: @ofmoraliity
āLucifer.ā Satanās voice doesnāt riseāit drags, low and molten, like something pulled from the core of Hell itself. The single word lands heavy in the chamber, silencing even the distant screams beyond the walls.
He stands rigid at the edge of the obsidian table, claws flexing slowly against its surface. The stone hisses faintly under the pressure. āI want him brought in.ā
A pause. Not for effectāheās containing something.
āThat⦠thing.ā His lip curls, revealing far too many teeth. āThat fucking television-headed parasite.ā The air flickers with heat. A nearby imp flinches and quickly pretends not to exist.
Satanās tail lashes once, sharp enough to crack like a whip. āHe hijacks a broadcast, makes a spectacle of usāof youāand Iām supposed to what? Sit here? Smile? Let the masses laugh?ā His eyes burn brighter, fixed now on Lucifer.
āI say we drag him in front of the table. Strip away the signal, the smug little persona, all of it.ā His voice lowers further, turning precise. Surgical. āAnd then we decide if heās worth the effort of continuing to exist.ā The chamber seems to lean inward with the weight of it.
A slow grin creeps across Satanās face, cruel and anticipatory. āPersonally,ā he adds, almost conversationally, āIād like to see whatās left of him when the screen finally goes dark.ā Silence follows.Waiting. Watching. For Luciferās answer.
A soft, almost inappropriate laugh breaks the silence.
āWow,ā Beelzebub drawls, leaning back in her chair like this is dinner theater instead of a potential execution. One leg swings lazily over the other, golden eyes glittering with amusement. āYou are really mad about this.ā She props her chin in her hand, watching Satan like heās the main event.
āI mean, donāt get me wrongāā she gestures vaguely, as if summarizing Voxās offense with a flick of her fingers, āāsuper disrespectful, totally chaotic, very āI have a death wish.āā
Another small laugh slips out, lighter this time, but edged. āBut also?ā She tilts her head, curls bouncing slightly. āKind of iconic.ā
Her gaze drifts to Lucifer now, sharp beneath the playful exterior. āHijacking Hellās airwaves, poking the Morningstar brand, stirring up all that delicious panic?ā She hums. āThatās not just stupidity. Thatās strategy⦠or insanity. Trying to take over heaven.
She straightens slightly, the air around her shiftingāstill warm, still indulgent, but no longer careless.
āIām not saying donāt punish him,ā she adds, voice smoother now, more deliberate. āIām just saying⦠if youāre going to make a spectacle out of this, make it worth watching.ā
A slow grin spreads across her face. āInterrogation?ā she echoes, glancing back at Satan. āSure. But donāt just tear him apart right away.ā Her eyes gleam. āLet him talk. Let him perform. See what he thinks heās built for himself before you rip the plug.ā
She taps her fingers lightly against the table, rhythmic, almost like a beat only she can hear.
āBesides,ā she adds sweetly, āif he really believes he can play in our leagueā¦ā Her smile sharpens. " I want front row seats when he realizes he canāt.ā