MMmm either ""All I ever wanted was to live a happy life. I wanted to be fine!" or "i'm in love with you, but i don't want you to hurt me" for lucilevi, whichever you think would be worse
ok fuck u guys /lh
lucixiur and leviath have one last talk. this one's canon!
Prince Lucixiur of Pride (he/him), Prince Leviath of Envy (he/him), Merahi Azazel of Guide (ai/ain/air), Merahi Brachael of Combat (vae/vaer/vaers) // @vampire-mythoverse
@peepersotherstuff, @thegreatyin
Merahi Azazel of Guide steepled air fingers and looked down, across the field at the wounded Prince of Pride. Prince Lucixiur was a spitting mess of blood and fury, tail lashing, orange blood streaming down his arms and face and chest and leathered wings as the combat keruhiae surrounded him.
"Lucixiur of Eos' spawn, do you know why we are here?" Merahi Azazel spoke in Cirx, a high envy accent staining air angaelic voice.
Lucixiur dodged another keruhi's weapon, backing away with a frantic, steeled look in his eyes. Merahi Brachael, so small next to Azazel, sighed and began to cross the section of forest they had burned away, making vaer way towards the Cirxian Prince.
"I believe I have a hunch, yes," Lucixiur sneered, letting out a yelp as he dodged a lash of holy chain from a Lieutenant Keruhi.
Azazel hummed, before shaking air head and nonchalantly beckoning someone from the trees.
Prince Leviath of Envy, masked and dressed in green irachnix silks with not a hint of orange to them, gracefully made his way out of the trees, coming to a stop beside Azazel. "Lucixiur," he greeted in high envy Cirx, and though the dialect was naturally cold, Prince Leviath sounded frigid.
"Leviath?" Prince Lucixiur stopped, wide eyed and staring, and failed to dodge a gauntlet punch to the face from the other Lieutenant Keruhi of Combat. He stumbled, bringing a hand up to his cheek and dodging a glowing sword.
"Prince Leviath here has asked me to... relieve you of your duties," Azazel spoke, though despite air solemnity, there was a portentous gleam in air eyes. "I just simply couldn't pass up this opportunity."
"Leviath," Lucixiur spoke again, but his voice had changed. It was soft and broken, pleading, and Prince Leviath merely tilted his head. "Why would you consort with these filthy, rigid programs of Makda? Leviath, my love, why would you do this?"
"You know perfectly well why, Lucixiur," Prince Leviath spoke, his voice of Grieving Ice. As Lucixiur dodged another chain lash, his lips quirked up in a smile. "All I ever wanted was to live a happy life. I wanted to be fine. With you, because I wanted you. But you never wanted me, you wanted the idea of me."
"Shut up, you impudent, useless thing," the Prince of Pride snapped, and gave a pained scream as a glowing blade sliced through the leather of one of his wings. He stumbled, orange blood gushing from the torn flaps of skin, and held his injured wing close. "I thought we were fine, I thought you loved me, Levi!"
"I loved you," Prince Leviath snapped, dark jade feathered wings ruffling up in fury. He settled, letting out a deep breath. "I don't love you anymore, Lucixiur."
"Prince," the Prince of Pride breathed, holding his torn wing close and shaking.
"What was that?" Merahi Azazel asked, air voice hiding the slightest tremble of fury.
"I am a prince," Lucixiur whispered again, before letting out a vicious snarl and snapping. "You will call me as such, Leviath!"
"No," Prince Leviath spoke, the pleasant smile on his face widening into a sharpened grin. "I do not believe I will, Lucixiur."
Letting out an enraged scream, Lucixiur darted forward, breaking free of the keruhiae around him and bolting towards Leviath. Merahi Brachael, halfway across the field, raised vaer hand and summoned vaer axe. Closing vaer eyes, vae dodged out of Lucixiur's way and struck, slicing clean through his wings.
Lucixiur screamed, stumbling and falling to the burned, ashen ground. Dismissing vaer axe, Brachael summoned a sword, stepping forward and raising it above Lucixiur's back.
"Goodbye, Lucixiur," Prince Leviath murmured, his grin softening into pursed lips. "I will not miss you."
Brachael plunged the sword down.