man im tired and i got stuff to do elsewhere, but i’d like to try and get some stuff on lucifer going. so if you want to plan out a thread you can like this or im me and i’ll show up to figure something out with you
This was different from what he expected. From what he expected them to both be, in the end. It is pleasant, but it makes Sandalphon’s chest ache. The smile is plastered all over his face, the joy in seeing Lucifer in such a manner. Not having to worry about anything else, simply… being. Free from the heavy burden he carries, free to have the same opportunity Sandalphon has. To be his own person, to figure out his likes and dislikes. He thinks the former Supreme Primarch has a right to that.
Lucifer completely catches him off-guard, however. It’s not too uncommon, but the gesture just brings all the blood that he possibly has to his cheeks. Does he know? He probably knows. There is no way Lucifer does not know what this means. Sandalphon stares at the delicate ring on his finger, and gently retracts his hands. As if protecting something precious, thinking about what he should do next. With one simple gesture he manages to take all his breath away, all the words he can possibly muster. Lucifer has always been like that. Still smiling, still looking at this precious gift.
The question. He asked him a question. Sandalphon blinks once, twice… and raises his head, feeling almost embarrassed for being so enamoured with such a simple gesture. But he still treats Lucifer with the respect he deserves, sitting properly next to him in that tiny greenhouse. Sandalphon grabs a bunch of flowers before he starts to work - and finally replies.
“A bit. Not as much as to be efficient or making anything really elaborate. Lyria – the Girl in Blue once asked me to help make some for the Singularity’s crew.”
Still avoiding names. There was a feeling of belonging, and Sandalphon really felt he still did not deserve to be there. He was allowed a place of his own, he was allowed to move with his life. Things are never this easy, and he cannot erase the things he has done. Sandalphon can only hope he does not make the same mistakes of the past, blinded by rage and loneliness.
“Have you…?”
And he then gestured to the flowers, offering the same question back. If he indeed did not have prior experience, Lucifer was doing a mighty good job. It felt silly to be like this. But it was one of those things you should not question why. It was better to just enjoy the atmosphere as it was. To enjoy a rare, fleeting moment of happiness.
He keeps his eyes trained on Sandalphon. Every bit of attention is devoted to constant - passive - observation. It is both of curiosity and. Not habit per say. It is simply difficult to remove himself from his defunct role. His defunct design. as it was however, observing his equals reactions brings a faint spark of joy. The smile on Lucifer’s face remains soft, warm, as he watches Sandalphon’s hands curl inwards.
Seeing such a little gift treated with such care to see such a little gesture bring so much out of his equal when there had been so many others that fell so short. Yes seeing such a thing was absolutely, truly wonderful and had he a heart it surely would have fluttered from it. But that adoration - as he knows it now - is a feeling he will treasure anyways. The same way he has come to treasure every memory of their time together, fleeting or no.
The memory is tucked away, a small treasure among countless other treasures. Something to reflect on when he eventually returns to the solitary place. Something that will ease the bitter pangs of guilt and longing within the iron clad and apathetic grasp of purgatory. Lucifer will remember this moment or he almost desperately hopes he will; he hopes that this won’t fade from his mind the moment when he is finally returned to his rightful place.
‘Do not look a gift horse in the mouth’ as the skydwellers might say, yet it is impossible for a being made to be so acutely aware of their position in the natural order of things. Lucifer who has always been an observer - because he must be - cannot turn a blind eye to the fact he does not belong. Not anymore.
The dead are supposed to remain so, the world is not meant for their interference.
The dead are not meant to interfere again with the lives of the ones they left behind, the ones they love.
That is simply how the world is. How it has been for the millennia he has watched it and such rationale would have soothed the faint unrest within him. Now however, it cannot. Lucifer has been touched by greed, a desire for more. For more of this calm, this quiet, this shared moment that was long lost. The primarch wants to hold onto this moment, wants more of it.
Lucifer understands now, how great the burden of isolation is.
Lucifer understands now, how great the burden of longing is.
The pain that comes from watching your loved one walk away never knowing when they’ll return. And he knows, he knows when he is free of this place they may never see each other again. Primal Beasts do not simply cease to be, there is no predetermined end for them unlike skydwellers and Lucifer does not wish the bitter, tragic ends that could bring them together again.
He must settle for this moment. He must settle for the moments after. He must cling to them, cherish them, as deeply as he cherished the man next to him.
So with care, a carefully tailored smile, and serene disposition Lucifer remains. Not breaching this moment with troubled thoughts, and feelings. No, he listens instead and feels joy. Delight. To hear that Sandalphon had stopped rejecting the world, that he did not follow in the solitary footsteps of his predecessor and remove himself from it.
Sandalphon has friends.
Sandalphon has a home.
No longer locked away in the cold and gilded cage of the Astrals - in the lab and the garden they once called their own. Or held captive by his rage and his grief. Finally, oh finally, has Sandalphon grasped a life that was so desperately wished for. Even if he dodges the words - the obvious affection - even Lucifer can’t be fooled.
After all, there were two people in that garden. Two people who heard the desperate cries for Sandalphon, two people who knew those that Sandalphon would return to first.
“Its pleasing to hear that even she has managed to get you wound up in her own ideas. Her guidance shows.”
The man laughs, gently and hushed as his hands continue their task. Consigned as he is to the idea that perhaps artistry is truly out of his reach, but he may as well make sure these delicate flowers don’t go to waste.
“I’ve never participated with such activities, as simple as it seemed I’ve drastically underestimated it.”
“But, I must admit how nice it is to be able to experience such a thing.”
There’s plenty behind that statement. A lifetime of control, of being under someone else’s thumb. Someone else’s perception. Making that perception reality. And then when freed, he simply continued to act without freedom. So it makes this moment even more valuable, one first of many brought upon by a once in a lifetime chance.
For as far reaching, as desolate as the sadness that grips him and his thoughts. Lucifer feels. Warm. Happy. An impossible state of being.
He doesn’t mind, simply leans a little further into Sandalphon. Just a little more, making up for all the lost touches, lost comfort, of two thousand years but never breaching too far.
“Then, has the Girl in Blue-- Lyria you called her? Has she taught you more?”
Has she taught you more about life? Has she and the others taught you that you can live for yourself? Have they truly helped you move on? He has a thousand questions, but opts for one. No part of him daring enough to sour the mood so intentionally.
000 has me in absolute shambles over lucisan. I always wanted Lucifer to give Sandalphon the scarf bUT THEN HIS SUMMON UNCAP ART WAS REVEALED AND IM CRYING!
i want to believe lucio can manipulate dimensions so when sandy dreams he can reunite with lucifer every night
If Lucifer had a heart it surely would have fluttered at the sheer sight of Sandalphon’s smile. Yet, it brings a warmth to his being. To see Sandalphon like this, so close to how he’d been once - how they had been once.
How Lucifer wanted them to both go back to being once.
They cannot though, the Sandalphon who spoke so carefree and purely does not exist anymore. The Lucifer who tried so desperately to shelter his love too does not exist anymore. Neither of them are the same, circumstances warping them far from who they were in that shaded garden. But it does not mean this Sandalphon, touched by fury and despair, is not the Sandalphon he loved then either.
No, they are both the Sandalphon that Lucifer yearned for, adored, loved.
Until the end and beyond that, they have changed but Lucifer’s love for the other has never wavered. So regardless of it all Lucifer’s smile changes from embarrassed to soft; for what sort of childish situation he’d landed himself in if it brought such a wonderful smile for Lucifer to see then it was well worth it.
The smile is well worth it and so is the comforting presence of Sandalphon by his side. Were he another primal the man may have very well have mistaken this feeling for something far from genuine. But as Lucifer leans - just slightly enough to rest a little bit of his weight against Sandalphon - and that warm feeling within him settles in his chest. He knows that feeling is his own, far beyond the scope of Astral design.
Primals were not meant to love, were not meant to want to indulge in the company of another much less another Primal. But here he was- here they were doing just that.
‘I want to stay like this’ crosses the mans mind and for once he thinks to chase the thought, instead of quietly putting it away. Leaving feelings to turn into desires, feelings forced to remain denied. He doesn’t need to now, he doesn’t want to deny those feelings anymore.
So he stays like that for a moment, content with his own held silence and the comforting warmth of Sandalphon.
“I had wanted this to be a surprise.”
And with that the moment of silence is over though Lucifer continues to lean into the other man, no longer entirely preoccupied with the wreath that he’d been working on prior. Though Lucifer’s hands do eventually resume their task, somewhat clumsily attempting to finish the wreath he’d started.
“Truthfully I assumed the task wouldn’t be so difficult, so I had thought it would have been completed earlier in the day.”
That sheepish smile returns as Lucifer once again bends a flower too far out of shape. His hands were meant to do anything but be as delicate as these flowers demanded. Still the primarch continues on, it may not be of exemplary craftsman ship but there was something to be said of simply finishing what one started.
“But it seems I’ve greatly underestimated the skill needed.”
He laughs gently, far from self-depreciating but certainly amused.
“I suppose there are things even I cannot do so naturally.”
The misshapen final product, marred by bent stems, is testament to that. Yet, despite it all, Lucifer enjoys it all the same even as its placed gently into the pile of discarded wreathes. There’s a charm to be found in mistakes after all, and while they may not be what Lucifer had wanted to give to Sandalphon the wreathes were charming in their own way.
Gifts however needed to be perfect or so he’d learned from skydwellers, who hustle about fretting over every detail. Once Lucifer hand’t understood the need, gifts were transient things after all and the effort put into finding or making one could have been put to better use.
But he understands now, as he reaches into the pile of plucked flowers to start anew, the effort put into such things was as much a sign of ones adoration as the gift itself.
A thought strikes him in the middle of crafting the wreathe though, a thought turned impulse as Lucifer takes a flower from the pile and gently bends it to form. A small ring that he slides gently over one of Sandalphon’s fingers - the one he’d seen most skydwellers wear most jewelry on - and smiles. The entirety of the significance of such a choice is lost on him, for all the skydweller customs he knew Lucifer was not well versed in every single one.
A life of passive observation did not permit for cultural enrichment, enthralled as he had become with those customs so late into his life.
“Perhaps I should have started much smaller and simpler.”
Content with how the ring looked Lucifer starts to go back to his task at hand
“Ah-”
And pauses again as a realization dawns on him.
“Have you tried this before?”
The man hands a few of the snowdrops to Sandalphon: an invitation. Whether or not Sandalphon had experience with these sorts of things, Lucifer truly did not know. There was no way to tell time in the quiet depths of purgatory, what may have been short days to him within it years may have passed since his death.
In the skies, where skydwellers thrived in short and beautiful bursts of life. There was no telling what exactly Sandalphon had been exposed to in the rush that the Singularity paced themselves at, living their short life to the fullest and forcing everyone to match their hurricane pace.
But if he had not, then they could learn the craft together, and if he had then perhaps Sandalphon would get his chance to teach Lucifer for once.
Sentimentality was not a natural part of his person. Learned only through millennia of observation and then millennia of isolation, compounded by memories he found far too sweet. Too kind.
It was one of the many things that were kept out of Lucilius designs for him, an overseer that was too capable of sympathy for its charges would be useless. Evolution was meant to be observed, any sort of divine influence as far from it as possible.
Still despite his express intentions of being as distant as possible from his experiments and studied, his creator had given Lucifer the capability to think for himself and learn on his own. A gracious gift that was bestowed only upon him and one other, the rest of Lucilius’ creations were reduced to nothing more than programmed personalities and actions.
That gift was one of the few things left of his friend that was well cherished and used to its full extent. Even if it was for things that the Astral would have certainly disagreed with with how inclined as his dear friend had been towards all things logical and understandable.
Whereas Lucifer found great value in the things that could not be so easily explained, things that were not quite so reasonable. He had found himself drawn to them, to things like friendship and companionship. To shows of good will and good faith, even if there was simply no basis for it. Even if he had so truly struggled to learnt hose things, Lucifer adored them the most out of the living.
And that is why even with his poor grasp of those things, his poor grasp of sentimental thoughts and feelings, brought things to a point where even the former primarch could be wound up in festivities. Festivities especially that welcomed change, that welcomed prosperity, the latter of which had been lacking greatly in his life and another’s.
But in truth what Lucifer crafts - so inspired by the beautiful wreathes hung upon doors - is not for him. The reality of his situation has never left him. Lucifer is dead, here within this village the former primarch breathes and exists, feels every sensation he used to. But he is not among the living. Not truly. He is little more than a ghost, settled among those who are truly alive.
For someone who is alive, for that one person, does Lucifer put forth the effort to try and make what would be a nonsensical trinket to most.
For Sandalphon, who deserved - deserves - a prosperous life. A life filled with experiences Lucifer could never give him and perhaps experiences he never would be able to give. Those sorts of feelings, grown from a deep love and a sentimentality that followed Lucifer to his grave, are the reason why the man has tucked himself into a corner of the greenhouse.
It’s why a... sizable pile of snowdrops rest by his side.
And by those lay a discarded pile of what are undoubtedly attempts at making flower wreathes. A fair share of them being too thin, lacking just enough flowers to be pleasing to the eye, some too bulky, others simply fell apart or were unfortunately mashed by a lack of delicate touch.
It would not be entirely remiss to say that Lucifer, in all his skill and grace, was not made to be artistic. No, that skill set belonged to another primal entirely. Lucifer was made for practicality and Lucilius may very well be tossing and turning in the grave he’d been put in if he knew that his masterpiece was even making such a... fruitless and entirely wasted effort.
But his creators proficiency in scathing commentary of ones person and ones efforts hasn’t reached Lucifer in years, and could certainly not reach the former primarch here. The only thing stopping Lucifer now was.
Himself, really.
By his count this is the twelfth wreathe his attempted to make, for once the flowers remaining entirely attached and not at all a terrible mess. It’s by this wreathe - and however long he’s been at it - does he hear the greenhouse door open and a bit childishly he peeks out from his corner of the building.
“Ah.”
Sandalphon’s presence in the greenhouse doesn’t entirely surprise him, having confessed that the greenhouse had been a good place to chase away the winter chill. Even with the arrival of spring and its slightly warmer weather, it was only natural that it wouldn’t be warm enough for either of them to stand being outside for too long.
What is a surprise to Lucifer though is that he’d thought there would be more time for him to not only make his gift. But to have the suitable amount of time needed for him to rehearse how to give it to Sandalphon in the first place.
Is this what it feels for skydweller children to be ‘caught red handed’?
Now the man has neither a gift nor has he figured out how to explain himself; and while Lucifer’s well aware both of them can be oblivious he’s more than certain that Sandalphon wouldn’t be able to miss the former supreme primarch in staring at him.
Unfortunate how this little plan seemed to be coming apart now.
“I was expecting you to come here later -”
A quick, if a little embarrassed cursory glace to the sky above them though tells Lucifer that its midday and this is right around the time he’d expected the other to arrive. Had he lost himself in this activity so much he didn’t even notice the change in time?
“- but would you like to come join me?”
There’s nothing that can be done about it now though, besides own up to the entire charade.
He despises the cold. The snow makes everything hard to walk on, considering his boots. It is something he learns quickly. Sandalphon questions - he always has - the purpose of being here. What kind of convoluted wish might he have had to be separated from the rest of the crew, to leave the Singularity and the Girl in Blue alone again.
Or maybe he is the one who was left alone. Again. It was a hard pill to swallow, but definitely a possibility.
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Sandalphon’s hands are warm and gentle, as delicate as the day he’d held them last well over two millennia ago. Even if he knows the reason behind this - that primals are untouched by wounds and lasting scars - it brings him a sense of nostalgia.
But more than that the warmth is real.
Sandalphon is real.
Purgatory can play its clever tricks, it gave Lucifer his senses after all even though by all means he shouldn’t have had them. Existing there for mere minutes had dulled the mans perceptions, left him with nothing but a vagueness that consumed and a sense of dread. Not for himself, but for Sandalphon whom he’d subjected to something so similar.
After all, the punishments Lucifer incurred against himself were well justified. Lonely as it was within the grasps of purgatory, his penance for his plentiful failures must be paid. Even if - even if here he could not pay it and truly did not want to.
Not when he knows that his solace is here; not when he knows the one who took flight and left Lucifer this time to solitude is real and here with him now.
He’s selfish, truly.
But as the primarch feels the comforting warmth from Sandalphon’s hands it feels so right to cherish more. It feels so right to gently lace his fingers in-between Sandalphon’s just like they used to millennia ago. It is right, it is familiar, it’s real.
Lucifer holds that hand in a grasp far too gentle. But then he squeezes just so. An affirmation to him, an affirmation to Sandalphon who’s plentiful questions are just on the tip of his tongue. Certainly he hears them for years upon years of leading the masses of angels, fully sentient and not, have taught Lucifer some cues. It is not so hard to read the disbelief and shock, especially when even Lucifer himself doubted that he himself was here and not within the confines of a dream.
Another squeeze, a little more pressure this time. A message in a gesture, feelings hard to convey in words.
He’s here Sandalphon, he’s here.
You’re not alone.
He’s not alone.
And with that little gesture, that little reassurance, the primarch’s lips curve upward just a little more in more of a display of emotion than he’d shown in years.
“Truly, there is nothing more that would I rather do than to spend time with you.”
Fondness twinkles in his eyes and the sense of a love entirely unbroken colors his words. It’s true after all. The only reasons he had ever parted with Sandalphon were simply out of Lucifer’s control. Astral orders were once absolute after all. But those Astrals do not exist anymore and they certainly cannot by any means reach them here. So Lucifer can say those words so freely, with so much feeling behind them. True to himself for once.
But even more importantly:
They were true to Sandalphon now.
Honest feelings for someone who long deserved to hear them, to hear them outside of a ghostly visit. But Sandalphon especially deserved them now, Lucifer is not blind to his feelings. To see his solace upset makes a familiar feeling bloom in his chest, warm and protective.
Lucifer wants to chase those worries away, chase the nervousness that tints Sandalphon’s offer away.
“I would love to hear about what you have found here and-” He pauses, considering. “- elsewhere.”
Beyond the frozen landscape, back home within the skies. Their conversation had been cut short, in a way that was understood certainly. But. Lucifer cannot help but long to hear of home, to hear of how Sandalphon thinks of it now with friends who love him. He wants to know just how much his beloved had changed.
He’s seen glimpses of fluttering white and dark brown armor, flecks of gold that catch the harshest of winter light. A young man clad in armor - armor he wishes that the other would never have had to don - who’s appearance is too gentle and warm for such a place.
Naturally, he knows that silhouette.
It is unmistakable.
Be as that may, to see that person here. To see them ripped from the promise of happiness, from friends they’d only just begun to make. To be ripped from a life just starting to truly be recognized, taken from a sense of freedom long overdue. That reality that sinks in causes something in his chest to tighten.
Once, the former primarch had heard skydwellers describe the sort of sadness one would feel from this sort of situation. How the feeling burns in ones chest and how throats tighten. How eyes should burn and tear up. What Lucifer feels however is something else entirely, an unrelenting tightness in his chest. It is a familiar sadness, an emotion he felt so many years ago.
Though the man does not know exactly how this place works part of him can’t help but wonder if nights of longing for days long past, if his desperate need for company had brought Sandalphon here. As much as Lucifer had craved the company, the touch and voice of his only equal, he’d been content to let those dreams and memories be just that.
After all had he not wished the other well, saw him off from the depths of purgatory with an unspoken promise to reunite?
Sandalphon had so much to live for - to experience - and now he was here. He was here in a land frozen and uncaring, far from the skies that must surely love him and became his home. Far from the friends his equal had sought to return to, who Lucifer too knew cared for him. If Sandalphon was taken from them, from everything, on account of Lucifer’s own selfish feelings.
Guilt begins to claw its way in, tinges the sadness that lays claim to Lucifer’s core. On some level he realizes its irrational, that surely there was an explanation. But reality is undeniable: even if this place did not claw away and snatch Sandalphon from the Singularity and the great expanse of the sky. Sandalphon was still here, still trapped, still denied his freedom to live.
Those thoughts alone are too much to bear.
So the first few times that Lucifer catches Sandalphon about, what sparing glimpses are left at that. Every time he leaves it is with the same thought he had two thousand years ago:
‘I need more time’
Needed more time to settle his heart, to be able to chase away the guilt and sadness that threatened to bubble to the surface. Things that may very well poison any attempts to talk - Lucifer knows better than to show such feelings on reunion - after all does he not owe it to his equal to approach him with far more warmth? Perhaps the truth of the matter is he’s scared. Truly the primarch himself doesn’t know, those sorts of feelings are foreign to him.
All he has to work with are assumptions and second hand knowledge, observations of Skydwellers and Astrals.
So within the confines of his bunkhouse, Lucifer waited. He does not keep track of time - he never has and maybe never really will - but eventually his feelings settle. One might even say the man had worked up the courage and that statement itself would be just as true.
Finding proper commitment within himself the rest comes naturally. Sandalphon after all sticks out greatly within a place like this, someone who looks so untouched by the very concept of winter and its chill. A presence and appearance far too warm for such a place, a person far too easy to follow about town.
Even if Lucifer’s certain that it was simply impossible for him to go unnoticed, tailing behind the newly christened Supreme Primarch as he was through the busy crowd. Powerful or no, a man like him is hard to miss and certainly with the way he’s planned out this meeting or at least the very start he was going to be even less hard to miss. Whatever reason may drive Sandalphon not to look back or perhaps simply acknowledge Lucifer is of little concern once part of the crowd disperses, allowing the man to increase his stride.
An elaborate greenhouse comes into view and Lucifer has to wonder if Sandalphon travels here for the same reason’s that he himself has. A longing for color, warmth. Something far more familiar--
He has little choice but to chase the thought away, unless he wishes to fall victim to that sense of permeating sadness. And so he does, the man forces himself to match Sandalphon’s stride and leans down just so with a smile on his face. Then with a delicate touch, perhaps a little too daring, his fingers brush against Sandalphon’s hand. A quiet attempt to bring Sandalphon’s attention to him before Lucifer speaks.
“It’s truly wonderful to see you about, Sandalphon.”
There’s a genuine but muted delight to his voice, regardless of the situation at hand and it being so entirely separated from the ideal life Lucifer envisioned for his equal. To see Sandalphon go about instead of locking himself away, instead of choosing confinement willingly. There is such joy to be found in it, that Sandalphon can find it in himself to be what Lucifer never could.
To be able to do things freely, to be able to have a choice and follow them through now matter what they may be.
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