There are, perhaps, worse things to find in the middle of one’s garden.
A rampant fire, an angry mob, a random bottomless pit with unimaginable horrors lurking inside — but having a random angel fall from thin air to demolish a flowerbed certainly isn’t better, raising a whole host (haha) of problems of its own. And considering the amount of wings on this one, it wouldn’t be anything resolved neatly either; a seraphim.
Lucifer crouched down next to the still angel just outside the aggressive furrow dug into the soft dirt, tentatively reaching over to check for signs of life — present, but it seems the landing wasn’t any easier than it had been for him. Filthy, bruised, feathers in disarray, unconscious…
It hadn’t been very long since the Battle for the Hotel (and the wider reaches of Pride Ring) had been fought, and Heaven’s First Man had paid a hefty price…. Shorter yet, since he had been used as the bludegon to beat through Heaven’s very front door and threaten all of Heaven and Hell with erasure by a megalomaniac sinner… And while many celebrated in the aftermath of the weapon’s destruction and the following new truce between realms, since it was all hope for change, any change, for direct action that could be taken to defend against the unfeeling sword that razed the sinners low… All Lucifer could think of is what would result of such defiance and destruction, and what would be judged as an appropriate response to the killing of their own, on both ends.
What would come of any investigation concerning the beam of light that nearly split Heaven in two. How they would react knowing that he was the source of such potential calamity.
And seeing a seraphim laid low in his own backyard seemed like a sign of the beginning of not only a future headache, but a very precise planting of evidence for something far worse than banishment. Some sort of test that Lucifer had yet to work out the metrics for; or rather a trap, set to be plucked like a sinful apple to the unwary.
As much as Lucifer would like to say he has learned better the first time he meddled… getting yet another test like this, his heartstrings were once again pulling him to do something he probably shouldn’t, instincts bristling. To simply do nothing and watch….
Horns pressed against the skin of his skull from the stress, tail lengthening just to lash out behind himself — to do nothing or to help? To give into self-preservation or act simply because he could and wanted to? It had been one thing to interfere because it involved his daughter, but a complete stranger? How could he justify that when he looked away from the plight of his sinners for millennia now?
Further stalling, Lucifer made to turn the angel onto the side to get a better look at them, only to shriek the instant he got a good look at their face, scrambling away —
That- He- The guy- THIS ANGEL LOOKED JUST LIKE HIM!
If Lucifer had a paper bag, he’d be hyperventilating into it. For the time being he paces, steepled hands pressed to his face in a mimicry of prayer.
“OKAY, okay, message re-heehee-fucking-cieved, what the fuck, what the fuck, okay, okay, ooohohohokayyy now. What the actual fuck, Heaven? Is this a warning? A sign? I can’t fall any lower here! You came into MY HOUSE and broke YOUR TREATY, you know! Fuck, fffffuuuuuhck… It’s not going to matter, is it? This is just the excuse. Things are going to spiral out of control again and it’s all going be blamed on….” He looks over at the angel, and scrubs at his face, groaning loudly into his palms.
Aggravated, anxious, trying to practice some deep breathing techniques he’d read about in the past. Every glance back only seemed to rile him up more, horns pressing through the skin of his forehead to rise up to the sky along with the soft plumes of smoke and sparks of fire leaking from the corners of his mouth. All he can think of, is how much this was going to eventually blow up in his face, and every move twisted in someway to be worse than what had happened in reality.
Even so… he already knew what he would decide on ultimately. It had already been carved in stone the moment he gazed upon the poor soul that plowed through dark soil and hellish flora after a long lonely fall from above. As much as seeing his own face reflected back at him felt — wrong, uncanny with soft dark blues instead of an intense bright orange…. Wouldn’t he have been so grateful, if he had someone to take him under their care after all the heartache that came before?
It was projection, most certainly, but regardless of how right or wrong he was about his presumptions, Lucifer would not ignore this angel. Come what most assuredly may after, but at least he would not be answering to himself at night with this being yet another sin he holds over his own head to be accounted for. He can at least admit as much later to his guest that it was for his own selfish reasonings that they had been spared and brought in.
As it stood, Lucifer had gotten them set up in one of the guest rooms and wait for them to rouse before doing anything further. Injuries did not appear to be so grave as to overpower their healing factor, and blood is not present through their clothes in any great amount. Last thing he wanted was to encourage any more misunderstandings by undressing the feller. If further help was required… They could consent to such assistance if they so wanted it. And hey! Yet another thing they would relate about and match with — covered in bandages and a little fucked up by circumstances!
…He wonders about their name. Their story. Not so much the reason of their crash landing (though, it weighs on him as a possible harbinger of grave misfortune), but… Who they were, to be molded in an image so like his own, and for what purpose. If it had hindered them. If they had been pushed out or if they made the plunge on their own, as endlessly curious to the forbidden as he. If empathy over matters best left alone became their flaw too, a scapegoat created for the express use of being the one to make that choice.
Lucifer was going around in circles again, as he had been for some hours.
Beyond his suspicions of some foul play, paranoia over the mind games that were seemingly being made at his expense, there was a tiny ember of hope.
Small, fragile, as likely to be blown out entirely as much as flames fanned by any passing breeze of truth, but it remains, flickering, in the corner of his mind. Of a kindred spirit. Someone that might… share his feelings and thoughts on matters, or a wholy new perspective entirely he hadn’t conceived of. One could scream into the void for release, true, however the time would come whether it was hours or days or years or centuries — more — when echoes would ring hollow.
He didn’t want to hear his personal thoughts, in his own voice, from a clone’s mouth. Or some yes man, saying what they presumed he might like to hear. Everyone else, save Adam and Lilith, had held complete silence all this time. Not one visit or one letter. Nothing but business, entirely divorced from anything so personal as opinion on even the most mundane of subjects.
Not that he expected his guest to open up right away, prepared to talk about music or hobbies but… the quiet hope was good to temper the worst of his anxieties of something strictly nefarious.
When the angel does stir, it’s to Lucifer set off to the side in a rocking chair, whittling a piece of wood into a small song bird — a canary. The knife pauses and the King stops rocking to eye at him, wary. The tone is friendly even so with his questioning, “Feel any serious pains? Not to alarm you, but you look… pretty rough. What’s the last thing you remember? Do you know where you are?”
He’s braced for anything. He hopes this guy isn’t a screamer.
"NO!!!" Michael screamed watching the man he adored tossed into the depths of Hell with Lilith by God after he refused to do it. "SAMAEL!!!" He cried out to him as he looked down off the clouds of Heaven to the pit of darkness he was chucked off of, reaching down for him as tears fell from his face as he stared in disbelief.
Michael couldn't believe it...he was gone.
That's all he remembered before he went completely apeshit. All the blood that splattered and painted Heaven's realm. The Guardian of Heaven completely lost it seeing the man he loved secretly just...unfairly punished in his eyes. He deserved better than this. Sure, what Samael had done was wrong but,...but he didn't deserve to be completely stripped of his citizenship right??
All that could be heard was the screams of angels in his ears when he finally came too.
Swiftly, Michael sat up from his position to then regret how quickly he'd risen with his injuries but, he was bleeding from his shoulder blade. His breathing was quickened from the jolt of what all had occurred. That was until he felt that stab of pain hitting his lean body and he rested back down as his blue sapphire eyes closed. A low groan leaving the archangel as he lifted his uninjured arm up to hold his head in his palm. The memory of his Father grabbing him and tossing him out into a portal. Where had he gone?
Samael had grabbed him before he was ripped away and that was the cause of the bleeding there but everything else was from his wounds when the blades of his brothers sliced at him as he tore them all apart wave after wave before his Father managed to stop him.
That had been when he heard a familiar voice....he paused to re-open his eyes to meet the person who was speaking to him....to see the man seemingly staring at a stranger. Had Samael not remembered him or...was this a nightmare...or worse?..
It was then those blue eyes were turning gold and the whites of his eyes were slowly engulfing itself in the color of crimson red. His head then felt like it was being split open by an unknown force as the sound of ripping flesh made itself known and golden ichor poured from the man's skull as deep sapphire horns the shape of ram began to spout from his head. His body collapsing in instance as he cried out as they grew out. He begun to pant front the pain as he shook from the pain as then to be followed up with the sensation of his back end on fire. Little did he know blood pooled beneath him and he was sprouting a bloody fluffy tail.
A mighty roar left the man as light blue flames began to dance around his shoulders and following his biceps as his fangs became more prominent. He was going through the change...the same change Lucifer had endured so long ago...
