The great marble hall of Heaven’s tribunal shimmered with a cold, divine light. Pillars of gold rose to the domed ceiling, etched with the histories of angels who had served faithfully since creation. But today, those same walls seemed to lean inward, watching in judgment.
At the center stood Adam—his once immaculate robes torn and singed, his wings still dusted with ash from the Extermination. Iron bindings of celestial make locked his arms behind his back. The glow that had always surrounded him flickered, dimmed.
Before them, three Morningstar Thrones—archangels of pure radiance—presided over the trial. Their light was blinding, their voices layered with the echo of eternity so they could not be identified.
“Adam, First Man of Heaven,” the central Throne intoned, “and Lute, you stand accused of excessive zeal, destruction without mercy, and the slaughter of souls beyond decree. You have turned Heaven’s light into fire.”
Adam raised his head, not fooled by the light and voice disguise. His jaw was set, his eyes hollow. “Hi Michael! We followed orders,” he said. “We did what we were created to do—cleanse that shithole.”
A murmur rippled through the gallery of seraphs and dominions. Some looked away. Others stared with unyielding disdain.
“Orders do not absolve cruelty,” the leftmost Throne replied. “The Extermination was to be swift. You prolonged it. You took pleasure in it.”
Adam flinched, not at the words—but because he knew it was true and now he was pretty sure he was so very fucked.
The Thrones conferred, their glow shifting, the language of light rippling through the air. Then came the sentence.
“Adam and Lute of the Exorcist Unit,” said the central Throne, “you are hereby stripped of rank and cast from Heaven. Your wings shall burn to cinder as you fall.”
The words echoed like thunder in Adam’s chest.
“No—no, wait!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. He stumbled forward, his chains clinking. “If you must cast someone down—take me. But not her. Lute was under my command. She only followed orders! It was me!”
Dove was sitting on the edge of the balcony, her golden gaze overlooking the new batch of sinners as they entered into the hotel. The Nephilim had been a helping hand to Charlie and the others, making them feel welcomed and that they had a chamce to be redeemed.
Except for her.
Her ears perked up when she saw a new sinner, large in height and girth with ram horns, covered in black fur and piercing yellow eyes.
With a familiar scar on his chest.
"It can't be..."
Without hesitation, Dove quickly ushered the ram.sinner from the line before someone else could pick him out. Using the shadows of the alleyway, she looked at him and asked in a hushed tone, "Adam? Is that really you?"
Adam’s axetar came down with a sickening crack, the sinner beneath it collapsing in a twitching heap as blood splattered across the pavement. A low, ragged laugh left his throat, more instinct than amusement, before his yellow eyes snapped toward the voice calling his name.
The massive ram sinner froze.
For a second, the rage in his expression vanished completely.
“…Dove?”
His grip on the axetar loosened slightly. Adam stared at her like he wasn’t sure if she was real or some cruel hallucination Hell cooked up for him. His scarred chest rose sharply with a heavy breath, black fur bristling as the noise of Pentagram City faded into the background.
“Holy shit… it really is you.”
His voice was rougher now, stripped of the arrogance he used to wear like armor. Then his gaze flicked toward the hotel in the distance, toward the line of sinners, and his lip curled bitterly.
“Lemme guess. Charlie’s little rehab project?” He barked out a dry laugh before looking back at her. “Yeah, well… joke’s on everybody. Guess Heaven finally decided I was too much of an asshole even for them.”
@feudivertissant
Adam stood over Alastor, the Radio Demon sprawled on the Hotel roof, his crimson suit torn and darkened by the fresh wound across his chest. The Archangel’s smile was bright and sharp, halo twisting above him like a mocking crown.
With deliberate slowness, Adam planted his boot on Alastor’s chest—right over the injury. And stepped down on it, the other foot kicking the damaged staff away.
“What’s wrong, jazz voice?” Adam leaned in, eyes glittering with cruel amusement. “I thought you were gonna kill me, bitch.”
(Based off of When I see him, obviously. A little thing I thought about Adam and Lu's relationship.) @hells-greatestdad
Lucifer:
When I see him,
I remember paradise—
The way the garden bloomed beneath our hands,
The way he laughed like sunlight through the trees,
The way I swore he’d never let me fall.
Adam:
When I see him,
I remember fire and ash—
The war, the hate, the blades we raised as shields,
The nights I swore I’d sooner die than yield,
The ache of losing more than words could heal.
Both:
But now—
The world has burned, the years have flown,
And somehow you’re still mine to know.
We tore apart the sky,
We cursed each other’s name,
But here we are again.
L:
I should turn away,
I should guard my heart,
But when you’re near, it breaks apart.
A:
I should let you go,
I should stand my ground,
But when you speak, I come unwound.
B:
When I see you again,
It’s like Eden never ended,
Like the war was just a dream.
When I see you again,
I forget the pain we carried,
I believe in love redeemed.
L:
I see the man I once adored,
Before the crown, before the sword.
A:
I see the man who made me whole,
Even when I damned my soul.
B:
When I see you again,
I know the fight is never over,
But I’ll face it, hand in hand.
When I see you again,
We’ll rise beyond the ashes—
We were enemies, but now we stand.
When I see you again.
Adam sat beneath the wide branches of a fig tree, the leaves still and heavy as if the garden itself was holding its breath. The usual warmth that wrapped him like an unseen embrace had faded. A strange chill had settled over the ground. He pressed his hand to the soil. Cold.
Above, the sky had lost its gentle blue. It turned a deep gray, like ash smeared across the heavens. Adam looked up, brow furrowed, uncomprehending.
And then it came.
Soft at first—like dew from the air itself. A drop struck his brow and slid down his cheek. Another splashed against his bare shoulder. He flinched.
More followed, faster, louder. Rain. At that time he didn’t know what it was called, only that he didn’t like it. At all.
Adam gasped as the coolness soaked into his bared skin. He stumbled out from under the tree, bare feet slapping against the muddied earth. His long, unbound hair clung to his neck and back, water dripping from his lashes. He had never felt this before. Eden had always been warmth and light. This was something new. Something raw.
His breath came in trembling bursts, visible now in the air. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering as the rain continued to fall, relentless and cold. The garden around him shimmered with the downpour—leaves bowed, flowers shut tight, birds silent in their nests.
“Why?” he whispered to the sky. “Why does it hurt?”
There was no answer. Just the rhythm of water striking leaves, stone, and skin. He fell to his knees, the mud rising between his fingers. He wasn’t angry. Just confused. Alone.
" DAD!!" Abel says gleefully. It has been YEARS since the last time he saw him! he did not know his father was here in heaven too! oh man this is going to be so great! there's the biggest smile upon his face that shines like the sun! " Oh! oh i must introduce you to my babiesss they are soooooo floofyyyyy."
Adam stood at the head of the room, posture straight, wings faintly glowing, and a bored-yet-dangerously-deadpan look stamped across his face as he pointed at a glowing map of Hell with a pointer made of divine light. The Exorcists were half-paying attention—just enough to know when to nod gravely. He was mid-sentence, talking about demonic entry points and containment procedures, when it happened…
"DAD!!"
Adam flinched like he'd been hit by a holy smite. His eye twitched. The pointer flickered and fizzled out in his hand like it had given up on life. Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned his head to the source of the giddy sunshine shouting.
"…And there it is. The migraine." He closed his eyes, took a breath that was far too deep to be casual, and pasted on a deadpan expression that screamed I am five seconds away from throwing myself off this cloud.
"Abel." His tone was flat, dry, and distinctly ‘I wish you were a hallucination’. But the boy was bounding toward him like a golden retriever on sugar, radiant and aggressively optimistic. He pinched the bridge of his nose with celestial fingers as Abel beamed up at him with the force of a thousand suns.
"Oh! oh i must introduce you to my babiesss they are soooooo floofyyyyy." Abel chirped, oblivious.
@thehazingang88 [ to Adam]
It's after the battle and it was a very narrow close call and it's just lucky that Lute managed to get him out of the way before Niffty could stab him. Now that that the two of them have returned to heaven are now alone to discuss the next plan of procedure. Lute is shaken she narrowly lost him that was close way close however she doesn't remover her Exorcist mask as to not show this, for the moment she chooses to proceed under a more professional pretense. Apart from all of that, the good news is that the extermination shall continue to exist demons have lost and angels win as the Exorcists.
" What is the next plan Sir?"
Adam grunts as he yanks off his robe, the white fabric now bloodied and torn at the side where Charlie’s blast carved a searing mark into his ribs. His wings twitch, feathers ruffled, and his usually polished composure is wrecked by sweat, dirt, and fury.
He stares at the wound, jaw tight, before cursing under his breath. "Fuck that hurts. Yeah—remind me to write Charlie a thank-you note. Maybe carve it into her spine next time."
He throws the robe over a marble bench, the pristine hall now dimly lit and heavy with the aftermath of battle. He glances at Lute, narrowing his eyes.
"You want to get a medical kit or you just fucking checking me out, bitch? Go on, take a good look. Free show today only."
He leans back against the wall with a wince, gripping the edge of a pillar to steady himself. Despite the pain, there's that ever-present cocky glint in his eye—the kind that refuses to admit just how close death came.
"We rest. We heal. And then we rip Hell open like a goddamn fruit stand. Lu’s brat might’ve gotten her lucky shot, but next time she doesn’t get to walk away smiling."
