#| ☩ and once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (ic) |

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel || Sandy tries less than a glass and wishes to never do that ever again dsFÑKDSFDF ]

‘’ I don’t get it… ‘’ it was the woes of the current supreme primarch as he could barely feel his throat. The burn of alcohol much too great and uncomfortable compared to the pleasant one of freshly brewed coffee. Sandalphon was unsure how he got roped this time to try the alcoholic drink after many times refusing - even after that time that one draph woman had the audacity to pour a whole bottle of that into his coffee back at the stall he once set at that one campsite some months ago. It was disgusting, too strong, sour and simply not even something he finds the so mentioned ‘joy’ of drinking at it. It made him feel heavy, dizzy and simply miserable - which he accentuates with a drawn out groan exhaled as he slumps into the table in front him, cheek flushed into the welcome of cold wood and hands at each side of his form. ‘’ What’s even the point of this drink, the culture around it if there’s not even an ounce of ‘happiness’ this even brings? Truly, I don’t get mortals sometimes. ‘’ yet what he fails to admit the entire time is about how all he’s done is drink not even half the glass he had been offered by none more than Eugen himself, the old skyfarer plenty of times having tried to offer the archangel drinks, to party and drag him as if Sandalphon was a junior under his wing rather the multimilenia primal beast, that will even outlive the old man at any point given - but he couldn’t complain, no. Not even when the four primarch themselves also, while now respecting him given his role he didn’t ask for but has worn with pride , there’s still that familiarity and almost friendliness they thread around him. Uriel almost like an older brother when they cross paths, to Michael’s understanding and lending each other an ear over regrets and guilts that hang over the two, to Gabriel almost terribly dotting nature and sometimes scary way  that she’s, out all the four, the most blended with skydweller culture than he’d be able to. And Raphael that stands by, but always offer the best advice when the winds blow in his direction. And oh how much of a fool he was, as he had singlehandedly seen Gabriel and Europa that time also delight themselves with drinks too while he was just perplexed at the crime happening before his eyes without a power to stop it. ‘’ Maybe I just wasn’t cut for this… Lucifer, what do I do with the glass? I could sneak and throw the rest into the sink but that’d defeat the purpose of a gift despise how… unfitting it is to my tastes. And the pile that the mortal has been piling for me and this ‘enlightenment’ I see nowhere despise my attempts. ‘’ And if he was going to be utterly honest, Sandalphon definitely wanted to just burn them all and just lie that he had drink them without trouble - but knew that he was much of a bad liar and it’d be found out easily even if he left no evidence of the matter due to how easy it’d be to spot the fallacies of his claims. Maybe, just maybe Lucifer would have an answer to his pleas; so a tired sharp, crimson eye perks a bit from the collapsed from of the archangel and oh; was that a frown on Lucifer there? ‘’ … Lucifer? ‘’

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.

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ A faint dusting after sunset ☩ (verse: AU - Post) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #{ DHKGJDS poor Sandy he's suffering but now at least Lucifer is suffering with him! }

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel​ // for RoB lucifer! Local goth lucifer receives a fateful visitor! 👀 ]

It all happens too fast, blows exchanged between the archangel, the crew who had his back and the greater force they had waged war against - one of far too many powerful primal beasts who mindlessly rampaged causing havoc against the skies without a mind about the disaster their power harbored. Sandalphon always taking the heavier blows, always using himself as the shield of the skies he wanted to protect, he was the one deserving each painful swipe of claws and magic that charred skin that later healed quicker than some of the mages of the crew could even begin trying to heal. Twelve wings, blinding with power that could break space and time itself flare to their full might, with the intend of banishing the primal beast towards it's endless slumber and mercy so it could rest once for all - he understands the pain of sentience, the burdens of being given life yet blinded with rage and to be left alone, so it's a war out of mercy, even when the rampaging beast fights and fights until drawing it's last breath.

Time had become nothing to sandalphon, sounds muted at this point to his ears as all he focuses is to land a last hit, the surge of power from his wings canalized into a so, so blindling light wielding every element etched into his core as he focuses the last hit, charging it with every second, the crew backing him up while flying behind and the sparks of bristling light, fire, winds, earth and water all become pure energy within his palm; molded into a massive sword unlike the purple ones that aid his battles - golden like an angel's halo. It takes one hoarse scream, one for the others to get out the way, the inelegant bristle of wings tinted gold by a light that comes from inside from immense gathered power. It takes only that for the sword to be sent forward at maddening speeds and force that break the sound barrier in a shrilling swipe of his bloodied hands. And it happens all too fast. The flash of light that nearly burns his eyes before he could refocus, the smoke in the distance as wails of the beast fall to a deafening silence, the uncertain peace of nothingness as many eyes wait to see the results of Sandalphon's last attack and confirm that maybe it's a win - and oh how Sandalphon wishes it could be. He was tired, the attack having drained every last drop of energy that he had managed to gather preparing the attack but not allowing himself, just yet, to fall by the aftermath of it. He waits, and the light that magic left residues of unusually staying, like a crack in the sky that as moments pass, makes that feeling inside his chest realize something.

Time stopped.

It stopped in it's entirety. And the realization makes the archangel scan hesitantly his surroundings; clouds don't move, wind doesn't blow, the sun stalled where it is. Maybe, he overdid it, maybe it was the primal beasts's last defense. He doesn't know. But before he could try and investigate more, from behind he feels a void draw him in, and unconsciously his wings flap with all his strength to draw away from it before he could think or curse.

It's all like a blur after that, his eyes at some point having fallen shut tight and braced himself for whatever was going to happen, be it fire, hell, to be crushed - whatever it'd be that was going to be. But he could feel the pull of gravity; the feeling of falling in speeds not even his wings would be able to stabilize. It was too much so instead his wings curl all around him, especially the white ones despise he tries to use more the other pairs as if they had minds of their own - with what he could of the last drops of strength drawn out out pure desperation, a  protective veil of light shrouding the cradle of wings that fall from orange skies of twilight - like a shooting star that had fallen from the night skies. It's a silent fall, one no one ever sees. And the crater left when finally the archangel meets ground is so loud no mortal would've ever survived such a fall. Sand scorched by the light, grass turned to dust - and white and golden tipped wings vanish along the multicolored pairs the archangel bore, only leaving the stubborn, tousled and so out of shape brown pair that continue to shield the now passed out archangel at the bed of his landing.

    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?"    

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ And when night falls ; the stars will guide you ☩ (verse: AU - Fallen) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #{ Ahhh I hope this works if not just let me know! } #{ Not pictured: GBF Lucifer hyperventilating and suffering GDFJKGHFDS } #{ may you enjoy the chaos GDJKGDFS } #{ I don't have anything to say for myself } #{ I took a break from writing smut to write this and it feels the same GDFSJLGKHFS }

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel​ || a follow up from christmas thread! ]

   Sunlight licks at aurburn strands that almost sparkle gold even though the angel, in a heap of messy sheets that need serious tidying up - something a sandalphon who hadn’t done…. what beautiful thing the night behind them had been, would be the first thing up his mind. But even now the grogginess of the night before hangs over the crowed supreme primarch, in the same way completely messy wings of white all but also help covering the state of undress Sandalphon now, slowly, realizes he still is in. A breathy sound escapes his lips as heavy eyelids try focusing a bit more around his surroundings, but it takes a good minutes between thinking of nothing after a dreamless and deep, revitalizing sleep and formulate many ways to slip away from Lucifer’s tangled limbs all around his frame (not that his own arms wrapped around the other’s waist and legs just as tangled with Lucifer’s helped at all with his situation.) safely without disturbing the other.    Hopeless as it is, and sleep kissed as the primarch is, Sandalphon can’t begin to find the less risky way - not that it mattered much; it still is a blessed and beautiful sight to witness the former supreme primarch how he is able to right now, curtains of white lashes hiding away those sky blue eyes, the quiet sound of his breathing against his own, as chest rises and falls so close to his - this feeling all the more felt with the lack of layers that would dull a bit how skin graces one another, how Lucifer’s warmth mixed with his, and at times, Sandalphon liked to think that there was entirely no difference on where Lucifer starts, and where it ends with his own. It paints a small, sleepy smile upon war-torn features, and adds to the pile of options of why he should stay a little bit longer next to the other’s sleeping frame, and bask in the silence and peace as the airship made it’s endless way upon vast skies. Wooden and steel faintly creaking as wind caresses the outside of the room, and the cold of the night slowly banishes to give way to the sun’s welcome.    Sandalphon doesn’t dare count the seconds, or minutes when time sometimes seemed both short and far too long to really give it measure, but after a while, he finally tries his best to slip away from the bed, replacing his form with the largest, available pillow for Lucifer to keep straddling while it lasts, knowing how easy it’d be for the Primarch to wake upon feeling the other’s absence, something that warmed Sandalphon’s wounded core enough to forget the hurt more than he likes to admit, and something that also embarrassingly applied to himself, especially in days where the shadow of doubts decided to reminds him anxieties that often made this reality far too great to believe in it. Something Lucifer has become better at noticing, and a complete menace into reminding the primarch that he’s here, and he plans on staying for as long as eternity allows them to. Bare feet, the chill of the floor instantly makes Sandalphon wiggle his nose in distaste, but he bears it to get used to the feeling as he rises, and with a smaller blanket draped over his waist to cover up enough he searches for something - a little gift box that had been loosely covered by a heap of papers and a book atop it to make it’s form as subtle as if nothing had been moved at all from the room. Taking it with his hands after applying some magic to clean better what last night’s activities had leave them a bit sticky, to not need and wash them in his current state witch absolutely would bring questions to whoever locked eyes with him. It’s tiny, cream colored with a brown ribbon keeping the box together, and a gold little feather drawn on one of the corners of the top. With it secured on one hand, the archangel approaches the bed until he takes a seat over the edge, and with his free hand reach over, as carefully as possible, to push a few white strands of hair away from the other’s forehead and reveal those closed eyes while Sandalpon softly sighs fondly over the other’s slumber. ‘’ I… Apologize if this disrupts your sleep, but at some point you need breakfast, Lucifer. ‘’ His voice no more than a quiet sigh, a complete contrast to how once he had been the very one to threaten the skies and bring doom. ‘’ Also, there’s something I wished you to have, but we got quite sidetracked yesterday - not that I regret any of it. ‘’ Oh he’d absolutely never regret that, not ever in thousand years. It had been wonderful, a dream he’s always fantasied about, something he never though possible nor close and worthy to have, and yet… ‘’ Take your time. ‘’

   A muffled whine escapes Lucifer’s rosy lips when he feels the familiar and comforting warmth that had been pressed against his chest vanish, or rather, feels it twist into something a tad bit more lifeless and cold. Instinctively, his arms grip the pillow Sandalphon had slipped into his arms a bit tighter, but feeling the soft, cushiony material give within his hold is more than enough to make the former Supreme Primarch frown in displeasure despite the fact that he’s still clearly asleep. Uselessly, his legs tug the discarded sheets closer, as if he’ll uncover buried treasure if he simply rolls about long enough. But there’s nothing there. His legs don’t ghost over anything warm or lively, instead they just get tangled up in the already impressive mess of blankets tucked all around him. His wings follow suit, lifting and then collapsing back down into the now empty space–as if searching helplessly for something that should be there, but isn’t. With a soft groan, he nuzzles into the cotton pillow case, smothering his face against its soft surface, and fussing up strands of pearly, white hair that’s typically so neat and well-kept. At the moment; however, it’s not dissimilar to Sandalphon’s–shorter strands sticking up haphazardly, and longer ones curling up at the edges. The severity made all the worse the more he desperately attempts to clutch at the pillow in his budding, but sleepy disappointment because something about it doesn’t feel quite right, but his hazy and dazed mind can’t, exactly, figure out what’s wrong.

   It really only manages to click in his sleep-logged mind when he feels the gentle brush of fingers against his forehead. “Mmmm, Sandalphon,” he lazily yawns as he holds the pillow much too tightly, and nuzzles even closer to it (perhaps Sandalphon just narrowly manage to escape being hugged into a thousand pieces by waking up first). It only takes him a few more minutes and a few squeezes of his fingers against the fabric for him to realize the archangel wouldn’t be so soft and malleable. Slowly, long lashes lift to reveal sleep-dazed blue eyes that stare at the blurry mixture of colors swirling together before his eyes. Blinking a few watery, sleepy tears back, he finally manages to focus on the pillow held in his arms, and then on Sandalphon where he’s now sat at the edge of the bed. For a fleeting moment, a frown scars as his otherwise immaculate features, as if he feels betrayed by the pillow itself instead of the person who actually put it there in the first place. Carefully, Lucifer unwraps his arms from around the poor, sorely abused pillow and peers up at Sandalphon through dewy lashes and messy bangs. Positioning his arms on top of the pillow as he begins to the painful process of waking up, it takes him a few minutes to actually register that Sandalphon is saying words, and he can’t simply just lay there and admire his voice without saying anything at all, as tempting as doing so would be right now. For someone who had never required sleep in order to function before his current body, Lucifer, surprisingly given how stern and business-like he had once been, always had trouble waking up in the morning. It helps precious little that last night still feels a bit like a dream; an impossible wish that left his core feeling terribly light and warm and enamored. Though, even in his current, and very groggy, state of mind he’s well aware it had been reality.

  “Do I?” he asks, his voice still a bit hoarse and sluggish. “Perhaps I could be convinced with a kiss.” Even first thing in the morning he somehow has the utter audacity to make such heartfelt requests. Though, mercifully, his attention does manage to redirect slightly as Sandalphon continues speaking. Ah, yes, that’s right–he’d almost forgotten what day it was. Compared to everything that had happened, the holiday felt like a distant thought in his mind. Leisurely, he retracts his wings to make more space as he slowly sits up–completely ignoring the fact that he’s entirely bare still, and heedless of how the sheets all tumble down his shoulders to gather at his waist with the motion. “Yes, I remember now…” he mumbles softly, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Sandalphon to hear. The archangel had mentioned something about a gift last night, but last night itself had been such a grand gift that he couldn’t imagine or even fathom something more. “So it seems we did, but getting sidetracked was the greatest gift of all.” A gentle smile spills onto his lips as he finally begins to wake up, and break free from the clutches of sleep. The corners of his lips curl upwards even more as he reaches out to find Sandalphon’s hands so he can place his own over them. “I’m afraid if I were to take my time I would simply remain here with you, like this, all day.” Even he’s aware that’s not exactly practical–not to mention the mess, but he’s ignoring that aspect of his current situation rather well. “But I am awake now, so whenever you are ready. I am certain you could use breakfast as well. However…” He lifts his hands from the other’s knuckles just to gingerly card his fingers through those messy auburn locks, and to softly caress the archangel’s jaw, as if carefully making sure nothing was out of place, and that Sandalphon seemed perfectly fine. Ah, he’s still largely unfamiliar with the more physical aspects of his feelings, and a part of him simply never stops worrying. It’s in his nature. In his desire to see the other safe and happy. “Are you feeling all right, Sandalphon?” 

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ A faint dusting after sunset ☩ (verse: AU - Post) | #| ☩ thread 108: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #{ Tender!!!! Soft!!! } #{ Ahhhh they're so soft I weep! } #{ Sandy may have a sleepy Lucifer who is maaaaybe a little bit needy! } #{ Thank you for writing this! }

[aaetherius]

 @cxffexngel​ || for all those rained in drawings ya keep sending me and fueling my mind with many thoughs!!! I choose evil :3c

  Guilt forms a frown on Sandalphon’s fair features, dusted a blush from the cold at the tip of both nose and ears that peek from curls of hair that lower by the weight of rain that even now mercilessly pours like cascades without any end of it in sight. Clouds dark shielding the sun from adobe the skies, and bags with various fruits and beans secured with plastic wrapping so none of it could go held tightly, but not too strongly against his chest, Sandalphon heaves out a sigh in relief when they both find shelter under Lucifer’s place. A roof that provides a rest from the chaos that had been an otherwise what used to be a peaceful chance at shopping for a evening dinner the barista had offered in a whim. “ Sorry… About this. ” it quietly slips from his lips ridden with a bit of the frustration and rage that comes at himself. Not having been prepared, not being good enough, believing how little he managed to achieve despise his best efforts. Sandalphon let that slip and it stung like million thorns upon his tongue.

   And he’d never be angry at Lucifer. Annoyed, exasperated, maybe, but actual red, fiery rage feels like a farfetched myth, and there was nothing for the other that should be apologizing for when even the other didn’t even notice the moment the sky turned grey and the first droplets fell warning with only seconds to breathe before it became a full on storm. And yet, even as they had crossed the doorframe by now and Sandalphon had dropped the bags in an awkward splattering sound that made him wince. even the idea of drying himself only to later soak himself away undoing all their shopping to prepare the food felt like a huge effort by now. But that need to remedy something his withered heart always somehow lays the blame upon himself, even for those unexpected moments that were not even his fault fuel the young man to fill his lung with a sharp inhale, exhale. Count to ten and then face the other, his tired frown still there but fixed on the bags the other carried. “ Let me help you with them. ” To make up for it. But the last of that goes unsaid, instead all written upon his face.

   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.

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ To meet with you again ☩ (verse: AU - Modern) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ thread 109: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #{ I'm innocent! } #{ Ahhh my heart they're both so sad because they both feel like they're at fault! } #{ Lucifer can def tell Sandy's feeling a bit down and it's breaking his heart! } #{ Thank you for writing this! } #{ And let me know if this doesn't work! }

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel || royal au spft fluff after the angst! Because while Sandy is angry still, at least it has subsided where he's ready to move on, and love lucifer for his radiance and flaws ]

Royal curtains flow with the silent dance of a song no one can hear, a breeze that whispers lyrics unknown to the mortal, and the quiet melodies of lush grass rinsed in morning dew at the first peek of sunlight after cold nights during a much more tame winter after storms subsided and now at best snow lasted hours compared to days and weeks. That fateful night under the blue moon had been a rough one, but a much needed moment to transpire and confess sins that, even if not easily forgiven, the beast that the knight had been has been successfully left to slumber for unknown time. He's tired, that he's known for the months, or perhaps now year ever since the king has taken Sandalphon under his wing as a knight, when the title, even now, simply didn't suit the weigh of his crimes. But King did not suit Lucifer, either. And for that they are even, for that - Sandalphon's ire against the other stills to be justified, yet does not with the other death nor suffering. To forgive the unforgivable, that is what the man in beautiful robes that felt too white when trying them on his own form only to see his less broad but equally strong shoulders engulfed in impossible folds and gold. Meeting the reflection of his image with a funny face and scrunched nose of disgust and perhaps, a tinge of amusement too. That is what he's learned from the man who offers his hand to a wounded beast that would bite, so he does the same. Forgives the unforgivable, to there's nothing else left beyond the gates Sandalphon has to lose at this point, Beyond that lone coffee tree awaiting their next return should the pair dare sneak once more from the castle and stand on soil like simply two more men, existing under the roof of vast blue skies as nothing more but souls bound by fate, and a bond that refuses to break, no matter how much it twist and the edge of a sword presses against it.

Lucifer's scratches from million roses scrapping his body are gone by now, as they were no more than just annoying papercuts - but they did not help making Lucifer's closes knight to not cast glares akin fo the flames of justice against the smaller knight's back and ask questions. A judgement he was, thankfully, spared from thanks to the king's words of reassurance, and left to be spoken another time when the waters calm down. Sandalphon, compared, was better - a weight lifted from his shoulders and the unseen dread that had been there simply gone like a healing spell. It did not fix the tired look that held within his eyes, but now often Sandalphon could be found by the castle's kitchen, or wandering about in silence and picking on books or lost items the King continues to somehow misplace in the most outrageous places anyone could think of. They helped keep his mind occupied, and win a few chuckles as the knight wondered just how one could misplace quills in a room full of antiques and treasure, or important papers in the lounge while many other invitees stared at the papers with fearful respect to not pry into them, yet unsure what to do with the files before the knight scooped them without missing a beat and leave them where it should. He can admit feeling lighter, as if chains within the tired heart once frozen had wilted away leaving the raw core within anew for new pages to be written. Bitterness, unfortunately, was a savor that hardly could be washed, it's take millennia if he was optimist about it - but nothing changes that, for once in his life, finally getting an answer to move on made Sandalphon a fraction less bitter. And let himself be guided by the light of Lucifer's almost terribly unconditional love the other carried so, so easily from his sleeve despise the hurt his heart must've had from the past.

But no confessions saved the king from having to attend meetings, nor do they spared the knight from duties having to get done the next following days, yet they also helped keep his mind off from pouring back bile, and bite off chunks of kindness not only the king offered but the maids, the other four knights, the many people that voluntarily work within the halls of the immaculate castle of canaan he meets thorough duties that mostly always were self imposed by Sandalphon himself, and lifted off the trouble for many when most of heavy duties truly seemed as if they required, mostly, the knights rather that the folks from the village outside from how ridiculously big some things happened to be, or how tall most walls look. " Lucifer. " The knight whispers under his breath, soft to not disrupt the other's slumber from an amusing spill of many papers he can only guess are important, yet little he cared beyond just later sliding them back in order when the king finally peels away from overworking his already aching body. Pushing the large ornate doors of white and gold with little noise made beyond a mute creak and the salute of the sun that spills from large open window. " I know you've told me to not trouble myself with it, but it's hard not to when my only judge with blends is no one but you. " He laces his voice with a hint of amusement, but he's speaking the truth. And also the knight's waltz towards a forgiveness the other has given Sandalphon ever since shackled within the catacombs. Even then, Sandalphon prefers stubbornly to treat the king, even if such occurrences had been once scarce and met with snap remarks or poison spit. Now it's an unprompted little game of letters, but with his cups. Coffee from the lone tree back in that shaded garden he had snuck when the pair had come back from their meeting and latter confessions poured raw in the open, as a secret for the tree to ever truly know and remember. It's a small ritual of trust, and one he does with care as his free hand that doesn't hold the silver tray with two cups meets the king's broad shoulder where a dark blanket covers over them, and presses gently to massage the probably aching muscle. " Can't guarantee anyone else being this gentle waking you up from such irresponsible slumber, but I was never one to abide rules anyways. " He says, after a pause, keeping his hand there while placing the tray atop the ornate desk with the mess of papers, somehow finding a spot where nothing important was laid out to let the scent of the drinks coax Lucifer into perhaps not truly melting where he sits now. And while his feelings on the king are complex, they no longer ran in anger or spite. The trust the other has built from hand and stone is still there, fractured but still willing to stand - and that's how Sandalphon tries demonstrating it. " We could have.... another of those hot baths if you wish. By the night, too... " But even then was waltzing into dangerous threads, ones that absolutely did not have to do with his feelings the forgiven neglect - but on how fresh the memory of a disrobed lucifer, how sweat clinged into every curve of his body and the way he's terribly blind to his beauty was why the man stammers a bit from where he stands, now by the side of the seat Lucifer has taken a nap on.

   Time feels as if it has both flown by and remained at a stand-still since that fateful night he had confessed the depths of his already weak heart to Sandalphon. So much as changed, and, yet, so much as remained the same as well. Despite the fact that it felt as if his chest had been crushed, the kingdom didn’t cease to move - the seconds, minutes, and hours that followed still turned into days. It might as felt as if his lungs had stopped working, but the truth of the matter was that, somehow, he was still very much alive, and, as unfit to be king as he might be, this country couldn’t wait for him to recover. Documents still needed to be signed, laws changed or established, cities to repair, towns to feed, people to speak with, and the countless other duties that kept his days busy even with how often he managed to unintentionally avoid all of those tasks save for the ones Michael dragged to him to whether he recalled they were happening or not. And, despite how badly he had betrayed him, Sandalphon had chosen to remain within this castle as his knight. And he still went about his same self-imposed tasks as always. Brewing various coffees Lucifer was blessed with the chance to taste, and cleaning up the various things the king somehow managed to misplace in the strangest of ways. He could, still, that the phantoms of that night remained on Sandalphon’s mind to this day, as they did his own, but they both continued forward; perhaps a bit clumsily, but it was a step regardless. He’s read time heals all wounds. He’s believed, for many years now, such a statement to be untrue. It’s been years since he has said goodbye to Sandalphon that first time, and he still feels the pain of the other’s absence despite the knight being beside him once more. And, no matter how time seems to pass, he can’t erase the warm, sticky sensation of blood from his fingers. Perhaps time will dull those feelings; perhaps the ripples and fractures in the foundation he had built up with Sandalphon can be repaired - but the scars will likely always remain in their own way. And knowing he had left them there will haunt him in much the same way the former king’s murder by his own hands does. Those are the thoughts that fill his head these days - the ones that make it difficult to focus on the work in front of him, and the ones that keep him from falling asleep at night.     

      Those are the same thoughts, though indirectly, that also make him slowly fade in and out of consciousness as he stares at the neat, yet cluttered writing occupying the impressive stack of documents piled upon his already messy desk. It’s hard to maintain focus on legalities that are often dull, and letters full of content that could bore even the most stalwart individual to tears. Lucifer was already an exception, though his came in the form of a long, low yawn that tugged at the corners of his utterly exhausted eyes as he allows his head to fall against the parchment and his arms - the quill slowly slipping from his weakening grasp until it had left stains upon the smooth white wood, and clattered against it so softly even Lucifer could easily dismiss it. His eyelids feel heavier with each blink that makes long lashes kiss the bags that had already formed beneath them, and Michael’s warnings begin to vanish into the very back of his mind where he can pretend he didn’t sit through one of her many lectures about the amount of backlog there was simply because he had spent so much time worrying about Sandalphon that he had completely ignored his duties to the kingdom, and that he needed to atone for that by clearing every single letter, compliment, compliant, and proposal as quickly as possible. But, ah, perhaps allowing himself to doze off for a moment isn’t the worst sin he could commit,. and, so, slowly those thoughts dwindle into the nothingness that greets him as he closes his eyes, and is promptly thrust into the darkness of a, thankfully, dreamless slumber.  

      One that only slowly begins to ebb when he feels the gentle press of something warm upon his back, and the darkness consuming him explodes into a collection of glittering stars and shimmering galaxies behind his ever heavy eyelids. An unceremonious moan spills lazily past his smooth lips, and he can just vaguely feel the tickle of paper against his cheek as his tepid breath pours over the document cradled beneath his arms that feel terribly stiff. But don’t ache nearly as much as his back does. Even so, the desire to ignore that soft touch upon his back and that pleasant voice beside his ear is dreadfully tempting. But he can’t deny how badly his heart, still, yearns for the knight. Endlessly; hopelessly, and feverishly. To waste even a second of the precious time they have together is something he can’t fathom, even if Sandalphon has made it clear that, for now, he has no wish to leave the castle or his current position. “Sandalphon...” he mumbles the other’s name against the parchment, and with the hushed, hoarse way it escapes his throat it’s difficult to tell if he’s awake or still dreaming. But slowly long lashes flutter open to the interior of his room, and the knight’s handsome’s features. His vision still blurry and mind still foggy until he forces himself to blink a few times, and lift his head from the collection of letters he very much shouldn’t be using as a pillow. The page on the very top of the stack sticks to his cheek for a moment before it tumbles down, leaving behind a trail of ink upon his pale skin that had, clearly, still been quite damp when he had dozed off, though Lucifer himself utterly fails to notice the smudges staining his normally immaculate features as he offers Sandalphon a fond, though sleep-kissed smile. “Hmmmm, I suppose it would be unlikely,” he hums, his voice low and sluggish as he forces himself to sit up, already yearning for the blanket’s warmth as it slips from his shoulders, but unable to truly focus on it when the knight’s hand felt like a fire raging upon his back - so very warm, yet, somehow, so very comforting at the same time. “But I would not wake from such a slumber for anyone but you, Sandalphon.” He tilts his head, strands of white hair that resemble starlight in the sun’s glow bounce against his jaw with the motion and stick to the ink plastered to his skin - coating their ends a deep gray. His lips slowly pull into a grin at his words - as if he feels not an ounce of shame for confessing such a thing. And, truthfully, he doesn’t. There was a reason Michael always asked Sandalphon to check in on him these days - because waking him without the knight was a tedious task even she didn’t wish to have to take up.  

    But it takes only a moment for his attention to turn to the tray balanced upon his desk, and the rich aroma pouring out from the cups upon it. His nose wiggles ever so slightly at the delightful scent, and the heat that radiates from the drink. Ah, it’s tempting to simply give a taste without saying anything at all, but he’s aware of how much Sandalphon cares about the quality of his coffee so simply allowing himself to indulge would be a disservice to the maker he cared for dearly despite everything. “You brewed more coffee. I would be honored if you would allow me to taste it.” Truly the other’s coffee is the best he’s ever had, and everything else seems to fail when held against it. Though, even with how much he adores the other’s coffee, his attention swiftly returns to Sandalphon at the suggestion. There’s a brief, though fleeting hint of surprise that ignites within his eyes before, slowly, his expression softens once more and his smile turns from amused to sincere in the blink of an eye. “I would wish for nothing more, Sandalphon.” And he’s in desperate need of one too thanks to the splotchy patches of ink coating his face and arms that Lucifer, still, has entirely failed to notice. But his joy at the offer is painfully evident upon his features that, somehow, look so much more youthful now than they had a moment ago when still riddled with the scars of sleep, and he leans back against the other’s touch, tilting his head back until his hair is almost touching the knight’s chest, and he’s awkwardly looking up at him with a thousand stars contained within his eyes. “That memory is still very precious to me, and, if I am being entirely honest, I am in need of a break.” Despite having, arguably, just taken one. “I do not believe I will be able to get much more done today without one.” Shameless. Utterly shameless. Especially when he’s not made a dent in the paperwork he was supposed to have finished weeks ago. 

#cxffexngel #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ but there it lies under the smiles; it drains me mile after mile ☩ (verse: au - royalty | #| ☩ thread 103: Sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #{ Ahhhh soft!! Slowly they will rebuild their trust!! } #{ In the meantime Lucifer will continue to be Lucifer aka utterly shameless!! } #{ Sandy spoils him too much by gently waking him up that he's forgotten what it was like having Michael tear open his door and drag him out #{ And now Sandy has to pay for the consequences of his actions with one (1) needy Lucifer FGJDFKGJDFSfsd } #{ Thank you for sending this!!! <3 }

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel || haunted shrine AU! ]

Wings with tips of scorched black and brown, dirty plumes veil the fave of the spirit that raged ever since unaccounted time, feared and isolated ever since of how much Sandalphon can even begin to remember. Everything around him changes, seasons pass and colors transition from lush greens to verdant colors and flowery beds, to snow and then the fall of leaves. A cycle he grows relentless time from time when shackled to the worn wooden shrine that would not allow the soul to leave the area, and only wallow in the loneliness and silence that, after centuries, the place had finally had gotten. It took million curses, dead people victim of his rage that inflicted illnesses to many of the unsuspecting visitors, heartbreaks that would wilt their lives to nothingness and then - silence. A cycle that happened time from time, and the winged creature, dressed in robes pf red and green and limbs of black hovered to many more days unable to really do much more but seethe with that flame that refuses to go out, an ire that fuels the vengeance that somehow is all he knows, no one that stirred the impatience of the haunting was ever free from the curses that would be laid as soon as eyes as red as a pierced heart's blood would stare down at them in the most reverent silent anger as words would be spoken, yet never head - and then silence would fill the empty field around the shrine again.

It's all he's known, Sandalphon has believed. To hate and lash out, to gnaw and curse, to wish and be left alone if no one was ever going to rid of him for good. The cruelest thing ever done binding his soul to such an empty place that looked like it'd fall down anytime at the foot of nature's will, and maybe someday, that's all he needs to finally go away — but fate was never kind. The heavens must resent him, as it mattered not how many centuries would pass, even when a period of stillness passed by, it never failed to occur the worst; a living to find their way to his shrine. The crunch of steps stirring vile and sickness to a being that only felt seething anger from thin air, like a wounded animal who wanted nothing but to be left alone, feathers would stir in anger and their battered ends would prickle, yet Sandalphon knew best that whoever is there, at best will feel the heavy air around the place, will feel that agony that the cursed place has been tainted with, and for better or worse, they'd leave. That's how it's always been.... Or not. There always is a time a single living would come by, everyday. Time from time again until they grew old and then the spirit would see them no more. For reasons unable to figure out, completely unaffected by the curses or his rage, nor even moved to fear or sadness over anything the sight would instill - nothing. All of those times, all of those lifetimes each living would have, they had in common one thing. Immense sorrow, guilt - and yet; it only angered the spirit even more. Why would they care? Why would they even make the effort for just a nameless being that only he remembers the name of? Ever since bound to this place, Sandalphon's known two things. His name, and that he's angry. Why? Betrayal. But what betrayal? Why was he cursed to be bound here for an untold time? Who did this? But such things were already dissipating as days could go by, and only the song of birds and wind blowing trees all but answered those questions. Looking back was a fog, a katana, red, horrified eyes of blue, and the shout of said name he all but remembers was directed to him. Everything else nothing but the blur of time passing, and frustrations that did not quell even as the ticking of an imaginary clock did not ever appease.

The sight becomes regular, always the same. A tall man, young yet lines of tiredness there. Sandalphon liking to guess it's his curses wilting that life away, but it was very obvious that it was something else entirely - somehow this place brought that man peace, much to his horror and distaste; and even worse. He'd try repairing the place, fixing rooting wood and painting faded reds back to something lively. It was disgusting, but little the spirit could do beyond hoping his clawing would somehow stir a reaction beyond tired hums he'd hear from the man rattle his chest, or words about things he cares little to listen when his mission was to let this place decay and be free; but it was helpless, his swings of dark clawed hands all but doing much, a much terribly futile attempt to what limited influence Sandalphon had, that he could only hover away, at a safe distance and stare at the other's back. A shirt that was cleaned not long ago, pants that fit nicely, but the vengeful soul wished they could just rot and bleed and be torn away by a wolf's teeth. Hair as bright as the first days after a gentle snowfall, fading to the slightest pink, and hands that told stories the ghost was not over interested to hear about. Why would he care? " Get tired already. " the psyche within what he can form as thoughts rattle as an echo of that wish from him, he could no speak, the wings get in the way - he could not see with his eyes, but he could feel the other's life radiating in colors a mortal could not. In a way, he could feel the other, could feel the world just like a living, and at the same time he could not. Limbs of feathers that sprout where ears could be all but locked in place, along bigger ones at his back that little needed to be there when as a spirit there were no bounds between earth and air, but just the unseen barrier that let him not to leave the place around the cursed shrine.

So the best now, just like anytime he's felt this presence ever since many times, Sandalphon just lets the curses take care of it. For now he just leaves him be and not care about what happens, for he all could bring is ruin and hurt, so that's what he will do.

The dilapidated shrine tucked beneath overgrown bushes and crooked tree branches isn't some whimsical or magical sight to behold. It's not a unique and beautiful treasure found amongst the aged trees of the seemingly out of place woods that some might assume it to be with the various rumors that circulate among the public about it. No, it's not special or breathtaking or mystical. It's haunted and rundown and unsightly. There's been talk of tearing it down for a few years now, but the plans to do so always fall short. The workers become ill or mysteriously vanish, and all efforts to remove it are brought to a halt. Curious onlookers are a rarity, too, these days. Back when Lucifer had first started coming to this shrine, years ago -- when he had been a child drawn to the ruined building by an indescribable tug on his heart, he would see the occasional brave daredevil who would visit the shrine just to prove the rumors were false. Sadly, all they ever did was add more creditably to those rumors. It seems, finally, after years of misfortune relating to the shrine, most of decided it's best to leave it alone. He's seen all manner of ill befall those people over the years he's been coming to this place, yet, that same fate hadn't befallen him. Perhaps it's only a matter of time before he finds himself cursed or worse, but, despite that possibility hanging over his head, he's never once considered putting an end to his visits. After all, he's come to this shrine every single day since he was five years old. A habit of twenty-two years wasn't an easy one to break. And, if he were being honest, even if he wished it, he doesn't believe it would be possible for him to put a stop to these visits. It would make his heart ache for too terribly.

So, with two cups of piping hot coffee, and a hefty bag of supplies strapped to his shoulders, Lucifer makes the same walk he does every single day. Up the same set of mossy, stone steps, beneath the same withering branches that creak eerily in the wind, past the same red gates that are full of splinters and chips, to the small shrine nestled within it all. Inhaling softly, he almost instinctively holds his breath as his gaze dances over the shrine, releasing it only when he's certain none of the awkward and worn pieces of wood holding it together will come crumbling down. He's fixed them a few times, but much of the original structure has rotted over time, and there's only so much he can do. Despite the lengths he's gone to to keep the shrine standing, he can't even begin to claim he's confident in his handiwork. But he wills those thoughts away to replace his concerned frown with a gentle smile as he kneels down before the shrine to make his offering, and say a prayer. Muttering a silent, yet heartfelt vow, he places one of the cups down on the alter alongside a handful of herbs before settling down on the steps a few paces away, and shrugging off his bag. Rolling his stiff shoulders back, he digs through the contents, removing a notebook, pen, a can of paint, and a paintbrush.

"I started the southernmost gate yesterday," he says to no one is particular as he taps the pen against the neat list sprawled out on the page he's opened up to. "Today I should be able to finish painting it. Ah -- perhaps I should sweep the steps as well." It's autumn, after all, the weather is getting colder, and the leaves have started to fall. He can scarcely hope to count the sheer number of them that have collected on the aged steps. Setting the pen on the page he had been eyeing, he glances upwards towards the dwindling sky. It's a bit late. He hadn't been able to get out of the meeting, and the sour taste it left in his mouth still lingered. But, here, for some reason, he felt at ease -- a world away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Away from the expectations of society, and the slog of daily life. Here, despite all of the rumors that he fully believed, he felt safe. At home. The thought alone is enough to make his smile a genuine one. "It seems I will be in your company for some time tonight. Please look after me." He turns to the shrine as he speaks, watching the abandoned building groan with the wind.

He doesn't know if this shrine is haunted or not. He has no way of knowing if a spirit or ghoul or god calls this place home -- if anything at all, but, in his heart, he doesn't feel as if he's alone. But the feeling is comforting rather than unsettlingly, even if he does get the occasional chill or hear the faintest of rustles from time to time. Shaking his head, he tosses the notebook onto the bag, and takes the can and paintbrush over to the torii gate leading up to the shrine, admiring the post he's already managed to complete. The fresh paint has dried, and the color has gone from a muddy pink to a vibrant red that stands out against its peers, but he's determined to repaint every last gate around the shrine so, one day, they'll all match. Without hesitation, after all he's spent the last twenty-two years tending to this shrine, he gets to work painting. Sweeping, he's decided, he'll do after he's finished with this gate. Ah, it will be well past nightfall by the time he leaves, but that thought doesn't frighten him. "Today I brought you a latte I brewed. I am afraid I have yet to master the art of drawing in foam, but I pray my humble portrait of the gates brings you some joy."

He's like this every time he visits -- speaking to nothing and no one in particular. Having a conversation with the wind and leaves. If there is something here, he feels like he should speak whenever he comes by. After all, he's the only visitor to this shrine anymore, and not having anyone to listen to must be lonely. Ah, it's a feeling he knows all too well, and he can't bear the idea of another enduring it. So, if he can help ease some of the pain just a bit, he gladly will. Even if the coffee he brings always goes cold, and there's never a drop missing from it by the time he leaves.

#cxffexngel #| ☩ and once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (ic) | #| ☩ i would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: sandalphon) | #| ☩ thread 106: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #| ☩ A single flower blooms among the ashes ☩ (verse: au - haunted shrine) | #{ Ahhh thank you for writing this!! } #{ Let me know if you need anything changed/this doesn't work! } #{ I feel like my brain is all over the place hfjdskhfjkds } #{ Though maybe not as all over the place as my heart because OF YOU AND THIS AU } #{ I am the crying Pikachu icon fhdjshgjfklsd }

[aaetherius]

@the-sxrpent​: 

"Lu-ci-fer.." he was wearing a pumpkin on his head with a angry face on it but his outfit can be considered revealing with his wings out since thankfully it's that time of the year wondering if he knew about Halloween or at least heard of it.

"Why aren't you ready for spooky season?" He was pouting behind the mask if he can tell, after all he did he wanted to hang out with him.

                                                        ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ―☼ ― ★ ☆ ✮ ✯

   Fair brows crinkle in vivid confusion as his gaze meets with the hollowed out eyes of a dreadfully angry pumpkin instead of the blazing crimson of the fallen angel he had been expecting from the voice that had called out to him. Though, upon closer inspection - by leaning in a bit to actually examine the pumpkin head greeting him - his expression softens a tad when he can, in fact, spot a shimmer of scarlet through the shadows cast from the holes. Not to mention the fact that the outfit was clearly Belial's style, though Lucifer still, utterly, fails to understand how wearing something so terribly revealing could possibly be an asset to the other. With the weather getting colder by the day, and the enemies they face striking at random, he can't grasp how walking about with even less clothing than usual was of any benefit. Though, truthfully, he had stopped questioning Belial's strange taste in clothing some time ago. At least out loud, that was.

   "Good evening, Belial," he finally returns after a few moments of prolonged silence thanks to him awkwardly analyzing the other's attire, though his lips do tug into a gentle smile. "I am glad to see you appear to be doing well." Or well, he seems to be, it's not exactly easy to tell when he can scarcely see the other's face. "Though I must admit I did not expect to see you dressed in such manner. I had assumed pumpkins were only for craving, painting, and eating - I was not aware one could wear them as well. It appears they truly are a diverse species that are capable of many feats." Ah, there's that researcher soul embedded deeply into his core coming to light once more.

    Though it does waiver when the other questions him. With a slight tilt of his head Lucifer allows his gaze to dance about the ship, spotting the various decorations already settled into their proper place. "Spooky season?" He hums the words as he mulls them over before he connects the dots. "Ah, I see, you are referring to Halloween. I first experienced last year, and rather enjoyed it. However, I was not aware I should be preparing for it now." He lifts his hand up to his chin in thought. "I see, so I was mistaken. Halloween is not just a single day of the Skydweller year, but rather a part of this much larger 'spooky season' you mentioned."

    His hand falls back down to his side. "Forgive me, Belial, it seems I still have much to learn about Skydweller traditions. Perhaps you would be willing to help me acquire an outfit this this year?" Last year he had aid as well, though he must admit he had found the outfit chosen for him at the time much to grand and noble for someone like himself, even if he had wished to embody the meaning of being a knight for just the short time he had spent in that gleaming armor.

#thesxrpent #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ A faint dusting after sunset ☩ (verse: AU - Post) | #| ☩ Cradled within the gentle breeze ☩ (ask) | #{ Thank you for sending this! } #{ Lucifer needs to stop giving Belial this kind of power hfduhgudghuds }

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel​ || royalty AU because Lucifer defs needs a treat - aka the sight of a pretty ang- knight! ]

    Sundown called in for the birds song fade, even those that linger with their melodies leave after seeds depleted and the lone young man only could watch with a melancholic fondness their temporary part. Lucifer had been gone for a while, something about a meeting with other royals and the villages below to enact new changes and simply forge stronger the bond he’s got with neighbor cities - this and that, and yet with the vague knowledge Sandalphon, the now claimed knight that had laid low for the time being, serves much to give a headache when trying to make sense of just what the other was going on about. So he simply did not partake on the political sides, never has tried; it was much better to go on and clean rooms where maids and others wouldn’t dare touch in fears piles of papers would completely crush them. Just like how once Lucifer’s room had been once a sea of papers, quills and many, many things the king had thought long gone miraculously unearthed from the mess the place it once had been. No longer a test of wills to step around without accidentally ripping the city’s pacts with other kingdoms, no more dread of a single drop of coffee falling on just newly written drafts as the ink dried — it had taken a while, and the knight remembers it with some sort of amused fondness; many apologies murmured from the man who might arrive anytime now, where Sandalphon has simply lost himself to working out as no more places needed, for now, any attention from the miraculous thing, apparently as some murmur, that is his tendency to space out in a fit of tidying spree for the sake of it.      It was easy to sneak and borrow discreetly things from one of the many rooms to raise new knights. Never having taken any of Uriel’s suggestions about enrolling in them due to the obvious that somehow did not drill into the man’s skull, nor it did help at all easing off how the other three simply did not help at all without somehow enabling him and drag the groggy knight around despise the clear protests - all bark but never a bite, and most duels always ending in a tie no matter who was against him between Sandalphon and the four knights. At least it helped sharpen his abilities, where he lacked the rather intimidating strength both Uriel and Michael had, he was quick, a quick learner and with sharpened senses that helped always avoiding the worst blows aimed. Even when swords were sheathed and tied so the blades never would come out and hurt any - bruises would simply sting if any of those connected, and while they did not do more than tickle, to Sandalphon, the looks of worry on Lucifer somehow had managed to persuade the reckless behavior to fade. Just a bit. Right now Sandalphon only tests stamina, with heavy lifts made pf rock and embeded in steel to hold them certain amount of time, and then lean forth to place them down when it was enough. A simple self imposed task, and one the young man enjoyed as it had greatly given back, along the unfortunate sparring sessions, the strength once wielded in the past. Perhaps it was greater even, yet still it’d yet to come and match Lucifer’s frame, not that he cared much thought.     It’s when echoes of steps and voices greeting the one who also lived here, longer than Sandalphon’s had when he knows the other is back, which makes his heart lighter somehow. Yet another of those rather embarrassing emotions that were immediately buried as soon as they sprout - shoved forcefully just like the harsh intake of air inhaled when he’s forgotten the basics of his exercised needed. Focus! But it was easier said than done, and completely out his hands now that a greeting and those insufferably kind eyes could stare back with a smile at the sharpness of his own. Sandalphon tells himself that he’s ready, that this time the facade pf some sternness will work and finally, Lucifer will tire of him - but that was yet another lie that’s hardly convincing at all. So the immaculate door frame moves, and from where the knight has made the makeshift training ground is, his back meets the king - taut fabric and flexed muscles of his back all for him to see as glistering shine of sweat clings dampening the dark skin tight clothes, only sparing, for now a look from over his shoulder. “ ... Welcome back, Kin- …Lucifer” It still feels wrong, but to drop the formalities was something he’s promised the other ever since that day under the beautiful snow. Even then habits die hard and his tongue ties within itself at the bitter taste the name upholds somehow, too close - too tight of a string tying his soul for the other yet there’s still that fog in between. Something the other had promised to dispel if he ever asked to, yet Sandalphon wanted to discover in his own. “ I suppose it went well - Don’t feel too obligated to spare details, I doubt to really understand most of it. ” But there’s not edge in the sincere exasperation that his words have, only then allowing his arms to rest and put the lifts down with a soft shift of pillows when they crush the soft surface but never completely touch the marveling floor devoid of a single speckle of dust - but droplets linger of the silent self imposed training, vestiges of how much it had been by now the small knight had ever since finished dwelling around and stayed within the only place comfort was absolute, despise never admiring it beyond how his body would relax the very moment heels clicked past the doorframe in especially long days and gross arguments against annoying individuals he’s thrown hands more than he was proud to count. Not that Sandalphon regrets it, too. Taut chest heaves in and out when the weights have left his hands, which now flex and relax to ease pff the soreness that always remain for some time, turning to properly face the other. “ Made the bed this time, and found… some of your lost tomes. I suppose even the crown gets lost sometimes? — D-Don’t respond that one thought. Just… Go rest if you’re tired. ” Ah, somehow even now it felt awkward - to somehow be this close to the one he once had tried to kill, to now slowly discover that there was just more than that. Too deep for a friendship but the heaviness betrayals dig and press it’s fangs it was too difficult to truly feel a complete bond. But this was not the time for such trivial things, and pursed lips relax as his gaze peels away towards where remnants of his silent plight coaxing the birds  silently frame the only one resident left about his actions. A few scattered feathers having been pushed by the breeze inside the room, and it was the perfect excuse to pace and take it within rough hands. Clean, and with small speckles pf dusted gold against it’s aurburn hue as he observes it - and it’s great to forget about the constant ringing in his brain, and simply keep the peace of the room.

   A sigh slips past his pale lips as he waves off the group of soldiers trailing after him - excitement carrying their voices down the hall, and well past his chambers despite Raphael’s grunts in an attempt to hush them, Michael having already been made Gabriel’s prisoner upon their return so she could relay the results of the meeting to the others. He was sympathetic to their eagerness, they were mere foot soldiers; the children of farmers that he had given shelter within the palace in exchange for serving him. Unlike the army Lucilius had left behind, the soldiers of noble birth who despised him, they were friendly towards him, and held him in high regard. And the meeting today had been directly related to sustaining crop growth during the drier seasons, and expanding the overall supply of food they had available within the country in an attempt to help curb the scarcity that had become commonplace during the other’s rule. So, it was something they had a vested interest in, but exhaustion was already plaguing him - as much respect as he harbored for the kings and queens of the countries that bordered Canaan, he had never been good with social gatherings or prolonged conversations with those outside of the ones he was closest to. It was draining, and despite how much he cared for them, he found his smile faltering ever so slightly when they didn’t seem to understand Raphael was attempting to dismiss them. It made the relief he felt palpable when he reached the ornate doors that lead into his room, and the message finally came across as he offered them a soft, and apologetic farewell for the time being, with the reassurance that he would update them after a night’s rest. One was sorely in need of given that he didn’t sleep at all while they had been away - every image that crossed his mind when his eyes would close twisting into a nightmare in a matter of seconds. He’d hardly eaten, as well, despite Michael’s best efforts - too concerned about a certain knight’s well-being to care much for his own. With a shake of his head, he dismisses the thoughts, and slips inside of his room before someone else tries to catch his attention. The door falling shut behind him with no more interruptions, a welcomed mercy given the sheer number of times he had been stopped since setting foot in the courtyard.

     It’s only after confirms the others have left that he tears his gaze away from the door, hazy irises dancing across the immaculate floor - not a single paper or tome that he had left strewn about remains upon the lush carpet. At this point, it no longer catches him off guard, but he finds himself admiring Sandalphon’s handiwork regardless. But it only holds his attention for a moment when he catches sight of the knight in the corner, eyes lifting and lips parting to greet him, though the words are firmly lodged in his throat upon actually seeing him. Long lashes flutter upwards in surprise as his mouth swiftly snaps shut. The thin fabric of the other’s bodysuit is taut over his lean muscles, and the dampness from his sweat plasters it against his skin, making every curve of his shoulders and back painfully apparent. His auburn locks tousled even more than usual from moving about, and there’s a distinct sheen to them that makes them shimmer gold against the gentle light of the sun pouring in through the open windows leading out onto his balcony. He finds himself, for once, struck utterly speechless in the other’s presence, and he’s aware his gaze is lingering on the knight’s shoulder blades for an exceedingly impressive amount of time - to the point where he hardly notices that Sandalphon had tilted his head to look at him. His trance only broken by the sound of the other’s voice, and he blinks harshly before meeting those scarlet eyes while swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. “Ah – Thank you, Sandalphon,” he clears his throat in an attempt to hide how his voice cracks when it manages to escape his throat, and just how hoarse it is when he forms actual words. A hand lifts to cover his mouth, in an attempt to hide the wave of emotions threatening to drown him, and to shelter the faint dusting of rose that speckles his doll-like features at the joy he feels by being called his name. “I am home,” he adds on after a moment, the soft sound of his deep voice muffled slightly by the warm skin of his palm. Another thick swallow to curb the drum of his rapidly beating heart is forced down before he walks over to where the other is standing. 

      “It did, yes. Things appear promis–” he promptly cut himself off when Sandalphon sets the weights down, memorized by the way the other’s muscles flex beneath his shirt with the motion, and how his skin glistens as it catches the warmth pouring into the room. His gaze once more trailing downwards from the other’s visage to his body. A mixture of relief and awe swimming in eyes that seem just slightly more alive than they had been when he had first entered. Compared to the first few weeks following the now knight’s release, Sandalphon’s body had been worn and weary - he had lost weight, and a decent amount of his strength from being chained for so long, and it was a welcomed sight to see him regain it. His skin no longer looked ghastly pale, and the bruises that had covered his ankles and wrists from where shackles had held him in place were gone. He looked alive again, at least a bit, and it was enough to make Lucifer’s heart cease beating where it was lodged painfully against his rip cage. But, for as much relief as he feels seeing the other so well off, he feels just as much admiration  for him. For his strength, of course, but for how wonderful he looks. He always did. He had always thought Sandalphon beautiful, but when he’s faced with it so painfully it takes every last drop of oxygen from his lungs. His own chest heaving beneath his robes at the same moment he watches the knight’s do the same - his eyes unable to resist trailing over the other’s arms as he stretches them out. And it’s really only when he accidentally makes eye contact again that he recalls he had been in the middle of speaking. “Right, things appear promising,” he repeats himself as he coughs weakly into his hand to clear his throat again before allowing it to drop back down to his side. The fond smile that had been hidden behind it now allowed to, finally, grace as the other as he closes the distance he had left behind them to give the knight room to continue with his work out. “You have my thanks, I would be lost without you.” And so would everything else in this castle, but he doesn’t feel the need to admit that much out loud when it had been clear from the moment Sandalphon had joined their ranks. “And my gratitude for all of your hard work.”   

      A faint chuckle ripples through his lungs as he pushes aside the raspiness that still clings to his voice, and reaches out to gingerly push the other’s damp bangs from his eyes. “It has, yes, though I am happy to inform you it has been some since I last misplaced it.” While there is a certain amount of playfulness to his voice, it’s clear he’s quite serious - not that it’s difficult to believe when he loses nearly everything he touches, and he has a habit of not wearing it given his dislike for doing so. Needless to say, he’s lost it…quite a number of times. He shakes his head lightly at the other’s words. “No, I am all right.” He’s tired. Exhausted even, but he’s longed to see the knight the entire time they had been away, and he can’t stand the idea of closing his eyes now that he’s finally reunited with him. “Relieved, truly, to see you doing well. I pray the others have treated you well in my absence.” There’s worry in his voice despite his best effort to hide it. So, instead, he retracts his hand only to allow his palm to fall upon Sandalphon’s forearm instead. And it’s strange to him how simply being in the other’s presence is enough to chase away just a bit of the numbness and fear and dread that had been clinging to him the entire time he had been away. How he yearns for the day Sandalphon might be able to accompany him - ah, that’s right. The other isn’t a knight of his own will. The day he’s able to accompany him beyond the castle walls, he imagines, the same day he will leave this place, and Lucifer can’t blame him - even if the thought tears his heart to pieces. Subconsciously, he squeezes the other’s arm gently, gaze lowering to where their skin touches as he forces the thought away. “I can heat up water for a bath if you would like, or brew you a cup of coffee in a moment. For now, though, sit down; allow me to massage your shoulders. I believe you have done far more work than I have while I have been away.”    

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ But there it lies under the smiles; It drains me mile after mile ☩ (verse: AU - Royalty | #| ☩ thread 98: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #{ Ahh thank you for sending this! } #{ I feel like Sandy is the one who deserves a treat in this verse for dealing with this man dhsjgfjhkd } #{ I do not have a good icon to convey how *cough* respectfully *cough* Lucifer is looking DFSJGKVFJCKBFc } #{ Lucifer not having wings here is a blessing they would be bright pink right now gdfkjghjkfhdjk } #{ Not pictures: Michael's biggest eye roll yet } #| ☩ Cradled within the gentle breeze ☩ (ask) | #submission

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel || Lucifer shall have one (1) angel who can't stop being heart eyes at him! ]

The cafe had a short time open, and the last customers had already left the grandcypher's homely room the current supreme primarch had dedicated for this alone, leaving him and Lucifer at the gentle silence only adorned by the creak of wood whenever wind hits the massive airship at odd angles - it's sown nothing but a mute howl that mostly wen't unnoticed by now. Apron left upon a hanger and most plates cleaned already besides the last ones left, and the primarch truly would go and finish scrubbing clean those last cups, but it felt, suddenly, a terribly taxing task. One he could ignore for now when all his tired gaze could pour attention at was at the gentle trail beautiful and graceful fingers trace against worn paper of lent books Lucifer quite often is found consuming. His usual pair of aurburn wings spread behind them, one sprawled across the low antique looking sofa until the tips fall, caressing worn flooring while the other served as a blanket and pillow for the taller angel's back as he read aloud for Sandalphon - and most of it's contents perfectly flying over the primarch's head beyond the admiration that oozes from his core at the beautiful ring Lucifer's voice always had whenever certain things picked his interest, and needed badly to share with him such findings - even at the cost of Sandalphon not remembering half of it until he's neck deep re-reading by himself so the guilt doesn't eat too hard his shadow. " hmh... " Hums, lowly in a purr as a brow rises with more interest at the words that blur into nothing more than indescribable doodles like Vyrn's attempts at writing despise his rather awkward paw like limbs not helping the poor small dragon into holding a quill properly. Even when he felt perfectly awake and with energy that could last various missions before needing to finally collapse into his creaky bed, it's as if simply taking solace upon Lucifer's side, leaning his chin into the soft of the other's pale exposed skin of his shoulder all but depleted all that bristling energy into nothing more than a weak ember - and not in a bad way. Heavens no. It felt more like what that one skyfarer who surrounds himself in cats pictured more like - as the cats sometimes wander into his room and somehow the best resting spot, despise the many better candidates Sandalphon could perfectly number out aloud to their tiny fuzzy little heads to remember, yet choose to conveniently feign ignorance, were the inside of his hood, or atop his chest were he be unlucky enough that the largest one of those felines caught him laying down looking at the ceiling for hours. With little respect stepping on his form until they lay all that fuzzy weight into a perfect sphere of hair and whiskers as if he were some kind of luxury bed just for cats. Yes, that's more how it felt whenever he had those moments where he could simply be held by Lucifer, in any way.

And the more Lucifer goes on and on, explaining him the contents of a book that by now Sandalphon has forgot even what was it about, his lashes fall a bit to half mast, blinking slowly while muscles that spend most of the day ready for any danger simply melt the more time passes at the dim yellow light of a gentle flower shaped lamp that helped the other see better when the sunlight wasn't enough. It doesn't register to the crowned primarch that his free wing shuffles so it rests upon his lap, covering his hand that laid upon his thigh a bit or that the hold he had with the other one upon Lucifer's arm lessened it's hold, until it's nothing but a fleeting thing. Truly, he felt blessed any chance he had to simply be like this with the other, thankful that Lucifer never once pushes away unlike the many times he's the one to hesitate whenever the other tried to close their distance, afraid of hurting or be hurt even when the logical part of him knew more than anything, that Lucifer would never think ill of him after all he's done. It's a hard habit to shed, and it'd stick with him, he knows. So he immensely appreciates the patience the other simply never lacked, his core always twisting awkwardly when Lucifer would have these faces of worry even when he discovered, finally of Sandalphon's airsickness he failed to tell. But ah - Sandalphon squeezes his eyes shut a bit and stops his mind from wandering too far, before any guilt rises from thin air just because, and tries concentrating on the other, let his voice ground his soul back to where they spend the rest of the day; whatever the book is about, again. Plants? Another of those terribly dramatic multi volume novellas? Cultural research? Or perhaps another tourism booklet other crewmember picked up and left in the cafe's stash one could pick and leave books and what nots? " 'm paying attention... " Awkwardly says, slurry and lazily to himself but by the little distance he has from Lucifer's ear hidden by the veil of beautiful snowy locks, it's terribly apparent the other might have picked on his own slip. Embarrassment rising terribly easy, and no soothing tiredness from being comfortable could match the way bashfulness plagues his body. " s-sorry, Lucifer. I — kind of spaced out..." But at least he's honest, even when truths like these, harmless and the ones that brought a fond smile to the taller primarch, shattered instead Sandalphon's pride because he was too caught trying to concentrate, and yet ending up doing the exact opposite when it was such an easy concept and act.

Lithe fingers trace over the faded text sprawled across the crinkled pages of the tome cradled easily within his hand. His eyes fixed on each line he says, softly, out loud in the quiet of the cafe. Well after closing hours for the day, the typical hustle and bustle of the small coffee shop aboard the Grandcypher is gone. The tables have been cleaned off, and supplies put away, though the pleasant aroma of coffee still lingers in the air - he can taste it in his lungs whenever he inhales gently against the auburn licks tickling his skin. The warm of Sandalphon's head upon his shoulder, and his body curled up against his side has become a familiar one to him now, but it's not something he would ever grow tired of. No, instead, he adores these quiet moments between them where he can simply be in the other's presence, and enjoy the time they have to spend together. Centuries ago, he had dreamed of sharing such mundane nights with the archangel, but that's all they had been at the time - dreams; faraway ones that seemed impossibly out of reach. And, now that those dreams have come true, they feel every bit as mystical and magical as he had always imagined they might. Even the soft thump of the Supreme Primarch's core and the tepid caress of his breath upon his neck is something Lucifer has come to cherish deeply. If given the chance, he would have easily spent years sitting like this on the couch in the cafe, enjoying the bitter, yet rich taste of coffee that was still present in his throat, and basking in the comfort of Sandalphon's existence as he flipped through a rather old book about plants. It was one he had jumped on the chance to purchase when the Harvin merchant had paid them a visit - an ancient piece full of countless memories for him that he was rather surprised to see. While, at the time, it had been one of the newest books in Lucilius's impressive collection, now it was one of the oldest book he's seen a Skydweller possess. Of course, it wasn't the copy his creator had kept, but it was similar, and the wave of nostalgia that hit him when he had spotted it had made him want to read it despite the fact that he had memorized its contents long ago. To most others, it was likely rather dry - full of basic and medical information about various flowers, many of which were difficult to find now, but Lucifer had always found it utterly fascinating.

And, so, he's perhaps so caught up in its contents that he scarcely realizes how dull it might have been to listen to. Even when that purr rumbles deep in Sandalphon's throat, he can only lean his head down to gently nuzzle into the other's hair to comfort him. A smile plastered across his smooth lips and radiant features as he continues trudging forward through the text without hesitation. But he is aware that the weight he feels against his side presses just a tad bit more into him as the archangel leans more heavily upon him. And he notices, too, when that wing comes up to drape over his lap rather sluggishly, and how the other's hand seems to slowly loose its strength until the hold Sandalphon had upon his arm is almost entirely gone. His expression softens, and he leans the book down against the table beside the lamp so he can free up his hand to gingerly dig beneath their wings to grip onto the Supreme Primarch's hand so that hold wouldn't be lost beneath a hefty pile of feathers that served to keep them warm. His own wings shift quietly, moving to cover up more of the smaller primarch as he leans back into the couch. It's undeniably comfortable - even in the silence that's filled only by the sound of his own voice, and the occasional thud or conversation by passing crew members. During the years he had spent in Canaan, the quiet had been a dreadfully lonely thing; cold, as well. In it, he would walk through the old gardens and picture the places where Sandalphon used to often visit to fill the increasing hole that had taken hold of his heart. Now, here aboard this ship, the quiet is something he can take solace in - it's something gentle and warm. He doesn't have to imagine conversations or visits with the archangel any longer because Sandalphon is almost always beside him these days. There's rarely a moment when they're apart, save for when missions call the other away or the Captain steals the Supreme Primarch for some job. And, even those moments, Lucifer doesn't find as lonely as he thought they might be - it's not the same type of feeling that takes hold of him as it had been when he had been waiting for the other in that distant garden.

It's the slurred sound of Sandalphon's voice that pulls Lucifer from his thoughts, and his gaze finally shifts from the book to the archangel. His sultry tone feels warm against the former Supreme Primarch's ear, and Lucifer knows his core swells at the sensation because he can feel the faintest fire begin to boil within his chest. That, too, is a feeling he's slowly growing used to, and one he's come to adore because it's one Sandalphon ignites within him. "Hmmm, so you are," he hums softly against the other's ear, his voice deep in his throat and laced with just the smallest spark of exhaustion this comfort brings to him naturally. But he can tell, rather easily, how bashful Sandalphon gets the moment he realizes his little slip-up, and Lucifer has to fight down a chuckle at the apology that follows, but oh his smile betrays just how fond he is of the other - and just how much and how deeply he loves him. "You need not apologize, Sandalphon." He pushes the book up onto the table from where it had been leaning against its frame, and relaxes against the other. "Forgive me for not realizing how tired you were. We can always continue the book tomorrow." Ever so lightly, he cranes his head so he can place the softest of kisses upon the archangel's head before leaning against his wild hair once more. Beneath their wings, his thumbs traces soothing circles upon Sandalphon's knuckles - carefully falling over each groove, and softly rubbing every scar and callous he feels as if he's trying to ease whatever pain they might have caused when they had first found their upon the other's skin. And lingering on the promise ring he had given to the other some time ago now. "Would you like to turn in for the night, or perhaps I could make you a cup of coffee, or choose something else to read to you? I have a novella here one of the Skyfarers of the crew lent me not too long ago, as well as beans that another gifted to me." Ah, he's still, even after all of this time, getting used to how excited and generous the members of the crew were. "Or, if you are hungry, I can make you something. Katalina did give me a recipe she is rather fond of the other day."

#cxffexngel #| ☩ i would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: sandalphon) | #| ☩ thread 101: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ | #| ☩ and once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (ic) | #| ☩ a faint dusting after sunset ☩ (verse: au - post) | #{ Ahhhhh soft!!! } #{ Thank you for sending this! <3 } #{ You send in this very soft and innocent thing and I end it with a threat GFJKFJBCVJBCX } #{ I can only hope Sandy is paying enough attention now to not agree to that part FDJKJGDKJD }

[aaetherius]

@lucisflos​ whispered: 

She smiled and saw him watching the stars on their favorite spot which was on the deck it’s been awhile since she’s seen him Gran has been giving her a lot of missions so it’s been hard to spend time with him but now she had a break and a week off she joined him in watching the stars and placed a mug filled with coffee next to him Sandalophon wanted her to give it to him since he was busy running the cafe.”The stars are beautiful tonight they’re like crystals oh Sandalophon wanted to make sure you got warm so he made you some coffee also I know it’s early but what you like for Christmas?”

    To find him nestled amongst the ship's sails as the stars illuminate the night was far from unusual for the former Supreme Primarch these days. When the hustle and bustle of the cafe died down, and they closed for the day -- or on days like today when Sandalphon insisted he take some time to rest, he had a habit of finding himself drawn to the skies he had once watched over. Their beauty hasn't dulled in the countless centuries he's been gazing at them, nor has their radiance ever failed to stir something deep within his care, but they have changed in the short time it's been since he had been given this second chance at life. They seem brighter somehow. More alive, and far more vast than they had ever been from Canaan. Within them are countless islands he knows of, but has never stepped foot on. Before, he could only dream of going to them -- to see how the Skydwellers had changed them, and how they lived now. Now; however, he had little doubt that for as long as he remains upon this ship he'll see thousands of islands himself, and be able to step foot upon so many more. Yet, despite how much has changed, these skies still feel like an old friend to him. He had confined in them more times than he could count -- they had watched over him as he had curiously learned of this world, and he had whispered countless wishes for their ears only. And so, coming out on the deck to count the stars, ad piece together the constellations, felt like visiting a long-time friend.

    It wasn't unusual, either, for others to join him whenever they spotted him. And so he only tilts his head at the sound of footsteps upon the worn wood of the ship; a smile falling gracefully and naturally upon his rosy lips. The motion catches the glow cast by the moon lingering well above them, making his fair hair look like starlight as it sways in the breeze. "Indeed they are," he agrees easily, his voice gentle as always. Though he had been somewhat awkward at first, and, arguably still was at times, when it came to interacting with the other crew members as a result of just how long he had isolated himself from others, he was slowly coming around to learning more about each one of them. Lucina; of course, though, was one of the first he had spoken to thanks to their mutual interest in coffee. By now, he would call her a friend, perhaps the first he had made since setting foot upon this ship, and he was ever grateful for her patience.

   "Is that so?" His attention shifts downwards to the coffee she hands him. The aroma wafting from its surface is rich and better - he'd recognize the scent anywhere. After all, he had taught Sandalphon how to make coffee, even if the other has far surpassed him in that department over the years - though he imagines the archangel would beg to differ. There's something terribly distinct about how the current Supreme Primarch brews coffee, and Lucifer would know it in less time that it would take for his core to beat a single time. "I am grateful you would take the time to bring this to me. I will have to thank him later." He gingerly accepts the cup from her, allowing the hot contents inside to warm his palms. Much like how the skies have changed, he's changed as well. He finds he gets colder much easier these days, after all, he no longer has his former abilities to rely on for simply tasks. And so little things like this have become much needed.

    At the question, he hums softly, glancing away from her while holding the mug to his chest. "Christmas? I see, it is always best to plan ahead so one can be prepared." He celebrated the holiday with the crew last year, and so he is somewhat familiar with it now. "I am afraid I have not given it much thought. I would be more than content to simply have a chance to make you another cup of coffee. I have a new recipe I think you might enjoy." He rubs the rim of the mug with his thumb, warming his fingers up a bit more before he takes a careful sip of the piping hot coffee. "What about yourself, Lucina? What is it you would like for Christmas?"

#lucisflos #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ Cradled within the gentle breeze ☩ (ask) | #| ☩ A faint dusting after sunset ☩ (verse: AU - Post) | #{ Thank you for sending this! } #{ We can switch to this for a new thread if you'd like since our other one is super old! }