It was true he was letting his tongue slip, such bitter words that pricked his wings, more than he would ever normally let on. To be honest, letting himself be so consumed by these thoughts accumulating into such an ungraceful display of himself. How he wanted to get a proper footing in the conversation– but anything he felt he could muster up was taken to the air, letting out a soft gasp as he felt his ribbon being pulled.
He hated everything that the other represented, adorning those horns– embodying the things he tried to run from. It only proved to him that this place was nothing more than something to allow his fears to manifest, after all, without being able to carry out his duties in the confines of this city– he had allowed these things to fester in his mind… though it had come far sooner than he would have liked.
Feeling the weight of the demon’s forehead against his own, he was afraid to admit he shivered a bit at the touch. His words were cold and uncomfortable, his body becoming stiff along with his wings prickling a bit. He could never defy the God that created him, after all– he was created to be a tool for them. Defying the one that gave him life… and allowed for his existence wasn’t something he ever wanted to think about.
Yet there was always such a thought, burning in the back of his mind– that told him his master would never return… of course he had been told that many times. He knew this, yet he chose to believe in a master that hadn’t answered him in millennia, he knew that being here or in the sky wouldn’t make a difference to a god that didn’t even watch over the realm anymore.
‘ There’s no reason I should listen to the word of sin, no matter what you say– you won’t sway me. ’
His expression became bitter, almost as if saying those words almost as to reaffirm that he still was him. That he hadn’t lost himself just yet. After all, as long as he kept telling himself such things– perhaps one day he may believe it again. Just the touch of the other chilled him to his core, placing his hand on the other’s chest in an attempt to push away from the demon.
A shaky exhale leaving his breath– still eye to eye with the other. Part of him wondered how disgraceful he was to show his weakness… but from what the other had said, it was clear enough that this demon knew enough about him already to cut so deep. Furrowing his brow he made another attempt to create distance.
‘ I swore that I would carry out the will of my master with my life, so you have nothing to gain by talking with me. ’
The ribbon strains, audibly, under the demons grasp as its pulled tight. Pulled close, twined between clawed fingers. The strain stops, the ribbon slackens, the demons bound hand slips free and comes to rest back at the demons side. He feels the other shiver.
Lucifer knows what control he exudes now, he needs no binds.
And oh how this demons smile grows terrible, so proud and knowing.
So satisfied, both with himself and every bit of struggle this man gives. Every little bit of resistance, from slander to touch.
“I do not disagree, yet if i am such a terrible creature-”
For a moment the hand upon the others face gently moves, traces just under their eye the way one might do so to chase away a child’s tears. Before the hand moves, buries itself in dazzling white hair so unkempt yet soft. As it should be, he did not practice outright vanity and doubted the man across from him did the same.
And so, sharpened claws trace the spot where horns very well could have been. Where one day those horns may very well be, beautiful bright red adorning white. A stark contrast of beast and beauty, a fallen divine envoy. A warning for all to see, to admire, to fear.
A glimmer shows in the demons gaze as he does so, an unfortunate accentuation to the air of superiority.
“Then you too will become the very same viper at your masters breast.”
They will bite, they will subdue. Their god will fall one day. Just as he did to Arbiter, it will be done unto another. It does not matter who fills the gods role, all that matters is simply that it does. There is no escape from such a fate. It is simply not possible, for even the gods of time have had told him so. But there is nothing to fear, if it is so.
If this man, this angel, follows that path:
Then he will be free and despite everything he will pay for his freedom, it will be worth every bit of it.
“Your sin, like mine, is inescapable.”
“Instead of hiding behind your duties to a god who cares not for you and your purpose, it would do you well to embrace it.”
The experience behind those words is deeply personal, it colors his tone briefly before the demon turns his attention elsewhere. To the sudden warmth on his chest, familiar yet foreign. There is a force behind the others hands that’s so fearfully desperate that Lucifer could capitalize on.
Yet, instead he obeys the others intent.
Though only enough as he pleases, and as he moves the hand buried within the other mans hair slides down. Gently dragging claws from scalp to neck, snaking down the angels shoulder and arm. The demon entertains the though of grabbing hold of the other still, to not let them run free.
But there is only so much joy one can derive from merciless bullying, and the entertainment this one provides is beginning to run thin.
“The sooner one comes to terms with themselves, the better. But perhaps even you would find a way to spin such advice into ill-intent so long as it fits your narrative.”
