#twilightsepoch

TO: Olivia ✨ FROM: Memo

[TXT]: [IMG ATTACHED]

The image is just a selfie of Memo, looking into the camera with a smile and holding up a peace sign.

Festivities had overtaken Spirale once again, and Lucifer found himself in the midst of it once more. Mortals could find any reason to celebrate, he mused, and though it appeared somewhat excessive to him, Lucifer enjoyed it all the same.

There was no harm in looking around either. His nondescript presence (a consequence of his lack of wings) was a boon in a street crowded with mortals, so he was relatively safe. Probably. 

It was while perusing the busy streets that he noticed a familiar figure--nay, her form was quite distinct among mortals, given the horns protruding from her head. Olivia was among the mortals as well, and she also appeared to be taking part in the festivities. Lucifer had all the mind to walk in the other direction, given their strained relationship, but...no, there was something he needed to say first. 

“Olivia. I have been looking for you.”

He approached as he called out to her softly, to make it known that he meant no harm.

“I came to apologize for what happened during our volleyball game at the Sunset Festa. I wasn’t aware that striking the ball at the opponent was not the proper way to play. I had thought that it would be the fastest way to end the game, and I only learned after that it had been a misunderstanding on my part...”

As she turned, though, Lucifer realized that there was something odd. The archangel of dusk was normally composed and restrained, but...

Her face looked a little rosy tonight. 

“...Olivia? Are you alright?”

A few weeks had passed since the city underwent its transformation--since Lucifer’s encounter with Belial. Standing and walking for sustained periods of time was still something of a feat, but he could not have been the former supreme primarch without a high level of resilience. Furthermore, Lucifer’s excursion today was something that required at least some of his attention.

With Belial’s malicious intentions made very clear from their last violent confrontation, neither Sandalphon nor Azazel wanted Lucifer to be on his own. Not with his injuries taking so long to heal, nor with his near-mortal body. The arrangement they had decided on, at least for the time being, was that Lucifer would stay in Sandalphon’s apartment while his wounds healed, and possibly after that as well. The purpose of Lucifer’s excursion was simply to gather whatever sparse belongings he may have left in his condo room and bring them back with him to Sandalphon’s place.

(It was a strange feeling; for Lucifer, who had been so powerful in his previous life, to be in need of an escort now... It was definitely something he would have to get used to.)

But today, his escort was nowhere to be found. Sandalphon had gotten swept away in a crowd, and in spite of Lucifer’s best efforts, he could not locate him again. (Alas, for primal beasts from a world lacking in technology, and especially in Lucifer’s case, using their phones was the farthest thing from their minds.) The two had gone over what to do in such a scenario. Lucifer would keep his hood over his head and keep going towards his destination, Condo 404, and wait for Sandalphon there. He arrived without further incident, but Sandalphon wasn’t there. 

Ever the efficient being, Lucifer didn’t want to wile away the time doing nothing. He headed into the condo first and made his way towards his room.

As expected, there was little for Lucifer to collect. The wooden katanas that he had arrived in Spirale with but had lost during the invasion had appeared in his room again. They were of little use to him now that he had his real ones, but having an extra weapon would never hurt. The only other possession of note was a pouch of Stars and Dust. Lucifer still saw little need to carry money around, but if he was to fully integrate into mortal society, it would probably be a necessity. 

With these two things in hand, he exited the condo again. Still no Sandalphon... Lucifer wondered if he had lost his way. Sandalphon didn’t frequent this ward, so it was understandable--

He stopped in his tracks. 

There were eyes on him. 

Ah... He had forgotten to pull his hood back over his head when he left the building. But he couldn’t gauge whether the gaze on him was malicious or not. Lucifer slowly scanned the surrounding area until his eyes fell on another person--a woman who hadn’t been there before, and had exited the condo right beside his own.

A very familiar woman.

“...Olivia.”

Another one of the primarchs who had vanished into the depths of Pandemonium 2000 years ago, felled by his own hand.

Dyrn doesn’t see Olivia very often but that doesn't mean the little Dragon dislikes them, honestly they are fine with the other and will accept small pets. 

After using several of her wishes today, she just wanted to sleep. Wherever she could get it, really. And this table she was sitting at was feeling awfully comfortable right now...

So comfortable she was only barely able to make out that someone else was talking to her from the other side now. She didn’t even notice them come up; it was a miracle she was awake enough to hear them at all.

♥ @twilightsepoch

He knows his cousin isn’t usually one for parties, not that she hated socializing or anything but she was just generally so focused on work it seemed like it gave her . . . Difficulties.

That had changed of course, recently. A more convenient change for him really, unfortunate as it came about. By all means she deserved that promotion.

Still it didn’t do him any good if she was sitting around moping about.

“Hey bartender, why don’t you pour out a few quick B-52′s for my friend here?” He shines a quick smile in the attendants direction, and as one who has to keep the party flowing in here he happily lays out a few glasses, filling them each with ease, before giving a quick wink to Belial which he returns without hesitation. “Thanks guy, I’ll be sure to give you a friendly tip later.”

Belial happily turns to his cousin, in work his clothes were plain- what you would expect from someone in the lab. When he was out and about though? That’s when he get to dress far more . . . Natural. Playing with a fluffy purple boa around his neck he slides one over to her.

Quirks & Little Details

📏 — How does your muse adjust to others that are taller or shorter to them?

lucifer tends to tower over other people, so it’s very common that others are shorter than him. usually he doesn’t do anything to adjust, but there are also times when he leans or bends down to accommodate for the height difference, especially when his shorter friend wants to tell him something

 ♥ @twilightsepoch

The city was already starting to recover- he could feel his power leaving him once again and while that meant the same was happening for the others . . . The archangel falls down to one knee.

It can’t ever just be easy can it? Well . . . He supposes it also might not be as fun then.

All the same he had no one to turn too. No allies to watch over his back- not that he exactly had many trusted back in his world either. Being unable to see properly was getting quite aggravating though. Again he would question how mortals even existed this long when they couldn’t recover from injuries such as these.

That’s right. Mortals. The singularity, that crew, they were all here too weren’t they? At least a fair number of them. Maybe his luck was finally turning for the worse- should any of them find him like this . . .

The singularity . . . Hm? He reaches for his phone- only to find its missing. Right. Sandalphon. Wonderful, a thorn in his side even across the city. Fine. The archangel starts up again- he has enough strength to walk for a bit, a few minutes of flight left. Naturally he had memorized her house location.

A few very long hops with the aid of his injured wings, and sure enough he’s there, in that towering district in Archimedes, outside those silly little condos. He leans up on the wall for a moment. How would want to handle this? What would a good pick up line be? Eh. Forget it, improv, ensuring these wounds were closed up is far more important. So he knocks.

Tattered wings resting at his side- he can’t be bothered to put them away, his left eye bloody- scarred. Hard to tell if it’s even there anymore. Cuts across his chest- most of his shirt singed away revealing burns. And from one wound in particular a small purple hue barely escapes his chest.

He hears the knob turn, the door move and- . . .