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.