry the tune to the chorus of 'bad things to get involved in'. That could be interesting, if one of them decides to see if either of these two are lunchables. "Hmm. Vengeful hunter, or a disturbing habit of picking a certain kind of character, I wonder?" Sinister muses, as it's liable to be a bit of both. And then there's him and he's not exactly normal.

Drawing the devil in closer, he is a long line of hardness, not unstoppable by any means, but the density of his form is different. That constrictor-snake strength encircles and he dips, sniffs at his companion's ear, the very tip of his nose and the tickle of his lips close enough only to touch the very edge of fine hairs, imagined against skin. "Which would you like?" the question whispered.

Lucifer has posed:
Hopefully all of them have a mind to stay away and keep to their own this night. Lucifer doesn't really want to have to put anyone in their place. As he listens to that question brought on by Sinister, rhetorical or not, he chuckles and answers, "Likely a mix of both... though my money is on the majority being hunters. Vlad is careful, I think, of who he chooses for a sire." And likely why there hasn't been one for a very long while.

He's drawn in then, close, appreciating that line and the constrictor-snake strength he's held within. That sniff of him actually causes *him* to make a soft sound and then he shivers in his lover's arms. "...I would love to spend some time...with you by the sea...and if you would take me and have me there...well..I surely would not complain." His words heavy with undertones and deep seeded desires he dare not truly speak aloud in mixed company. Imply it. Heavily. Of course.

Sinister has posed:
We wouldn't want those ears in the dark hearing something that they have no business hearing, now. Would we? Pulled a little closer, wearing those tight jeans and Rocky horror picture show T-shirt and vest, the cool of the ocean would normally set a different kind of shiver, were it not for the fact that hellfire lives just beneath the surface. Always warm, is Samael. Quite the little toaster oven! So he knows, that shiver has nothing to do with the brisk air. Sinister hoists, lifts into his arms, an inch or two ground clearance and negligable in effort. He knows the same could easily be done for him, but -- now is one of those times when it's nice to voom and do so in a different way than location hopping. Wind rushes past, stealing hair from its laxidazical coiff, whips vest to want to strain against its buttons, steals breath as it does when leaning out of the window in a moving car. And then...

The shore is a long stretch of pebbles and sand, rocks and gulleys where the land dips down a bit more. Off to the right, pleasure boats are all moored for the night, a man-made trench in the shore, walled up with concrete to create depth, has a different sound than here. The smell of seaweed is strong. The lights of the arcades play across the water, filter down between the cracks of the jetty where people can view the water with nice little railings and benches. Here is underneath, with the criss-crossed support beams, discarded beer cans, seaweed and flotsam, dark as dark. Lucifer is not set down, he is still held in arms, lifted up just a little further, in an act of exhaltation. Above. Though in another's iron grasp. "Light in the darkness. We've walked along all kinds of sands, you and I, have we not? Many times I've wondered if you've always been with me and I just never knew. But I do not think... you work quite that way."

Lucifer has posed:
The warmth beneath his skin is a thing, and likely always shall be. Never too far from the fires of his home. Though Lucifer does not expect to be hoisted up into the arms of his lover, and then to be privy to the feel of the voom as it happens. It is an interesting thing, the quickness of getting from one spot to the other by way of super speed and not just a single step. When they stop, he is a breath less and his clothes settle against the sudden lack of wind, but all the devil does is smile.

Then he is shifted, lifted up and above in a sort of on high manner. The scents and the sounds around them catch him, but the sights are all dimmed once he's gazing upon his lover fair. A tilt of his head at the words offered and then he dares to give a soft but dark chuckle. "If only I worked that way. Perhaps pieces of me, here and there, but I did not know you until I met you. At the very least, we may have existed in the same time and place over the centuries...but not put together at last until now. Funny how things work out that way sometimes." Then he closes his eyes and takes a breath. "Or perhaps the feeling comes because once upon a beginning I bared all to you...and you fit in certain places for various reasons."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister chuckles softly, but the nod can be seen as his eyes still dimly glow that bloody red. "I've walked your entire life. Sometimes, I get flashes of it, but there's so much of it to account I do not remember it all, without concentration. But you've been there, from the beginning of my time on earth, anyway. Because of what I did and what you let me do," he sighs lightly, then turns slowly through three hundred and sixty degrees, so that Lucifer can see the world from his position in a microcosm. It isn't anything much to write home about, beneath the dock of the amusement pier of Darlington park, graffiti on the sea-wall on the landward side and the water lapping at the supports on the ocean side. And all that lies between.

Then he releases enough that the archangel can slither down his body to the ground and become anchored once more; controlled, so it isn't one sudden drop, but a full body contact all the way to terra firma and he looks at tall, dark and handsome with sharpened eyes. "I really will spend eternity lifting you up, you know. And when you're down, I will drag you back. I promise you that, devil on my shoulder. You mean so much to me, just to see you smile, or frown in your vexation." He chuckles. "All the ways you touch the world - great and small, subtleties and magnitudes. You are a wonder, a perfect imperfection that makes existence better just by being there. I said it once an I will say it again, now. Oh, let me burn."

Lucifer has posed:
"Who was I to stop you? Who was anyone to stop you? You have done wonderous things for the medical world, even if you did most of them...almost selfishly. I cannot stop one who is so passionate to achieve their goals." Lucifer says this, as if he actually had a say in anything that Sinister has ever done in his life. When his feet finally touch the ground again in that slow way, he lets out a breath and looks arounf just once to sort of gain his bearings slightly while listening more to what Sinister has to say.

"I will do the same you know. Lift you up when you need, set you down. Drag you back, pull you close. Keep you with me for the rest of our days." He says this. "You..all of you..each one of you. The vampire, the scientist, the worker bees, the female...mine. You have a unique place in the world and I cound myself lucky each and every day that I get to share some of your world with you. Some of mine with you as well. You may burn, my love, but it will only be because I am the one setting you aflame." A grin then, that same he's worn since the beginning, the one that always catches Sin a certain way. "I love you, Nathaniel Essex. For now and forever."

Sinister has posed:
"Lucifer," a name. Means: My lord, my sweet, my urge-worm in my ear, my solace, my scruple, my friend, counterpart, foil, opposition, opposite, muse, companion, lover, guardian, equal, shadow, guiding light, succour, safety, silence, solace, sweetness, serendipity, saving grace... emotion is a powerful thing and defines the human experience. And to be inhuman, watching from the outside, when a wall breaks? To be is cosmic and existential, to feel is divine. Such words are met with just that word, the name, then the swift and sharp kiss of fangs; not holding like a vice this time, two sharp lines of heat where they brush as he opens his mouth wide for the act of taking and the penetration of jugular. Those arms simply cradle, easily escapable from, with the tiniest sound of tooth puncturing skin and the much more profound sound of deeply held emotion.

Love is blind.

But it reads braille. And there are four other senses, plus one not everyone possesses. There is no victim in this scenario, for that need to feed is carnal, a requirement for life itself to continue. The giving and the taking of it, a blissful desperation, this time very tightly controlled.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer is unable to say much else. What's in a name? Everything when it's spoken with such frevor. On top of that, the moment that comes after, when those fangs brush against skin and then sink into the juggular. There's no struggle. No fight. Why would there be? He freely and gladly gives of himself because he wishes to. Because there is no greater gift to give than that which will sustain for a while longer yet. Oh if only this could last...perhaps it still can.

And in the dark of night, under a pier where none else dare travel within the mist and shadows, a lover takes and a lover is taken. Which may hold deeper meaning as they spend the night together until a breaking dawn has them retreating back to the four walls of the penthouse once more.