Owner	Pose
Lucifer	The last few days in Paris were amazing, but true to form, Lucifer had a need to get back to Lux and check on things. Not that he wanted to. Spending time with Sinister had been amazing, and being able to let loose as Luci even more so. Never the less, the business needed to be taken care of regretably, since Lucifer really doesn't have anyone he can simply leave in charge for an extended amount of time. The club did still open and run, it was just sans Lucifer, and so he had people to catch up with to make sure things had ran smoothly in his absence. A couple of close calls. Some people who wanted to meet Lucifer but couldn't. Otherwise the report he gets from a handful of people all match up and nothing seems out of the ordinary. Which actually leaves the Devil quite satisfied. So back in his penthouse, hours before the club would open on a Friday night, Lucifer is sitting at the piano playing a random tune. As always, a glass of whiskey is near for him to drink from and he just idly lets his fingers dance over the keys. No real song, just a dabbling.
Sinister	Sinister had taken all of this day to himself, truth of it is. He bid farewell and went to work himself. It was, for him, an extremely challenging and focused sort of day, which may have peripherally tickled at one point or another in the back of Lucifer's mind. After all, when a very powerful telepath is thinking really hard about things, sometimes it leaks if you've got a bond with them of any kind. Which at this point, they ENTIRELY have. Ahem! And bondage. But that's something entirely different. A thump on the roof is what heralds the arrival and the tickle that a tired Sinbrain is nearby, as heavy talons can be heard above, followed by heavy talons on the stairs and then heavy talons on the way in. It is a gigantic and mostrous raven that makes its way in, with feet rather like a dinosaurs (hence the talon tick-tacks) the beak akin to that of a terror bird, rather than a raven. And he yawns as he shuffles on in, before shedding layers of feathers and form to sort of walk out of that shape as a knackered looking man.
Lucifer	The tickling in his mind from Sinister did reach Lucifer in some ways. A prickle here and there that would send him to wondering if the man was alright. Though there wasn't much he could really do - as he did not wish to interrupt Sin in any way. So when he hears those talons on the roof, the stairs and even on the way inside the penthouse, Lucifer looks over at the gigantic terror raven that's entered his home. A raised brow given before the feathers shed layer by layer until Nathaniel is revealed. Lucifer stops playing, shifting to stand from the piano bench and moves to Nathaniel's side. "My dearest, are you alright? You look absolutely spent...which I never thought would be a look I would see on you. Come. Sit." And he will gently guide Nathaniel to the couch where the man can collapse should he need to. "Can I get you anything?"
Sinister	"Occasionally, I overtax." Not arguing with the assistance, Nathaniel leans on the support with zero argument, collapsing with less grace than he usually possesses. "Hence why I flew manually the last little way, I didn't trust my mind to keep me afloat." Leaning back, he rubs at his forehead with both hands, concenric circles at the temple, rolling his head back. "Probably several grams of adderall and an energy drink ought do the trick. My mind is simply spent." He looks down his nose at the pile of feathers. "I've made a damn mess."
Lucifer	Lucifer scoffs a little about the mess part and looks over at the feathers. He shifts to grab a handful, picks out the prettiest ones and then snaps his fingers to clean up the rest. Likely sending them to burn in a pool of hellfire or something (provided that doesn't do any harm to Sinister himself). "An easy mess to clean, my love. You just rest." He then looks at the feathers collected and moves to his wall of bookshelves to pluck an ornate box, opening it and placing the feathers inside. The box closes, a lock clicks and then he returns it to the shelf proper. "How many grams of adderall are we talking?" Lucifer questions, before walking to the bar to pull out a redbull from the fridge. "Hmm. Redbull or Monster? I have both." Cause, drinks use them sometimes.
Sinister	"With my metabolism and/or lack thereof, at least five." FOr a drug usually measured in miligrams, he must be pretty damn wiped out. There's no sign of pain when the feathers are incinerated though, as he watches the prettiest ones find their home in among the Lover's Charms. It brings a wee little flit of a grin to pass, which fades with the fatigue. "Monster tastes considerably less like arse," he replies, slithering down the couch a little as he surrenders to bonelessness, although not /literally/ thankfully. That would be messy. After a good minute just laying there without breathing or moving, with his eyes closed... he lifts his head, eyeing his palm and concentrates again. "Fuck..." fishing for his cellphone, he lays that in his palm and actually swipes it on, staring at the screen until **PLOP** the Malachite heart lands in his lap with a zap of electrical discharge, followed by a hypodermal syringe.
Lucifer	Five adderall is gained from the ether and Lucifer grabs a monster from the fridge of the bar. Coming back around and to the couch, seeing Sinister laying there in a not-so-real puddle-puddle, he begins to smile. Until he sees the man lift his head, swears, and goes for his cellphone. The following scene of that malacite heart landing in his lap has Lucifer tilting his head. "...Keeping that stored in a safe place?" The monster and adderall are offered, but the syringe is looked at also. "Everything okay, Nathaniel? Truly? You seem less like yourself than ever I've noticed...and I don't really think you can shove it all behind the excuse of fatigue." He's skirting around the topic of that heart which just so haphazardly dropped into Sinister's lap.
Sinister	Sinister just drops the cellphone, letting it bounce on the cushions of the couch, fumbling the heart into his palm and the syringe onto the seat on the other side. He struggles to sitting again, reaching for the drink and drugs proffered. The first chases the second down his gullet and he downs about half the monster, before letting it rest on his knee. His palm is opened, looking to the heart. "It's never far from where I am, if I'm working on anything. I just didn't trust the teleporter in my state of mind, I wanted to be here, before I brought it over." He replies, rubbing across his face with his wrist and a half can of Monster, which leaves condensation moisture in its wake. "I'm... uh... it's..." he frowns, blinks a time or two "...jumbled memories that have come unglued. I overdid it. Emotional memories. Paranoia got hyped up." He tries to explain, "...I've had to concentrate too hard."
Lucifer	Lucifer places one hand over the heart and the hand that it rests within. "You know... being in such a state...you could have used this. You could have called me. I would have come to get you. To be with you..." The words are offered in something akin to a gentle sternness. Lucifer just wanting to make sure Nathaniel is safe and sound at all times. His hand squeezes gently while Lucifer sort of frowns with concern as he listens more to what Nathaniel says. "You're not making much sense now. What memories? What paranoia? The hell have you been working on all day to put you in such a state?" Compounding questions likely aren't the answer to all this but this is Lucifer concerned. He's not really sure what more to say or do - and he wants to fix what may not even be really broken...just cracked. Or something. His other hand shifts to rest on Sinister's knee while he remains kneeled at the man's feet.
Sinister	Sinister just breathes deeply for a few long moments, doing something to his own digestion and circulatory system such as it is, judging by the pinkening of his skin and sudden flush of surface veins. He looks momentarily like a modern take on a vampire from a TV show, with the exaggeration of such things, then eyes pop open wide and with a sharp intake, he swallows and focuses on Lucifer. From over by the Piano: "Your lover is quite a broken man, you know. Nothing to do with you of course, all to do with the cascade effect of a long time ago and an inability to let go. I keep telling him he should just snip those things out, but he insists." -- Sinister, leaning against the piano, lazily regarding himself. From the bookshelf: "He compartmentalizes what he doesn't want to lose, but can't integrate as a whole. They like to think he stopped feeling anything, or caring, but that's not the case. Just a massive fracture of conscience. I blame -him- for that." Another Sinister, wearing an obstetrician's outfit and a stethoscope at his neck. "It was a painful delivery into this life." And lastly from the man on the couch. "Shut up, you two. Out. Go."
Lucifer	Lucifer slowly stands up, but the hand holding Couch-Sinister's own doesn't let up. He side-eyes the one at the piano. "We all are broken in some way. And I wouldn't have blamed myself initially. Sometimes snipping out memories, to lose them, can be more painful than having them. What would you have him snip though? What things?" He assumes a memory of some sort, which is why he said as much. Gaze turning back to Couch-Sinister before he hears the one by the bookshelf. "Obviously he hasn't stopped feeling... or else he wouldn't feel what he does now." Lucifer tells the others, but he also might be telling himself in the process. "This is still not making much sense... stop talking in such...muddled almost riddle speak. What is going on?" The Devil is getting a little infuriated at the whole of things. And when Couch-Sinister is demanding the others go, he tilts his head. "Are you afraid of what they might be revealing? Is there something you're trying to hide or keep hidden from me?"
Sinister	Sinister shakes his head and concenrates, but the other two don't go anywhere. That causes a look of befuddlement, the a look of realization. "Overcharged," -- both of the others nod simultaneously -- "RIght then, you'll just go away in your own time." Piano Sin: "He'll sound like a broken record if he tells you himself and possibly will get accidentally violent. His son died at the age of four, which I'm rather sure you know. He didn't take that well, particularly when he realized it was bad breeding. Got a tad obsessed with it and had ... how shall we say... a loco moment. Modern clinical psychiatrists would call it a psychotic break. Not a good time to be vulnerable, really." Bookshelf: "Then, you know, those decisions that seemed like good ones at the time, rational ones, like digging your own son's grave up and putting him in preservative suspension so you could figure out what genetic markers were, before anyone had figured out what the human chromosome even -was-. Well, compounded that with social ridicule because he saw the future and what today would look like, two hundred years before his time and..." Couch: "...you have a telepath that to function rationally creates psychic assists, blockers, compartmentalisms, and psionic reassembly protocols, so that his mind doesn't spill out over half a continent. This morning when I got back to the lab, I discovered evidence of some cellular degredation in my own tissue samples. I've been running ramshod through my files all day, multitasking =several= selves at once, to get a working solution." He lifts his hypospray. "But it's unleashed the parts of me I keep quelled. THe paranoia, emotional wreckage, disassociativeness. And when they're separated, I lose some of my ability to be eloquent. Too scattered, done too much, etcetera. I'm brilliant, but I have limits." He looks sheepishly at Lucifer, but in a damnably focused manner, given he has five grams of Adderal swimming in his system right now. "I became as I am, when I was in the thrall of psychotic break. I took up the dark offer that altered me into a mutated state, stripped myself of being human and had my mind fractured /whilst still/ in that state, you see. Which sort of locked it in, permanently, unti I granted myself telepathy strong enough to reassemble most of myself, with some astute shackles in place. I do quite well, most of the time, holding it all inside."
Lucifer	"I can understand the obsession that followed your son's death. Even what you did afterwards. You're a very determined man, and likely have been since your true beginning..." Lucifer offers, and then he shifts to sit on the edge of the coffee table to face Couch-Sinister. "Does any of this have to do with the favor you came to me about? Back when we first met? Is that what you mean when you say you took up the dark offer?" He asks, mostly to clarify. Everything else tracks, and makes sense, and at this point it seems like it's just needing time to bring himself back together. "Though, as a whole of the other part...you don't need to hold all of that inside you know. You can talk it out, if you want. If it will help in any way.." Reaching then for Sinister's other hand so that he holds both now. "I am here for whatever you might need, my love. However I can help you..." A glance to the other two Sinisters in his home and then his attention is back to the couch. Though he's not entirely sure what more he can say or do at this time, and there's mostly just worry in his eyes.
Sinister	"Yes, something like. I don't think he made me to last. I thought he did, but I have a feeling he wasn't that altruistic. And what he did to my psyche... I fear he could take charge, someday and bring about his version of the End of Days, my Samael. But I realized... I didn't think you could mystically help me," And here, he leans in and kisses the Archangel sudden and passionately, murmuring what follows against lips "...at least not in the way I'd hoped." The hypospray syringe is in the air then, hovering beside them both. "I don't know if it will work. I'm excited with the possibility that it might and terrified that it might not." And because that's mildly riddlespeakish too, Piano Sinister helps, being more clear minded: "He took your genetic code, extrapolated the expiry date gene from it and the pristine telomeres and spliced it with extreme concentration and psionic effort to boot, into a retrovirus. It's all swimming around in there. Even the human chromosome of you, Lucifer Morningstar, didn't like to be fiddled with."
Lucifer	Lucifer almost goes to protest that he wasn't even given a chance to help Sinister mystically when he's suddenly and passionately kissed. A thing he returns in the moment until those next words are spoken against his lips. A side eye is given to the hypospray that now hovers beside them and then he looks back to Sinister intently. Though he also listens as Piano Sinister explains things a bit more plainly. His own genetic code is within that hypospray, turned into some kind of virus and Sinister intends to use it and hope it...breaks some sort of bond? "I wouldn't expect any chromosome of me would want to be fiddled with. My genetic makeup is...odd...even as the human. The angel is a whole other ball game." He offers, his lips likely brushing Sinister's own. "So...you intend to inject yourself with this? Once you're all back in one mind again? Or now, while you're broken, to see what happens?" Lucifer asks and then he takes a breath. "What outcome are we hoping for? How will we know it worked?"
Sinister	"A fragment of me is hoping that it might break that hold, just because of where it comes from. Nothing can chain he who does not wish to be bound," nodding softly, he closes his eyes, rests his forehead against Lucifer's own and breathes a few moments, not for the oxygen, but for the rhythm of it. "I do. Well, I did. Probably? One part elated, one part terrified, as I said. I had to have the heart with me and thought it would be prudent if I was in your presence, too. An adventure in stupendously bad decision making, or a black miracle, I can't tell which it would end up being." He breathes a few more times, then reaches firm to the back of Lucifer's neck. "I won't if you... say no."
Lucifer	Lucifer listens to all that Sinister tells him, and listens to the way he is breathing. Not necessary breaths, of course, but something about the fact that he is partly concentrating on breaths has Lucifer taking note. He's also hopeful, and a little terrified, as he doesn't know what might happen if it's all wrong. What will it do if it goes awry? Yet, he has to keep some sort of faith, and if he's the key...then why not allow the attempt within the lock? The last thing Sinister says has him raising a brow. "If this goes horrifically wrong, there is no power in Heaven, Hell, or otherwise that will keep me from finding you and bringing you back..." That's all Lucifer says before he reaches to take the hypospray, presses it against Sinister's neck and injects the solution into his lover fair.
Sinister	Sinister inhales sharp at the injection, lets it all out as the chilly substance slides into his system, swallowing once. His fingers curl at Lucifer's nape, turning his head just a little, so the diamond does not press against skin, murmured: "...if it does, I promise I'll figure out a way to help you find me." Excitement and fear. Fear and excitement -- though not a projective empath, his psyche is strong enough that the vibe twitterpates in the air a little bit, like the tang of ozone on the sixth sense. "Every thirty seconds, all the blood of the body travels the entire length of itself." THirty seconds, which are ticking by. "Interestitial space takes a little longer to permeate through, with pressure." Tick tick tick "...it might not do anything at all, but I think I..." Piano and Bookshelf suddenly vanish, sucked back inside. Nathaniel seems to be vibrating, making a rather odd 'hrrrk' sound, eyes opening wide. Instead of the sinister red glow, his eyes are pure white, like the celestial halo about Samael and they shine brightly on his lover's skin. "Oh. My. Star."
Lucifer	Lucifer listens to those first words from Sinister and nods his head. "I'm glad to hear this. I will find you, no matter what." He reaffirms and then watches the excitement and the fear that flashes through Sinister's eyes as the injection is done. The further explanation made, he tilts his head and watches. "It might not...I suppose we'll find out sometime soo--" He doesn't get to say much more than that. The 'hrrk' sound that he hears along with watching those eyes go wide, he tilts his head. As they begin to go pure white, his brow raises and then he shakes his head some. "Nathaniel? Are you alright?" Asking this as he lifts a hand and cups Nathaniel's cheek gently, stroking his thumb along the flesh there.
Sinister	Sinister's spine arches, almost spasmodically as if he's having a seizure of some sort, then he curls forward, his face pressing to the palm lifted gently. His skin feels very hot and he shifts the grip on the back of Lucifer's neck to his shoulder, taking a solid hold. There is a waft of cinnamon-like scent coming from him, then that barest hint of brimstone beneath it. "I don't know. I think so? I feel like I'm having an endorphine rush," he admits. Little spots of his skin sizzle, catching fire but he doesn't seem to notice it much. "My heart is pounding. I can -feel- everything tingle, even my own teeth." He narrows his eyes, which only narrows the beam of white light a little. More flames burn across his skin, a zigzag igniting down his back. It's like his cells, one by one, are catching fire.
Lucifer	"You're also catching fire. Like... literally catching fire. And your skin is hot. I don't know if I should shower you or what..." Lucifer offers as he gets that waft of cinnamon-brimstone. "Come with me..." Though it's not like Sinister has a choice. Lucifer has him in arms and so they disappear together and reappear... Well it's likely the last place Sinister ever thought he might be BEFORE he died - if he believed in Hell to begin with. But where Lucifer takes him IS Hell. A room that is filled with the scents of sulfur and brimstone. Sounds of countless souls screaming in agony fill the room in waves. This room, itself, is pitch black save for the small cracks on the ground that splinter and glow a bright red-orange color. There, in the middle of the room on a small onyx colored raise of ground lies a throne of the same. "Stay." He tells Sinister before climbing the few steps and turns to sit upon his Throne. "This will be interesting."
Sinister	Hell exists. Of course hell exists. In a world with splintered realities and parallels, dimensions and whatnot, Hell exists. That isn't the question. The belief as to whether he belongs in it, though? Not as a denizen, that's for certain. Which has been a grain in the dark, poked at the once with Lucifer, when in confidence. Sinister shivers again, trusting at least in his lover's arms, if not the wisdom he now finds himself in. He crouches, the glow from his eyes penetrating only so far, hugging his knee as more of his flesh ignites. He doesn't SEEM to be burning up though, at least not in a manner that is causing distress. The glowing eyes go rounder though, perhaps as a penny has dropped. Looking to his arm, to his hand he holds it up, sits upon his heel instead of hugging his leg and raises the other, watching as flames begin to dance and his clothing crisps and powders away as so much char. And then, with another 'hrrrrk' sound (and suddenly it will make a lot more sense) he projectile vomits a stream of liquescent fire at the floor before Lucifer's throne, hands clutching the floor in the jerk reaction that follows. The flaming mass /writhes/ there. He remains kind of incandescent though. He falls back then, shivering again as the glow of flame shifts to a glow of radiance in places.
Lucifer	"No. No.. you don't get to fall back if your body is reacting this way..." Lucifer says this, standing from his throne and walking down to kneel by Sinister's side. "Come on, my darling, I need you to sit up again." And he'll say this while also helping Sinister to sit up, or even get on his knees again. "You're shivering...and I'm not sure the vomiting is a good thing...but I also don't know what to do here except let it pass through you. You said every thirty seconds, but if it adheres to your own genomes...well..." He's rambling, for a few reasons, maybe if he talks or asks questions Sinister will respond. If the man yucks up again, sitting up now he won't choke on it. Which is a plus. As a whole, however, even the Archangel is lost on how to help Sinister aside from just be beside him while he suffers through the changes.
Sinister	"Y'yes, of course..." this is surreal. There's knowing your lover is the Lord of Hell and then there's being IN hell, with the Lord of it helping you sit up. If any demon comes in here in the next five minutes, it will be a very strange experience! Grasping Lucifer whilst IN hell, seems to accelerate some of this process, as the flames where he holds the Devil peeter out and give way just to the glow. His skin looks smooth and unmarred under it though, which is probably a good sign. "COmplete control over myself on the cellular and molecular level is accelerating this a little -- one of those things in hindsight I'd have liked to have already had, when I gave it to myself in the first place. Augh, that was...mmmnf..." HRRRRRRRRRRK. Less large, a lot more splattery, the flaming writhe pile seems to be attempting to puddle into as small a space as it can, either cowering or just trying to find a way out.
Lucifer	Don't worry, Sinister. Demons do not come into the Throne Room unless summoned, and Lucifer isn't summoning one any time soon. He does notice that where touch happens, the flames dissipate into that radiance, and Lucifer tests a theory, stroking a soothing hand over Sinister's form where flames ignite. "Let me know if you're about to burst out wings or something..." He jokes...sort of...there is a smile of course, but Lucifer may be concerned(generally) about sudden wings. More yuck, and the pile is beginning to seem like it wants to get away. Is it corporeal? A part of Sin? Hopefully not if Sin's body is rejectingit and so he slams a fist into the ground, a fissure cracks open a bit more wide and the flamey puddle stuff gets added to the hellfire pit beneath them. "Now then... how else can I help? Or is this getting better?"
Sinister	What may be satisfying is the brief but rather mad scrabble of a puddle attempting to get out of the way of a widening fissure. It fails. GLoopy bits of it attempt to hold onto the edge, but its amorphous edges simply vascillate, attenuate and it ultimately plops down into the flames. Maybe somewhere an enormously and powerfully old Mutant felt a little twitch in his spine, who knows? "Why would I burst out wings? Oh, no, wait, I see..." but there's a couple of moments of that after-vomit dribble, where you want to spit that taste out and Nathaniel pthttoies a couple of times. "I don't think I'm going to. I still just feel like I'm about to have some kind of endorphine overload, coupled with the nausea. Which is extremely strange of a feeling, as it's like riding the edge of a climax whilst feeling wretched at the same time. Oh, that feels good. Feels tingly." The stroking seems to have the desired effect, like brushing the flames away like dirt or dust to leave the glow behind. And even that fades to a very slight glimmer, probably only visible in the right circumstances. He sparkles. Just a little bit. Oh, the teenage angst.
Lucifer	"Well, I wasn't entirely sure what all it might be doing to you, and since you were bursting into flame and settling into ethereal glow...wings weren't too far of a stretch.." Lucifer offers with a soft chuckle. "Is the nausea settling away any? There isn't much I can offer you here...aside from a spot to burn that might not actually bring you harm.." He offers this much more while continuing to brush off the rest of the flames from Sinister's form. "Like I figured you'd want to wash your mouth out from the rest of what might be swirling in there. And other things..." That much more and he steps back, finding that Sinister is...sparkling. "...You look like you stepped out of the Twilight Saga.... we need to fix that..."
Sinister	Sinister uncoils as the last flames are snuffed, spreading his hand over his stomach region. "I still feel a bit queasy but it's not imminent status vomitus," he admits this, rubbing the region. He grimaces, concentrates and upchucks one more thing, which apparently is the lining of his stomach which sits on his palm, made into a ball, with a tiny amount of remaining napalm goop. It's tossed in an underhand pitch down the crag that drops to the pit itself and he looks up at Lucifer, frowns, looks down at himself and moves himself around a little, catching the light. "Well, so I do," glancing up he swallows, shivers one more time, rather fluidly and his right shoulder drops forward with a cracking sound, his shoulderblade splitting and doubling. He puts his hand on his knee, doubling over to bent, as the other shoulder goes the same way, streching against the skin. Oh, it's quite adorable looking at baby bird wings, as they try and flap pathetically. Little pinfeathers pop out all over the place.
Lucifer	Lucifer watches for a moment longer as Sinister begins to sort of pull himself together a bit more now that the flames are snuffed out. As he upchucks that last little bit, Lucifer doesn't quite know that it includes stomach lining - and doesn't really ask. He's just here to support and aid in whatever way he can. As Sinister frowns and then checks his glittery skin, Lucifer chuckles. "Yeah. You do." Then he winces as shoulders crack and Sinister doubles over a bit. A tilt of his head as he looks and sees those baby bird wings - covered in pinfeathers - and flapping...sort of. He takes a moment to watch them, actually giving a smirk before shifting to kneel down and catch Sinister's gaze if he can. A broad grin comes just then and he points towards Sin's back before saying, "...Called it."
Sinister	Sinister narrows his eyes down to half-mast and wrinkles his nose up. "Smart alek," there's a grunt as they get active with flapping, stretching and growing at a rather silly rate. Cherubic wings, they are! "They itch," he informs, because apparently this is a necessary grouse to be having at this current time. "Well, humbug. Right..." rubbing at his forearm, he stares at it, rubs a bit more and does not intially succeed in any de-sparkling. **CRACK-flap-flap** grunting again, he settles onto his knees, leaning forward enough to put his hands on Lucifer's knees, concentrating on nothing but the weird sensation. Eyes narrow again and he tilts his head to the side, the white glow of his eyes fading back to red as they're supposed to be and that seems to sublime the sparkle down to a kind of inner pearlescence that's quite pretty, in all honesty. "Did you get born with yours or did they grow?"
Lucifer	Lucifer holds up a finger, that grin remaining after Sinister calls him such. "But you love me." Then more things happen, the wings are growing, which is kinda surreal for Lucifer to watch someone else go through in real time. "Well of course they itch, they just burst out of your back, which means they pierced skin, they're going to itch the first few times until your body gets used to it." He explains and then he feels those hands on his knees while there's still Snap-Crackle-Popping of wings being made. "You're like a bowl of rice krispies..." He does also see the eyes becoming red and how the glow becomes something more of an inner pearlescence and he nods. Then that last question finds him and he tilts his head. "Well, if memory serves, originally I just had them. You know, he just kinda went 'pop' and here's another angel of sorts to serve. However... they do grow and it HURTS when they grow. I have cut them off... a few times..."
Sinister	"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," this brought to you by the extension of the wings into full on stretch mode, flap-flapping in a uncoordinated manner of things that aren't the usual wings he applies to himself and have something of a life of their own. All along the leading edge, those spears of primaries poke through, their cores red and filled with blood as they grow, harden, crack and start protruding a little at the end. THey appear to be black, fringed in red as if dipped in a flame. "This is /so/ weird..." said in a lightly higher pitched tone as if he's not sure whether he should be laughing or madly scratching himself. The hands grasp a little firmer at this feeling and he looks up, one eye squinting entirely shut as he listens. "Yes, I do. Cheeky wit and all. Bowl of rice crispies, indeed..." he has to give a kind of upper body shudder here, /trying/ to shuck the feeling or allieve it somehow. "Another reason to be mildly miffed off at Him. Makes the angels pop into existence, makes his next creation have to grow everything for nine months then pop out in pain and straining to push a melon out of a hole the size of a saucer. Not sure what creative thinking -that- was, but well done, creator. Pssh." Swallowing again, he cracks his other eye open. "The price of confining yourself to a human frame and... well, why did you cut them off?"
Lucifer	Wings are wings, and they grow in certain ways at their own pace. Apparently in Sinister's case they're growing in stages and becoming their own thing. Well that's lovely. Lucifer watches still as more structure pokes through and feathers begin to form, fall, and form again. "Well it's your first time...so..." He's trying to be cheeky to keep Sinister at ease, but in many ways it's not really working because Sinister is still thinking about the things protruding from his back. "Good. Because I am going to remain cheeky. So get used to it." He watches as Sinister shivers and shucks, and then walks around behind the man. "Look, stop moving for just a moment, okay? Please?" He's checking them out, trying to see if he can determine if the wing structure itself is done forming. If that's the case then he might be able to help alleviate some of the pain and 'weird' that Sinister is feeling, but done prematurely and the rest of the growth can be ten times as bad.
Sinister	They're not big enough yet. If they're comparable, they've got a good couple of growth spurts left to -- aah, like that one. **Pop** the extra joint forms and the extremis of the wing extends outward, the base of them growing a sprit of bone from which the 'tail' wing feathers form, to allow better steering when in flight. If you're not a bird, things adapt! Look at the pictures, they're there, honest. The right one droops, the left tries to curl in and tuck itself, doesn't seem to like that and joins the right in the droop. Pop, pop, the pinions unfurl here and there, like peculiar popcorn. It appears they're more or less the size they should be as of now. "I'm trying. This isn't quite like it usually is. Maybe a price being paid, or something of that ilk. I'm not even sure why this happened." He tries to look back over his shoulder and goes squinty trying to see it, causing the top layer of feathers to stand up angrily at him around the shoulder joint. "Apparently, even the human DNA you have contains a grain of the whole of you. Lesson learned I suppose..." he lets his head hang, trying to be zen and the art of not thinking about this.
Lucifer	"Alright. They're just about there. This is so very interesting...and I reckon father's not going to like what's happening here." Lucifer comments as he watches the wings while they continue to pop and grow. He also realizes they seem a bit on the angry side, as if they don't want to exist at all and yet they do. Training them will be a pain in the ass unless there can be some proper temperment placed on them. First, however, Lucifer is going to try and aid the itching and the pain which he knows could be brutal. "Also, I forgot to answer you. I never cut them off to fit into my human form. I usually cut them off in defiance and anger. They always grow back." He stands at Sinister's back and reaches to touch the feathers that have formed, the structure of them. Then he wills his own wings to grow, to stretch in their brilliant white feathery glory. He plucks one of his own feathers and then puts his wings away. This is for if nothing else works. Touching along the wings of Sinister once more, to see what sort of reaction he might get.
Sinister	Sinister sucks in a breath sharply, as if the sensation he just received at a touch was entirely unexpected, which to tell the truth of it, it was. "Ohh," just that, because occasionally a sound is all that's required. Almost a groan, almost pleasurable, entirely anathema to any experience he's ever had, ever. His shoulders arch up a little, his lower back curving as he sits his rump on his heels with the tension of attention. A couple of pinfeather shells fall, the archangel's touch coaxing them to fully open flame-touched raven black and shiny in a different way from brilliant white, for sure and certain. But yes. They are a little angry and they attempt to buck the contact, bristling a moment with raised pins (it looks so messy with only half of them unfurled, if that) -- Sinister grunts at this and growls, which seems to make them cringe a little. "Better," is muttered.
Lucifer	Lucifer glares at the wings as they try to buck away his contact. The fact that touching them is giving some ease to Sinister pleases him, but the way the wings are behaving...do they actually have a mind of their own? Thus the glare and a very firm and growly, "Stop it!" as if he could command the wings to do such. He then shifts his touch to the feathers themselves. Against the ones that have unfurled and also the pins that have yet to fall and form true. "If you don't like it, you shouldn't have formed. Now behave." It likely seems silly, talking to wings, but when in unchartered territory...do what seems to work. His other hand reaches between the wings, touching against the area of shoulder where they are protruding from. This is what may hurt the most, because the only thing the Devil knows is fire, but he also knows that a quick flash of fire can cauterize - and since these are coming out of flesh, well, the flesh should render healing. Plus, Sinister's own healing factor will likely soothe the charred flesh once it's given. A touch of it, right around where the base of the wing protrudes from the back. First the left and then the right. He touches again, fireless, and rubs at skin that is likely still itchy, trying to soothe it so.
Sinister	There is a hiss from the searing contact, but then a sound of infinite relief, as indeed that healing factor kicks in and blistering flesh smooths white again, with the wings integrated properly from their new homes. He can't seem to help the chuckle that's on the verge of a giggle, though. "I think they got the message that time," and also a blessed, but also pleased sort of moan escapes him as the last of pins are divested. They still look dishevelled, those wings do, but nothing a bit of judicious grooming can't fix. And true to form, the rebels on Sinister's back tuck in, furling themselves with a little left-right shuffle and a kind of 'so there!' rustle. "Defiance and anger, eh? I can understand that logic, I think. There was a lot to be angery and defiant over." He rocks back on his heels, tests his balance a moment then stands, gingerly standing tall to test new existences and transformations with all the senses he posseses. "Pardon my french, but what the Hell am I now, I wonder? I imagine your dad might be a tad displeased. ALthough I'm not sure whom he'd be peeved at."
Lucifer	"I would suspect you fall into the nephalim category now..." Lucifer offers first and then shrugs. "Dad'll get over it, and if he doesn't, tough shit. He probably hasn't liked you doing the million and one tests over the last two centuries, so what's a few more to be pissy about?" That much more offered and then he chuckles and nods. "Lots to be such, yes, and so I would cut off, and they would grow back. I don't think that's normal... depending on which mythos you read. Some say that an angel becomes mortal when they lose their wings. Others say they have to prove their worth again and get them back." He smirks. "I think mine regrow to ensure I don't begin to do good deeds and earn a place back in Heaven." Fingers brush through the feathers some more now that they've dialed back their pissiness, and he hears all the sounds of relief and joy that's come from Sinister. So he'll help with the pruning and grooming for the moment. "Of course you know the basics of wings. On ball joints so they can move back and forth but also up and down. I wonder if yours will stay this lovely black and glossy color...it really does fit you my love..." A pause then and he takes a breath. "Hmm...I also wonder if they'll retract for you and then return. Like... if you can will them in and out of existence..."
Sinister	"Quite so. And even if I aknowledge he exists, I don't believe in his claptrap. All its done is cause a lot of strife for a lot of people over a lot of years, more arguments than trying to pick which household you're going to for christmas dinner and has made a lot of amoral men and women, very rich." Snorting softly, Sinister listens to the rest of Lucifer's musings with a glance behind himself as best he can manage, for though he can sense the mind behind and read the thoughts it gives off, he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head. He could, but that tends to be a little gross and he has his dignity. "Would you want a place in heaven any more? Your good deeds occur with or without your wings showing, Samael." But then, quietude in the grooming of pinions. Even just that, seems to calm the rebellious buggers down further. In a slightly thickened tone, "I know the basics, yes. These just don't feel like the kind I've grown in the past, of my own volition. They were /born/ for one.... ooohhhh..." that last becomes a little gasp at the end and the wings droop, flatten out all muscle tension as Sinister's shoulders sag and he rolls his head back, eyes closing and a look of surreal bliss on his features. "Something is happening... I can feel them..." he manages to gesture at his head a couple of times as if drunk. "...they started to bleed in..." the look of surprise and then peculiar wonder that comes next is one part humerous to four parts beatific. At the left side of his neck appears a mark, in ancient aramaeic, which is quite clearly seen by Samael's eyes and trails downward vertically toward his heart: A single word 'Nathaniel' -- it was the name of an angel, after all.
Lucifer	"No. Not anymore. Not really ever, to be honest, but it's been made that such is never possible..." Samael offers and then shrugs his shoulders, not that Nathaniel can see such an action. He's still grooming feathers after all. "What good deeds? Everything I do is with a purpose. A selfish purpose." Which isn't a lie, in a sense, it's just sometimes the purpose isn't as self-serving as he makes it out to be. Sometimes the selfish thing is to keep people he loves in his life. "They started to bleed in? I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing..." Lucifer offers and then he blinks, noticing something forming on the side of Sinister's neck. He comes around and reads what forms. "Well. This is... interesting..." He offers. "It's your born name. In aramaeic. Starting here," he places his finger and then trails, "and goes to here. But... I know not the purpose behind such a thing..." A pause. He sees the sort of bliss on Nathaniel's face and his head tilts in such a way. Wondering, watching... this is getting interesting for sure.
Sinister	Sinister's head tilts forward sudden and sharp, coming to himself as whatever intense sensation that was, passes. His eyes sharply focus, their usual brilliant ruby hue. He looks down at his chest, watching the finger trail there, but having to admit "I don't actually see anything, so I shall have to take your word for it." To the right eyes, that may well be a mark. He's been marked. Fist shaking may have to occur. There may be no hiding -that-. Sneaky bastard. "I'll take you being accidentally good natured and I'll certainly take you being selfish," he shakes himself from head to toe in a shimmy wriggle, the wingfeathers all standing up on end and flaring out half way. Then he looks left, looks right and with a flex-- TADAAAAAAAA~ Unfurled flame-wrought pinions, arching high and uplifted behind his back. He flicks the primaries toward the roof high above, twice and a moment after, pounces on the King of Hell, wrapping arms about him with a sudden lusty hunger. <<I feel /amazing/. Slightly more than I anticipated and we shall have to see if your transfusion has altered my genomic structure significantly, but right now, all I want to do is /feel/. I feel as if I haven't felt... ever.>>
Lucifer	"You'll have to see it in a mirror. Later. When we're home." Lucifer offers, mostly because he wants Nathaniel to see it and partly because he's not sure if it's just for show in the moment. Like god doing some sick joke in a sense. Watching as Nathaniel shakes himself, spreads those wings and sort of flexes himself in a way. Lucifer grins and nods, about to say something further when he finds himself pounced with that sudden, lusty hunger. "I see...well then I shall have to do all that I can to ensure that you feel all the things I am able to make you feel. Perhaps even ten-fold." A pause and Lucifer looks around a moment. "...Here in my throne room?"
Sinister	"/Wicked/ of me, isn't it? Or should I say, impudent. It would be more apt," Yes, that was definitely a flex and now, those flame-tipped wings furl again, though there's a shiver to them, a rustle and whirr as they do so. But he dials himself back a little, releasing enough to regain his proper composure, but not before he can spread fingers into hair, take a grip and pull close for a conversation killer. Lets just count to ten. Fifteen. Better make it thirty. Okay, okay, a minute and tongues don't just count for eating and talking. Those arms are possessive though, denying negative space between once again, as he's done a time or two before. Mine~ "You did it again. Home. I wonder over that."
Lucifer	"Mmn... it's wicked of you to give hint that something will start which does not. That, my love, is wicked indeed..." Samael offers with a chuckle. He watches those wings too. They're beautiful and captivating. Oh and those are fingers in hair, a grip and a killer. Fuck. They might be in trouble. Ease it. Just a bit. There we go. But they want, almost need...it's been so long... "I did. Why not? You have a few scattered around. What's one more? With me."
Sinister	"With you," Nathaniel repeats the words, pulls one last tug at scalp to expose that darkly handsome face to his eyes again for a fleeting memory imprint, then releases to simply hold, enfolding his other arm behind and joining the gesture of affection with the shadow of both wings. He remains that way, the scent of brimstone and the screams of the damned filtering in no matter what is done. Only the devil himself has the power to dispell /that/. "I didn't have a home, my love. Now... I do."
Lucifer	"You do." Lucifer repeats, in a mimicked gesture of what Nathaniel did before. He gains those eyes for a moment and then there is the embrace, and he does the same. Arms around to hold, to take in, to be with for as long a moment as can last. The screams of the damned, the scent of brimstone, it's music to the Devil's ears. Perhaps less so to others. He breathes in the scent of his lover and then, in a moment, they are gone from Hell and back in the penthouse. In their bed, Lucifer still below and against the mattress with Nathaniel atop him. "I love you, Nathaniel Essex."
Sinister	Slightly cinnamony at the moment. It might wear off, one never knows. The possessive grip tightens about Lucifer -- there is nothing that will be between them, so those limbs say in their bodylanguage -- Disorientation is a milisecond in its length, before the arms release to lay the Morningstar against the pillows, gazing down. That expression he has worn before, the one that he wears now, that sees absolute beauty in the one he views, without reserve. It is intensely private, and utterly personal. "And I you, Samael." Wings spread just slightly as he lowers himself to the linens and the warmth of welcoming arms, solace found in the Prince of the damned.