cxffexngel

[cxffexngel]

If anyone had to ever ask Sandalphon about how things would've turned out after the whole intricate happenings of the Phoenix, the ancient people and everything - to witness the omnipotent's power in such a scale it could've easily destroyed the world and reality as it is or, perhaps, worse – Alas. Like once Lucifer had trusted the singularity, the current supreme primarch, too, put all his bets on. Still, there's many things he's currently weighting within the safe little corner of the grandcypher as days go on. Just like with every cataclysm by now that seem to follow the crew no matter what and he's just learned to not think too much about as it, thankfully could be dealt by about everyone within despise his own power within his fingertips. It gave Sandalphon... an odd sense of relief, one that helped.

And truthfully, seeing the primals that pursue the phoenix finally settle down and not try to come for the Singularity's life is one less headache for him; actually, it feels nostalgic and morbidly amusing. As if to become a welcome visitor... one must've had tried to attempt against their life once and Sandalphon, as much as he hates to remember such thing, had, too, done such thing. No more.

Bennu was a peculiar one. Not much was known to the archangel beyond what Raziel had imparted of what she knows about them and having been both at the opposing sides of the battlefield and in hand with the odd group - it almost reminds him of Uriel in terms of strength. Earth elemental beasts always had some odd pipeline of being hotheaded, grand, proud and strong and the one before him gave such impression to Sandalphon - yet as promised, he'd lend an ear to them. Attempt to be the leader the current supreme primarch sometimes still doesn't believe he's fit to be, but tries his best. '' Ah, that's because the beans harvested for this blend were grown within grand altitudes, far-away farms within Levin grounds that I had the honor to visit and sample some of their plants for my own use. '' Sadalphon says, calmly while battered but skilled hands worked on drying washed plates and placing them away within the shelves. Such is the dance of everyday life in the cafe. Brewing, serving, cleaning, rinse and repeat. It was soothing to hush the wounds the heart harbor. And to somehow let this also be a moment of respite those burdened like the Visitor primal is nothing but a gift, he's learned. '' I though you'd appreciate something that could match your energy. Coffee has a good effect at amplifying energy in a pinch, as so it also can help uncloud your mind and soul. As some mortals like to say. '' There's a low hum, almost like a gentle chuckle that doesn't quite get there, but even then, the primarch is content. Red gaze goes back to the much taller primal from behind the counter while reaching for the porcelain handle of the pot not too far from his reach. '' It can help if there's anything in your mind as well, or at least, for me it does. Say – Is something bothering you? To have come here without the rest, or simply is it curiosity? Whatever is it, feel free to stay as much as needed. '' And so long he doesn't stir any trouble... Fights in the cafe wouldn't be a good thing even if it's a friendly spar. Just another headache he'd rather avoid.

@cxffexngel

Though the primal has long been calmed after the events of ...the phoenix, there was little else to do but keep training. Be it anything else, to defend the realm should another invasion happen again.

"...Its as bitter as mountain herbs."

Tasting coffee of a high ranking primal though is another thing, to train his taste buds.

#ic #nostalgic flavor; [ 1 ] #dSFÑKDSÑFKDF oh wach as sandalphon tries his best to be the most normal guy ever but even he knows he's not exactly as ok as he seems #tbh the canon that works w my sandalphon is that in this one lucifer's revived already so maybe a bit divergent #but if it's easier one where's hes dead and sandy has the head somewhere thats also alright! #tungl didnt notify when you sent me this i am so sorry aaaHHHHH but it's better late than never #no need to match my writting lenght btw i tend to ramble a LOT

[cxffexngel]

Somewhere he knows, inside the battered and worn thing his core is despise it's resplendence and cracks, he knows how Lucifer probably will never be rid of those guilts and burdens the very same way his own heart will never be able to heal from the hurt and despair back at the garden, from that moment when he fled to the war and took lives that shouldn't have, to the time spent schakled down in that prison with nothing but his claws and teeth and swords to stay alive in the hell that pandemonium was before it got banished into nothing but dust. And it makes a wave of shame surge through his body, an ice cold rush that comes and goes, he's felt that so many times he knows how to ignore it and replace it with just sighing and meet Lucifer's own sorrows and deep grief with nothing but compasion and his best attempts at kindness. Adobe everything, something the current supreme primarch all he's wanted was to see Lucifer unbound of his duties, to smile and live. To not have those deep bags under his eyes; a telltale of burdens back in that garden the other would never voice, or the stoic, distant glances he'd give astrals that rarely would come fetch the other when he'd overstay or missions arose without notice.

Sandalphon was observant, he could see the slighest shift on the other that'd mean Lucifer was fighting himsefl to either stay or not, and oh that hurt, it hurt because at the time, he didn't know how to approach that. Scared he was overstepping, scared it'd be met with rejection or that maybe hed anger lucifer over thinking too much and assuming. But now he knows he should've pushed harder - and since the past cannot be undone, he has the power now. '' This time, you won't lose me. Not to anyone, not for your actions. '' And that's a promise. One he will, if necessary, remind the other over and over, be it word by word on in gentle actions like holding Lucifer's hands in the busiest of villages they'd need to stroll around, to simply quiet moments within mountains and sea. '' And neither I wish you to see you in pain as well– heh... But I don't want to ask you to lay everything that's burdened you. Just– Rely on me, the way I've relied on you all this time. However long it takes to know what your desires, wishes, everything are... Even your flaws, all of them I cherish it,, your past, even if some of that are a mystery to me, Lucifer. '' And unlike Lucifer's bluntness to say things, sandalphon's words are strained, awkward, his brows purse at how scratchy his own whispers are, that he leans his head back a bit and rests, instead, his forehead on the other's while inhaling a bit of air. Letting the whisk of snow white hair tickle his nose and the faint scent of coffee and flower and dew enrich his lungs a bit despise the heavy heart and the bareness of their moment. '' It wasn't a battle I needed to fight, but I did. For you and because I wanted to. '' He could've gone by his own words back in canaan, and used Lucifer's wings to bring ruin to the world, he could've let Lucilius just destroy everything, but no. Determination, a promise, goals - the crew he's come to love and cherish just like how he cherishes Lucifer. But he says nothing more, out of love, and because maybe it was for the best for now.

'' And for you as well, even if bringing you back means... all of this, to face the greatest challenge that is the heart and how heavy it can be, I hope I did right with that. '' Oh how he still feels guilty sometimes of burdening Lucifer with this, the purgatory, oh lonely place for souls to rest and yet, he wanted to give Lucifer a chance, much like the four primarchs that found their own calling despise the struggles. Lucifer deserve a chance that he was robbed of. '' Then, because I want to, and choose to, this life– our life. Your life - even when wars are inevitable between mortals, primal beasts, the otherworld and many other dangers, but one thing we both have learned... they're resilient. And if they can, I believe we can as well. '' And he wants to make sure of that, if he has to be the sword and light to plunge all, if not most of the dangers away, then he will, if he has to fight tooth and nail from the silliest happening of a broken cup to fending off an army of monsters, then he will.

But just like Lucifer, he does not elaborate further, the small anecdote of just a minuscule, yet important part of what paints his body told has been enough to give the other a lot to process, and as much as it's easy to brood, Sandalphon can't bear the other hurting when he can soothe the wounds. Hesitant - or maybe fearful he might bring forth more worries for the other, to weight down the scales even more with more tired shoulders can bear for the night, Sandalphon lets the silence drag a bit, letting his own, weak light from aurburn pinnions bring a bit of warmth for the other, let that little light be assimilated into white plumes so he can give what he can for Lucifer to find that solace he so much says he is to him. And oh how relief washes over him when he feels that little smile, even when probably hair sticks to the former supreme primarch's lips, despise unable to see it. Mirrored by how his own worn and chapped ones lazily form one of his own, and limps a bit into the embrace. '' Perhaps, we are both fools, but I'd change nothing about it– '' Except Lucifer's unwavering need to protect others before himself, for oh how it breaks Sandalphon's heart in million ways, and brings admiration all the same because he' too, feels like it'd be the same in his own feet. At where he is now, he'd hesitate nothing and throw his own body, sacrifice every limb, tear off his wings and nails if it all were to protect those he holds dear. So he understands, yet also finds cruel. Self sacrifice being, perhaps one thing that love brings the most out with it's bloody claws, in so, so many forms - something he never believes to ever understand yet - for now, allows it to go forgotten in order to let Lucifer grieve.

He's had his own time to grieve, he still does. Long lost days, centuries - So much of it. But eternity is there for them. '' Heh, at least we won't end up like when the captain drives himself sick over caring someone inflicted by transmissible illnesses. '' A small deflect, one to bring a bit of a more warm atmosphere and move on. It's the best way to let both of their hearts rest a bit. And Sandalphon lifts his head from Lucifer's shoulder, mourning the loss of touch but his wings only keep the embrace in place, a small veil of a messy aurburn and white - mostly white blanket of lazy feathers as they almost circle both of them. Where they end and the bed sheets start almost lost and giving them a look brings Sandalphon a flush of warmth to his core amidst the dread and grief. '' Kept saying he was fine despise the obvious awful coughs and snoot. Gross... '' And oh, the memory is an endearing one - even if he omits having been worried himself as well and how, sometimes, even primals can fall victim to viruses and bacteria. Something Sandalphon isn't sure he'd be able to experience and prefers never to – Can Lucifer even get sick? The question makes the other's brows furrow deep in though. And oh, now the more he thinks silly, white what ifs and worries over small things, maybe Sandalphon truly has found a little bit more space to heal from old woulds. '' Ah– but that's nonsense. Lucifer... I know it's late. But maybe I could summon our cups and trays. Instead going to the kitchen... or maybe we could go on a walk? To... soothe our minds. '' He tries suggesting after shaking his head and throw out the many thoughts that can easily plague him, from minor things to when the demons back in his core reap from the shadows. Only hoping it isn't too sudden, but if the other refuses– '' If not, that's alright. Even silence, or to stay like this, in this room is enough. Honestly, something I've come to appreciate, '' Oh, appreciate is such a small word when in reality he feels blessed, it a dream, it's perhaps too good to be true yet reality keeps bringing it forth, each morning, each night, each boring evening when closing the cafe or afternoon doing nothing at all watering plants or cleaning the airship's endless worn floors. '' it's simply to see you, hold your hand, when you lean on me after just humming o-or.... saying my name. '' And this last confession brings a bit of warmth in his face, one the primarch gingerly needs to still his worn core or it might set aflame.

Sandalphon's answer is more or less what Lucifer had assumed it would be, but had dreaded regardless. Upon actually hearing the other admit it aloud, his expression drops slightly--wings coming to sag over Sandalphon's back, seemingly drained of the strength and will to hold them up. Sandalphon understands his own sentiments--understands how conflicted and convoluted and estranged his own thoughts are, but he would much rather the other blame him. Sandalphon's suffering, in regards to these specific scars, is a direct result of Lucilius's cruelty, but Lucifer can't bring himself to blame his creator. Instead, it's fat easier for him to blame himself. To believe that he would have been capable of changing fate had he just paid more mind to the ones he loves most. No matter how farfetched that line of thinking it is--it's still a gentler pill to swallow than accepting the fact that Lucilius had acted of his own accord and desire. Somehow, someway, this must all be his fault somehow. Perhaps it truly is in the nature of the creation to be incapable of blaming the creator, but that thought leaves a lump in his throat and a dent in his core. Sandalphon's admission cuts him down to the bone because Lucifer is fully aware that the other is speaking and acting of love for him. People, himself included--he's learned--will do anything and everything for love. "I know, Sandalphon," he sighs weakly. Just as Sandalphon defers him of blame out of love for him, Lucifer concedes out of love for the current Supreme Primarch. He sympathizes with Sandalphon because he understands his pain--understands how and where it hurts.

But Lucifer would much rather die again than allow Sandalphon's wings to be ripped from his back even one more time. Perhaps that makes him selfish--perhaps that makes him a walking contradiction because he fears nothing more than losing Sandalphon to the point where he can barely even stomach the idea of the other getting hurt these days. At times, he wonders if he's dreaming as well, but the persistent hum of his core and Sandalphon's continuous warmth often him pull him out of such thoughts. He has to be alive in order to feel both. "And I fear nothing more than losing you, Sandalphon," he admits softly. If his life were to ever become a burden that would bring pain to the other, he would sacrifice it in a heartbeat just as easily as he had the first time, but he knows now to swallow such words, and keep them tucked away within the safety of his own chest. "I do not ever wish to see you in pain. I do not wish for you to suffer," he says instead.

He knows he can't dwell on what ifs, after all, he's spent far too much of his own life doing so. But Sandalphon's attempt to reassure him only further cements Lucifer's own feelings of guilt and shame and regret. Sandalphon should have never needed to confront Lucilius in the first place. He should have stopped Lucilius long before he had taken a sword to the other's throat. He should have taken more care when interacting with his creator--he should have noticed when the Astral had begun to spiral, and he should have saved him then. Logically, Lucifer knows his own thoughts are little more than hopeless delusions. But a part of him will always be convinced that he could saved both Lucilius and Sandalphon--that he somehow could have found a way to spare them from all of the suffering they endured. From the very agony that naturally comes with being alive. "That was a battle you should have never needed to wage." He can concede on nearly anything Sandalphon brings up, but he cannot let go of his own failings when it comes to Lucilius--his creator's sins were his failures to carry, not Sandalphon's. Never Sandalphon's.

Even so, he allows himself to be pulled into Sandalphon's embrace. He instinctively leans his forehead against the other's shoulder. Sandalphon is warm--of course he's warm, he alive, after all. And the drum of his core has become something intimately familiar to Lucifer--truthfully, it always has been. He finds comfort in knowing Sandalphon has come to understand what he desires. But Lucifer would have been willing--and will always be willing--to sacrifice every last wish of his own to grant even one of Sandalphon's. If not seeing his own desires come to fruition could have spared Sandalphon of all of this, he would have gladly severed every last dream he had ever considered harboring with his own two hands. "My greatest wish had, and will always be, for your happiness and safety, Sandalphon." He doesn't elaborate further--by now they both understand the meaning behind his words. By now, though Lucifer will not admit it out loud for the other's sake, he suspects Sandalphon already knows how willing he is to give up everything for him all over again.

He feels the warmth of Sandalphon's wings forming within the nest he's created around them. His own naturally part to make room for them--pearly feathers tickling Sandalphon's brown ones. Even without lifting his head to look at those wings, Lucifer knows, by nothing more than touch alone, which pair of the other's wings have slotted around his own. Gently, he briefly brushes his rosy plumes along Sandalphon's wings before allowing them to settle into a comfortable position. "I know you will not," Lucifer repeats once more. Sandalphon has always been stubborn, and would always be stubborn. Lucifer, as well, in his own way, is equally as stubborn though almost never when it conflicts with Sandalphon's own determination. Save for his self-sacrificing tendencies that Lucifer will carry to his own grave again and again. "Even so, I wish to carry all that you will me to." Lucifer will always concern himself more with others than he ever will himself. He may allows Sandalphon grace--may happily accept and embrace Sandalphon's pain and suffering, but he doesn't want to trouble the other with any of his own burdens. He has, after all, carried them on his own for millennia. Times has eroded the stone walls built around them bit by bit, and one day they will crumble all around him, but, for now, he won't trouble Sandalphon with them. "You will come to understand one day." Through what he experiences as Supreme Primarch or through Lucifer's own confessions--whichever may come first, but he's too tired right now to say more on the matter. Too bogged down by grief. "I know that, and yet I always pray these skies will be gentler for you despite how cruel they have already been."

Lucifer slowly lifts his head from Sandalphon's shoulder when he feels the other's wing wrap around his back. "And you have me, Sandalphon--my solace." His skin burns where the other's lips press against his jaw, and he tilts his head slightly to make more room for Sandalphon's head where he buries his nose into the crux of his neck. "I still wish for a peaceful life for you." His voice is no louder than the other's, little more than a mere whisper spoken softly against Sandalphon's ear. "With you," he adds even quieter. "I will not allow your wings to be torn from you again. Should you ever burn your hands, I will soothe your pain, and should you ever be wounded--I will care for you until you are well again." He doesn't carry the same power he once had. He is no longer capable of great feats of magic nor can he heal grievous wound in an instant. What little he still possess now pales in comparison to what Sandalphon has gained. But he has acquired something in this second life of his--he has learned resilience from the Skydwellers who persevere in spite everything they cannot do. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss against the side of Sandalphon's head--the angle is awkward, and he tastes strands of the other's hair on his lips in the process, but smiles anyway.

#aaetherius #nostalgic flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #meanwhile as we speak i am iconing every single new sandt art the relink update has given us bc oh gosh this is so much food I am thriving #but also the heart of the sun detail........ sandy ur's not alright #this sandalphon also is not alright but he's trying DSFÑKSDÑFKDSÑFDf #sadly it is law that the pretty white haired man will express love through self sacrifice #and giving a piece of himself to everyone he loves but never leaving anything for himself #shAKES HIM

[cxffexngel]

Guilt, regrets, shame - many of those emotions rise the more he senses, and sees the other pain for things none of them both were guilty of. Even if Lucifer had been more free, to have relieved himself of duties faster or even step down earlier than he wanted to, Sandalphon doubts it'd have made any difference - And hell, even now he can't bring himself to argue beyond the frown that mars his face. The pains of his scars no longer something that burns his back and more feel like just a slight backache from standing too many hours when serving in the cafe, no longer they even feel as a painful memory but a reminder of what probably most primal beasts had to endure, if no worse considering other of them out there with similar grievances that weight on them, which in turn helps understanding them and bringing judgement on them in the least painful way possible so they can have peace for once. '' I can't. '' he musters, soft and careful within the stagnant air between them as his face relaxes almost instinctively against the gentle touch of Lucifer's trembling wings and the gentle hold on his jaw, almost melting into it like the way those pesky cats within the grancypher would become just a heap of fluff at the slightest touch under their chin by Lucifer whenever they'd approach him. '' Perhaps, being creations makes us unable to blame the creator. Which.... is both a blessing, and a curse in a way. I cannot blame you, even if for a moment, I almost did - but then realized how wrong I was. I just can't, Lucifer. '' And oh he knows it might hurt the other, but also he's determined.

'' Ripped wings and sewn back multiple times, nothing compares to when I lost you, Lucifer. Even now, my.... my biggest fear is you being gone. That everything leading to this present is nothing but imagination that's just lasted far too long in a cruel twist of fate. '' Yet, unlike lucifer who is weighted by his own demons and regrets, Sandalphon tries to stand steady, his eyes opening again with the comforting warmth he's learned to have, and - also surprices himself how at peace he feels, regardless the guilts that fire arrows over and over against his own ailing core that stubbornly ignores them in turn to be that solace that Lucifer's always said the current supreme primarch is to him. So he tries. '' If you hadn't bestowed the ability to adapt like I can, I would've never been able to help and stop Lucilius when everything happened. '' He starts, even if probably won't hear or be too deep within his own sorrows, but even then, he tries. Shifting from where he sits and leaning a bit back to properly face Lucifer, as quietly and slow as he can despise his own body sometimes creaking and bones creaking. Missing the touch of their foreheads together, but replacing it with letting go the other hand of Lucifer's so, in turn, arms reach for the other's shoulders and pull Lucifer to his frame in one of those hugs that he, more times he can count, has been pulled into - reluctantly sometimes, forced by stubborn souls like Gran and Lyria despise his greatest complains and grunts or efforts to shake them off. It's strong, but careful all at the same time, chests close to one another so Lucifer can hear his the same way whenever he'd rest his head against the other, it's the gentle sound of Lucifer's new core all that matters in the world. '' I know I can't change your mind, and can't miraculously rid you of guilt the same way you can't undo the past. Lucifer... But, would have you even realized your wishes if all of this didn't happen? Would I have known and discovered what I want to live for were it not for my... own choices that I'm atoning for? ''

A gentle glow emanates from within the cabin, as if the very stars reflected by the window are gently plucked from the night sky one by one, whisked by gentle calls as Sandalphon's back forms the silhouette of two wings, before they materialize - light gently presses against his body and give space for the wings of Lucifer's own to make a bit of space, but never pushing them away. In a silent breeze, aurburn wings form on one of the set of scars, replacing the curves of dents that skin remind of past horrors into a beautiful array of fluffy, brown and light oranges as they cover a small part of it. Slowly, they unfurl in a sweet, silent shift as Sandalphon uses one to gently cradle the wings Lucifer had offered into his own hold. Even now, his own pair never are as big as Lucifer's, even now, they probably look a bit duller than Lucifer's new pairs of artificial ones that help keeping the other with energy to survive like a normal primal beast - And even now, he tries his best, when his own hands had known violence and war, unsuited to be gentle, offer the same gentleness Lucifer always offers back. '' Look... I– '' But his voice breaks a bit, mostly from guilts that even now weight heavily. '' You can't do that, Lucifer. Hold all my pain alone, I won't allow you... Instead, shouldering these things together, healing from it - moving on however hard it is to deal with 'what ifs' is what I believe best it could be. It's not easy. '' Hell, even probably impossible, for beings that have eternity ahead, but even then... '' I can't blame you for these things, but... I can ask - just like your wings had bestowed me a view of your own struggles, but very brief ones. I want to share the burdens you also have. With time, of course. To know about your own scars and help you with them, even if it takes centuries to even be able to talk about it. ''

And he speaks from sincerity. Pure, unconditional love that Sandalphon was made and burdened with. If lucifer was a light that flickered like thousand suns, then he is the moon that catches what he can to reflect it and give a light for those in the darkness cannot find their way. If Lucifer is ever lost in thoughts like he's been in days where he looked much more exhausted than usual, then he will be the shoulder he's always been so the other could lean. Even if Lucifer can only offer apologies instead of saying what ails his heart, then he will forgive every apology without even asking. A free wing, just like Lucifer's own, presses firmly against Lucifer's back as Sandalphon keeps the strong, but gentle embrace keeping Lucifer against his chest, lashes falling half mast as they tickle against the other's ear - whispering sweetly despise the dry throat that talking about just a single moment of the past had still left dents and wounds open. '' Just like you wanted a peaceful life for me. Then... Allow me to wish the same for you, however challenging it must be. You won awful wars alone, but this... The battle that living is, you won't battle this one alone. You have me, Lucifer. My guiding light. Even if life once more rips my wings off my back, I'll fight. If my hands burn from spilling hot water, I'll heal it. If you get wounds from handling paper, I'll hold them so they feel better. '' And he plants a small, fleeting press against the other's jaw while diving his nose into the other's shoulder.

Lucifer has long since grown used to Sandalphon subconsciously flinching at his touch--at any touch. Yet, despite knowing it'll happen, and being prepared for it, seeing the other tense still makes his core twist and throb in guilt and shame and remorse. He has always assumed it is a habit that had imprinted on him during the time he had spent trapped in Pandemonium. Perhaps a result of always having to be on guard, of constantly getting into fights. He's not entirely certain, but, now, he wonders if that habit had been born from something else. Something like the scars on his back, or the things Sandalphon has yet to tell him. He could spend all of eternity taking wild guesses and making baseless assumptions--the end result would always be the same, he simply could never know what Sandalphon doesn't wish for him to know. But eternity is something they both possess, and he's willing to wait until the very end of time itself for Sandalphon to unfurl his wings, and expose the deepest parts of his heart to him. Patience is a virtue that Lucifer has possessed since the very moment of his creation, and he harbors it in spades for the current Supreme Primarch.

So, when Sandalphon does begin speaking, he doesn't interject, he only nods his head or offers a soft, noncommittal hum in response to let him know that he's listening.

He's fairly familiar with the labs back on Canaan. He had been present a handful of times during the creation of the first few Primarchs, though, over the years--the more and more archangels that were created--the less time he spent in or even around those facilities as he had other matters to attend to, and Lucilius no longer requested his presence or input. He's also familiar with the maintenance checks Sandalphon mentions. Or rather, he knows of them through only his own experience. They were intended to gauge an individual's performance and well-being, to see if any changes were needed, or if anything had gone wrong at some point. At times Lucilius would label certain creations as failures, though why or what exactly that entailed Lucifer wasn't privy to. By the time it became more common, he already had his hands full with other matters. Sandalphon's assumption; however, was correct. While it was a fairly rare occurrence, as Lucilius deemed such a mundane procedure unnecessary for him--the one dubbed the Astral's greatest creation--Lucilius himself had always been the one to personally look after Lucifer. He had met his fair share of Astrals while accompanying his creator, from time to time he would briefly engage with them, but anything more, and Lucilius would swiftly draw a a cold, hard line. He had the nagging suspension that, if anyone were to push their luck, Lucilius likely would've sent them off with one less limb.

So, he hums faintly once again, acknowledging Sandalphon's suspicions, but waits for him to continue without speaking up on the matter. He imagines the process was more or less the same as it was for him for the other Archangels. The possibility of Lucilius showing him favoritism was something Lucifer assumed--after all, most of what the other was describing right now was quite similar to his own situation, though only to extent that it was Lucilius himself looking after him--never anything more than that.

His wings tense instinctively a Sandalphon continues. If Sandalphon's tone had been different, he wouldn't have thought much of them either. He was by no means naive. He knew, to a certain extent, that Lucilius wasn't always kind. But he also existed in a world that was, largely, exclusive to himself and himself only. In a world where Lucilius was an individual with thoughts and feelings that were not always cruel and calculating and vengeful. Lucilius was capable of violence, perhaps more so than average, but he had never been aggressive or brutal to Lucifer himself, nor in his presence. That side of the man was, for the most part, foreign to the former Supreme Primarch. So, had the other's voice not been so heavy when those were spoken, Lucifer would have initially believed gaining Lucilius's interest was a good thing rather than a terrible one.

A frown stains his rosy lips as Sandalphon continues--each word seemingly becoming more and more difficult for the other to say. He understands the burden he unintentionally placed on the current Supreme Primarch with that choice that, at the time, had been made out of a desperate desire to give Sandalphon the freedom he and the other archangels lacked. Regardless of the path Sandalphon took, he had wanted nothing more than for the other to be able to choose it with his own two hands. In the end, he supposes, ironically, it was his desire to give Sandalphon that choice that had ended up sealing his fate instead. He hums faintly, though it's strangled and hesitant. He knows Lucilius well enough to have an inkling as to where this conversation is heading, but that doesn't mean he can accept it--or imagine it. His gaze shifts downwards to their hands, and he briefly recalls the image of the scars decorating Sandalphon's back. He's committed them to memory by now--analyzed them a thousand times over in the safety of his own head, and he continues to come to the exact same conclusion every single time. Those cuts were most certainly done by Lucilius's hand. Yet, his core still denies the possibility--or rather, refuses to acknowledge it until the words actually fall from Sandalphon's mouth.

Lucifer's artificial wings stiffen against his own back at that question, and his gentle hold on Sandalphon's hand squeezes slightly--not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear it had been involuntary.

"Sandalphon," Lucifer exhales. His voice is broken and unsteady--hoarse and worn. It feels like all of the years leading up to this day have suddenly caught up to him at once, and neither his mind or body can keep up with all of the memories and battles that surge through every bone in his body rapidly. Replaying so quickly that he can hardly even think about all of it. He lowers his head, still staring at their hands like the warmth of Sandalphon's palm is the only thing keeping him tethered to this plane of reality. There has never been a moment, not even during his own death, where he had wished he harbored the ability to turn back time, but, right now, in this very moment, he sincerely wishes he could start back over from the very beginning, and somehow shield Sandalphon from all he's been forced to endure because of his failures and short-comings.

He should have been more careful. He shouldn't have left Sandalphon as frequently as he had. He should have noticed how much pain and hatred Lucilius held within him. Things might have turned out differently if he had. Perhaps he could have saved both of them from the agony they've been forced to carry. Even now, it's far easier for him to blame himself than anyone else--even the one who had held the scalpel and knife within his hands. And Sandalphon's words do little to quell his thoughts or soothe the guilt he feels wrapping around his throat like a noose. Truthfully, he barely even registers what's being said--he can't even begin to guess who would have used his name against Sandalphon, nor is it the most pressing matter at hand anymore. It was thousands of years ago at this point--finding out who had done it wouldn't matter now. Nor did he have any desire to clear his name when he might as well have been the one pulling Sandalphon's wings out himself for how badly he had let the other down.

"No, Sandalphon, my love," he heaves, chest quivering with every word that filters past his damp lips. "If anyone is to blame for what you suffered through, it is me. I am the one who failed to notice. The one who failed to protect you." He exhales, tasting iron on his tongue as he lifts his head, and extends his trembling wings outward to wrap them carefully around Sandalphon's shoulders. He doesn't have the same control over them as he had his real ones, and they're clunky to move around at times--their feathers, soft but awkward, brush against the other's cheeks as they move to rest over Sandalphon's back. If he still possessed the power he had once held, those same feathers would have warmed and begun to glow, but, no longer could he provide comfort in the way he had once known how to. So, instead, he leans forward, he presses his forehead against Sandalphon's--feeling the warmth that radiates off of the other's skin against his own that feels dreadfully cold right now in contrast.

"I am sorry, Sandalphon." His free hand lifts, though hesitantly, to run his fingers along Sandalphon's jaw. If the gesture is meant to soothe the other or himself it's impossible to tell. He should have paid more attention to those he held dear. It seems he's done nothing but cause them pain all of these years. "I have failed you time and time again." His core feels like it's contracting until it's closing in on itself and threatening to burst into pieces that would be impossible to gather up once again. His chest is painfully tight, and his voice dreadfully low and quiet. A whisper that sounds wrong in all of the worst possible ways. He doesn't want Sandalphon's forgiveness or his mercy though he knows the other would readily give him both, so he doesn't ask--doesn't allow Sandalphon the chance to try to strip him of the blame again.

"I am…glad you told me, Sandalphon." He is. Sincerely. As much as it hurts him to know, he's grateful Sandalphon was willing to confide in him, and reveal the ugliness that had resulted in those scars. "I…" He pauses for a moment, leaning closer in an attempt to quell the painful throbbing of his worthless core. He wishes he could have taken Sandalphon's place, but oh he knows, no matter how willing he would have been, Lucilius would have sooner burned the skies to ash than allow his wings to be plucked from his body. And that was part of what made it all so heavy. Because, to him, Lucilius is his creator and Sandalphon is the most precious person in the world to him. Hw wishes he could have taken all of their suffering onto himself. Wishes he would have prevented them from clashing. Wishes he could have kept Sandalphon safe. "I am sorry, Sandalphon," he repeats. "I beg you not to displace the blame I am deserving of. I cannot atone for allowing you to suffer, and my ignorance on the matter is no excuse, so I beg of you, again, not to use it as such. I wish I could take all of your pain, Sandalphon--I wish I could have given you the life you have always deserved."

#aaetherius #nostalgic flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #DÑKFÑDKF me too!!!! at least the drafting method to later trim works fine but I do miss being able to softly put your post with a line #separating it bc it looked nice and aesthetic #but tungl hates it #i am in shambles and lucifer is so sad my poor hear t #but sandy now has more ways to try and be the comfort he wants to be for lucifer and help him #watch as I dive my face into my hands bc ugh these two are the death to me

[cxffexngel]

A slight tremble rushes through his body, born from the gentle, audible shuffle and mute creak of old handmade wood that makes up for the bed's frame as weight shifts, wings of white he can catch slightly from the corner of his eye move away as Lucifer sits ever so slowly. Like if an animal had come to the bed and has found shelter in it yet needed to be threaded as carefully as it could. Oh even now it feels not real, that the other is there, that he will listen and there being nothing that can rob them of this time unlike far back thousand years ago when words were at the tip of his tongue, the moments where he had gathered enough energy to try and be selfish for once but even then, fate never was at his side. Called out for meetings or new missions, Lucifer would leave before a younger sandalphon was able to muster strength to even say anything or beg him to stay, and instead, smile and wish him well - maybe hold his hand or tug at the other's ribbon for longer than necessary, but even when his eyes would plea the other, words never rose. Instead, now it's almost the other way sometimes - Lucifer, now bound to just live the life as he wished, to choose for himself what he wanted to do each day was the one asking sandalphon to stay, between almost comically pathetic whines to groans and soft, sleep-kissed words spoken by the former supreme primarch that would melt Sandalphon's battered core into mush. What makes them more magical, to Sandalphon, is seeing the other so carefree, free of burdens and strained smiles he'd feel the other muster when it was clear how much the other would not want to go, to stay even if just a little more minutes more and sink into the quietness of the garden - and now he can do the same, stay behind or say goodbyes that are not like the past, those that will just last a few minutes, hours at best. Rarely days if Sandalphon has to take care of more heavy things like rampaging primals that need to be calmed down; but thankfully this can also be taken cared by the crew itself.

The quietness of the room gives away to that purposeful rustle of feathers, from when he can feel them flex quietly to give space for Lucifer to move, to when he reaches out and Sandalphon, in turn, tries his best not to flinch at that ever so feathery light touch the other always carefully threads him with whenever initiating such contact. But even then, no matter how many times, his body jerks a bit - a seconds long wave of fear that his subconscious will never heal from always making that part difficult before he sinks into the touch and even leans back a bit to let the warmth from Lucifer's palm help ease the demons within his mind. Tension melting away with a drawn out, dry sigh that audibly sizzles from slightly open lips as scarlet eyes dance away from his hands and meet halfway ever so patient sky blue ones that the primarch is unable not to wish to lose himself just marveling at them, every time. " I…. " Oh he knows Lucifer wants to know, the way he always honeys his name like that is a chorus for his core and makes it easier to ignore the demons and worse parts of himself that crawl from the depths of his soul just to hinder these moments into nothingness, replaced by the sweet reassurances that deflate even more Sandalphon into comfort. Lucifer has learned more and more on how to meet him at his most vulnerable, that touch, while still something that he yearned but also had become something his body would flinch away from, and sometimes still does - it also helps when coming from those he cares about, especially Lucifer. Even when Lyria would touch his hands with her delicate, small fingers it'd be enough to quell million years of flames and anger in a heartbeat. Oh, but he also almost laments the moment passes, too fast and too slowly all at the same time, when Lucifer's hand leaves his back, scars aching with a yearning and a tickle of cool air making the hairs of his nape stand a bit before settling back, and his frame suddenly feeling smaller despise nothing changing besides Lucifer's closeness and how his reassurances work keeping at bay the turbulent thing that is his emotions as they flare and burn and yet also feel frozen and thorny.

Sucking in a dry, stale breath that faintly escapes him, Sandalphon shuffles to sit fully on the bed, facing Lucifer - never letting go the hold Lucifer has on his hands. Legs crossed as his gaze falls again on their linked hands and digits curl a bit on Lucifer's own larger palm. " Back at Canaan; you knew about the labs. Testing facilities on the other side of the island and all those rooms where the angels and other primal beasts were made, right? " Of course he would, but even then, he still asks but not really wanting an answer; it's mostly context Sandalphon lays for them. Oh the cold halls of the island, sometimes quiet but not the same silence that governed the garden. It was dead quiet, a cold kind unlike the ripe freshness of lush grass, leaves and birds that sung. " At some point after my creation, all angels, me included usually would have appointments. Maintenance check ups as they'd call it. I suppose Lucilius did those personally for you, I doubt he'd let any no-name astral get close to you despise them being smart enough. In my case… "

He cannot meet Lucifer's eyes, but even then now the pain, the memories, it all feels more like a weight than a nightmare by now. Dulled with time and endless sleepless nights. And even then, they never felt as terrible as that one day with the other's head by his arms, yelling for answers the other couldn't hear yet still wished and wished in his final moments. Nothing hurt more than that exact moment more than what used to happen back in Canaan if he were to compare it. " At first it was to study 'A primal beast's creation'. Nothing too complex - tiny needles to draw out blood and analyze, a lot of questioning about this and that. It was bearable."

" Then, Lucilius noticed after papers were brought to him. Probably one of those astrals, or your notes when creating me. I don't certainly know when he noticed but only then - he took a slight interest. " And oh, he still remembers how small he felt at the time. Hopeful, yearning; even if the astral at the time hadn't really shown anything beyond the interest in research, to have his eyes fixed on parchments of old tomes with dulled covers. " You…. made me compatible with almost every element. That picked his interest. " There's a wry curl of his lip into a pained smile, and his eyes, for once, look up to meet the other's. Oh he doesn't blame lucifer for this - he was tasked to make an angel, nothing else. He had the freedom and chose what sandalphon had realized far too late, a freedom of choosing his own path without even meaning to, a wish the other wasn't given the chance to make for himself, and instead, given to him. How lucky he was and how much of a sick, twisted curse that Lucifer didn't mean to impart when all he did was try the most he could at the time. " Do… Do you know how it feels to have your wings ripped off your back? " He hangs the question almost quietly, his voice wavers a bit as the heavy question lingers there. Oh how he still remembers that, when he did that to the other primarchs, heels dug on Uriel's back as bone and skin broke audibly. Flesh torn without a care just like what had be done to him but with scalpels and restrains. " To know how elements could be absorbed, there was a way for Lucilius, the astrals, for them to see themselves. " And oh, the more he talks the more tired, dry and hoarse his voice comes. It's heavy, it’s something he never, ever has talked about besides hinting bits and relating to some of the experiments in very subtle occasions when the topic would surface around others - and yet, there's determination as well, the other's presence, the anchor of those ever so gentle hands on his as they cradle and soothe rough hands that have meet way too many wars and been on both sides of it, it's all he needs to keep going and even if his core hurts and feels as it's being burned alive while words fall like a long lost tale, it also helps shedding that weight that's been there, even with the guilt that also, in turn, mars his features for he knows this will probably make the other feel sad, hurt, maybe reveal something Lucifer knew or didn't know.

'' - And no, it's not your fault. None of it, you did what you had to do, Lucifer. '' He cuts before any gate would flood, his eyes meeting the other's again with tired determination, holding strong even when his soul felt crushed and serene, both at the same time in an array of emotions that are so hard to comprehend. '' All of these things happened whenever you'd be away, and at the time, all of this was done because someone wrote on your name that it was something I had to do; as far as I remember. And that's why I endured it for as long as I did. '' And were it not because Lucifer's memories threading along his own within dreams sometimes, Sandalphon would've never known Lucifer was never aware what was going on behind the scenes. It's what had, at some point, far back before the other's revival, had realized Lucifer was completely out the blue on Canaan's happenings during his absence.

The gentle hum of the Grandcypher plays softly in his ears as he feels the airship sway ever so slightly as it continues its journey through the night sky. Beyond the modest window in their shared room, Lucifer can see an array of stars poking through the darkness, occasionally reflecting off of the bed and sheets as they slowly pass them by. If he were to take the time, he could have easily plucked out the constellations speckled across the walls of their room, and given them a name. But he doesn't. They're neither as precious nor as beautiful to him as Sandalphon. If the stars were petals, Sandalphon was the flower they had fallen from. Even if spent the rest of his life admiring the other, he still wouldn't be able to explain or grasp the depths of Sandalphon's beauty, or the love he harbors for the Archangel. Though he's grown more accustomed to expressing his fathomless feelings for the other, he still, often, wonders if he truly deserves to be here. Tonight, that though crosses his mind again--not for the first time either.

His pearly wings curl against his back, their artificial feathers tickle his skin with every breath he takes. They feel ever so slightly different to his original ones, but the change is so subtle that he only notices it when he feels particularly out of place. The cotton fabric of the sheets is warm and soft against his bare arms where he's laying on the bed, and his body feels dreadfully light without the familiar weight of his armor pressing down upon him. Though he's steadily grown more used to not wearing it, he doesn't believe he'll ever fully grow accustom to its absence. Not when it had felt like an extension of his own body for so many centuries. But, when it's just the two of them--he prefers to be like this. Stripped down to his bodysuit without his armor acting like a makeshift barrier between them.

His brows furrow slightly at the tone with which Sandalphon speaks. It's a bit detached. Distant. It sends a pang of longing and heartache through his core as he sits up on the bed--slowly, as if he fears the slightest creak or rustle might make Sandalphon uncomfortable. Sandalphon's smile is small--it's timid and tired, and he can hear the gravity of it in those words. He returns it with a hesitant, yet gentle and patient smile of his own. Though it falters every so slightly at the next words to leave the Archangel's mouth. But only a moment. It's not as if he's unfamiliar with those scars. He can see them now, in the gap where Sandalphon's wings would be had they been manifested. He's seen those scars countless times before as well--he's touched them, even kissed them. He wants to know, though a part of him already does--a piece that's buried deep within him that recognizes the precise and methodical nature of those scars; that knows how purposeful those lines are. But he's never allowed himself to linger on it because he's convinced that, perhaps, with time he's misremembering--that he's wrong. Because the alternative would mean that tiny, shattered piece of himself is right, and he doesn't want to be right. So, instead, he's pushed it down, and convinced himself he was mistaken. That, perhaps, somewhere along the road to his revival, his memories had become disjointed and muffled so some of them must be distorted.

"No, it is all right," he reassures. "I want to know, Sandalphon." He always says the other's name with tenderness and care. Like it's something scared. Something to be treasured. He'll never grow tired of repeating it--of getting the opportunity to say it when, at one point in his life, he had believed he would never get the chance to utter it again, save for to himself in the lonely halls of an empty Canaan. He knows it'll be difficult for him to hear the origin of those scars, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to know, if only to be there to support Sandalphon. If telling him of the past he's not fully aware of can help ease just a fraction of the burdens Sandalphon carries then he would gladly listen until the sun rose once more, and, if it took even longer than that, he could continue to listen until the end of time itself.

Curling his wings as flat against his back as he can manage, Lucifer shifts towards the edge of the bed in order to position himself closer to the other. Softly he lifts his hand, purposefully fluttering a handful of feathers until they rustle faintly in order to give Sandalphon a warning, and presses the tip of his fingers against the other's back in the gap of the fabric that leaves his skin exposed where his wings would have otherwise sprouted. Splaying his hand open there, he feels the precise dips and bumps of those scars against his palm, deep enough that the tips of his fingers can easily fall within them. He caresses them gingerly for a long moment, his eyes pinned on the ones that peak out from beneath his suit. That nagging feeling of familiarity wells up within him all over again, and he swallows it back down painfully. Something within his whirling, tired core tells him he knows how those scars were made. Yet, no matter how many times that thought crosses his mind, he refuses to acknowledge it. There's only so long he can avoid it, though.

Sighing faintly, he pulls his hand away and kisses the center of Sandalphon's back. "It does not need to wait, if you wish to speak on the matter, I will listen." He lifts his head, and shifts so he can actually see the other's face. His attention falling to where Sandalphon is kneading the fabric of his pants. Warmly, he places his hand over the other's, and rubs his knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "However, if you decide, at any point, you no longer wish to talk about it, then stop. I will wait as long as you need, Sandalphon."

#aaetherius #nostalgic flavor; [ 1 ] #DSKÑSÑDKSD tumblr and their weird editor choices are a puzzle but at least drafting first smthing lets u get the option from xkit that trim #the post again #so at least it's not that bad. #softly have Sandy perishinG but never #ever blaming lucifer for it despise he at some point tried convincing himself it's lucifer's fault #but in reality nope! #just being in the wrong place on the wrong time and no one's at fault for that between the two

[cxffexngel]

[ @aaetherius ] A small starter just because.

It isn't exactly an easy thing. To re-tell long lost tales and woes of the dephs of his memory that Sandalphon simply cannot rid of even in those days where he tries pushing those memories down with the strongest hand he can. No. It still somehow comes back one way or another.

And yet, even as millennia have passed both so slow and also in the blink of an eye; after going through hell and back, catastrophe after catastrophe and still somehow coming back with his body more battered than the last, he still continues to live. Amidst grief and pain and sadness and much deeper feelings he can now mame but still can feel like deeply sunk thorns that are there to stay forever, he still lives on, and for once in his life he has a way to deal with it. For better or worse. He doesn’t know, but such uncertainty doesn’t scare him anymore as it used to. Not when surrounded by many bonds, some that forced their way through flames and thick ice that covered his withered heart that only now has let itself try and accept this new warmth that the current supreme primarch has been given the chance to taste.

Honestly, he still has days where seeing Lucifer feels like a sick joke from the depths of his mind, a long dream of things he doesn't deserve dangling infront him and believing every single of said miracles while also waiting for the knife to rip him apart from this paradise in the most painful way anytime. Yet it still never happens, and its been years, or more - Sometimes telling time apart even when living within the intricate thing that makes up for the fresh, old wood of the Grancypher’s walls is both easy and also difficult. Easy when needing to tend the cafe or clean and stock supplies, help in some missions Gran asks him for or he is the one to voluntarily step in. Even then, there's still times he loses track of time - holidays pass, enjoying them with Lucifer or the crew before crashing back in his shared room with the other and almost hibernating like those creatures from islands that exist in thick winters and spend many moons in slumber. It’s only because Lucifer and the others that he hasn’t been locked in his room unlike in the past when he had first arrived.

Not that he minds. It’s been a rather hard, but pleasant existence that he is determined to keep. Still too good to be true in his tattered heart but stubborn enough to fight for it, should it come down to even claw his way out the deepest pits of pandemonium once more. ( But at this point this being impossible with it’s existence having been destroyed a while ago. )

“ I…. I think I can tell you. “ His voice is solemn, a bit detatched even. But theres a small, timid and tired smile that Sandalphon still manages to manifest as he sits by the now much more comfortable bed that the angel shares with the other. A much needed upgrade ever since sharing rooms and having to make up for the rather hilarious mess of limbs sometimes it means to have multiple wings fitting and tangling between one another into a mass of feathers. Devoid of his armor and even heels, only comfortable pajama pants with fluffy fabric that the other had got for the other, and his signature skin tight black suit with exposed arms and shoulders. A bit relaxed despise how his voice lets out things he had never spoken nor even let himself try and actually think about for so, so very ling. “ About the scars. The ones on my back specifically. “

A part of him still doesn't want to. Not because he doesn't want lucifer to know. Oh he wants him to know entirely because the other had once, and just once said how he wanted to share the burden, to know and truly see the truth as what it was and have Sandalphon's side of what happened in the past, after many of their meetings slowly becoming strained on Sandalphon’s side along Lucifer’s less frequent visits because it was foolish to pretend that nothing happened. Or that at least the air had shifted in some way - that the light in Sandalphon eyes at some point had faded almost completely if not for the fact Lucifer would grace his existence finally after long, gruesome time he really wishes he could forget how long they took. No - a part of him still hesitates because he can feel the other will hurt. Feel maybe powerless when it’s obvious the former primarch obviously didn’t have any power in what was done in the labs. No one really had but the astrals and researchers themselves honestly. But still. Especially because he knows, those heavy ‘what if I had done this’ are hard to ignore as he’s also weighted by many of those, but at the end, Lucifer deserves to know, however it takes him to unravel this tight knot that firmly presses at his core like a parasite that wont be gone even if miraculously someone finds the cure to millennia long of inhumane experiences that not even primal beasts with the curse and blessing of sentience should have ever been subjected to. “ I hope it’s… Not too sudden, honestly. It can wait. “ It was his way to let Lucifer have a choice as well. His gaze is on his hands that rest on his lap, kneading lightly in the fluffy fabric of the pants he dons while fair, wild locks of brown lick at his temple and nose as Sandalphon doesn’t meet Lucifer’s eyes, his back exposed through the window of his suit where it’d let otherwise twelve brilliant wings sprout any other day, or simply his own two aurburn ones in more casual days.

#nostalgic flavor; [ 1 ] #aaetherius #yes hello it's been like 100000000 yrs but I live #not sure if the burnout has gone away but this came yesterday night punching me right in the gut so you will have sandy finally speaking #hurt and comfort!!!!!!!!!!!! #because sandy has a lot of things going on in his head but now lets some of those walls down #the text editos is so different.... feels weird using it but at least making small text isn't as different as it was.

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   After the fire in his throat dies down, and his tongue ceases to buzz, Lucifer can scarcely even recall how he had gotten into this situation in the first place. His head feels a tad bit heavier, and certainly foggier as well. Even just trying to focus for more than a few seconds at time results in a sharp pain shooting through his temples despite the fact that he hasn’t move an inch from where he’s sitting. Yet, somehow, the empty glass looks like it’s a mile away from him, and also appears to be moving ever so slightly. And the bright, colorful lights reflecting off of it from the ceiling above aren’t making things any easier for his tired eyes to make out. No, instead, he allows his heavy eyelids to squeeze shut for a moment, as if that would somehow make the world stop spinning, but, when he slowly opens them once more, everything is trembling, and Sandalphon’s voice sounds muddied.

   "Sandalphon?“ He asks after a moment, despite the fact that he feels as if there’s an earthquake taking place within his own mind, his words slip smoothly from his lips, and his voice is still even and pleasant to the ear. But he blinks a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the archangel’s figure–his gaze fixed on the other’s lips as he tries to understand what Sandalphon is saying to him, but it takes him a painfully long time to actually process the words, and then to make sense of them. "Ah, yes, I am fine. Truly, Sandalphon, there is no need for you to worry about me,” he reassures, though the long delay is proof he isn’t. He’s never had much to drink given that he dislikes the flavor, and finishing off that bottle had easily been the most he’s ever had in his long lifetime. Ah, for some reason he feels tired, and Sandalphon seems even more enchanting than usual.

   But the moment the other stands up, he feels his core shatter within his chest–he can’t bear the thought of Sandalphon leaving him, even only for a moment. Clumsily, he reaches out to gently hold the other’s hands, and tug him closer. “Sandalphon,” he whines, and while his voice might remain steady, he certainly doesn’t sound quite like himself anymore. It seems it only took a moment for the alcohol to get into his system. Maybe they were right, maybe archangels really didn’t have the same tolerance level as humans–minus Gabriel, but she was the last thing on his mind right now. “Stay with me,” he pleads, tears beginning to well up within the corners of his eyes as he clutches Sandalphon’s hands tighter while leaning off of his chair to get closer to him.

   Sandalphon is warm. His hands feel nice within his own, and Lucifer cherishes the closeness, though it’s still not close enough for his tastes, and he leans closer and closer to the other, though he can barely keep himself up as he nuzzles against the archangel’s cheek. “Sandalphon you are very beautiful and warm. I love you, please don’t go,” he mumbles while continuing to nuzzle against Sandalphon’s, falling more and more onto the other.    

         It is not until the taller has caught the now very worried archangel that Sandalphon had noticed what was wrong. If the blush had been any indication before or the headache that’s beginning to push at his temples, the alcohol already in Lucifer’s bloodstream quicker than he’d have really anticipated and the urgency to get him water or something to help push through it deepens - if not because now the obstacle was the archangel himself, as he outrightly melts on Sandalphon’s frame the more he allows the other simply embrace him; something even now he’d be utterly unable to push away the other for despise the way his brows furrow a bit in concern. ‘’ Lucifer... ‘’ Ah, but even with the sluggishness that follows him, too, with that single sip of the drink that was enough to render Sandalphon miserable, it truly was impossible to deny Lucifer this, less when he asks with such honeyed words that easily could mistake anyone with the other not being tipsy at all.

          So, with the rest of the composure Sandalphon could muster while also leveraging the other without losing footing himself, he tries concentrating, even if it sparked a tinge of pain in his head - all to summon with his magic a jar of water along extra clean cups, which in a small faint light appear by the table they have been basically sharing their time. ‘‘ I’m right here, Lucifer. ‘‘ ‘I’d never go away like that’ he doesn’t say, lowly and in the least handsome voice even he recoils a bit from it and the crack it has - forces a cough he shields with a closed fist and tries again. ‘‘ Like I said, I-I wanted some water, it can help with the.... unfortunate aftereffects of the drink. ‘‘ He says, now with a slightly better judgement and careful, low voice - knowing it could ring within their ears should they speak too loud and spark a deeper migraine he’d not wish for the other. 

        It does, however not help with the deep arrow that strikes at Lucifer’s words that come last, that I love you spoken as if begging him as if death itself had been at their door, and oh - Sandalphon has to pick himself for a moment, allow himself to suck a breath in and pray his core wouldn’t launch itself out his ribcage from the sincerity alone of those words, even if fueled by the alcohol Lucifer had foolishly taken himself instead the most logical ways he could’ve disposed of the drink itself. Selflessness as ever, and now rendered nothing more but a much more comfortable and free version of himself, it’s easy to forget what he was doing both by Lucifer’s warmth that almost radiated just as his light once had been when his wings had been those that now he shoulders – those that Sandalphon believes, sometimes, still are on Lucifer’s own back when he smiles carefree; such moments, he still can see that beautiful and almost unobtainable light no one else sees. ‘‘ I... I love you too, but Lucifer... first drink a bit of water. ‘‘ He tries, soft and with a hand carefully reaching for the other’s hair to softly pull a few bangs out his eyes in an affectionate way, knowing the other at this point might be far too gone to process his words much like he’s beginning to a bit belatedly; albeit, he had half a glass compared to Lucifer’s horrifying display of endurance and chugging the entire thing without much of a flinch. He truly owes the other maybe a whole course of sweets should that awful taste remain and find it unpleasant.

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ sDFÑKDSÑFDFd god sandy's absolutely starting to slip too but even now #he's always the one to be the most clear of mind #somehow] #but then he will have another of his migraines and be even more miserable sFKÑDFD ] #Gran's gonna wheeze despise he defs hates alcohol too probably dsFKÑDSFDF ]

[cxffexngel]

aaetherius​

A sympathetic frown creases Lucifer’s delicate lips as he listens to Sandalphon lament, and then watches the other melt against the table. The archangel has barely made a dent in the drink Eugen had given him, but Lucifer, though not quite as vocal about it as Sandalphon, can understand the other’s woes. He finds the taste of alcohol rather detestable, and tends to turn it down or avoid it whenever it’s offered to him. Though, unlike poor Sandalphon who got roped into trying it in the middle of a party, the first time he had tried was with Gabriel on an outing some time ago–she had claimed the drinks were delicious, and the flavor might even inspire him to conjure up a new type of coffee. Needless to say, he eagerly agreed to join her, and was sorely disappointed with the results. At first he had simply believed that his tastebuds weren’t made to stomach such a thing–after all, the genetic make-up of primals and humans differed, but, ah, well, he had watched Gabriel easily chug down several glasses without batting an eye so that theory had been thoroughly debunked. Perhaps this aversion to alcohol was limited to just himself and Sandalphon for some reason, but he shakes his head. He would need more evidence to back up that claim, so he turns his attention back to the ailing archangel. “Perhaps some mortal customs are simply beyond our comprehension,” he adds softly, not wishing to speak too loudly when he knows the effects that drink can have one. “There is no need to push yourself to take part in all of them.” Usually Lucifer is eager to try new things, and learn more about humans and their lives–his response to the whole ordeal makes it abundantly clear he enjoys alcohol about as much as Sandalphon does–which is, not at all.

His frown deepens just a tad at the question. Ah, it would be a bit rude to throw the glass away as it was a gift. But he doesn’t wish for Sandalphon to torture himself further by forcing himself to drink more of it. His eyes drift over to the glass–watching as the liquid inside sways back and forth, almost like a monster circling its prey. It’s only when Sandalphon calls his name that he realizes just how long he had been staring at it. With a soft sigh, he reaches out to gingerly push the other’s messy bangs away from his eyes–his skin is warm to the touch, and there’s a slight flush painting his features. And it makes his heart ache for the other. Slowly, he runs his hand through the Supreme Primarch’s messy hair, and leans down to place a soft kiss upon the freshly exposed skin. “It will be all right, Sandalphon, I will take care of it. Just take it easy,” he reassures despite how his nose twitches ever so slightly at the pungent aroma wafting up from the glass. Truly, he’s impressed Gabriel can tolerate the taste so well, perhaps there’s some sort of trick to it he’s yet to learn or master. But, ah, for now, he simply has no choice but to fall on the sword for Sandalphon.  

Pulling away, he now comes face to face with the daunting task ahead. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he prepares himself before picking up the glass, and painstakingly drinking what remains. Though his expression remains stalwart, he can feel his throat burning, and the corner of his eyes threaten to water, but he somehow manages to get it down without coughing on it. And he quietly places the empty cup back onto the table–without saying a word. He seems unnaturally quiet and stiff.

         It goes without saying that Sandalphon’s drowsiness dispels the moment he feels that hand uselessly, but ever so softly tuck bangs of aurburn bangs away, and it makes his eyes soften a bit and chest that ached relax despise the headache starting to build in. He wasn’t even registering Lucifer’s words beyond finding comfort in them, despise he had asked something and wanted to hear the other - there’s also a pitiful whine at the tip of his tongue that he had enough willpower to drown out before making a fool of himself given even that small attempt at drinking somehow already had gotten to his bloodstream.

        But just as quickly he’s able to still save some of his dignity and the more he finally focuses on Lucifer’s words, the more he wonders what he means about ‘taking care of it’ entails - and he wants to ask, but oh how late he was to even act when the other lifts that glass and drinks the rest, horror easily painting Sandalphon’s features, finally rising just a bit from where he had sunk on the table as a hand twitches and tries to stop him much too late - hand in the air as it slowly lowers, and mouth slightly agape while the horror settles and just a single thing swims in muddled thoughts. ‘‘ L-Lucifer..!? ‘‘ he tries calling him out but recoils at the crack in his voice born from the headache and worry that laces his tongue now, side-eyeing the glass a few moments to check that this was something that truly happened and not another of those daydreams he’d have even when lucid. ‘‘ You didn’t have to do that– ah– Are you ok? ‘‘ because if he disliked the drink and Lucifer had admitted much the same, then...

         Gabriel is going to love this story if he ever tells her or finds the two of them here and oh Sandalphon really wishes he didn’t open that bottle right now, but the consequences of his choices always somehow tend to lean on what mortal children would love to hear and learn from. ‘’ L-Let me get you some water, Eugen did say it was a strong drink–! ‘‘ The hurry in his voice doesn’t match how unusually slow and clumsy he is to try and stand, but also little sandalphon wanted to leave the former supreme primarch alone now that he’s done it and probably given himself the worst burn ever from all that alcohol. Hell, how will he even react to it is a mystery to Sandalphon and he both feels curious as he feels terribly worried and prefers he’d never find out. But he knows that hardly is a choice now. So he takes the empty glass from the table an unceremoniously looks around the cabinet for a bottle of clean spring water. ‘‘ It should be around here... Damn it! ‘‘

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ DSFPJDSKFÑDKDF gosh I still wheeze that Lucifer's self sacrifices even for something he shouldn't do or there's better wats to #made me drop my phone at the crack of my bed as I wheezed in laughter at night ] #[ I'm so sorry lucifer and sandy dsFDKSÑDF I blame cygames giving us this fact that sandy's got no alcohol tolerance #[ and was miserable after just a taste DSFPDSKFDÑF

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   A low hum vibrates in Lucifer’s throat at the sound of his name as the stranger’s expression slowly begins to change. His head tilts in order to get a better look at the battered and bruised and filthy face; his fair hair reflects the dwindling sunlight and almost appears to glow beneath its fading warmth. Yet, with the amount of ash and dirt staining his visage there’s not much he can truly deduce at the moment. A shame for imagines this little dove is rather beautiful beneath all of that muck and crime. Certainly, at the very least, he’s a sight for sore eyes when Lucifer’s most persistent visitor is Azazel and he’s beginning to grow weary of seeing the other’s face. “You know my name, yet it appears I do not know yours.” He doesn’t expect the other will grace him with an answer, assuming he even possess enough energy in his body to do so at the moment. And, frankly, his name isn’t important at the moment. No, what’s important is removing this intruder from prying eyes, and ensuring the angels of this world don’t come to claim him for themselves. He harbors little desire to see them get their hands on a weapon they could potentially use against him at some point–or whatever other wicked schemes they might be brewing after sensing the rift.

   His brow raises slightly at the slew of words spat clumsily from the other’s lips. They sound like the nonsensical ramblings of a dying man, but this man is neither dying (on death’s door, perhaps, but certainly far from actually being dead) nor is he on the verge of going mad. But it does provide Lucifer with a bit of insight–not much, but enough to continue stroking his growing interest in the other. There are questions on his tongue, though he doesn’t bother to give them any voice. He doubts the angel is in any condition to give him a thoughtful answer, if he can even give one at all. “So it would appear,” he muses instead. What ‘messing up badly’ entails exactly he can only guess, but the state the other is one reflects a rather grave struggle, as does being brutally hurled into this world from the depths of another. “But you are still alive, so perhaps you have not failed as drastically as you seem to believe.” If there’s a purpose for his blunder remains to be seen, but, at the very least, Lucifer finds him entertaining.

   But he does, eventually, relent despite his dreadful stubbornness, so Lucifer considers that a small victory in his favor. “For better or worse, I am a man who keeps his promises.” He pushes himself up from the dirt gracefully, gaze dancing over the other’s form as the angel struggles to remain conscious. It takes only a moment for him to pull the other into his arms, and effortlessly pick him up. In Lucifer’s rather cold hands, the other feels terribly warm. But that thought is nothing more than a passing wind as he extends his wings behind him, and vanishes just as swiftly and mysteriously as he had appeared–this time with the angel in tow.                                                              ——–

    Time is inconsequential to a man who has an infinite amount of it on his hands, so while he can easily prattle off the number of times Azazel has stormed into his study to loudly complain about the additional 'baggage’ Lucifer picked up and brought (very much to the other demon’s dismay) into the palace, he can’t actually say for certain how many days, weeks, or possibly even months that have passed since that fateful day. Though he imagines it hasn’t been quite that long–the angel seemed too high-strong to remain somewhat comatose for more than a few days, if Lucifer had to make a guess. Despite Azazel’s frequent and rather obnoxious protests, it appeared bringing the other in had been the right choice. After all, he imagines the stranger’s predicament would be rather unpleasant right now if he had left him to fend for himself in that scorched land. Instead, he had welcomed (very much against his subjects’ approval) the other into his territory, and set aside a private room for him to rest in. A room he’s been sleeping in ever since–with Cerberus watching over him, also very unwillingly (largely because she found the task to be dreadfully boring), to see when he wakes.  

    Regardless of the amount of time that’s passed–in the depths of the underworld, it’s difficult to tell wether it’s night or day–anything beyond that is a mystery to most, Cerberus does finally drag herself to the doorstep of his study with a rather annoyed expression on her features as she informs her their 'unwelcome’ (to everyone aside from the king of Hell himself) guest was awake, and, therefore, she was no longer willing to play babysitter for the 'ungrateful birdbrain’ he had dumped on her. So, with a slight upturn of his lips, he claps the spine of the book he had been glossing over shut, and goes to pay his, apparently, unruly guest a visit.

    “So it appears you’re finally awake,” he greets, as he opens the door to the other’s room without bothering to give a warning or even knock. Everything within these walls belongs to him, after all, there’s little reason for him to announce his presence in his own home. “I do hope you find your accommodations to your liking, though I’m afraid they’re a bit drab.” 'Drab’ is far from what most would call the rather luxurious room he’s given to the other.

         He doesn’t know for how long he’s been counting specs of dust, letting the rich smell of worn stone and wood fill his lungs nor he knows for how long limbs would not respond to him - or rather, simply didn’t felt the urgency to. Even before the Ceberus he so dreaded yet seemed to also not know his visage despise the archangel having many, many not so fond memories of her had caught wind of his state of consciousness plagued with a migraine that hangs over him like an impossible weight. All he remembers was that darkness filled Lucifer, the horns of the man that even then, even despise that malice the other held and how it seemed that maybe, in this alternate world another Sandalphon didn’t quite exist or at least, wasn’t made by this Lucifer, still somehow was filled with some twisted sense of kindness. He knew better than to rush and attack, he’s been thinking about it for some time ago until the hound woman finally realized the archangel laid awake over the plush soft velvet blankets of pure, deep red like the heavy scarlet eyes tiredly looked at the warden.

        Knowing his time was limited, or at least he believed so before somehow these people that wore the very same familiar faces he’s seen, those of fallen angels that the crew back in the skies he belongs ( Yet saying it like that still bears a sting upon his core. ) feel both familiar yet also so strange and far away. They didn’t know him, not even recognized him like a familiar face. and that further pins down that maybe, in these skies or earth or whatever it is this realm, Sandalphon didn’t exist in any way. And he doesn’t know if that stung like a stubborn needle against his core, or relieved him in some way.

         At least, it made the Lucifer, not so Lucifer somehow spare his life - Even when he could feel the immense power from the distance the man held within these walls, and how even his words had much more power than the constant protests muffled by layers of wood and neatly dusted curtains. It was... something. And Sandalphon truly didn’t know how to feel, when the irrational survival instinct side of his mind wanted badly to get out as fast as possible and just deal with it on his own, while the most logical part urged him to stay and maybe somehow he can gather enough info considering his circumstances weren’t favorable outside this place - Just like he remembers the other mentioning. It really didn’t even need this Lucifer’s sugar coated warning to know the gravity of his situation, truly. He knew the very moment he had fallen into that darkness filled void that whatever he was getting into, it was terribly dangerous even with all the power at his fingertips the archangel wields. 

        The soft ring of the man’s voice both make his core flutter awkwardly as it also makes it sink all at the same time. It sounds so wrong, just like when that one time back in the grandcypher he swore to feel and see Lucifer, chased for him without a breath yet what he met was none more than the doppelganger wearing his very same armor, the same face, yet everything else was far from the truth. It lights a fire of his anger which shows with the wrinkles that form between fair dark brows, and the way Sandalphon’s nose wrinkles in distaste a bit - but challenges the need to look away by holding his tired gaze over the other. ‘‘ It’s... better than laying on a crater of my own making, at least. ‘‘ But just like Lucifer says, he’s awake - Clearer of mind, even when the anxiety of his situation hangs over like a pendulum, looming with the gravity of it all and the deep worry in his core about the fate of the grancypher, the world he’s been tossed from and if they are doing ok. It’s enough to make his fists curl until nails dig into his pals only now the Supreme primarch notices are devoid of the layer of torn gloves. At some point, he had been stripped of his armor ( And it makes sense, he knows best than anyone that sleeping on bulky armor wasn’t the smartest idea if he wanted to later be haunted by a very, very sore back and stiff limbs. ) yet there’s apprehension too. And a hand flies to check on his back, yet there are no wounds he could feel from adobe nor numbness he’s fairly familiar with. Just the bumps of old scars he knows too well.

        ‘‘ I need to go back. I think you already noticed I’m not from here, not even this reality - But I have no idea how I ended here beyond that I overdone it with... my power. ‘‘ He lets his arms cross mostly to keep some level of authority to hide the worry that he knows it’s not the best thing the angel is known to be able and feign, but the attempt is done. And his tongue clicks, even with the million questions at the edge of his lips, there’s restrain there - If not only because he saw those dark wings, the black of them reminding him of that one battle with Lucilius in what he feels was forever ago by now, yet the scars of that linger - And even if this is a Lucifer of another reality, it doesn’t mean he’s being keep here for a good reason, it truly feels like some kind of combination of them both, and Sandalphon doesn’t know how to feel about it despise the natural way his core aches when looking at those eyes and sensing the immense aura the taller beholds - hos similar it is to the Lucifer he knows, so one part of him wants to believe nothing will happen. ‘‘ ... Why didn’t you dispose of me? Considering I remember you saying this being your ‘territory’. I’m a trespasser. There must be something you seek, Speak. ‘‘ Oh yet he isn’t one to obey that easily and the rebellion in his eyes is stronger than logic sometimes, so he knows he’s playing with fire when the question hangs there, but he isn’t defenseless - thanks to that long slumber, most of his power finally regenerating if not only the lack of sun making it still a bit of an effort to gather natural ether. And the air in this palace like fortress made it even heavier somehow to his core. But if his wings couldn’t hold him, it’d not be the first time he’d use his nails and teeth, even when Sandalphon knows that’d not be pretty.

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ DSFDKFDF nooo Lucifer!!! he's fine but Sandy's about to either sprint off or bite maim and kill #[ he's so confused but also at least knows better than to rush and instead sees his possibilities #[ meanwhile this Lucifer? he's so thrilled but also so curious about this birb! #[ it's like those people that catch birds to band them and idetify them #[ and some of the birds aggresively peck at the man's poor hand bc they do not wish to be handled DSFÑKDÑSFD

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   A hint of a curious, and amused smile twitches at the corners of his smooth lips when the wounded angel nearly utters his name, but stops just short of finishing it. That rather peculiar sense of knowing that had tried to rear up in the back of his mind when he had felt this stranger tear a rift into this realm emerges once more, but, while a rather interesting sensation, it hardly serves as a distraction from what’s in front of him. After all, the angel himself is a far more fascinating phenomenon than the array of feelings his presence stirs within him. Both; however, remain worthy subjects of further study, at least for the time being. Even if this newfound dove doesn’t appear to be of the terribly agreeable variety judging from just how willing he is to make a bigger mess of himself to put some distance between them. Though, Lucifer uses the term ‘some’ generously. As the poor angel ends up with a mouthful of dirt and blood, and only covers a meager amount of ground in the process. Why, if he weren’t currently choking on his own ichor, Lucifer might believe him dead–or rather, he very much resembled a dead man with all of the grime and lingering wounds covering his body. A shame really when his eyes are so striking that the man beneath all of that ash and dust must be equally so.  

   "Oh?“ There’s an utter lack of hostility in his voice as he raises a fair brow at the other when he works up enough strength to growl at him. His voice is even, good-humored, and perhaps a bit flippant. In his defense; however, he can’t think of many who would feel faint of heart while being threatened by someone who looked they just crawled out of the depths of Hell. He’s keen enough to sense what little energy still clings to the other, and the power the other yields is far greater than what currently wiggles about in the stranger’s body (an educated guess given the sheer level of destruction that had occurred when he had fallen into this world), his current state isn’t anything impressive. "No need to be so defensive.” Everything that comes out of his mouth is spoken in a carefree, overly familiar manner, as if he’s a bystander rather than someone directly involved in the situation.

   "We’re not strangers after all, are we? You did almost call out my name a moment ago.“ Perhaps now isn’t the time to poke the horrent’s nest, but he has no reason to disregard the other’s slip-up a moment ago either. Somehow; someway; somewhere, he suspects they’re more familiar with one another than they believe. Though the details of that relationship are unknown to him. And he’s not willing to write it off as a mere coincidence either when his mind continues to conjure up a feeling of knowing, even if simply dismissing it as a result of his infamy would have been the easiest way to go. He’s also dreadfully stubborn. One he sets his mind to something it’s difficult to persuade him otherwise.

   So he rises from where he had been kneeling in the dirt, speckles of ash cling to his dark robes like starlight in the night sky as his wings fold themselves neatly behind him. Two sets of immaculate, gleaming white wings, and the final set is of glistening, eerie black ones tucked between them. His movements are graceful, but unhurried. He feels no need to rush, after all, it’s clear the other doesn’t have much strength left. He suspects, despite the angel’s desire to escape or fight him, he doesn’t possess the energy to do either at the moment. So he closes the distance casually, blatantly ignoring the threat that had been hurled his way. Though, admittedly, threatening him was a rather bold thing to do–and a rarity, truthfully only Azazel typically had the nerve (and foolishness) to do so. Once he’s close enough, he kneels beside the other once more–if only to put himself closer to his eye level.

   "However, you should consider your situation carefully,” he begins, lazily flexing his wings behind him. “It’s only a matter of time before you attract unwanted attention to yourself.” Well, that’s putting it generously given he’s fairly certain he falls into the category of 'unwanted’, but there were fates far worse than what he had to offer lingering about. “Attention from things far worse than myself.” Well, worse might not have been the best word–rather their intentions wouldn’t be nearly as kind as his, if one could even call his actions such. “And, I’m afraid, with your current condition you wouldn’t last long out here alone. This world isn’t a kind one, dove.” He tilts his head to rest his chin against his knuckles. Despite his words, his voice lacks any urgency, and he speaks in the same flippant manner he had before. But it’s also entirely devoid of hostility as well, though is expression is unreadable. “And, if you ever wish to return home, there are few with as much knowledge as I possess.” While he was more than capable of tearing a rift open, it would be random–he couldn’t ensure it’s location, but even that much was better than what most could offer this little angel from another sky. “So, what will you do? Come with me, or die here.” His tone darkens, and there’s a certain gravity to his words as he turns his piercing gaze back towards the other. “The choice is yours.” It’s not much of one, though, he leaves little room for negotiation, and with the offer to assist the stranger dangling in front of him, there are few other options he can take. It’s a tad bit underhanded, but what’s such a small detail to a devil.

         Burnt soil crunches when the strange, yet so painfully familiar figure moves closer despise the poor attempts of Sandalphon to draw some distance between them out pure survival instinct. It makes his core ache because this all feels wrong, that despise having this part, this etched innate thing that would wordlessly accept the hand that it's offered, the other side of him; the pained and wartorn one, the one that's been through betrayals and delusions far too many times knew best than to just do that. So he squeezes his eyes shut for a bit. Inhaling sharply despise the tang of cooper that he feels filling his lungs - clarity seeping more as he forces himself to stay conscious enough to make a decision - and when sharp lashes open again he sees what is going on.

        The man wasn't wrong, he had been so, so painfully close to say his name out aloud but even when he could see why this person, this... familiar man before him bears that name, it also felt entirely not suiting him. This was Lucifer - yet at the same time not the Lucifer he knows, not the one that crafted the ailing thing that his core is. It's not the one that gave him these wings - and that's something that gives Sandalphon enough adrenaline to ignore further his pain, the initial glares of his eyes gone and replaced with surprise, disbelief and apprehension. " Lucifer... " Oh he knows him, but this isn't Lucifer. It all but makes both his mind spiral but also fall in one logical conclusion he can scavenge in the depths of his mind. It made sense. The rift, the cracks in the sky - the rainbow void that once in the past had also almost swallowed him at the fall of the entemaki; this time, he had fell through and gone somewhere very, very far. And oh, if that didn't terrify sandalphon he'd probably call himself crazy.

Fire in his eyes dull with exhaustion and the turmoil of emotions threatening to swallow him, wings tremble as the archangel stops struggling to break away anymore - the curve of the crater not helping with the escape anyways as he feels as it will only drag him back again to the abyss and probably smother his face in more ash than he'd be willing to swallow to keep an ounce of his pride. It doesn't help that, despise how this Lucifer not so Lucifer's offer - where he remembers kindness and this one's darkening words offer a bit of the comfort he seeks, yet also not deviant to say that Sandalphon was still very much in danger. He might have the world's power, but he could still be defiled of his wings, at his weakest and even, if he gave it a bit more though, maybe even closer to regress into core state than he'd be comfortable admitting. So he tries composing himself - throat dry as he exhales after pondering with the clarity he's forced into himself, but there's not trust there and he very much doesn't like this Lucifer - but he can see that there's no hostility there despise the threats. If he wanted to kill him there, it was obvious that he'd not even be there laying so pathetically. " You're not... Him, yet you... Are - Ugh, I-I must has messed up badly– " If it wasn't anymore obvious but it's what Sandalphon manages to spit, brows furrowing - only now noticing the horns decorating the other's crown. The partially black wings yet only a pair versus the other two immaculate white ones, the golden armor and those lips with fangs poking out. What happened here and in what skies has he even involving himself now? Time can only tell, and he wishes that this gut feeling that he can trust this Lucifer is right for he will curse himself if this leads to a dead end, and is unable to go back - even when his curiosity starts also seeping in with that deep wonder, and some misguided hope also in there, when a bloodied hand emerges from under his wing to accept the other's offer. " Fine – B-Break your promise and I'll kill you. " His threat comes from deep in his core, but yet, he doesn't mean the words - even if this wasn't the Lucifer he knows, he knows that just looking at those eyes were enough to make his blade hesitate and turn away. Even if he's making probably yet another mistake, he knew that this deep familiarity, this affinity he feels means that this is, in a way, Lucifer - and that's what terrifies and angers him. But before he can even spout more questions, his lashes fall and darkness finally meets his mind as the archangel falls unconscious.

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ DSFÑKDSFDÑF noooo!!!! Lucifer feeling that Sandalphon's not in that world anymore and being super distraught bc of that makes my heart #ache so much!!! ] #[ he'd defs feel so so powerless and trying to rach to gran about it but even then seems like time stopped there since sandy left the world #[ and thus he can only pray whatever happened gets solved soon but at least the crew seems fine #[ even if sandy might have broken time n space with his rift dSFKDÑSFDf #[ this lucifer will make himself a menace and i lov e

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

    His sharp chin rests against his knuckles as a nimble finger glides effortlessly along the old parchment of an ancient tome that seems to scarcely hold his attention. It’s an old tale. Nothing terribly inspiring or breathtaking, and one he had memorized long ago. Though that hardly makes it special by any means–it’s little more than another book upon the expansive, and densely packed shelves that wind all around him. Hundreds, if not thousands, of golden shelves stretch upwards until they reach the very ceiling of his less than modest study. Why, the collection he possesses would make even the royal library look like child’s play. And, upon those numerous, seemingly endless shelves, there isn’t a single tome that the ruler of Hell hasn’t memorized. Records of wars long since forgotten, crumbled up love letters from dying soldiers, legends from bygone days that harbor a hint of truth to them, tales of other worlds, and precious research that has never seen the soft flesh of human hands. Anything one can imagine, and then some, exists within these walls. For a scholar, it would no doubt be a dream come true, if not for the man who sat upon the scarlet throne in the very center of the circular, maze-like room.

   Lucifer was a name used to strike fear in the hearts of angels, demons, and men alike. But there were few who had actually seen his face. After all, it’s rare of him to leave the palace. He harbors little interest in the affairs of mankind, so long as they don’t tiptoe their way into territory where they’re not welcome. And, even then, he rarely bothers to lifts his own finger to deal with them when there are demons frothing at the mouth to sink their fangs into their tender bones, and devour every last shred of their existence. And, so, the one of the most feared men in the world also became one of the most elusive. Which, of course, encourages humans to imagine, and lends then to create stories–as they tend to do. Each one more absurd and grotesque than the last. Yet, he can’t stop a smile from forming upon his glossy lips as he reads over the ghastly scenes depicted upon the tome in his lap. Perhaps, to mere humans, this story they’ve conjured up is horrifying. A nightmare. Something only the devil himself was capable of.

   But oh the real thing was so much worse.

   He shuts the book, and sends it back, seamlessly, into its place upon one of the many shelves with a flick of hist wrist. How dull. For such imaginative creatures, they’re certainly lacking in finesse. But even if the book can’t hold his attention, something else is more than capable of grabbing hold of it. Nothing that happens in this world happens without his knowledge. Then again, with an entrance as bold as that one, he suspects there’s not a soul within the three realms who hadn’t felt the shockwave that had blasted through the earth. But it’s not the impact that urges him to tap his long fingers against the arm of his throne, but rather the lingering sense of familiarity and desire that stir within him when he focuses on its source. So he stands, and leaves the stillness of his study to pursue something a tad but more enthralling.

        —————————————————————————————-

   The faint click of his shallow heels echoes through the now barren forest that greets him. The once lush greenery has been reduced to ash, and even the soil itself has lost its color. Even if life should return to this land, it would take many millennia for anything to be able to thrive once more. But the buzz of power still seeps into the stagnant air, and lingers all around him. Though he’s aware he’s never met its source before, it still feels familiar to him. But while he might not be able to place a name to it, he can easily figure out its source–or rather, what its source is. Nor does it take him long to make his way over to that source.

   A man, or rather an angel, flung uselessly into the dirt with a pair of disheveled, brown wings cradling his feeble form. He supposes he could simply take this opportunity to kill the other where he lies, but that would be rather anti-climatic, and one look at him is all Lucifer needs to be painfully aware that this ‘angel’ isn’t from this world. While the power that radiates from him is similar, it’s not identical. So, perhaps then, he can find some use for this discard angel after all.

    He kneels down silently beside the other, reaching out to brush some of the debris from those tangles wings before curling his fingers, and lifting the stranger’s jaw from the dirt. “Now you’ve found yourself in a bit of a predicament haven’t you, dove? Why now allow me to assist you?”

        Residual of ether leaves as time passes, it feels like forever, to the archangel collapsed by the wake of his unceremonious landing. Inhaling cooper and ash, nose uselessly wiggles as eyes remain close - and for a bit, while what drops of consciousness remains within the stubborn archangel, he believes himself having done it this time, having basically shed his immortal coil and destroyed his core in a fit that maybe Lucifer would frown at him for, or be worried sick and then Sandalphon feel guilty for so suddenly leaving the crew having left his promise half-assed all because he couldn't properly control his newfound power to not let it destroy him.

        But he isn't met with the lush scent of grass like that one time when his soul had been lost in that realm between life and death, there's not that odd stillness of the air or the mystifying presence that the dreamy world that once he had been tossed to. Yet, the more he thinks while his body laid there still, without strength to muster much beyond pained huffs as he breathes in an out - the scorched air burning his lungs in a pleasantly familiar way grounds the archangel as he tries gathering himself, but muscles were too exhausted, his wings barely even lifted before collapsing right where they are, and then tension seeps into ever root of his nerves like steel at the silent grace of footsteps and overwhelming yet familiar presence. Even with eyelids trying to finally open, his vision is blurry at best. And the voice that greets ears is nothing but just a noise in hand of the leftover ring of his eardrums in the aftermath of the fall; he could only pray he was making things up, that his mind is playing with him, but another part was entirely aware of being very much still somewhat conscious - at least enough to make up for the lack of clarity in his consciousness.

        It's when graceful fingers touch dirtied and bloodied rough skin is when eyes finally jolt open, and focuses. A grave, choked sound stuck at his throat when easily lifted to meet his visitor's visage while recoiling a bit from the touch of his wings with newfound strength entirely similar to when - millennia ago, an once torn away archangel had been just out from experiments dragged away to somewhere he'd not be of waste and easily stepped on, and even then finding it in him some strength left to struggle as the hands on him felt so wrong and wanted none of it. " G-Ghrrn— " Nothing that he tries to say makes sense, but when clarity starts to seep in, just as his core starts healing the wounded body of the archangel with whatever it could without returning into it's vulnerable state, he finally starts to manage to make through the fog of his vision. And the first thing that hits his mind is that sticking, majestic and ethereal white hair. " Luci...F... " The name tries fleeing his lips, but it feels wrong - the familiar presence was there, yet at the very same time it wasn't like the man he thinks this might be. No, it's not him, and at the same time it is. And the more he tries squeezing his brain to refocus and pull away, to make up what the other say for he'd recognize him even should there be nothing but darkness and even amidst dreams somehow sending him somewhere closer to him. Yet it's that same sense of danger and leftover adrenaline still coursing through his veins that push, finally, Sandalphon to move away from the touch as fangs bare and crimson eyes still blurry from the flash of light having temporarily blinded him, doesn't let him see beyond the glints of golden armor, gloved hand so close yet so familiar and foreign, and the white and black blotches of color behind the man that has found the fallen archangel in the crater left by the fall.

        It's that same movement that sends a sharp sting of pain courting entirely on his body, and with what he can, he tries with a mix of his wings and elbows to prop himself up, but muscles tremble at the intense effort, sending him in a fit of raspy coughs, staining the ground crimson from overextending himself - getting another face full of ashes and dirt  - but at least now with a much clearer mind thanks to the pain that felt like an old friend that helped, in some morbid way Gran probably would scold him if he ever admitted it, staying awake and sound - aware enough that maybe he's just thinking too much and seeing things to realize the man before him was very much real, and the sense of terrible danger but also heavy curiosity also came in hand with that unbreakable stubbornness to get back to the fight that very much he was thrown far, so very far from. There wasn't time to be distracted. " Don't t-touch me - Get lost. " Comes the choked out threat, low and more like a weak growl, even if he couldn't summon his swords or even control the one that rests at his hip, his wings unable to manifest due to all the spent energy and his brown ones stubbornly staying entirely because they helped shielding himself somehow, Sandalphon still finds it in him a will to resist, to live, flee from danger even if someone was offering either a quicker death or some mercy. If this man had said something, it entirely bounced off Sandalphon's ears at this point, and instead he was more focused on struggling back on his feet, attempt after attempt - like a wounded animal who bares their teeth at anything blindly.

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ this feels so cursed and forbidden sdFÑDSKFDf Sandalphon's going to have the wiplash of his life when he realises this in fact is lucifer #[ just not the lucifer he knows #[ sFKÑDFf oh NOOOO bet Lucifer in the sky world can feel sandalphon's is not anymore there #[ like he can feel his existence gone and that's enough to make him super distresed yet there's not much he can do #[ meanwhile this one? nope! he's thrilled! LSAFKDÑSFKDSF

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   A frown flashes across Lucifer’s rosy lips for a delicate and fleeting moment before it’s swiftly forced away by a gentle smile that is far from genuine, but not entirely false. Sandalphon might offer his understanding, but Lucifer can’t swallow the growing guilt he feels for taking even that short nap when there was a vampire at large who was determined to frame Sandalphon and, likely, continue to prey upon the innocent villagers that are so desperate for aid they cling to the heels of any hunter who so much as looks their way. He truly wishes he could bring this chase to end soon, but he recognizes that such a task is unrealistic given the scope of what they’re dealing with. But he’s always had a bleeding heart, and that foolish organ aches with every moment that passes where the other vampire isn’t subdued because he can’t stop himself from worrying about everyone and everything that isn’t, well, himself. His own life has always been forfeit, so taking the chance to sleep makes him feel as if he had broken his promise to Sandalphon to keep him safe, even if nothing had happened while he had been out. But he suspects the vampire would scold him if he could read his mind, so he forces his sorrows down with an easy smile. After all, it’s easy to replace the desperation he feels when something far warmer grows in his heart the very moment Sandalphon agrees to borrow his cloak. Somehow, Lucifer feels as if he’s won one of the most difficult battles of his life to date. 

     "I am glad…“ He mummers, cutting himself off when Sandalphon’s suggestion actually registers, and he has to stop the surprise from seeping into the tail-end of his statement so he doesn’t seem too excited by the prospect of accompanying the vampire into town so Sandalphon doesn’t change his mind. He clears his throat rather clumsily before continuing. "Of course, I would love nothing more than to assist you in collecting ingredients in order to pass time until nightfall.” He tries his best not to sound too enthusiastic, but the shine in his bright eyes is enough to give away his unbridled joy at the very notion of spending more time with the other.

   Lucifer scarcely notices the time when they make the short trek to the village. Though, truth be told, time isn’t something the hunter pays much heed to to begin with given the very nature of his job, and the fact that he often goes days without rest. For him, entering a largely still town isn’t unusual–nor is wandering around in the mainly empty streets until the residents slowly peel themselves from their beds. Then again, if he took the time to admire anything but how Sandalphon looks comfortably hidden beneath his cloak it would have been a miracle. It’s impossible for his lips not to turn upwards fondly at the sight, and he catches his gaze lingering on the other far too frequently to be considered natural. For some reason he can’t quite place, seeing the other in his cloak is enough to bring that strangely warm feeling back to his chest–one not unlike the ache that had gripped him when he had leaned against the vampire in the woods. “Ah, yes, I suppose that is the case,” Lucifer agrees softly, his voice low so as to not disturb anyone who might be still be trying to sleep. “I have grown accustomed to being awake at odds hours, I am afraid the idea that the shops might not be open yet had never occurred to me.” Yet his smile grows despite that. The mild hint of bashfulness that creeps into the other’s voice isn’t lost on him. “Yet, I am honored that you would invite me to share a cup of coffee with you. Truly.”

    His gaze lingers on the back of Sandalphon’s head as the other turns away from him, the hood pulled over his head obscuring his face from Lucifer’s view. But his attention still follows the other’s line of vision, even if he feels drawn to the vampire, and doesn’t wish to look away. He’s come to learn that, no matter what Sandalphon is wearing, he’s still breathtaking. “I see, if you have had your eye on these beans for some time I believe we should pay her a visit. You may not be able to attest to their taste, but I trust your judgement.” His attention briefly shifts to the other’s arm, watching how the sunlight glides off of the pleather that covers it and protects it from harm, yet, even knowing that, his heart still skips a beat in concern. Softly, he shakes his head, trying not to let the worry consume him too much, before he makes his way over to the lone stall with a smile on his face, and a polite greeting on his lips. He might not spend much time around other these days, but he certainly knows how to be unintentionally charming, and has no qualms with rambling to the locals when given the chance. He’s more than eager to talk her ears off about coffee beans, especially since Sandalphon had shown an interest in them, and he’s still very much keen on getting to know the vampire better.

        The easy way Lucifer carries himself bleeds a bit into Sandalphon's own desolate nature, easing a bit despise his initial distrust on the very man that should have taking his life that one fateful night upon a hunt that somehow had convinced the other to be innocent of crimes he commits - even if they aren't made to humans, and his kills are always taken with respect and apologies for each animal that he culls for feeding. Only a few stores seemed ready to go, mostly those run by the Elderly or the rare case of people that worked just fine during mornings and were fast to get ready; an unknown time ago, that'd not be Sandalphon's case - maybe. He remembers disliking it, and also remembers certain brunette's presence anyways splaying all over his bed demanding silently between shaking a very sleepy, still human Sandalphon's shoulders and bed sheets to get out there and help him with his travels, which only won the lowest growls known to man, and still somehow have the strength to bundle himself a bit more into bed despise the pest adobe him making it impossible to drift back into the sweet embrace of darkness. Such a memory he holds dear as it also makes a non beating heart ache a bit, to a stolen past by an unknown vampire to this lone present where he finds purpose in being a rogue like hero, even if it came with the drawbacks of his very nature eating at his heels and losing so much in the way; but what drives the Vampire away from giving up and letting go his humanity was many things.

And right now, one of them, his Humanity - a very slight light of hope that had been there as no more than a tiny spark is being feed by a Hunter whose eyes he can feel on him despise the comically large coat that hangs over his very form. " It will be on you, my cash was back at the shed we left during the night and since we went leaving that trap, I didn't bring it with me. " He half-lies. There's a bit pf spare between his pockets but it'd not be enough for that amount of beans - but still he wants to poke a bit, see if it bothers the other in any way, see if there's a crack under that very sincere smile that digs deep into his dull soul and reveal a true nature. But he hopes, also, that not be the case, and if Lucifer agrees to split... maybe feel a bit guilty for that too, but as the rather prideful being he is, too, it goes unmentioned. Lest let it be seen in the way he carries himself to exchange words with the elderly woman upon approaching her stall and carrying a normal conversation, asking about her wares without ever raising suspicions about his nature.

         It's over within minutes, having found in one of the pockets of the lent coat a bag of coins which absolutely belonged to the hunter - and just the slightest hesitance, used anyways - the bags of coffee cradled under a free gloved hand and later tucked inside the coat for safety. With a pleasant good bye and a feigned smile, the vampire is back at the other's side, head tilting enough that the bridge of the hood of the coat reveals eyes of scarlet, nonchalance within them and a frown on his lips that was the usual normal expression worn by the vampire when no duties held him down. " If my memory doesn't fail me, that abandoned shed has some worn but usable equipment for this, like a grinder and the filter. But... again, I can't promise the cups will be good. " A last warning before probably, and by absolute no malice poisoning the hunter who brimmed with so much curiosity, a glow that seemed rival the sun if Sandalphon gave it a comparison - so he adverts his gaze, and starts his way back to that one shed inside the woods, in a pace the other, of course could catch up with.

                                                 ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

        Even with the many holes that stain the abandoned cabin within the overgrown field, the air now fills with a familiar scent, one Sandalphon hasn’t even revisited since what he feels like forever, and maybe a month after a sundown - He’s lost count of the time since having last prepared a round of cups, but still perfectly knows how to grind the beans into even grounds, for them to keep that rich essence he knows he cannot taste, yet at least basks in the way the smell reminds him of a long lost drink he can’t enjoy without it meeting his palate tasting like ash and murky water, no matter how rich his attempts were until, at some point, Sandalphon simply stopped preparing the drink. It was all muscle memory, from preparing a fair fire to put a still functional kettle atop it and let the water boil, to finding and cleaning a perfect piece of fabric that serves as the filter tied to makeshift iron that holds it into a cone shape for when he’s ready to pour the boiling water into it, and filter with the grounds.

         Pale hands work as if it were a graceful ritual, crimson eyes focused in the talks more than the way too eager man that sits upon the shade cast by the feeble wooden ceiling and torn curtains that only blurred the outside greenery, steam of the boiling water kicking the strong scent of the prepared drink like a small eruption blossoming to existence. The frown on Sandalphon’s lips relaxing when it tickles his nose and dampens some strands of aurburn, the keetle now empty and the pot filled with a freshly made round of coffee - on he is sure it’s made properly even when unable to test it himself. ‘’ I hope it doesn’t kill you, though. That’d be a tragedy. ‘’ The vampire jests, but truly, under it there’s lament. Some concern and even a slight tint of bashfulness. Lucifer still had time to simply deny him, to go away. Regardless that, he sets down two cups, one for himself which might largely be left untouched and the one for the Hunter, pouring with grace the drink for him.

#half truths of gold; bloodied daggers against my heart; [ vamp au ] #aaetherius #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #after 2000 years I live!!!! absolutely using my newfound energy into gently slipping these I had drafted #sandy you are such a dork do u know how much lucifer's glowing right now?

[cxffexngel]

#like a lost feather against the wind; [ musings ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ]

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   Lucifer’s expression drops a tad at Sandalphon’s response; his damp lashes brush against the subtle bags nestled beneath his eyes as his natural glow seems to dim a bit. Ah, of course, it only makes sense that the barista would be nothing more than only ‘all right’ after getting caught in a storm like that. Yet, even so, Lucifer’s heart can’t help but plummet into the pit of his stomach as the guilt he feels only continues to grow. He should have brought an umbrella along or checked the weather before they left–he should have done so many things he had failed to even consider, and now Sandalphon was left utterly drenched at his doorway while the storm continues to rage beyond the walls of his apartment. He knows, realistically, just as he would never blame the other for their current predicament, it was unlikely that Sandalphon blamed him either. But he supposes old habits die hard, and he finds it impossible not to try to shoulder the responsibility for today’s mishap. “I…see,” he hesitates for a fleeting moment before forcing a gently smile back onto his damp lips as he gingerly rubs the towel through Sandalphon’s hair. At the very least, he’s preventing it from dripping into the other’s face as he dries it off. The same can’t be said for his own. Without any care for his own appearance or well-being, it’s easy for Lucifer to ignore the rainwater dripping down his cheeks, and onto his already soaked clothes.

   Which, in turn, scatters slightly onto the towel when he shakes his head. “Ah–no, there is no need for you to fret, Sandalphon. You couldn’t have known this storm would come on so suddenly,” he’s quick to brush off the other’s attempt to take the blame yet unwilling to let go of the fact that he finds himself at fault for all of this. “Regardless, what matters is that you’re all right. For that, I’m grateful.” Yet, even as the words leave his tongue, he can’t stop himself from looking down beyond the towel to the state of the other’s clothes. All just as soaked as his own, and he can only imagine how uncomfortable Sandalphon must be. Even worse, the risk of catching a cold from it. Ah, it’s truly impossible for Lucifer not to worry about every little thing. Michael had always scolded him for that exact thing when he had been younger, though had given up hope on redirecting that worry when she swiftly learned getting Lucifer to stop mulling over everything was a fool’s errand. Inhaling, he tries to shove down the guilt threatening to overwhelm, and continues to focus on drying off Sandalphon’s hair. By now he’s managed to get it into as much dryer state, though not without a few….several strands sticking out in every direction.

   He perks up a bit when Sandalphon asks after him, the smile on his features becoming more genuine, and the worry-lines on his forehead slowly begin to smooth out. “Yes, I’m fine,” he reassures quickly, moving from Sandalphon’s hair to his shoulders and neck with the towel in his attempt to mop up every bit of water he can reach. “Truthfully, I don’t mind at all.” Though he certainly looks a bit worse for wear, and there’s a puddle forming at his feet. His hair is nearly as wild and unpredictable as Sandalphon’s own at the moment. Which looks a tad bit comical on him when his expression is so grave. “But I don’t want you to get sick, Sandalphon.” He continues to gently rub the towel along the barista’s jaw, dabbing off a few stray droplets of water that have collected there. His skin is damp to the touch, and feels a bit colder as well. That knowledge does nothing to quell Lucifer’s natural instinct to worry.

    “Ahh, with your clothes drenched like that you must be cold.” He finishes up, placing the towel around Sandalphon’s neck. “Wait here a moment, I’ll bring you something to change into.” Lucifer is slipping out of the doorway before the barista can even hope to stop him. Lucifer might be kind, but he can also be quite stubborn, and it’s difficult to change his mind once it’s set on something, so he wastes no time in fishing through his closest to grab Sandalphon several options. After all, he wants him to have something comfortable, so giving him choices is the best option. It never occurs to him, not even once, that Sandalphon is several inches shorter than him, and that his clothes might be a tad big on the other. No, instead he emerges from the depths of his bedroom with his arms full of various clothes that obscure his face from view, ranging from hoodies to nightshirts to button-downs to pajama pants and just about everything else one can imagine. “I pray something here will be to your liking. Please feel free to use whatever you wish.” 

        Something inside Sandalphon’s chest prickled with familiar flames that brew under his skin, fueled by the charcoal of regrets and guilt that even Lucifer’s ever so attentive voice, despise their shared predicament soaked to the bone state all but pushed deeper whatever flutters with the sweetness of the taller’s worry despise his very person soaked entirely by the rain’s mercy that at the time basically refused to wield. It’s roar crackling from the windows as gusts of wind shakes the stiles against the rails, even when shut tightly and them being probably properly installed still somewhat affected by the sheer shrengt of the storm. But before he could just dip his head further and excuse himself away, before he can even begin to let said guilt take over and shut off Lucifer’s worry out his mind to dwelve further, the other’s ever attentive kindness is what janks away Sandalphon’s spiraling into despair once more. As always.

        It looked ridiculous, the pile the older carries within his arms of clothes with various colors and textures. Ranging to beiges to sepias. Blues and light sky blues and greys to black, most of them wool or very expensive looking fabrics that the Barista would barely ever believe to indulge himself with beyond some biker styled leather jacket, and wear it until the thing would barely even have working seams and falling down patches. His own frown even subsides with the sight as it also washes away the way his head filled with those undesired, bitter feelings that easily could plague his heart at such moments sometimes - Lips parting with a question that struggles to come out, or even another apology he can just guess Lucifer would shake his head at an take the blame instead when neither, in the end, was really at fault nor anything truly wrong has happened. ‘‘ Lucifer... ‘‘ It’s the only thing his lips can conjure out. It’s strained at best, but his expression is one that mixes exasperation with relief, and a silent thanks despise Lucifer maybe is unaware of the ongoing war between Sandalphon’s heart, mind and the demons inside him. And he doesn’t talk about it, knowing the many times certain someone that likes to make his house also his place to barge in tells him to actually do. Not that Gran’s the best to suggest such a thing when he’d also carefully tuck his own things inside that mysterious heart of his. But Sandalphon, unlike Gran, prefers to not barge uninvited. He waits, listens, and if he’s unwelcome then that’s it.

        But also Sandalphon knows that when Lucifer is focused on something, nothing would ever posibly manage to sway him to back off. He was adamant, stubborn, and a bleeding heart where his kindness maybe would be able to pierce through the strongest of storms to discover the sun once again, and maybe that’s what he does right now. Maybe that's why whatever shadows that had been inside Sandalphon’s heart once more die out the very moment the other comes back with that ridiculous amount of clothes and his face probably more blinding than he can imagine behind all of that. Sandalphon genuinely smiles at it, too. ‘‘ You’re ridiculous... but thanks. ‘‘ And his voice sounds ten times tired once he relaxes. It’s a good kind of tired if given a name or feeling beyond that taste whenever discovering a new blend that he likes and learns without trouble. ‘‘ I’ll choose this, please... don’t look. ‘‘ And oh if it had been any other day where he felt less tired - Sandalphon would’ve made the effort to change somewhere else. At least he has the decency to just change the top, turning his back from the other to struggle his wet clothes off with a silent gruff grunt and haphazardly letting it fall somewhere, and having chosen randomly which one from within Lucifer’s offers, ends with a rather open soft milky yellow shirt that gingerly covers his frame. Still lightly wet from being poured over by the rain but not enough for the dry fabric to dampen and stick to his skin.

         He can agonize later if Lucifer saw or not. With enough energy to be awake and maybe push himself to repay the other with making some food and cups of coffee, Sandalphon turns back to the other and lets a loose smile mar his features while a hand pushes back over slick strands of aurburn over his ear, exhaling a silent laugh while the other falls on his hip, lips part. ‘‘ You too, or else Ellie will call security you’re making a mess yourself, Lucifer. ‘‘ Plus, he’d blame himself even worse Lucifer falls sick from staying like this anytime more.

#Running Lights; [ 3 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ im amazed tungl hasn't forgotten my tags yet #[ but behold!!! soft because your fic absolutely gave me that last push I needed to finish this draft while touch the other two!!! aka #[ you get a sandy that agonizes; gets relief and then agonizes all over in the span of seconds #[ Lucifer probs did have a peek of sandy's somewhat shiny back and he's remembering it forever!

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   Lucifer’s tepid breath rolls softly past his tender lips, and gently grazes Sandalphon’s jaw as he tries to catch his breath. His lungs throb with every labored exhale that escapes, but he pays that familiar ache little heed when all he can focus on is the warmth of the other’s body pressed against his own, the memory of the soft sounds that had played on those lips he so adores, and the sight of Sandalphon where he lays beneath him. He’s nothing short of memorized by the other. From the way his disheveled hair cascades over the pillow to how his tongue whisks away that hint of saliva that had spilled from his tongue when their mouths had parted to the blush that paints his striking features. But that’s hardly everything. No, he’s encapsulated by the radiant sheen of Sandalphon’s scarlet eyes, the countless scars littering his body that Lucifer’s kissed before, the damp shimmer of his lips, and the curve of his body. Everything about Sandalphon is breathtaking to Lucifer, and serves to render his core utterly helpless. Oh, he knows he could spend the entire morning trying to catch his breath, but it would never quite return to him–not when one look at the Supreme Primarch would snatch it away in the blink of an eye. And, oh, even if it were to become the end of him, Lucifer could never look away from Sandalphon. If it were up to him, he would die and be reborn a thousand times just to find his way back to these arms over and over again–no matter how many lifetimes or centuries it might take. And he would kiss Sandalphon just as many times. Through fireworks and snowstorms–thunder and summer days; he could spend every last one experiencing the first brush of their lips over and over. But, for now, simply enjoying a quiet, peaceful day with the archangel with no duties or battles hanging over their heads sounds like the most wonderful thing in all of the skies to Lucifer. Perhaps it might seem boring to others, but, truth be told, he’s always yearned for the mundane and benevolent.

   A soft, low hum vibrates within Lucifer’s throat at the sight of the smirk that paints the other’s lips, and the sound of the deep, lazy chuckles that rumble through Sandalphon’s body as he gingerly nuzzles his forehead against the archangel’s shoulder. The melody enough to leave him selfishly desiring more as there are few sounds in these skies as beautiful as the Supreme Primarch’s laughter. Lucifer could listen to it for hours on end, and it still wouldn’t be enough to fill his core. Not when his love for the other is more boundless than the sky, and deeper than the bottomless pit of the Crimson Horizon. “Hmmm, yes, that does appear to be best solution to our current predicament.” His voice is little more than a soft, deep whisper as it escapes from his lips–something more akin to a purr than an actual statement. He relaxes a bit more, allowing his body to softly fall just a bit against Sandalphon’s as he listens to the other speak. The archangel’s feelings aren’t a secret to him, but they still tug at his core whenever they come up. Yet, he knows he’s not much different himself. No matter how much time passes, the guilt he feels will never subside, and all he can do is love Sandalphon as deeply and intensely as he should have more than two-thousand years ago. So while those words weigh heavily on his heart, they don’t dampen the mood, nor do they tarnish the atmosphere of the room. Instead, they only make Lucifer’s core swell with more affection than it could ever possibly hope to contain. “And, yet, seeing you like this, Sandalphon, brings me peace of mind, and an immeasurable amount of joy. All I have ever wished for is to spend time with you, my heart, and, now, without hesitation I will choose to do so always whenever the chance allows. You bring me life, Sandalphon; you always have.”

   A shudder races down Lucifer’s back at Sandalphon’s touch despite how featherlight and considerate it is. For a fleeting moment–one that only lasts the blink of an eye–he feels his muscles tense just a tad before they melt against the other’s wandering hand. Even now, even after the time he’s spent with the crew, and all of the tender times he’s shared with the archangel, he’s still unused to touch and closeness, no matter how much he adores bridging the gaps that had formed between them during the two-thousand years they had been apart. But Sandalphon’s touch has always felt like heaven, and he yearns for it terribly, always instinctively leaning towards it whenever it’s offered. The same remains true now, his haphazard wings flexing ever so slightly to meet the fingers that try to brush them down softly as a gentle, barely audible sigh escapes from Lucifer’s lips. “Mmm, yes, that is true. Then allow this day of rest to be a gift to the both of us.” His voice is low; a but more sluggish than usual as contentment begins to settle in. Though his words are true, he’s always been of the mindset that any second spent with Sandalphon is a gift he will cherish for as long as he draws breath. The same remains so now, no matter how much time they spend together. So, he leans slightly to the side to lay down half on the nest of pillows Sandalphon has made to cushion his back, and half on Sandalphon’s side. If only so he can free his hands to cradle the archangel’s jaw and gently run his fingers along his chest–retracing the marks he had left there last night, and softly massaging the remnants of scars that litter his beloved’s body.

   A lazy laugh tumbles from his lips at the comment, and he gingerly lifts his wings to spare them a glance that doesn’t last more than a few seconds. But he can easily see how rosy plumes stick up in more directions than Sandalphon’s hair, and how a handful have come loose, and are strewn about the sheets and floor. The sight is enough to make a fond smile spill onto his features as he turns back to the archangel–the glee on Sandalphon’s own visage isn’t lost on him. No, it only serves to warm his core all the more. “So it would appear,” he breathes as he continues his tender touches. “Hmmm, but I must wonder how such a thing could have happened?” He whispers in the faintest voice, his breath against Sandalphon’s ear where his lips nearly touch as his smile grows before he lifts his head up slightly once more. He absolutely knows. "I would not be opposed to be a bath or having you assist me in brushing them, if you so desire, Sandalphon. However, in return, it appears your hair has become quite a mess as well, and I would like to help you in combing it, if you would allow me.“ Ah, he could easily fall back asleep like this–Sandalphon’s hands carding through his wings as his own softly trace along the other’s chest–the drum of their cores almost melted into one where their bodies are pressed together. 

       Core catches between his throat and mouth, or so Sandalphon always believes it does in a sense whenever Lucifer would even do so much as look his way and sheen pale lips with the tiniest dust of a blush from having sipped from a warm cup share a smile at his way. At this point, the Archangel would believe the organ would spill all over or free itself from the confines of his physical form just to reach the other's touch, and each time he waits a few seconds for that to happen, only to be proven wrong and it's just him. All of him that desires that touch after yearning and wishing for it since so many millennia. Dulled skin of scarred tales, each tell a story, wounds of the past from other archangels when he had been in the lines as a fallen himself, making his way just so Lucifer would look at him, finally acknowledge him - foolish that he is when all this time Lucifer always had been there in a way or another, and had always wished for his happiness however much he could sacrifice, even if his ways were flawed at best when given so limited tools for it. Fools in what the heart is about, fools in so many things because they were not built for it at all and yet, given a heart of too many emotions that managed to overrun said limitations even when with them came big mistakes that they shouldn't be forgiven of. " Ah... " And yet, nothing ever prepares him for the heartache that is Lucifer admitting what he had convinced himself it'd never be true, that Lucifer did love all those times even if the bond was a strained one from both of them keeping a healthy distance while basking in each others fleeting presence. That fleeting connection that came with each of Lucifer's visits and talking about nothing beyond birds, the skies, the good parts of Lucifer's travels and the boring life inside the garden Sandalphon mostly sheltered himself in. That even now, even when there's so much Sandalphon has to make up for after his grand mistakes, his wish remains the same and not ever the former supreme primarch changes his mind. Lips part a bit, processing it within the bliss of their shared cabin as the mute sound of the wind - crimson eyes of a late day dusk shining with the sting of tears born from an equal unmeasurable amount of joy that the other dares, without fail, make it known to the archangel, another moment where he is proven again and again the very same thing deep down his core still thinks a fairy tale's worth of facts. It falls quick, just a single shed of it before the current supreme primarch brings a finger and wipes it away and sighs into their nest worth of tangled limbs and bed sheets, snowy feathers that cascade from Lucifer's back and have found their place everywhere like tiny stars adorning the night sky as they shine when catching the sun's light in little rainbows on their own. " I'm... So glad to hear that, Lucifer. Truly. " There's always a lack of words when it comes to it, a struggle the archangel knows will last millennia more and maybe never get that good at with time regardless his attempts. He can only helplessly smile at the other's merciless kindness and love that seemed so infinite even for the most flawed beast of all and yet still look back at his claws and bloodied teeth with nothing but an outstretched hand and offer the pull to stan up back again without a fear he'd bite that hand away, or worse, not caring if he did and still offer the other, and thousand more times until there would be nothing.

         And that's exactly what happened, which is what also scares Sandalphon so much. It scares him because even in this new life, the possibility of it happening was as great as it had been yet once had been blind of, thinking Lucifer a perfect, unkillable being when given no reason there was a possibility of someone ever finding a way to destroy for real a Primals core without the use of the red dragon.

        But before worries would fester away at his mind, Sandalphon distracts himself with the other's flinch. A thing he knows too well by now that is born from hurt and still being so new with what Lucifer had not allowed himself to feel. Knows for a fact because he, too flinches still even from the most careful graces from Lyria's almost featherlike hands whenever she'd try hold his hand when she'd find something he'd be interested him and try leading the archangel to their destination. His body would tense for seconds, his senses would sharpen but then his mind would react and calm down in a surge of exhaustion and forget about it - the Same goes with Lucifer; even when he utterly melts at the other's gentle traces over awful scars and ridges of numb skin, to the beautiful little blossoms the other has left upon his body in a much, better fashion that the litter of fifth that is each of those marks from his own demons and foolish battles, always his first reaction would be the slightest flinch, followed by a collapse in the most terribly desperate sense to purshase that touch despise the guilt that also comes with it. And he cannot escape it even if he wanted to, with his wings veiling most of his lower half, Lucifer's strong arm wrapped over him while his hand keeps that delicate mission to trace meaningless; It's not dissimilar to his own attempt to smother back messed up feathers that require a much better inspection than the rather lax smothering rough, battle worn digits could do at his lying state. But Sandalphon doesn't care. While his heart still mourns and hurts and aches, there is no doubt right now he feels happy - calm, relaxed. Every single of those things he though would never come back or even be a luxury anymore worthy of being granted after so, so long. " Hmh. A wonder indeed, perhaps your last mission needing to carry loot and other's heavyweight was met with a rather strong storm. " He adds, almost like a low pur as it rumbles from his chest and core with great comfort and fondness that carries in the way he fixes another loose feather out, and it tumbles slowly into exposed skin soundlessly. " But gives me a chance to work them back into a presentable state - the same way you wish to brush my hair. Which... You should not even ask for, Lucifer. My answer is always one, yes. " Always yes, even on those days where his core felt heavy and talking just wouldn't come to him nor he'd have the strength to do much beyond push his tired legs forth and bring himself into the airship, back into the kitchen to do something, or to their cabin to promptly collapse on the bed or chair. Even during those times He'd meet others with tired, furious glares or scoffs to aimless nods that Lucifer understood somehow and guide him to comfort. Give him space or an embrace the other easily falls into and lets it fill his wounded heart once more.

       Time goes slow, it seems as the sun today didn’t quite felt like following it’s path as always in the same speed as it always had been ever since he’s known what the sky is what it is, maybe it’s past noon or just when he’d usually open the cafe, but little Sandalphon has done beyond count feathers aimlessly while smothering those he can reach, being as careful as ever while the smallest noticeable veil of light emanates from his digits just to also apply another layer of comfort with it’s healing warmth, one of his own powers ever since creation, the very same one he used to attempt at making Lucifer’s already closed wounds heal when the former supreme primarch would come back to the garden in a rush, out of breath and his beautiful armor trashed in blue ichor from otherworld beings having done quite a number on the other. And even then, Lucifer only worried for the other who had almost, at the time, never been in anymore danger beyond cuts and scratches from twigs and thorns, or his heel catching at something and twist his ankles in awkward positions that ached for a day or two - which compared to nothing to experiments that his back feels numb to. That, Sandalphon still has to someday talk to the other, but today… as the light catches on that ring he had fixed on the other’s finger as the sun’s touch paints it lighter than the alloy it’s made of, Sandalphon chooses to simply enjoy the day as it is. ‘’ I’ll get us some food. Do you want something sweet? ‘’ And yet, within the way his voice drapes lazy and low the wonder at the tip of his tongue, it follows also that slight knowledge that Lucifer might just agree to whatever he’d choose. But he likes to ask nonetheless. Sharp lashes close as he focuses a bit, as teleporting takes not much beyond a speck of power unlike how it might take half the life of a mortal to master such a spell, and it takes seconds as next to their shared bed a small mobile, wooden antique looking table tray manifests with Sandalphon’s usual kitchenwares; two cups, two plates, in the lower level are the coffee pot and some bags of grounded beans, a few sweet pastries of chocolate and vanilla with toppings of various fruits the crew has stored and he has access to. It disrupts the usual scent of home that the cabin has with a newer one more appropriate to the grandcypher’s kitchen, but Sandalphon welcomes the change nonetheless. ‘’Ahaha - It feels too self indulgent to do this hands free, but… Considering our current predicament, I can try and serve us like this – just be sure to not drink laying down or you might cough on it, Lucifer. Gran tried once and the results were disastrous. ‘’ Drinking sup gone wrong, one of those memories he looks fondly of despise his insistence at the world’s singularity to just sit up while afflicted by a bad cold and have at least something easy to digest before he’d starve, and yet…

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ extra soft serve ready in the plate aka Lucifer is not free of being loved back! #[ this angel can fit so much tragic love in his core! #sDFÑDKSFDÑFD #but also rip gran he's being mocked when he can't do much about it #but oh he will takre revenge nonetheless sorry gran sdFDSKÑFDÑF

[cxffexngel]

                                                  ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

@volfinas​ || is it curiosity? probably not; this is something she is aware of, has always been aware of, since long ago when they had all been in canaan unaware of everything " you miss him greatly, don't you? " she just believes it is something that should be talked about, the absence of lucifer and their hopes of one day seeing him again // from gabriel oaisjdioada

                                                 ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

       It’s not something he gets questioned about that often, but it certainly is in his memory from different bonds that the current supreme primarch has memory of enough to easily form an answer in his mind, first. Even when his eyes lower at a freshly brewed cup for the former water primarch. Gabriel being the most concurrent sight between the four of the other elemental archangels that visit sometimes the airship, check on Sandalphon despise he’s assured the others it’s alright and that they shouldn’t - But much like... him; they care, unconditionally in their ways. And he likes to think he’s gotten better at ignoring that bitter sting of guilt that comes with that acknowledgement, it’s as easy as to bite down his tongue and let the numb ache and cooper taste soothe him in a completely wrong way that he’s sure the Singularity or the Girl in blue would nag him about.

       And is not really that much of a kept secret, truly. From a pile of unsent letters he was taught that it was a good way to convey what his core wanted to say but unable to deliver when the recipient of those letters laid well beyond these skies and stars, to gazing upon pinkish clouds at sundown, searching for something and someone that has long since left this sky, to the large white plume Lyra had been gifted but she later gave to Sandalphon who keeps it in a delicate crystal display upon his room. Promises and next times, a revenge for a cruel and yet beautiful world that had no mercy for the one Sandalphon still feel greatly has wronged Lucifer. And yet, he swore to see it through everything, ‘til the very end so he can have a lot to talk to once it’s time to visit that faraway place. ‘‘ ...Yes. ‘‘ Finally, he finds his voice. It’s low, a bit distant and with sorrows he hardly shares about. Talking to the primarchs it’s both reassuring as it’s a mystery to him. They have long forgiven him and yet there’s still pieces of his core that don’t understand why they care – but much like how he wonders why the Girl in blue and the Singularity’s own forgiveness, Sandalphon just deals with it. ‘‘ He deserved more than just a legacy. He... deep down, wanted to do what you all have chosen to, and settle. ‘‘ and yet here he is in his place. The very thing Sandalphon didn’t want to happen his own personal nightmare and blessing. The weight of so many wings and promises he feels he can carry, and some days crush his bones bit by bits - all when he wished that he could finally give the former Supreme primarch that little wish he had weakly whispered, when all he could answer was poison and angry bile when meet with the awful reality of his own actions.

        He misses him, more than anyone - the selfish part of his says in a low voice within the depths of his mind but goes unsaid, his core cries with the loss as his sleep is riddled in nightmares each time he dares close his eyes by night, he misses him so much sometimes the most the archangel can do is will his white wings away and stare at nowhere in particular until the voices of someone else can finally take his focus somewhere else before letting his mind wander too far. Calloused hands etched with cuts and scars, newer ones from mundane accidents as paper cuts healing to the duller ones from bites, scratches and holding a heavy claymore’s handle too hard cradling the cup Gabriel had asked for to settle it before her with great care, not a sound meeting his ears when it meets the porcelain, golden rimmed plate it matches with, and with the tip of his fingers slides the order towards her. ‘‘ He’d be sad seeing me like this, wouldn’t he? ‘‘ Adds, a little tinge of bitterness there but amusement too, an attempt of a jest where he knows some truth lies. He’s never asked how it was for Lucifer bonding with the others, he hasn’t tried much beyond when they invite themselves over, and there’s enough time between battles he’s called forth to when he opens the kitchen and serves others. ‘‘ I don’t ask for pity though, it’s my fault that all lead to this, after all. It’s my burden to bear and I promised to live this through all - maybe go hours talking about what I’ve seen and experienced from what he couldn’t. That’s... Something I can do. ‘‘

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #volfinas #Gabriel; volfinas #[ Sandy is a sad birb but the ore gabriel visits the more he just learns to be doted #[ Gabriel is always so sweet n funny #[ esp in the last event w her just being like that and even invite europa to drink #[ infront a very exhasperated sandalphon dsFÑDSKFDÑFD #[ I need more of sandalphon interacting w the four tbh I wanna see uriel being the big bro or raph also there #[ michael was evil for not coming w gabriel!!!!! #[ like in disasterphon's fate ep uriel being so open to try and help Sandalphon despise he was threatening him and then attacked #[ big heart!!!! and he still has that!!!

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

   Lucifer’s wet hair clings to his damp skin as he uselessly tries to brush his waterlogged bangs out of his eyes as he slips off his soaked shoes while clutching the grocery bag he’s holding close to his chest, as if it could, still, somehow get rained on despite the fact that they’ve, finally, made it safely back to the warmth of his apartment. A frown lingers on his otherwise handsome features as he gazes through the windows at the dark sky, and the storm violently raging on beyond the walls of his home. His heart is somewhere between his throat and his stomach, and he swears he can taste it trying to crawl its way into his mouth with every breath he takes. It makes him hold the bag just a bit tighter–the plastic covering its contents the only thing keeping them from spilling out from the pressure that does little to make his chest ache less. Sandalphon’s apology does little to ease the overwhelming sense of guilt and worry he feels deep within himself either. So, slowly he tilts his head back to look at the other–just as worse for wear as he is–damp and dripping wet. A puddle has formed on his welcome mat where they entered. “You have nothing to apologize for, Sandalphon,” he’s quick to assure. He can hear a bit of the frustration bubbling within the other from his voice, and it only makes the ache in Lucifer’s chest grow all the more severe. “This isn’t your fault. It seems we just run into a bit of bad luck.” His lips curl into a gently, yet somewhat pained smile.

    His own feelings aren’t much different from Sandalphon’s. He feels as if he’s somehow to blame for this sudden downpour, and he’s worried sick about the barista’s well-being so he can’t bring himself to linger in the doorway for long. Especially when he finds himself somehow relating to the awkward, damp plop the bag Sandalphon is holding makes when he drops it on the ground. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine. But, wait a moment, please.” Before the other can insist further, Lucifer quickly slips past the cat tower Ellie has tucked herself away in to avoid both of them–much as she would love to chew off the shoelaces of Sandalphon’s shoes, she also would rather not get even remotely wet, and into the ivory kitchen to toss the bag of groceries onto the counter so he could fish through the ivory cupboards for every towel of every size he could find. With an impressive collection cradled in his arms, he swiftly returns to Sandalphon’s side. That frown remains in place as he sets down his stack of towels, choosing one from the pile as he glances over Sandalphon’s drenched frame.

   "Forgive me, Sandalphon. Allow me to dry you off, I don’t want you to catch cold.“ He cares little for his own well-being, and hasn’t bothered to even so much as towel his dripping hair off, but he can’t leave the barista in such a state. So, softly, he places the towel over the other’s head, and begins to knead the warm fabric into his hair in an attempt to help him dry off. "We can check on the groceries after you’ve dried off.” Lowering the towel, he gingerly cups the other’s jaw with it as his eyes fall to Sandalphon’s clothes–heedless of the fact that his own, white button-up shirt is equally as drenched. “Ah, your clothes are soaked. I can bring you some of mine to change into.” He pauses for a moment, lips pursing. “Are you all right, Sandalphon?” The worry in his voice is palpable.

          He doesn’t know what stings more, be it the deep cold guilt of frosty icicles born from shame and frustrations that fuel that flame inside his eyes with nothing but ire at himself yet before it can fester into his heart and burnt forests down it’s quickly stomped down by rationality and a great struggle to not simply excuse himself and leave to his own home before making himself anymore of a fool, or Lucifer’s deep kindness that blinds his eyes and in equal strength, burns through him in a much more welcome way, but only for it to come with the aftertaste of even more shame for himself. Whatever of both first consumes his soul, Sandalphon doesn’t know but both burn almost in different ways despise the daggers dig deep in his chest nonetheless - It also, in all the fog that settles over bright red eyes, a bit of life back - enough light that rivals the darkness beyond Lucifer’s windows that only show deep darkness and aggressive splashes of raindrops that barrage it without mercy.

         So with some strength born from that little flicker that Lucifer never ceases to somehow grant the barista, sandalphon cracks a small, tired smile at the other’s touch - a bit cold compared to other times Lucifer’s held him with so much carefulness one might believe he’s made of glass instead of billion thorns and charcoal, but Sandalphon doesn’t pull away from it beyond silently ignoring the awkward feeling of damp skin touching. ‘‘ Yeah I’m... I’m alright, I guess. ‘‘ No broken bones, no bruises anywhere clothes cannot hide, maybe his wounded ego - But first things first, even with the clammy feeling of damp aurburn locks stuck to his forehead and the desperate need to rid himself of the rain that had mercilessly barraged his entire person, eyes look up the other, courage back. ‘‘ But there’s nothing for you to apologize, Lucifer - maybe I should have checked the news or my phone, but other than that, you’re not a psychic to know that the sky would suddenly turn this... wild out of nowhere. ‘‘

         And yet, try as he might not let the other blame himself, the barista knows where this will go. A game of tug-owar for who takes blames on trivial things. Over things they had no control over and yet could never end fretting over each other. That warms a bit of that cold that settled on his heart, and without further to think beyond maybe ridding himself of uncomfortable, wet clothes (but not right now, not in front the other like that when even the mere though could make his heart both jump and sink into the very depths of the earth) lets the other simply assist with it, the feeling of the other’s touch soothing on it’s own along the fluffy texture of the towel upon his crown. Lungs release a caught breath rather unceremoniously as it stings upon his throat, but Sandalphon isn’t much bothered about such lousy display when indulging a bit for a change. ‘‘ Ah... How about you? Are you alright, Lucifer? The winds were strong, and that can be quite a hurdle when walking against it. ‘‘ Anything to also quietly stomp down one little fact Sandalphon’s leaving to the side.

          One that he doesn’t wish to really think too much about if he values his dignity anymore if there’s any more of it. And it being that within Lucifer’s place, Sandalphon’s got nothing to change himself into. And the though of asking for the other’s was too much of a long stretch for his heart to bear.

#Running Lights; [ 3 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ and a little more soft! #[ but even then sandy absolutely taking blames and knowing his doom bc #[ it's a never ending lil light argument between them without end #[ unless one shush the other #[ Sandy this close to put a finger on his lips before lucifer dares muster another apology bc he doesn't know his heart can handle it #[ these two are so hopeless im wheeZING #[ sandy pretending his incoming doom isn't right behind him like w all his existential problems

[cxffexngel]

[ aaetherius​ ]

    Radiant, blue eyes widen just a tad at Sandalphon’s words before the gentle smile upon Lucifer’s rosy lips somehow grows warmer. His expression alone filled with more affection and fondness than most hearts were capable of holding. And his own aches terribly as a result, but it’s a comfortable ache. One so very different from the agonizing pain he had once felt in his chest when he had walked through the dying gardens of Canaan alone–not even one bird to keep him company with song or a single insect to buzz about the dwindling flowers as he replayed the memories he had harbored of each blade of grass in the back of his mind. Each memory leading back to Sandalphon. No, this ache, though it still pains him at times, is far more pleasant, and always strikes him when he feels the happiest. “So it would seem, my dear Sandalphon,” he offers softly in response. His voice bleeds the same tenderness that his expression harbors, and he instinctively lifts his free hand to grip gingerly at his own chest. His knuckles come to rest over his heart, where he can still feel the pinprick of a handful of the marks the archangel had left upon his body last night. Curiously, he curls his fingers a bit tighter against the curve of his collarbones as he listens to the archangel’s words–almost as if trying to imagine what it might feel like to have a sturdy hand gripping at his core tightly. At times, he feels as if his own heart is trying to implode on him because the emotions it harbors are simply too grand and numerous for it to contain. Perhaps, then, it felt a bit something like that. “Yes, I believe mine feels much the same,” he admits softly. “When I feel implausibly happy my heart aches. Like you, waking up beside you or holding your hand is enough to make my heart soar, yet ache at the same time.” Meretriciously, Lucifer pries his fingers away from his chest, leaving behind tiny marks on his skin where his fist had been clutching at it. Little remnants of the love he feels for the other, just as the marks on his body and the mess left behind on the sheets are.

   Just as the kiss they share is another reminder of that very same, unyielding love that holds Lucifer’s core in a vice-grip while also bringing with it a profound sense of peace that nothing else could ever hope to match. By now, the slow, delicate dance of their tender lips is something Lucifer has become familiar with, yet, despite that, every time their mouths meet it somehow feels drastically different than the last. Never losing the sense of wonder and joy and heartache that comes with it. He could the lingering richness of coffee on Sandalphon’s tongue a thousand times over and never grow tired of it. The rustle of the haphazard sheets and the soft flutter of Lucifer’s own wings feels a world away when all he can think about is the warmth of the other’s lips against his own, and how bitter, yet sweet those very lips taste. Oh, he could kiss Sandalphon for eternity and, somehow, would never fail to find something new–something wondrous and inspiring and awe-invoking about him. And his heart would yearn and throb the entire time–as if every kiss were the first one again and again–still as filled with roses and honey and sugar as the others before it had contained. And the faintest of hums dares to escape the depths of his threat as he feels Sandalphon’s hand cup his jaw gently–as if he was something beautiful and worthy of such tenderness. And all Lucifer can do is helplessly lean into that touch because he might feel unworthy of it, but his heart still leaps at the sensation of those fingers upon his skin. He easily falls deeper into that kiss, heedless of how he tumbles down with Sandalphon when the other’s back hits the wayward pillows and tangled mess of blankets gathered beneath them. His hands instinctively catching him on either side of the archangel’s shoulders so he doesn’t fall entirely on top of him, and risk breaking the kiss he simply can’t get enough of. To Lucifer, there is nothing more intoxicating and magical than kissing the other.

     Even when his lungs cry out in agony, he pushes a bit deeper into that kiss, giving it one last passionate exchange before he forces himself to shatter it. A tepid breath tumbling from his soft lips kicking up strands of auburn hair that doesn’t look dissimilar to his own in its current state of disarray. A breathless, yet fond smile paints his rosy cheeks as he looks into Sandalphon’s eyes, still trying to ease the throbbing of his abused lungs. “Truly…” he pants, looking utterly ridiculous with the way his tousled hair frames his otherwise immaculate features, “These beds are too comfortable. I am afraid I must admit I have no desire to rise from it this day.” He dips his head forward, softly rubbing his forehead against Sandalphon’s, and gently nuzzling against the other’s cheeks. “Would it be so terrible if we simply chose to remain here instead–at least for today?” Ah, he knows it’s such a selfish thing for him to ask when the cafe should be tended to, but he suspects the others won’t worry much–not over a single day. “Ah, I must be saying nonsensical things again,” he admits with a chuckle before pulling his head away so he can look into Sandalphon’s eyes once more. “It is simply that spending time with you, my solace, brings me peace of mind and more joy than I can fathom. I want nothing more than to be with you–to elongate these moments as much as possible. Ah–it seems even admitting that much is enough to make my heart ache,” he says, his voice low–little more than a whisper against the archangel’s ear as he dips his head down once more to place a soft kiss on the corner of Sandalphon’s lips while shifting to wrap an arm about him as best he can to pull him into a soft embrace.   

         There's a sound that hangs at the tip of his tongue, between delight and bliss, as it also shows that ache within his core born from relief and more that whatever his poor core manages always to conjure as convoluted mess of emotions that all but point towards the same thing at the end. How he feels so at home with the other so close, how Lucifer's taste never dulls at all no matter how much he's blessed with kisses like these, or as fleeting like those when passing by one another yet bound to mundane duties that pull them away from each other temporarily. It doesn't help that the way Lucifer stubbornly keeps their little dance for as long as their lungs manage all but sink the arrow within his heart deeper, and understands all the more that little desperation to simply melt into him - to have everything the other has to give, and oh how he wished to simply hold Lucifer like this for thousand years, to make up for all that lost time to unknowns and his own demons. To ask again and again for forgiveness from his own unforgivable mistakes and betrayals as he also wishes to hear, even if they split his soul in million pieces the other's apologies for his own flaws that made Lucifer all the more human than he is a primal at heart. And as if it's his fault, when it obviously isn't at all, the current supreme primarch can only help with an embrace over the other's shoulders, enough to push their lips and bodies as close as comfortably possible before easing the hold to let the other finally let go even when some of drool rolls away from his lip until licked away. Eyes of radiant red like dusk fluttering open to half mast with bliss written all over his features just like the blush that dusts his face; truly it felt impossible to push himself to properly wake anymore, as if the mere though was a crime and sacrilege to their little peaceful corner within the Airship as it slowly traverses within the skies, no duties hanging over them for now, no battles just to exist.

         Even sandalphon was out of breath from it all, yet barely even registers the rise and fall of a chest littered in scars and beautiful little blossoms from Lucifer's own ministrations before, all he could focus on was on the other's state of mess - the smirk that pains his lips as lips fall closed is none more than a bit proud of entirely undoing the former supreme primarch's image to nothing more than a mirror of a bird's nest. Even when his hair would still look so impossibly flawless despise bangs sticking at odd angles and the shine all the more subtle due to sweat. " Told you, I-I think maybe entertaining your idea and simply stay longer might be the best to overcome our predicament. How about it, Lucifer? " And oh, the tickle of the other's forehead against his shoulder shouldn't feel as nice as it does. Sandalphon's helpless against the rumble that comes from a deep, lazy chuckles that emanates entirely because of the other's terribly selfish actions purchasing as much touch as possible, that once in a million years he wouldn't even have dreamed of ever being blessed with, not even holding the other's hand or grace his fingers from a shared cup. It was such a stark contrast, and yet it never ceases to feel as intense as they do, and find new ways in which his core can hurt from love and fondness alone. A hurt he likes way more than one born from pain and scars that live in his mind forever etched with blood to eternity. " Ah... and it's not the first time you say that, yet it still feels... new, or entirely unbelievable that you feel that about me. " But he doesn't let that dull the moment, his voice as soft as he can manage despise how worn down his poor heart can be at times. " But it relieves me, Lucifer. As it also only means I have to once more admit that seeing you this carefree, choosing such nonsensical things just because it's what you want to do at the moment instead because it's a duty... It brings me life. It guides me to keep trying my best. " Breathlessly, Sandalphon rises a bit while keeping an arm around the other so Lucifer couldn't stray too far, and elbow a few pillows into a hazard pile to better cushion his back, falling back into it for comfort while sighing.

         Hands carefully course through each curve, threads along lines of skin and muscle as if they were made of the finest glass that even a breath could break, when knowing Lucifer’s endured far worse and unimaginable horrors the archangel himself has witnessed and experienced in parallel too. Pressing softly to feel that warmth under where wings have ceased to attempt any kind of movement, plumes a mess and sticking at odd angles no much better than Lucifer’s locks that mirror his. And a hand rises to try and smoother some of then, the area closer to the base of the first pair, knowing how sensitive one angel’s wings can be when his own always felt terribly uncomfortable or heavy some days. ‘’ But… Of course, Lucifer. And if any of us gets hungry or anything, even if it’s not a necessity, I can still just teleport some of the kitchen’s appliances over here to borrow. So… a day simply reposing unbothered of other duties sounds like a gift. ‘’ But to sandalphon it was more just spending it with Lucifer, to talk and talk or share existence under the same roof, to sigh upon memories or counting speckles of dust. It never bored the archangel the other’s presence, it never felt like wasted time when the mere knowledge that Lucifer’s alive, that waking up to his slow, calming breaths at the morning were blessings that fueled his own worn core with enough energy to fight for another day. Once it was that wish to see the other again, to protect the skies just so he could later tell him the tales of adventures Lucifer wasn’t going to be there to look over, but now it was simply coming back to the room, or finding each other again and again in between mundane missions and when working together at the cafe or stalls when put them within the islands the grandcypher visits to hone better his management skills. ‘’ Maybe with that a bath to once more lay here in peace, I could help you brush your wings, they are quite a mess… ‘’ He sounds fond about it, and maybe a bit amused even, when lips quirk a bit in the glee that the peek he has from over the other’s shoulder spares of the other’s white veil of feathers that help as a blanket to shield from any cold remaining from the night’s breeze. For now, though, his ministrations are slow, carefulm

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ] #and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ] #aaetherius #[ slowly getting back my energy with more sapp!!! #[ lucifer gets a bolder sandy once in a while bc sandy rarely lets himself be selfish and this is one of those times! #[ Lucifer's absolutely gonna never move ever again at this point sFDSÑKFDSF #[ sandy ur not making it any easier!!!!!