out of the ashes

🌸 "Hold still for a minute, Lucio." Maybe she should of asked him to sit down, but instead, she'll suffer and just stand on the tips of her toes for as long as possible. Djeeta keeps the flower, a forget-me-not, out of his view as she slides it in place. It wasn't hard for her to manipulate it so it barely moved. She event went as far as to braid it in his hair. "There we go. Sorry if I tugged too hard." Taking a step back, a small smile on her face.

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        "..." The man obeys quietly as he stands there, captain standing against him as she does her best to reach upwards towards his head. He isn't quite sure what has brought this on all of a sudden—all he feels is the soft caress of the other's fingers brushing against his face as she intertwines something into his hair. Regardless the former actor does as he is told and allows Djeeta to finish her task.

        "Thank you, Djeeta." he offers his gratitude, a hand reaching upwards to gingerly touch the edges of the small sky-stained flower that rests gently within his silver locks. Though he had never been fond of material gifts, he came to learn that they held a powerful meaning when exchanged amongst others. Slowly but surely, Lucio was beginning to understand and appreciate the heartfelt thoughts that were compressed into this small flower.

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        "Singularity? What seems to be the matter?" Lucio asks curiously as he looks towards his captain's face. He seems to be completely unfazed by the fact that he is currently being held like a princess in Gran's strong arms, his legs and body completely lifted in the air in a way unlike when he spread his wings in battle. Despite the captain's intentions being a mystery to him, he worries whether the other will be able to properly support his weight. In response, he wraps his arms around Gran's neck as a preventative measure.

xchuuten sent: 📓 ( object being coffee ) // nonverbal rp starters

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        "Is this... for me, San-chan?" The sound of porcelain sliding against the surface of grooved wood is what catches his attention, ears perking up as if he were a dog that had just been offered a treat. There is no mistaking the edges of his lips turning upwards when he looks from the steaming hot cup of coffee to the supreme primarch's face, extremely pleased with this sudden turns of events.

         Sandalphon touches not any further the subject, brows knitted in the ever usual of scowls - just because. Compliments easing it just a tad but Sandalphon was ever the stubborn angel. “ It’s not that much, save the compliments. ” Yet the bite is quite not there, much more known and used to Lucio’s weird whole… attitude he couldn’t begin to make a sense, or isn’t willing to acknowledge due to own fatigue – Finding it much more entertaining to clean some other washed cups and plates.

         Oh, so that’s his original reason to come by - Sandalphon stops his duty and carefully places the cloth back where it laid before, to gaze around shelves adorned with many sepia colored bags and such, other frost items and yet - Ah - Spare cream in cans. Graceful fingers take the desired items and places many of them - finally letting his gaze meet azure. “ I don’t mind, got enough spare of these to last, so if he requires more just come by. ” Which, now that he thinks what he just said, was a testament to more chaos dawning into him and his little peaceful bubble. “ Just – give Sevastien them all — ” Miserably corrects, but it’d help no one.

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        "...You will be needing some of those, will you not?" he asks, both curiously and worriedly. "As kind as you are to offer all that you have, I do not think my taking all of them will be such a good idea," Sky blue eyes gaze down at the pile of cans that lines the table, ignorant of the other's annoyance as he debates upon the best way to go about this little predicament.

        "I will bring over as much as I can—should he need more, I will return." he says finally, delicately taking each can and putting them in his opposite arm. He continues doing so until he can no longer carry more. Picking up the steaming cup that he had put down earlier, he motions to it as he heads towards the doorway, giving the angel a gentle smile as he does so.

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     Fingers gently curl around the cup’s handle, bringing up the object to his lips.  He takes a small sip, a bit thankful the taste gives him something to think about rather than toiling on endlessly over nothing.  The drink was warm, and he feels his body almost defrost as he takes another sip.

    “…It has a peculiar taste.”  He finally says as he places it back on the table.  Their captain had asked whether he had “favorite” foods and drinks before but in general he had no preference to what he consumed.  Coffee did have an interesting flavor, and it tasted different than the one that the brown-haired man made in his cafe.  

    “Do you like the taste of coffee, Lucio?”

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        "I hope that does not mean you are adverse to it," he chuckles. His words are light in the air, a rare occasion where he tries to joke. Though perhaps Lucilius was not the best individual to test his understanding of what it meant, but on the other hand at least he would not unintentionally hurt the other's feelings with the statement. For some reason he is able to tell that he is fine with the taste despite the other not outright saying; perhaps it was because he was his copy?

          His most automatic response would have been outright denying it, but it’s the truth - he did offer, knowing that once satisfying Lucio was one way out to his peaceful evening, and even if his face twisted along the emotions that usually surge. He settles with the usual scowl, far more relaxed than other times as he grunts under his breath and paces around the counter to turn on the stove and place out an already open bag of beans. Only sparing a look over his shoulder for a question. “ Sweet or bitter? And lay off the compliments. You taste-test rights are gone the moment you decided to peek on my book! ” Which, was petty from him, but there wasn’t bite on his threats at all - just the usual grouchy self he ever was around people.

         “ … Usually sweet is what others ask at these late hours, so it doesn’t hit too hard with energy. Sweet it is. ” With no room to let the other actually object, for he knows Lucio actually never bothered with that to his own knowledge. Spoke lower as he worked around, mostly to himself, actually. Deep care put when pouring the water to filter brewed beans, the sweet scent that soothed a frown and let his features relax, it if wasn’t by being aware of having those eyes on him, perhaps he’d even hum an unknown song, but anything like that it’s filtered.

           Cup is set with carefulness, a drawing of a leaf with sweet milk foam displayed, all the craftsmanship of everyday on the cup laid on clean wood that glow gently in mirror of the dim gentle light provided by the lights that hang on the cafe’s ceiling, Sandalphon wanted nothing more and such, he waves his had as if to shoo the other. “ There, you can leave the cup back here again later, shoo. ”

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        "As I've told you, I would never do something like that." he reassures. There is no anger in his voice despite repeating the same words he had said before, instead settling himself in place to watch as Sandalphon works his magic. A part of him wonders if he would be willing to teach him the basics of brewing such a delicious drink, but Lucio decides that now would not be a good time. It was already quite late, and he had yet to repay the favor to his dear friend.

        "Thank you for the meal." A hand gingerly reaches out for the beverage, holding the cup in both his hands as if to savor its warmth. He takes a sip right then and there, oblivious to the other's trepidation at bringing a steaming hot drink right to his lips. A radiant smile forms as he pulls the cup away, a spot of foam clinging to the edge of his mouth.

    “I have, yes.” It’s almost strange to hear that nickname from someone other than the Singularity or Vyrn, especially from someone the other seemed rather apprehensive about. Though, ingrained formality makes him maintain a somewhat hesitant smile of his own. He harbors little knowledge of Lucio or why they share a face (or rather, share his creator’s face). And the thought stirs unwanted memories he’s been suppressing since his revival - thoughts of the other’s fate and his feelings towards all that happened. He had raised his hand against Lucilius before, of course, but that didn’t mean the act of doing so hadn’t weighed heavily on him. He wonders, far too often in the short time since he had been given a second chance at life, about all he may have been able to do to prevent all that had happened, and being face to face with someone who resembled his creator so closely brings such thoughts to the forefront of his mind once again. Though, their face is all they share - personality wise the two are nothing alike. 

    His gaze flickers briefly to the kettle - herbal scent clinging to air where it sits. He harbors his own suspicions about Lucio, though they are few and far between. He has only just been brought back and is still adjusting to the body that had been crafted for him - meager power; an ember of what once had been, included. His senses aren’t as sharp as they were, and he was, perhaps, too trusting of Sandalphon’s own judgement - no matter where that judgement happened to come from. Even so, he has no desire to harbor animosity towards the other, and just as little desire to disturb the careful peace of Sandalphon’s cafe - he knows, better than most, the time and effort he pours into their shared craft. “I will take you up on that offer then. I have questions of my own I wish to ask of you, though I am willing to hear you out first.” He wonders what questions Sandalphon must have asked, if any at all, when the two had first met. If he had met Lucilius, even, what could have transpired between them. He’s unbothered by the fact that they share a face - he had shared a face with someone for most of his life, but he does wonder why. 

     He moves to join the other; wings curling in against his back to quell their cumbersome nature just a but - feathers still taut and sharp where downy bristles against sleek armor, revealing, just a bit, his own thoughts. “And, if you have questions for me, as well, I will answer them to the best of my ability.” While he’s being honest, this promise doesn’t come from a place of forced politeness or a feeling of obligation. No rather, he swears them with the intent of expecting the other to do the same.    

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        "Rest assured, my inquiries will only be for the sake of formality." he states, blind to the other's wariness. He moves to allow the other room adequate room to sit at the table. Continues speaking as he maneuvers himself to the drawers, searching for another cup for his newfound guest.

        He already knew much about the other—more than Lucifer would likely be comfortable knowing. The creation of his own imperfect clone, meant to fill in the void that he would never be able to close. In the strictest terms, Lucio and Lucifer were more alike than the primal and his creator. And yet they were different existences in so many more ways. Though it wasn't like him to notice such little details, surely exceptions could be made to someone as unique as Lucilius.

        "Though, with that being said..." he trails off, bringing over a cup and pouring the hot brew into it. He was not particularly confident on the taste, hence his earlier hesitation, but perhaps his winged companion would be able to give him some pointers? Lucio brings a chair so that he sits across the table from the other, a gentle smile upon his features as he wraps his hands around the warmth of his own cup.

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        The words ring within his head. To his surprise, they stir some part of him deep within his being. As if something were coiling around his very core, squeezing it until there would be nothing left.

        A poison... was it?

        Memories in that ages old prism. A lonesome figure, gazing from a place between worlds. With no one to speak to. With no one to guide him. What did he think, up there in that lone tower amongst the stars? What did he feel as he gazed upon skydwellers and Astrals alike, in those millenia of solitude?

        ( lucio wished he could to put the answer into words. )

        "I see." he responds, uncharacteristically simply. His words are slower than usual by a only miniscule. "That does explain a skydweller's natural tendency to find solace in others."

         The remark bounces off Sandalphon with ease, winning what only could such words could to a wary primarch. Nose scrunching and frown only growing, a click of his tongue and he looks away. Truly nothing right now was out the ordinary to even ruffle his feather, no – it was more of an habit, if he had to dig an explication. “ Nothing, really. Don’t get too familiar with my gaze, thought. “ And yet? He can’t find it in himself to relax, it was just - everything? His face? All that goody two shoes personality ever for the sake of getting close even if his own response was to push away as far as he could. It hurt! Seeing that face that did not belong there!

        “ Just do your stuff and then leave, There’s not many customers anyways. “ The irritated angel would later respond, voice flat so is his face after all that inner turmoil. Knowing that staying longer could end in a headache, which was the last thing Sandalphon wanted to have before succumbing into his room alone and sleep the stress off - and even then still could feel that maybe, the other wasn’t there just for making himself a drink.

         Sandalphon ignores the thought, neatly arranged his apron on a delicate decorated hanger and then looked over once more, the twitch of an eyebrow betraying concealed emotions if by a mere taste. “ Or you need a drink from me instead? Not in the clock for that, but whatever helps you go back faster. “

        "Oh, are you offering?" Lucio asks, his ears perking upwards like a dog and a treat. He ventured into the kitchen simply to return the favor for his dear gourmet friend, only to be met with Sandalphon's dashing self instead. The promise of the primarch's handmade drink was not on his plans for the day, but this crew never failed to bestow surprises upon him.

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     The porcelain cup makes a small noise as the other, or rather his doppelganger places it on the table in front of him.  Blue eyes look up from its dazed state to see his own reflection staring back at him but with a curved smile.  He had been staring out in a stunned manner, the words in his book suddenly becoming gibberish as the gears in his head turned quickly.  

      He’s used to it, and always waited for it to pass on its own.  It was an unfortunate thing that it happened while he wasn’t in his room, and instead at the kitchen table.  Still, he stares at the man for another few seconds before looking at the dark brown liquid that made white steam rise from the cup.  He’s sure he looks like a fool as he continues to stare like he didn’t know what was placed in front of him.  

      His fingers twitch as he shuts the book in front of him and grips the hardcover, barely stopping the impulse to throw the cup against the wall just to hear it shatter.  It’s the same impulse that makes him want to cut into a table with a pair of scissors or push all the books off his shelf.  An impulse to ruin something just to feel better– 

     But he voices nothing, and simply waits for it to pass.

    “…Thank you.  It looks good.”  He states in a hoarse voice.  The steam rising was less now–how long did it take for him to reply?  Finally, he reaches and takes a sip of the beverage, the heat and taste giving him something to focus on and recenter himself to the present.  “Have you already drank some?”

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        Hawken eyes watch as his clone stares listlessly at him, before they lower down to the steaming cup. The twitching of his fingers, the minute tightening of muscle in his hands—all of these draw suspicion within the former actor. Was he simply overthinking things? There were many questionrs that he could not lay to rest, too many factors that led him to worry about the worst case scenario. Imperfection lead to irregularities, which lead to unpredictable situations. The skies are his mission; to protect it, his duty.

        And sitting before him, in a daze of his own, was the one whose actions had been enough to trigger his intervention once more.

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        "San-chan, is... something the matter?" Lucio asks as he glances behind him at the primarch, eyebrows wrinkled in a spot of confusion. He will not pretend that he doesn't feel the other's intense gaze on his backside, like beams of light shining upon his build. It did not particular bother him, but it was out of the ordinary for Sandalphon to even spare him much of a glance to begin with, lest it be something akin to annoyance.