It's an uncommon early hour for her: the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the small, open room and drifts into the living room, alluring and warm. She pours herself a cup to help her nerves not play tic-tac-toe with eachother, without an hint of sugar and cream. Black is better, and allows her to taste the expensive crushed beans directly.
The new Lucifer closes her eyes and enjoys the taste, relaxing her stiff shoulders, at least.
Because this evening won't be relaxing at all.
The excitement for having recovered her long lost dagger, for how pleasing and invigorating it felt, has long since vanished, unless it was the energy put in her daily training to not allow her joints to lock during an upcoming battle. There are none, but getting back her main weapon gave her a new purpose to keep herself moving.
Everything is back to normal, to a degree. To a quite distasteful but real one, her work has just begun.
The dark liquid swirls in the colorful mug. She exhales on the steam, which lifts up to circle her face like a bride's veil.
Her plan, even when aired out with a determined voice, wasn't that simple.
''Defeat God''... easier said than done. The realization comes around that precise time, 6:34AM, in her spotless kitchen and in a relaxed atmosphere. When the mind is at ease, she supposes, it becomes clearer to see the problems in her plan than when blinded by pride and thirst for revenge. She hums, and drums her fingertips on the hard counter.
Her timeline risks to fall apart -- and, if not the entirety of it, heaven will. And there will be only hell remaining, equal, finally and for everyone.
The idea is less scary than she thought. Simon mulls over it for a few seconds, taking another sip of scalding beverage. Equality always sounded nice, and she hummed pleasantly, letting the warmth seep into her empty body. The idea of having her worst enemies without an home, destroyed and forced flee, surrended or die, made a small smile appear on her lips, and another hum followed.
A little death hymn for whatever is about to happen.
The demoness trums her fingers on the surface again, her head whirring with thoughts. Despite being the queen, she can't go and wage war to them directly -- no, she needs a diversive... to entice them. To have them strike first, hit them when most vulnerable.
She needs a diversive. An attack, but not by her hands...
Her hum turns into a light chuckle. For her luck, even for an open room, the kitchen is empty. Nobody heard that.
Nobody will possibly hear what happens next, either.
She spins her phone on the smooth surface, fingers tapping to open the list of contacts. She skims over plenty, reaching the V letter and smiling at seeing that she does, indeed, has his number saved. She doesn't remember possessing it -- but a deal seems to bring people closer. And he might need her someday.
Or she might need him today. Depends.
She dials the number, taking the phone into her hand and turning to lean on the counter with her waist. He takes exactly a split second to pick up, and her voice breaks the silence gently.
''Good evening. I need your assistance,'' she starts immediately, knowing that he likes curtness. ''And possibly a meeting as soon as you can. I will explain then.''
