[His Fury, 2000 Years Later]
fifthprimarch:
Misfortune was always bestowed in threes, or so he had been told many centuries ago, so if the accidental fraudulence were to be the first instance, then this was certainly the second. “You….” Now he only feared what may be the third. “Lucifer…–!”
Sandalphon caught himself, steering away from baring his fangs as the pesky mortals around them were still eyeing them curiously. I have no choice then…. “Come with me.”
—
“… What do you plan on doing now, Lucifer?”
… Perhaps sitting down at an open air cafe hadn’t been the smoothest of transitions, but with a piping hot cup of coffee in hand, could Sandalphon keep his nerves from fraying further.
The air surrounding him was beginning to grow physically hotter and unapproachable–so thick with tension one of them could take their stirring spoon and add a dollop to their hot beverage–many of the cafe’s current residents sneaking over glances that could only pity the one sitting across from Sandalphon.
“Attempt to imprison me again?”
While he would have normally celebrated such a casual address (oh, how he yearns for equals, even now!), in this case, it is a mere symbol of what has changed--or what has been lost. Lucifer’s worst fears are confirmed: the Sandalphon glaring at him is one without memory of the present. Rather, his own present appears to be either the time of the rebellion, or the cataclysms.
He doesn’t regret intervening for Sandalphon’s sake. He doesn’t even regret running into him. A Sandalphon who despises him is better than a Sandalphon who is absent, and Lucifer has longed for his company for millennia. But when he sees that glare leveled on him, one that’s burning with hatred...Lucifer has to wonder whether he deserves that company at all.
Yet another thought that has parasitized his mind in the time he’s spent alone is proven true...
He only wishes he had had more time to guard against Sandalphon’s hatred. Lucifer is lacking in the fortitude he used to have, or lacks the strength to keep up that front. His fate has worn him thin--he can only follow after Sandalphon silently, and brace himself for their inevitable difficult conversation.
--
It’s ironic that Sandalphon would choose a cafe of all places, or perhaps he had hoped that the normally calming atmosphere would assuage his own anger towards his creator. It doesn’t seem to be working; the tension in the air is almost palpable, to the point where Lucifer can feel the air crackling around them.
“...No. I have no intention of doing that.” He’s unable to stop the sadness from showing on his face. “I do not have any plans. The fact that I am here at all is an aberration...”
He looks up at Sandalphon, daring to meet that glare. “And...yourself? What do you plan on doing here, Sandalphon?”













