16307/Interlude : Something Wicked That Way Goes

Interlude : Something Wicked That Way Goes
Date of Scene:	27 May 2024
Location:	Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis:	Lucifer takes a nap, has a bad dream, and is calmed by Nathaniel. All in a night's work.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Sinister

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Lucifer has posed:
The Devil may be calm, cool and collected on the outside, but there's still some lingering turmoil on the inside. His brain fighting an ever-going battle between the monster and the angel. The villain and the hero. So many things point for him to be one way. The monster. The villain. To be true to the texts written and the words spoken about his nature - how right and wrong he is. Fear is the underlying emotion of anyone he has ever crossed paths with, even Sinister has admitted to being scared of him at times. Was that true for everyone?

Contemplating eyelids is a thing done not-so-often anymore. Afraid he'll get too lost in his own mind that maybe he won't awaken for a longer moment. Yet, for some reason, the Devil feels *tired*. Long days, longer nights. Brethren and the lies they spin. People wanting favors. People wanting answers. People wanting and begging and asking and pleading....

......

.....So the Devil rests his weary head. His eyes closed while he's flat on his back. But those closed eyes twitch, the lids clearly showing movement beneath them. The face contorts and the mind weaves the fabric of drifting thoughts.

Sinister has posed:
It's such a rare thing that the devil submits to a deep REM cycle, putting his physical body out of commission for a few hours, that it's a moment of vulnerability that his partner is loathe to disrupt unnecessarily.

So there was a gentle fussing -- putting the air purifier on to a low background hum, setting some fresh vapour oils to refreshing the entire penthouse somewhere -other- than the bedroom... scents travel anyway.

Then some softening of the lighting, coffee set to go on a timer and joining the Lord of Hell on the california King.

It's been a while, REM sleep is unusual, but not unheard of and Sin's mind is wide open. Keeping an 'eye' on things, because he might be a jerk a lot of the time, but he's a perceptive one.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer's mind can be a scary place when left unchecked. Possibly unhinged. There's wild cackling amongst tens of thousands of agonizing screams of tortured souls. The sound of whips cracking both near and far. People can only begin to imagine the types of things that actually go on in Hell - and Lucifer gets a front row view most times. Revelling in the punishing of sinners.

Then things change a bit. The cackling switches from being from Lucifer to something else. Though these are almost etheral in nature. And they come in pairs. Then in sets. The choir laughing at him. Making a mockery of him for ever believing they would be on his side. Actually be the family he so craves for them to be again.

Outside, his body trembles. His eyes continue their rapid flickering back and forth. Hands grip at the covers like they've become some kind of security blanket. He doesn't know Nathaniel is beside him - his mind is too occupied with the gradual rising of personal torture in the moment.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's red eyes open. A single moment, punctuated by him gazing at the very close-up profile of the Devil writhing, sick of sin. Half his face visible in extreme close-up, shadowed by the distinctive features of the first of the fallen.

Then the camera pans back as it's want to do and he's laying his hand upon the devil's chest, his focus there as the palm settles over the heart. There is a deep, slow intake of breath that follows...

Then he is simply there, in the dream world, as his eyes close in the real one -- sending his mental projection deep into the subconscious psyche of an archangel might be ill advised.

If you're not him that is.

He is dressed head to toe in black -- a sinister attire, but it seems vaguely clerical. An impeccable robe, his hair flowing in pure perfection down his back, for when there is a will to appear as one wishes, idealism can win out. His hands are tucked into the small of his back as he regards the howls of the chorus, left and right, up and down from all perspectives.

"Sometimes, you just have to work it out of your system a bit, but I can tell when it's on the slippery swirl."

Lucifer has posed:
"You always can, can't you. You're so smart. You know everything." Dream Lucifer speaks these works, but his back is to Sinister. Wings out, but they're black and leathery due to the mental image of himself. "I'm the one with false hopes and pretenses of grandeur. Ready to believe everything because why would people only pretend to like me... It's black and white. Love or hate." He chuckles, but it's dark and almost sickly. "They laugh because they understand more than even I could ever..."

The dream world is a weird thing. Soon the laughter fades and they're back in Hell. With Lucifer at the reigns again. A playback of recent events when he took some time off to go torture some souls. Only this torture was a bit...demented...souls being dipped in and out of a fiery lake as if trying to play tease the fish. Then he's lobbing fiery brimstone at others, over and over again, they fall and stand back up - screaming from the everlasting pain that comes over and over again.

"I am every bit that they say I am you know? I can't lie...but I can manipulate. I can speak the truth in such a way that it makes people do what I wish them to do. Especially if it benefits me more than them. I bring people into the club so I can leech off their sins. Everything I do, everything I've done...has been for my betterment. My entertainment. My pleasure." He laughs again and looks back finally. His face the burnt flesh of his Devil self, and there's even the beginning of horns pertruding out of his forehead. "How do you stand it all? Stand by him? Knowing that he's just a selfish little angel who will toss you aside as soon as he's done with you?"

Sinister has posed:
"Well, I wouldn't say /everything/ exactly..." it's a mild tone employed, looking around at the scenery, all slight movement calculated precisely to appear calm, in control and unphased - whilst at the same time conserving motion -and- energy. Just in case -- he is no fool.

Stepping up beside the devil in his depressed and darkened demeanor, Sin looks over the fields of torment and slow, but precisely, to the burned sin-eater himself.

"I'm pretty sure you've met me. Monstrously arrogant in my own right. Diabolically clever. Delusions of self-worth the size of mount everest. Rude. Unethical. Immoral. Scientifically dispassionate. And those are all my good qualities." He smiles, looks over the scene as it transposes and sighs slightly at he conclusion of words.

"Well. You keep -not- abandoning me, either because you think I've got some hope left in me, you need me, I owe you five pounds, or it's a long, wet tuesday. Sometimes, it could be all of the above..." he clucks his tongue deep, sniffs, gazes down and up at the burned archangel. "You're also a horny little devil at the moment, but I think that this is probably an inappropriate time to bring that up. Pick your moments, right?" A crooked, if cheesy smile follows, then slow, purposeful sobriety. "You know what puts a hole in your argument, my love?" he asks, cocking his head. "Complications. As soon as you take two things into account instead of just one, you create a null and void situation where the rules of a singular do not apply to a multiple. As soon as things get genuinely complicated, it becomes more trouble to separate and detangle than it gives any benefit for. Thusly, you tied things up. That says something, other than kinky fun times in a pit of lava."

Lucifer has posed:
"Well. When's the last time you've had any physical relations with him?" Dream Lucifer asks, making the distinction between him and the other as clear as possible. Though, it also might be he's talking like he's not himself because he isn't himself in the moment. Conundrums a-plenty here! Now in double-talk!

"I have met you. You fit together with him quite nicely. For now. Until he's done using you - as I've said. It's all he's good for..." Then there's the full speech by Nathaniel to consider and the Dream Devil twitches every so often. "So you're saying I'm just a tangled up mess that needs to detangle?" He chuckles again. "And here I am without my hairbrush. Such a shame..." There's a pacing of steps forward, in a place that's become like a void. Empty and black, the floor a slate gray.

"He gets upset, he goes and blows up a fish. Or a section of Hell. Or himself. Yes. Even himself. Because he can't really die. He's not at the point of wing severing...not yet anyway...I think he likes going to hell too much to do it right now. So...what detangling do you see needing to be done here? Nothing I've said has been misspoken, misremembered...yet I feel like you're trying to call me out without having much anything to say..."

Sinister has posed:
"Well, I don't have much to say. It's all rather self-evident. By the by, I'm in a relationship with -your- too, so I'm not wholely sure what -your- make of me..." Sinister considers that, looking to the voiding of the scenery. There's a soft tsk, also. "The trouble with a genuine immortal is that there's no impetus to adapt swiftly. Why would you have to? You're not going to die of old age, get sick, have to worry about starvation, injury, financial ruin or global disasters. So, frankly it's not surprising that his... -your- coping mechanisms are stuck in twenty thousand years ago. You still restort to it on occasion, when you're overwhelmed..."

All truth in its own right, he isn't prone to lying to the devil most of the time. There's no need.

A cigarette is just there, a second in hand and proffered over, as he walks around in front of the devil, looking him down and up again, to the horns, to the eyes. To the scars.

"The fuck you all mentality is -also- oldschool. You without a hairbrush is as meaningless as that -- you'd just shave your head or burn it all off. If that was your desire anyway, but it's not. Hence the complicated conversation having amongst complicated existences. You -are- being selfish though." He nods to that.

A glance to the side has the image of Nick pop up. "All of that wasn't about you. It was about him. You got hit in the cross-fire, but everything, including those relationships, are also -not- black and white. It isn't just one way or the other and I do not think your siblings..." the image changes to the host that Sin's met at least. "...meant it to be a giant arse-pounding to -your- specifically. But now we're all taking precautions, aren't we? And you're having a bad, bad dream."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer listens. "So what if I'm selfish. I have every right to be. Soon as I ever seem to be getting a leg up, the rug gets pulled out from under me. So why not play to my own self for a little while? Perhaps for the rest of existence. Eternity even. Whichever comes first. And you, lucky lucky you, get a front row seat to the incoming disaster. As he slowly becomes nothing more but a shriveled up version of himself so lost in his own mind he forgets everything else. Won't even matter if he's wingless or not because the shell will be a hollow husk of resemblance to the Devil he is."

The cigarette is taken. Both of them lit. As he's spoken to most of what Sinister has said already. "I am not him. I am what he wants to become. He holds back...but it's coming. Slowly and surely." There's a grin then, wicked and vile, teeth sharp and glaring. "It's inevitable. It always has been. Try as he might, he cannot beat me. He cannot push me back. And here you come to...what...play the hero? Again? Trying to prove that he's not alone in this battle?" There's a shrug and he sucks down almost half the cigarette in one go.

"He'll leave you to be nothing but dust in the end. You. Nick. Wade. Everyone he's ever met. Ever gotten close to. Gone. In a flash. At HIS will...because that's what he is deep down. A monster. Who does monster things. Things that even a sickly twisted geneticist like you could never dream of. You've only ever gleaned the surface of the Devil. What lurks beneath is....deliciously vile..."

Sinister has posed:
Well, isn't that interesting. Very interesting, indeed. There is an arch of the eyebrow at Lucifer's words, taking the cigarette to indulge the mental cancer stick far more slowly than the Beast of Addiction. Some things in this moment are extremely acute and quite tellingly large and out loud.

"As to the last time we were intimate, that was the other evening after the selection of the new band for the Pride event. We are, most evenings... intimate that is. Not necessarily inflagrate delecto, but it's not the be-all and end-all of everything..." he sniffs.

"Gosh, that's funny though," there's an actual giggle with it as he sucks on his cigarette, walking a short ways away and hopping to sit in thin air, in the void and black of nothingness, spot-lit from beneath by infernal red and above, by sterile hospital white. It's a disturbing effect. Ash is flicked, perpetually falling into nowhere. "Heroic old me. No proof, old chap. Just fact. He isn't. Whether he discards me or not, he isn't ever going to be alone again. Plus, I don't do dust. Can't abide the stuff, it's highly unsanitary, you know."

He watches the devil, silently. "You know, this whole thing feels slightly like I should expect a snail pulling a carriage to show up at any second, whilst the entire of reality melts into custard. It's got that... surrealist quality to it."

Really?!

Lucifer has posed:
Surreal is a word for it. The flip-flopping of pronouns being a key to it all. Like Lucifer is fighting against himself amongst everything else. The cigarette is finished with one more drag and he drops it so that it falls into the infinite void.

"You're a real piece of work you know that?" The Dream Devil says as he takes a few steps towards the man and then begins to circle him. "You're a lot of talk. A lot of words. Big and small. Egotistical...to a point. Mmn. But I bet you're scared. Deep down inside. Cause you know I'm right.... you know..." Then the image of him seems to crackle a bit. Almost like he's glitching. "...that you're nothing but a..." another glitch in the matrix it seems. "What is this? What's going on?! I...I..." Then he disperses into a million particles of nothing.

Sinister is alone for what feels like a long, long moment. Until, finally, he can at least sense a new presence if not see it because it's walking in from behind. "I really, really do hate myself most days..." Lucifer says this, the usual Lucifer, not the crispy version from a moment ago. "Invading dreams again I see?"

Sinister has posed:
Through all of that, the slow, systemic smoking of a cigarette was like a heartbeat in the subconscious. A steady, rhythmical thing, unhurried and unfussed, even when there was a real moment where the beast within might have made things harder on the psychic interloper.

Only when utterly alone, does that smoke get flicked into the chasm of below, red gaze staring down into the dark.

"You were spiralling again. You so very rarely get genuinely tuckered out, that I felt it appropriate to put a mild monitor on. The alternative might have been a mite more damaging, hmm?"

Hates himself, indeed! Looking sidelong, there's a small, private smile shared for the devil. "You are quite the talker. A good smack of that I think might have been fear talking, but that doesn't stop grains of truth popping in, because you... no matter what your face is, can't completely lie. It makes me have to sit back and think quite a bit, to separate the wheat from the chaff though."

Two more cigarettes, fresh ones, arrive out of nowhere. "Clearly this is also still a snarly upstart for your mind."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer plucks the cigarettes out of thin air and lights them both before offering one to Nathaniel. "I am afraid. I'm almost close to figuring out the whole of it... but that was a bit of an eye opener. I am a dangerous man apparently. But I keep myself caged. Sometimes I have to come out of my cage. But I have healthy ways of doing that." He says this much and then gives a half shrug.

"I also think a part of my mind is still recovering from the upset. On the whole I'm fine. But just little bits that like to niggle their way back into the forefront every once in a while." He adds this part and takes a smaller drag off his cigarette than half. "You're always there to keep me sane. I appreciate it. And I love you. Wholly and truly." Then he chuckles. "Turn you to dust indeed..."

Sinister has posed:
"Well, I am sure that a very good attempt at doing so might be done. But I'm not sure how good you'd be at doing it, I can be quite cunning at escaping total disintegration. I've made an artform out of it on a few occasions," taking the smoke, it's not smoked. This one is left to dangle out of the side of his mouth, whilst a hand is proffered the devil.

"You'll figure it out, with perhaps a spot of assistance as a sounding board, but that's the nature of help -- you can give it until the cows come home, but if it's not taken and acted upon, it just sits there uselessly. You'll take it. If you need it." He seems certain of this, then the scenery becomes the memory of a boardwalk, almost as if the world was painted in a watercolour. "Come on."

The smile says volumes, it'll chase away the doubts. For a while.