ceremonials || lucifer & lilith || closed
It had been some time since he'd been down to Hell --
-- needless to say, he hadn't seen Lilith in a while. Understandable, he supposed -- she was only human, and the demons revolting wouldn't spare her. They couldn't afford to. Running was the obvious option.
(He did worry, though -- unneeded as it was. Lilith could protect herself, perhaps even better than he could.)
Certain effects of ruling Hell when you were human involved becoming far more good at fighting than necessary for most.
So, as it may be, coming home to a blood soaked Lilith on the sofa in the back room was something of a welcome sight.
-- He knew (hoped) it wasn't her blood, anyway. Discordia was by her side, as always.
Throwing his coat over the chair behind the counter, a somewhat concerned look grew on his face. Nevermind the blood on the furniture. He could get it out later --
she was far more important.
"Are you alright?"
If it turned out that she was not --
the perpetrator could only hope to be dead already.