fresh loam and the persistent aroma of ozone permeate the lush undergrowth matted dense as wool beneath his footsteps and around him, packed thick in every nook. no long sweep of his gaze isn’t met with blanketing greenery; no stone is left lichen-bare, no ageless trunk unclimbed by root-like vines and moss-painted. it’s almost as though he’s stepped into one of those endless landscape paintings lindworm adored so much, && there is a placid silence that invites comfort, nested in the twittering birdsong and what shafts of gentle light filter down to the forest floor.

          idyllic as his surroundings are, however, prometheus is not here for respite. curiosity ( and a bit of audaciousness ) had brought him here, but what had started as an intrepid desire to uncover the workings of this vast cage in which he had found himself imprisoned had quickly morphed into dawning curiosity.

          something here — or, as he has come to realize, many somethings — emits a formidable aura of mana, tangible from far away. that kind of energy is impossible for him to ignore, && here in this overgrown habitat with so little trace of humanity’s development to obstruct its flow, the mana resonates within his bloodstream like a distinct vibration.

          he has wandered deep into the forest’s belly with little care for peril, the sensation growing stronger in him with every step. && then, just as it crests, he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

          amid the tapestry of green, there is white.

Dragonfruit normally didn’t move around during the day as much as the night, but they hadn’t found anywhere to rest in this part of the city. There wasn’t as much plant life or it had too many people around it for him to feel safe enough to rest by. So he kept looking around, keeping in the air as his little wings fluttered.

When flying around an area with a lot of homes he however noticed what looked like a garden. He fluttered down gently to get a closer look at the garden, curious about the plants that were there.  He didn’t really get rules about keeping out of people’s property yet so it didn’t cross his mind that he shouldn’t land in someone’s garden. 

He isn’t sure if hes ever seen this plant before as well, but they look healthy.  Though while looking around the garden he does finally notice the owner, or at least who he thinks is the owner.

@arbiterofdawn

‘Pandemonium’ ? Is that what these people called this place?

Compared to the crimson horizon this place was still a sweet summer beach vacation. It was funny at least, watching people gather points- watching them try to extend hands to help each other.

And the best was of course when he took it all away- never quick of course. He always needed to see that look on their face. The pain, the hurt. None of them compare though, to the best he’s ever seen.

So many thousands of years ago. That betrayal was the best, the confusion above all else. Wanting to believe so fully that situation was different . . . In that moment the archangel isn’t sure he’s ever actually felt better.

So when he sees the lost swan looking around aimlessly he can’t help but wonder, whats happened to you now? He definitely didn’t put that look on their face. Although he might wish that he did.

Dark mist swirls around his hand, purple sparkles inside the fog, he weaves it more and more- until his form starts to shift, his usual attire replaced with something far more formal- a white uniform, his purple boa replaced by a red sash. Ugh, this outfit had always been so stuffy.

But the mist doesn’t stop there, like a puppeteer he pulls the strings of reality around his old friend. Monsters they know, monsters they are familiar with, fought hundreds of times. Otherwordly beings, snakelike in shape- probably just demons to others. Their eternal enemy. They crawl out of the shadows, out of the sewers, brandishing their weapons- their magic. They’ll surround him on all sides and then when things look bleak . . .

He’ll have fun with this one last time.They’ll be fighting side by side-

“𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕚𝕞. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕣… 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥, 𝕀 𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕚𝕫𝕖 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟, 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕟.”

“--Stop screwing around!”

Surely the ones responsible for the deeper mechanisms controlling his fate were mocking him at this point, they had to be; it’s by this very notion that the budding supreme primarch knows when he’s being placed in a humiliating position and can’t even do a single thing to rectify it all. --Again, again he had only begun to take a more complacent approach with Lucifer after the last incident, and yet despite everything they had clarified between them, Sandalphon can only come to one unfortunate logical truth that his creator had chosen not to rely on him. 

“…𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕧𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗? …ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕀’𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕪𝕠𝕦.”

Why did you lie? Why did you outright lie to me?!

Heavy footfalls strike the pavement as Sandalphon rushes out of his home, mind spinning through the dialogue now plaguing his mind, his own maddening echo chamber; that their once heartfelt meaning comes crumbling down, that his core is filled to the brim with these anxieties...

He hasn’t felt this much betrayal since before he committed the many atrocities in search of selfish validation.

“𝕀 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟, 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕟. 𝕃𝕖𝕥 𝕦𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.”

--But it had never happened.  This sudden backpedaling was so unprecedented, Sandalphon would never have expected Lucifer to do something like this, to just leave him behind despite having given him such honest recognition. 

If I am the supreme primarch, if I have so much apparent control over the fates of others, why am I still the one so desperately trying to catch up to you?!

“ℍ𝕒𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕝, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕤…”

--And it’s then that the unwelcomed mixed messages conflicting him immediately extinguish his flame, and against what would most likely be his better judgement, lands him on the nearest rooftop just as he had taken flight. He stands at a devastating crossroads, wanting to justify his anger and pointing an accusatory finger at Lucifer again, but....

--..is it really his fault?

Wouldn’t this be exactly what Lucilius wanted out of this? To toy with their relationship and use the weakened Lucifer as his own Achilles's Heel to possibly take back his inheritance? To obtain those wings from him?

“--...... Hah.... What wings?”

As the glare of the sun beams down from the shifting cumulus above, the intense rays filtering through the bristling appendages at his back set ablaze to the earthen colored plumes and brush them with a shade of balmy orange...almost white to focused eye. But if only, right?

--Yes, that’s exactly it.  In the end, he doesn’t even have the righteous mantel that gives him any sort of relevancy. In the end, he’s still the same hopeless spare just floundering about, just with a little more hopeless confidence in his stride.

Lucifer-sama... Can you really not trust me without them...?

However, his heels remain rooted to the cracked and faded shingles beneath him, waves of unpleasant anxiety filtering throughout his entire being and immobilizing him with utter dread.

It isn’t until many, many moments later that he finally decides to retreat back, accepting this hard-hitting truth, and wondering just what his next course of action will even be....

  It had been rather hectic these past few weeks and on top of that it was rather hard for him to remember. What he was doing or where he was-- before a crude awakening to hearing that clones were running around. Ah, though he hardly had any fun tracking the little worms down, he had made do with what he was given. Though most of it was boring-- he still thought about what that copy had said-- ‘Lucio’. It was a strange name, though he figured that it wasn’t anything interesting but something intrigued him. If their clones had really been based off of themselves, then that would mean that his own Lucifer would know what was going on with that. 

  It was something that was itching at his mind, after all-- Lucifer was oh so tight lipped about his secrets... and he hated it. He hated how disobedient Lucifer was being-- thinking that he had any control over the situation at hand. He wanted to put the primarch in his place.

  Looking up from his notes he stared at his creation that he had called out for business like usual. Research the boring stuff with Lucifer, just to toy with him  and see how he’d react-- but he hadn’t left yet as he had instructed Lucifer to come by his place first. Searching through papers and scribbling last minute notes he had told Lucifer to just make himself at home for now.

                                  ‘ ...Hmm... So Lucifer, I have a question. ’

  He didn’t even raise his eyes from his research as he continued to write notes while talking, his voice rather monotone and uncaring-- he wanted to see what kind of reaction he could provoke in the other, like a predator intimidating it’s prey. 

Dyrn, the Dragon version had many problems this morning. One their phone had gone off loudly and they had to wiggle a lot to free the said item from the pocket on it’s translator. Then it read off some message about a copy of themselves and how they would die if they didn’t find them and use some kind of app. Well a little Dragon can’t really click an app on it’s phone much less read were it’s other self might be.

Thankfully the little Dragon was able to get some help before it went off on it’s way to some woods that it never had found before. Sniffing around and seeing if they can smell anything that smells, well like them.

However what they find is someone that looks like Lucifer, just laying on the ground. They sniff more at the person, finding that their smell is just a bit.. off. Though they don’t want to leave them alone since they do like pretty much anyone that even just looks like Lucifer.

Euden had decided to take the time to take a quick fly around the city, as long as he kept up higher than the buildings he wouldn’t harm anything. In some ways this habit reflected his urge to both keep busy and keep an eye on the city. Though everything seemed safe, and peaceful. It was nice.

Sand is used to using his wings to touch others gently, often without thinking. With Lucifer he wasn’t really thinking about anything when he brushed the other, feeling comfortable enough to let them brush without thought. What he doesn’t expect is Lucifer’s offer and then action of fixing his wings.

“You don’t have to...“ He says but makes no real move to stop Lucifer, since he doesn’t mind the other touching his wings too much. Though he can say hes not used to such a gentle touch, most others who touch his wings freely mess them up more than fix them.

It doesn’t help Lucifer much as his wings twitch under the touch sometimes, but he can’t see the other giving up their goal anytime soon.