it was an unending dirge of merciless screaming. victims of a tyranny created by their own profligate sinning that had tipped them over the edge. a doom that was clearly so utterly prepared for them that it was born from the boiling of their own guilty conscience ! left with no choice but to suffer in silence and choose between the death of one’s soul or the most horrific physical agonies brought on by their own immoral horrors. now deafened by a sound resembling one of the great and heavy door being thrown open overhead, only to be slammed shut in rapid succession with the rattling of iron chains to quickly fasten them locked.
pitiful creature tethered no more, absolved of all guilt. sympathy. empathy. any fragment of a soul. he was shaking in every limb in the icy corridor, groping with pallid hands and skinny fingers against the textured walls and blocks of blackened stone. seething, the count stumbled through the maze. only going forward. never looking back. never stopping to part the iron doors that jailed another of the inmates of this eternal prison. searching for the abyss, longing for the serge of darkness that would end his exploitation.
and were it not for the serge in his spirit that kept him weaving those impossible halls, eyes dragging the floor to watch the splatter of blood that dripped from his opened veins disappear with every step ( indeed, it appeared to be endless. limitless. inevitably, could he not die ? ). in a motion so fluid that it looked to be rehearsed, he dipped down to touch those pale fingers to the carmine substance and brought it to his eyes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together as if to emulsify it. and it was only after he appeared content with what he’d found that he dared turn his eyes skyward and stared into the abyss, toward the lofty crag where the devil sat on high.
in a room so silent that he could hear the sound of his own fragile heartbeat, the count tipped his head back and bellowed, “ I DO NOT BELONG HERE. ”
plotted long-overdue starter for @soughtlove
he sits on a throne, ruling over all. the king of hell. the commander of death. this is the punishment -- to be the punisher. for once lucifer was an angel, understanding morals and ethics, right and wrong. but how stupid these rules seemed the longer time traveled onwards. his father had created humans, puny mortals, so weak and sad. yet his father expects him to bow down to these creatures, to submit to them and SERVE THEM ! additionally, he watches these humans stumble through life, stating that they are all following his father’s plan. as if everything is pre - destined. how awful a trap to lay for these creations. lucifer watched as terrors struck down on them, horrible things to those who were actually good, and yet his UNFORGIVING FATHER allowed it to happen. how is it fair ? it is free will lucifer fought for, angry that his father things he may control every creature that will submit to him. and that is the crux of it all, really: lucifer will not submit.
and it has landed him here. in truth, the job would not be so terrible. lucifer enjoys watching sinners suffer. true sinners, that is. those who melt away in pleasure can do so without lucifer’s interruption -- as long as it does not harm another. but the true sinners, such as murderers . . . well, he has unlimited potential to toy with them. sometimes, it’s quite fun. but the throne has become a symbol for all the hatred humans produce. these mortals blame HIM for their wrongdoings. it’s selfish. it’s sad. and all the blame trickles down onto him.
❛ oh, that is what most say. ❜ he could laugh at these words. how puny this count seems. so meaningless. but souls stray for a reason, lucifer thinks. not on account of his father’s supposed reason, NO. none of this is part of god’s good plan. this has been done solely on free will. it intrigues him. ❛ what makes you believe you should be freed from this chasm ? ❜
