#defiedfate

It was a very human concept of imprisonment - a cramped room that contained only the necessities to keep one alive. Which, for an Angel, was nothing. All the little comforts that he had grown accustomed to had been stripped away from him. No more hot coca and plush armchairs, no more good books or walks in the park. They wouldn't even let him keep a clock, or dim the lights, and without a circadian rhythm, it quickly became impossible to tell how much time had passed. Months now, surely, if not longer...

They had made it perfectly clear to him that this was not mercy - he was only awaiting his execution - once he had fulfilled his purpose. His part in the ineffable plan. Most days, they left him alone to stew in that knowledge. But, especially in the beginning, it turned out Angels knew a thing or two about cruelty as well. It wasn't enough to take everything away from him - they seemed determined to spoil the memories of all he had held dear to him.

He could handle the unreadable books and the food turning to maggots, or the music making his ears bleed. But he couldn't handle it when they used him against him. The first time he'd flung himself into his arms, sure that Crowley had come for him. That hadn't ended very well. The next few times, of course, he knew it wasn't real, but that didn't soften the blow. Not really.

It was Muriel who had come to look for him- though she didn't have the faintest idea about what was going on upstairs. Only that the bookshop was the only place that seemed to remain standing in Whickber street, and that Crowley was a mess, and she had decided that it was time Aziraphale came back.

@defiedfate gets a starter!

He brings flowers. Asmodeus enjoys bringing flowers, and it brightens the hospital room up considerably. Beautiful red and blue roses with one of his pinkish feathers tucked among the bouquet that he places gently on Stolas' lap.

Frankie's at the door, little talons curling against the hardwood as she peeks into the workshop. She isn't supposed to go in, but she can see his back and she's only just come from Papa's. Home early. Unwanted. Tears burn in the sinuses of her beak, and she chirps despite herself, clutching a little imp stuffie to her chest and shrinking back a little. Her big, red eyes don't leave him. Willing him to look her way. "--Daddy?" -- [Franceska for Asmodeus]

Asmodeus is humming to himself as he works, goggles on while he carefully assembles a better arm for Fizz. He's always eager to create something new, something better, and his love for his partner is motivation enough to have him fixated on the project through to its completion.

" bet there's better things than me. " -- [jinx to silco]

// "better than you? hardly." the reply silco speaks is quick, calculated and done without even looking up from the piece of paper in his hand. he's studying the paper like if he looks at it long enough, he'll be able to read inbetween the letters. find the solution he's been looking for restlessly.

jinx' insecurity, while he's not unused to it, still creates a certain amount of... annoyance inside him. she's irritable and sometimes it's hard for him to find the right words. not because the words he says aren't true, but because she's sensitive and she's going to take anything the wrong way if there is a way to.

“ ‘i want to forget. just help me forget.’ -- [val @ angel] ”

Yeah. Me too. The thought rotates through his brain like the Earth orbits the Sun. It flashes itself at least once a day, but for him to do something about it? It would be a big fucking event.

The spider reaches over the moth, clasping a hand over the cigarette Valentino had abandoned on the couch. Another grabs the lighter. Angel leans against the chaise and props one leg on the opposite knee as he lights the end. Pink smoke ignites almost immediately. Pink irises stare dully. That won't do — not for Valentino. It'd either earn him his head slammed against the armrest or a more tangible bout of loneliness. He wasn't sure which was worse right now.

Pink lips take the smoke into his lungs deeply. Maybe it's his own mind, but Angel's swamped head already feels lighter. Only when he can muster a grin does he turn his eyes over to his pimp, gold tooth catching the early rays of sunshine dripping through the curtain. In the practiced way of his, he slings a leg over Valentino's lap and settles in, arching his hips.

It was Jayce's first day at college though he was starting a semester late in the year. Though he came from money he had wanted to earn his first tuition, resulting in the late enrollment as well as making sure he was getting into the school he wanted. One that specialized in engineering and renewable energy science with a minor in robotic and computer science. Jayce was a very smart young man, though didn't assume so and often mistaking him for a sports athlete with his physique.

A funny thing to him as he'd never played a sport in his life. He worked out, though only because his metal working and welding work was very physically intense and required him to be in good shape. He made sure to look nice for his first day with a fresh cut and clean shaven with a new outfit as well. Going in looking confident and feeling excited. Though after arriving to campus the new student instantly felt like a lost puppy not knowing where to go. He had only done a virtual tour of the buildings, but all three buildings looked the same and if he chose wrong he'd likely end up being late.

There's so much agony today. From the fight with Vox, to Charlie being upset with him... What was he supposed to besides come back to an empty home. Full of dust and happy memories. The photos of Lilith are everywhere. But he still can't feel her presence. He walks over to their wedding paintings. She is and was so beautiful.

Slowly he moves away from it and goes to the alcohol cabinet. He reaches for a bottle and doesn't mix it into a martini as he usually does. Instead he chugs it, feeling the disgusting burn down his throat. He needed something strong to wipe away this agony.

He doesn't know when he went to look for the vinyl records. But something inside him just needed to hear her voice. He hears it, and immediate tears threaten to spill. But he smiles too as her voice fills the room again. It almost feels lively.

"...I miss you, Lily." He hangs his head, sitting at the couch, all while looking at his hand. Trembling and sad and half drunk. As the music continues on; he begins to cry.