#thenexus

Lucifer leans closer, and Alastor leans BACK. A smile may convince SOME that he is unbothered, his guard impenetrable, but oft does he forget that his EYES can betray his attempts to appear anything less than wholly unfazed. There's a glimmer of SOMETHING to his eye--- irritation, certainly, but alongside it?

Wounded pride.

" Admirable observation, Lucy! Really, I'm quite proud of you--- urrgh... " But would it be SO much to ask for this damned wound to HEAL already?! Anything else -- any other time -- and he'd be right as rain in no time, but he LOATHES the knowledge that those fuckers in heaven will forever have BRAGGING RIGHTS that they injured one of the most POWERFUL demons in hell like it was nothing. The way he seethes and bristles in his chair is almost PITIFUL, and he wishes a certain someone wasn't here to watch him slowly, surely, lose his grip on himself and the CONTROL he thought he had over everything.

NeX-us #1

Inspired by the Jim Lee cover to X-Men #1, it’s The Nexus! You remember... From WWE? Yeah. Those guys.

&. an assortment of dialogue prompts - [ ACCEPTING ] ;; @the-nexus

Anyone with eyes and even a modicum of taste can see that Lucifer is pretty. No, nay, not JUST pretty--- beautiful, gorgeous, the epitome of perfection, whether in HUMAN form or the otherworldly one shown only to ALASTOR in the mortal realm. Yet, beauty encourages ATTENTION, and not the type one may usually desire. A compliment here and there would not rouse Alastor's temper--- nay, he's not insecure, to any degree, that he fears a couple of silk woven words would be enough to shift Lucifer's attention away from him, but when physical contact comes into play, so, too, does Julie Jukebox.

An eye for an eye, as the saying goes, and this drunken stranger seems terribly SET on constantly reminding Lucifer how lovely his are, all whilst attempting to snake a hand imposingly 'round his thin waist. Lucifer handles it with class -- admirable, certainly, as the one whose personal space is being intruded upon -- but his Radio Host of a partner is hardly feeling generous. He patiently bides his time from where he stands behind Lucifer, acting as if he is hardly paying attention to the stomach churning exchange happening afront him. Yet, everytime those wrongfully adventurous fingers begin wriggling their way close to Lucifer's waist again, something SHARP imbeds its way into the intruding limb, prompting a barely contained hiss from the offender.

Were he not so IRRITATED, mayhap Alastor would have chuckled in amusement. Alas, that threatening aura reaches an almost suffocating level, to the point even the bartender seems to look over in concern, wondering why the SUNSHINE that was Lucifer seemed perfectly alright remaining seated by the festering darkness just beside him. More glances shift their way when Alastor, finally, reaches his breaking point, and leans in to bridal scoop the ruler of hell straight into his arms so he may carry him outside.

--- not, of course, without leaving a hefty tip for the bartender atop the counter, and locking gazes with the unwanted interruption to their peaceful date until the door behind them shuts and they are left alone.

" Hm~ " Lucifer hums, tone DRIPPING with amusement, and Alastor can already feel the shame setting in, " If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous. "

And there it goes. Alastor's cheeks darken, woefully against his control, and he is swift in the way he turns his head AWAY from Lucifer despite it already being too late. The way he carries him close, though, pressed against his chest in so territorial a manner, 'tis wishful thinking to pray Lucifer hadn't caught sight of the flush of his sunblessed cheeks.

" Jealous is not the word I would use. Merely... annoyed, " Alastor attempts to correct, HUFFING as he hears Lucifer chuckle. The devil, surely, would not let him live this down for as long as he breathed air, much to Alastor's chagrin, " Such desperation is so very unattractive. I almost pitied the poor man. Besides, I was standing right there, and you were leaned into me. Anyone with EYES could tell you are MINE. "

Emphasis on ' mine, ' with a none too friendly tone. The devil would be REMINDED of this, tenfold, 'pon their return to Alastor's abode ( hands upon his waist, solely worthy of such touches, and lips pressing any and everywhere they may find purchase--- Lucifer was his, his, HIS--- ) and when the devil left to return to his underworld domain, another reminder would come in the form of a BULLET ( from Julie Jukebox herself ) to a certain intrusive stranger's head, with a pretty little ' missing person's report ' slapped upon the walls of numerous establishments the very next day.

          ignis  can  tell  they  still  eye  him  with  pity...  that  the  looks  they  give  him  are  filled  with  grief  and  guilt,  as  if  he  hadn’t  chosen  this  fate  of  his  own  accord.  part  of  him  wishes  they  had  BEEN  there  to  witness  him  slip  the  ring  onto  his  finger,  because  telling  them  it  had  been  the  only  way  to  save  noctis  simply  wasn’t  working.  most  of  him,  though,  knows  it  would  only  dampen  the  morale  of  the  group  even  more,  as  if  such  were  possible,  at  this  point  in  time.

        the  prince  had  taken  it  the  worst  out  of  the  group,  and  coupled  with  lady  lunafreya’s  premature  departure  but  a  short  time  prior  to  ignis’  sacrifice,  ignis  wondered  just  how  much  longer  it  would  be  before  their  tight-knit  group  crumbled  beneath  the  weight  of  it  all.  unfortunately,  the  icing  on  the  cake  came  in  the  form  of  ignis’  worst  nightmare,  as  the  heir  apparent  he  had  devoted  his  entire  life  and  being  to  disappeared  without  a  trace.

          it  wasn’t  as  if  ignis  didn’t  know  WHERE  noctis  was.  the  harsh  visions  he  suffered  through  since  his  brief  time  donning  the  ring  told  him  what  he,  and  so  many  others,  needed  to  know--------  but  the  prince,  still,  was  unreachable  with  just  that  information  alone.  the  adviser,  purposeless  and  sightless  now,  remained  at  his  remaining  comrade’s  sides  for  as  long  as  fate  would  allow,  the  tension  fragile  and  near  its  end  by  the  time  they  made  it  to  hammerhead  to  stock  up  on  supplies.  there  was  talk  of  prompto  leaving...  of  him  going  off  on  his  own,  and  gladio’s  incessant  desire  to  dump  ignis  off  at  one  of  the  refugee  camps  to  ‘  ensure  his  safety  ‘  certainly  wasn’t  helping  matters.  they  barely  exchanged  a  word  with  each  other,  daring  not  acknowledge  the  thin  thread  betwixt  them,  as  ignis  carefully  settled  himself  upon  a  bench  and  waited  for  the  other  two  to  secure  what  they  needed.