Could Lucifer believe something so phenomenal? A shibe walking on the clouds! Radiant as the sun itself, Shibe strutted confidently and happily, making his way to the chosen soul who needed happiness --- strangely he seemed to be getting closer and closer to Lucifer.
Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting (feel free to turn into threads)!
Iridescent plumes shimmer beneath the warm, golden hue of the sun, and reflect the fleeting prisms of light cast by the clouds with every gentle flap of his massive wings. Not a single motion he makes disturbs the soft breeze that flutters through the endless blue of the skies. It almost appears as if the wind itself bends and flows around him seamlessly as if he were simply a natural and irreplaceable piece of the sky that extends all around him. So far away from the islands that speckle the air beneath him, and floating effortlessly above the clouds, the world around him is nearly silent save for the subtle beat of his wings, and the occasional birdsong the echoes from well beneath his feet. It’s not unpleasant when he had grown used to the solitude of Canaan - where hallowed grounds were covered in countless flowers and the ruins of grand buildings that had once been a breathtaking sight to behold. A land where none could travel save for himself; a place far removed from everything he loved. A place where the only sounds he could hear were the scrams of unsightly beasts when he slayed them, or the violent bellows of the winds that hid the island from view. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that seemed to cling to him these days that had brought him away from that lifeless home of his, and into the open skies, or perhaps, it was simply the need to exist and be a part of the world for a brief moment before he returned to his duties. He could never say, but no matter how many countless of centuries he had spent gazing into the bright mixture of blues and whites that composed the sky, it never once lost its luster. Never once had it been anything less than dizzyingly beautiful to him.
Though, amongst the swirling blues and swaying creams, he could spot a speckle of something just a tad bit darker. Curiosity blooms in his eyes for a brief moment, a calloused hand lower to settle softly on the hilt of one of his blades on instinct, and little more - the motion itself entirely unnecessary when he could control them without having to physically touch them. It’s rare, though not impossible, for certain species of monsters to linger at this altitude, though most lack the courage to approach him directly. But that hand returns to his side once that distant dot draws ever closer, and begins to take shape. A canine amongst the clouds, strutting confidently towards him with fur as radiant as the golden tendrils that stretched out from the sun itself. A strange sight, he supposes, but he’s been alive for thousands of years now, and has been actively observing evolution in all its forms since the dawn of his creation, so it’s intrigue that worms its way into his eyes rather than surprise or disbelief. After all, he imagined, to mortals, he would be just as bizarre a sight as this animal. But he sensed not a single drop of hostility from the other, and so he allowed the tension in his shoulders to fade away, and relaxed his muscles. A gentle smile slowly appearing upon rosy lips in greeting - it seemed only polite, even if his brows furrowed slightly with concern.
There’s a part of him that wants to reach out, and brush his fingers along the canine’s fur as the distance between them is closed by the other, but doing so without asking seems rather rude to him. And, ah, he’s not certain if his hands would even feel pleasant against the animal’s skin. Perhaps, much earlier in his life, back when his palms had still been smooth and his skin soft as silk, they would have. But not anymore. Not when they were littered in thick callouses and countless scars from an endless war he fought alone. His skin had become rougher with time, and no matter how flawless he appeared, beneath the carefully crafted steel of his armor, his body was covered in countless marks none would ever have the chance to see when it was his duty to remain a steady, and undaunted pillar to the skies he so loved, and to those who resided within them - for the countless people he has never met, and would never meet; for all those who would never even know of existence, he had a purpose to uphold. And for it, he had already scarified far more than he had ever been willing to. To reach out, and touch such a lovely creature with these hands of his that have taken an untold number of lives, and had locked away the one most dear to him in a prison where not even the radiant glow of the sun could hope to reach.
So, instead, he simply turns his hands over so his palms face upwards and holds them out in front of himself to show he has no intention of harming the animal. “I am afraid I do not know what it is you seek out here, but it would be best for you to venture elsewhere. The islands would be better suited if it is food or companionship you desire. I have no doubt that the Skydwellers would welcome you willingly.” He doesn’t know, of course, if the other is able to understand him, though he suspects, given the circumstances, that the creature isn’t an ordinary dog by any means so it only seems proper to treat them with the same respect he would offer anyone else. “I am afraid the skies are far from safe, and I would not want any harm to befall you. Forgive me, I wish there was more I would offer you. Yet, if there is something you need assistance with, I can point you in the correct direction or offer you my ear to listen to whatever may ail you.” Ah, he’s always been far too serious. It must seem odd for him to speak to a canine in such a manner, but though he’s studied and observed animals for millennia, he’s never been in close proximity to most. Given his own abilities, and the role he plays, most animals are capable of sensing the overwhelming power he harbors at the tips of his fingers, and choose to never draw too close to him out of a mixture of fear and respect. Though, it’s not as if he’s never longed to reach out and stroke the backs of the birds he had once watched over or yearned to draw closer to the insects that landed upon the flowers he tended to.
