#charredreminder

@charredreminder & @rileyhallow | Make my muse chose between two people. ANY TWO PEOPLE. | Accepting

ooc:

Alright but REAL TALK. This is so effing hard. On one hand, there’s Vincent. Vincent, who Lucius initially took pride in because he created that little fuck. After that, they fluctuated between friends and enemies. Lucius trusts Vincent and will 100% defend any of his actions against Vincent by claiming that it was all for the other man’s own good. There is, undoubtedly, a very complex but special place in his heart for Vincent and he would do everything within his power to protect Vincent, even if it makes him look like the bad guy.

And then there’s Riley. Even though they’ve gone their separate ways from time to time and he certainly does not approve of her affiliations with certain angels, Lucius would begrudgingly consider Riley one of his closest friends (even if the feeling isn’t mutual). Not only did they have a good chemistry when they were working together, fighting together, and most importantly, drinking together, she was one of the few demons that was able to ground him and give him life advice that he’d actually listen to. More than that, she’s the only one who has met Charlotte, helped him with the kid, and seen a softer side to the demon. She’s the only one who has seen Lucius vulnerable and grow to care about the human child (casual reminder that not even Mal, who knew Lucius forever, knew about Charlotte). Were Lucius to go through a genuine emotional, spiritual crisis, Riley would be the one he’d turn to for advice, because she’s the only one who’s seen him when he’s not a bloodthirsty, merciless monster. 

It’s not hard to find Vincent. It should be. If Lucius had failed their Boss in the way that Vincent had, Lucius would go underground, hide, wrap a noose around his neck and tug.

But Vincent is just here. Lingering in a bar topside. Not a care in the fucking world. While Marcella buries herself in the warm pits of hell, silent, scared, weak. Weak, for the first time in ages.

And Lucius can’t get the thought out of his head. You should’ve been there.

The demon recounting the incident to Lucius is pale, wide-eyed, and looks like he’d throw himself into the fiery pits if only to avoid Lucius’s wrath. Lucius has reached a high enough status where he has lower-ranking demons to do his bitch work. After all, he can’t torture everyone all at once. The demons warm the victim up with whatever methods Lucius assigns for that particular tortured soul--knives, water, chains. Lucius is the coup de grâce. The kill shot. Automatic demon status.

Except with this one. “Laughed,” Lucius reiterates. “What’re you using--a feather tickler?”

He grabs the demon by the throat and it squeaks out a frantic response. Finally, he lets the thing go. “I’ll deal with it,” Lucius mutters as he steps down to the the torture level. What does Boss call it? Recycling?

Meg had kept an eye on the other demon for about a week now, just to make sure this wasn’t another trap that would send her down on the food chain once again. Their paths had crossed a few times in the past of course, and she had heard of him, but they hadn’t exactly shared any lengthy conversations-- not that demons usually did if it was strictly work.  

But if the rumors were true, then maybe...just maybe. 

@charredreminder

Lazily, fingers stroke through the other demon’s hair, as if compulsed by bared instinct rather than a conscious, human affinity. something was wrong, Vincent could sense it, but said nothing, only adjusted his position to allow Malcolm access to his lap. The T.V. playing, muted in the background only served as a minor distraction. noise, something to keep a shattered mind even keel in such trying times as these.  

“I bought some new paint today. I’m considering, trying to sell some of my older pieces.”

There’s the faint sound of cartoonish antics emanating from the television, though Malcolm is staring right through it; all but entranced by the rhythmic stroke of his lover’s fingers as they comb through chestnut curls.  Something is wrong.  Everything is wrong.  Vincent’s words barely register--Mal isn’t thinking about the other demon’s paintings right now; too crushed beneath the debris of his whole world in ruins around him to notice the bare spaces on the walls where Vince has already pulled some of the older pieces down.  

He shifts, pulling the edge of the blanket up under his chin as he breathes in Vincent’s familiar scent and murmurs unsurely, barely more than a whisper,  “Do you love me?” 

He is mistaken.

“--Vince?  What are ya’ doin’ up?”