The Choices Made [for Daily / admonish]

[thisducks]

[ He didn't understand.

He didn't understand why they were all so mad at him. Everyone was so mad. Being shoved into a silent, dark room and told to stay there in a tone that brook no argument... it felt like hours ago. Deep inside, he was afraid for Lilith. He had no idea where she was, how mad they were at her. All of it felt so incredibly confusing and seeing the people he loved look that angry, that... scared? It left him shook to his core.

So Lucifer sat in silence, his wings wrapped around him like a tight cocoon, with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around his knees. He thought of Sera scolding him for saying he loved the humans with all his heart when she finally caught him sneaking down to the Garden. He thought of Lilith crying, telling him the words Adam had spoken to her that made her angry until she cried in his arms, and how he eased her tears and found ways to make her smile again. How he'd wanted her to be free when she said she felt like she was in a cage.

It'd all made sense in his head, before. What difference would her knowing more make to the other angels? Then he'd feared Eve would be trapped in the same way, what if Adam would do the same..?

He'd just wanted them to be happy.

So why was everyone so angry at him? ]

Comments

[thisducks]

[ It's significantly easier to focus on something simple and mundane rather than the overwhelming nature of their current problems. As already shown, it is far, far too easy for Lucifer to spiral into his own thoughts, so this is probably preferable. The little things, like watching Michael learning how his hooves work on both surfaces, are a barrier he is actively putting effort into maintaining even though it has been foreign to him in his life.

He squeezes his brother's hand in return, knowing in his heart that Michael is in as bad of a shape as he is, if not worse, but also knowing that Michael would do nothing less than be his protector. ]

Then let us try and get warm. [ He hasn't even bothered putting his towel around his waist and instead, plops it on Michael's head and gives his hair a brisk rubbing before he steps back with a chuckle. His hooves click so soft against the stone - souls born to fly reflect in their very bones after all - before retaking Michael's hand and tugging gently. He leads the way up the curve of stairs to the large bed, one big enough for both of them and their wings. Since the only kind of bed he knows are ones of incredible softness and support, it's replicated here. Once his brother has reached the bed, he lets go and focuses on the other side of the partly opened room. His fingers curl, molding the shape in his head, and lets the golden magic go when he has it solid.

It is an elegant, impossible shape of gossamer strands of gold and cradled within it is an orb casting off a soft golden glow, one not bright enough to keep them awake but Lucifer... doesn't want to be in dark tonight. It also begins to emit a good bit of gentle heat, one that will eventually completely dry and warm them. As his hand sweeps back, the partial wall comes around to enclose them entirely but to prevent them from having no idea about the world outside, he creates a small window with a clear covering so they can see out, but nothing can get in. He hopes. ]

There we go! We will be warm in no time.

[admonish]

[ when the towel covers his head he looks a tad confused, but the moment his hair is ruffled under it he lets out a soft grunt in protest. despite knowing how absolutely silly he will look once he removes it, he tugs the towel off of his head and—yep, there it is. his hair is sticking up every which way like the crest of a cockatiel, making him look far less imposing than the changes on his body let on. but because of it, his bangs cover a majority of the hands resting over his eyes, briefly hiding one mark of his sin.

he might be the more reserved of the two of them but he is still his brother so, while Lucifer is in the midst of creating their shield, he waits until he is done to toss his towel over his head and proceed to dry his hair in the same manner one would polish a bowling ball. is it bratty? absolutely, but it is also a distraction that both of them could use right now.

the help is appreciated but also a painful reminder that he may very well be the weakest link here. just in the same way he is unused to needing assistance, he is also struggling with a growing and unfamiliar sense of anger. none of it is directed towards his brother and, rather than burden him with it, he opts to keep it to himself.

he doesn’t say a single word about it but, as Lucifer has witnessed it in the past, he can probably imagine the way the mischief dances behind his eyes. once done with the towel, he drapes it around his brother’s shoulders. while he may not have said anything about it at the time, his “eyes” can still see the beautiful path left behind by Lucifer’s magic. the warmth he feels radiating from it reminds him of the sun—perhaps it has not been lost to them after all.

he doesn’t even realize he is staring at him until he snaps himself out of his stupor by looking away. ]

Once we have dried off, I will put that ointment on you.

[ his attention diverts to the room they are in, his head moving slowly as if he is taking in every detail it has to offer. in actuality, he is listening for any continuous sounds so that he can discern them from anything out of the ordinary. exhaustion will never beat out his need to be prepared, especially since it isn’t just his safety on the line, but it will prevent him from keeping watch all night as he intended to. ]

[thisducks]

You know, brother... you could pull this look off. [ Lucifer offers helpfully when he removes the towel, partly serious, partly trying not to laugh at Michael's expression. Maaaaybe he deserves the returned hair-drying, which makes him sputter and flail at hand back at Michael. ]

H-Hey, I was gentle! [ But there's a laugh under his protest. He can't even begin to think of Michael being truly angry with anything or anyone, even though perhaps it should have occurred to him given... everything. Maybe even a little angry at him he would have understood, but with how Michael has reacted to some of the things he's said since they woke, he keeps it to himself.

Michael might turn away to hide his 'stare', but Lucifer leans over to kiss a crimson cheek spot. ] It should not be long. If we spread our wings as much as we can, it should taken even less time. [ A suggestion he takes action on by moving up and across the bed, laying down on his stomach and fussing with his wings. It's difficult, both in the physical sense while the muscles to move them heal, but more in the psychological sense. Seeing his beautiful wings turned nearly the same color as the ash outside and a dark crimson... stained.

As he stares at the red along his wings, it makes him think of a time in Eden. Adam had been curled up with several animals around him, chatting with them as if they would respond to him. Lucifer had watched from afar for a while, just enjoying getting to see Adam look so happy, laughing as two of the critters chased one another up over his back and onto his head. However, just as Luci had flown up to go and join his human friend, he saw one of the grey animals with their long tails leap from the top of Adam's head onto his thigh and scramble, one of his claws leaving a mark behind on the otherwise flawless skin. That had been how Lucifer discovered that the humans bled red, unlike himself and his fellow angels. It hadn't hurt Adam - nothing in the Garden ever felt pain or discomfort, after all - but it had stuck with him ever since.

...and now his wings are stained the color of human blood. A punishment to remind him forever more of what he had done to three of the people he loved the most.

For Michael, he would hear Lucifer go quiet after a good bit of wing shuffling, leaving only his brother's slow breathing to be heard. Otherwise, even the sound of the water outside doesn't penetrate in here, leaving a heavy silence in the now-enclosed room. ]

[admonish]

If I can pull it off, then so can you. How fortunate for us. [ he swipes a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it again but he only partially succeeds. with a sigh of defeat, he decides to let it dry as is and hope that he does not wake up tomorrow sporting something that could only be called a rats nest. there isn’t another being alive who would be able to do this without earning some form of ire. while he often comes off as the type of person anyone can talk to, the same can not be said for his own feelings. they are always kept close to his chest. ]

That was gentle. [ it is no secret that Michael’s strength is leagues above the rest, it is expected of him as his sword. if he truly wanted to cause him pain, he had the means at his disposal to do so. anyone else would have easily found themselves in a chokehold by now while he smiled down at them and waited for them to repent—albeit playfully. but when you are one of the first angels people tend to gossip and make you a larger than life figure.

the kiss to his cheek has him looking in his direction and smiling, reaching a hand out in an attempt to tame his hair as well. ]

I am not concerned about how long it takes, I just want to make sure that you—we—settle in comfortably. [ he makes sure to include himself so Lucifer doesn’t think he is trying to shoulder too much. ] I can hear how tired you are in your voice. I have.. always known what can and cannot harm us, not knowing is simply bothering me. After we sleep, I am certain we will both be in better spirits.

[ it is so quiet following the shuffling that he thinks he might have fallen asleep, so he reaches over to rest a comforting hand against his hair only to feel him shift—he is not asleep. rather than sprawl his own wings out, he carefully rests on his side and gets as close to him as he possibly can before dragging a claw through his hair, the tips gingerly itching at his scalp. ]

I worry when you are this quiet, it means you are either up to no good or you are in need of advice. Which is it? If we are going to reside here together then we need to be united, let there be no secrets between us.

Talk to me, Lucifer. [ his tone is soft and soothing, never demanding. ]

[thisducks]

That was not gentle! [ His laugh shows that of course, it really was gentle and he knows it, but he has to give a bit of protest. When Michael reaches out, he partly shoves his head under the questing fingers in order to bridge the gap. Besides, he will never not want any form of touch from Michael. Unlike the rest of Heaven, he had the privilege of the Sword showing that it could be used as defense as much as offense, a privilege he never wants to lose. ] Then, how about this? If you grow yours out, so will I.

[ Michael coming in to cuddling distance makes Lucifer shift enough to wriggle in even that much closer, his eyes closing. There is a rare sort of bliss like the one of someone else tenderly using their nails claws on your scalp, and he feels almost like producing a sound at that joy. ...He makes a little mental note for a new animal. One that makes a sound when pet like this, a happy sound. Oh, it should make the person doing the petting happy, too! It should be soft so it will be worth petting. It could be small enough to be held... cute... mhmm... the rest he could turn over later. He never forgets a new creation once he begins the process in his head.

It's easier than thinking about his humans. ...He shouldn't call them his. They aren't, anymore. They never will be again. ]

...just thinking. [ He says quietly, into the space between them. ] All of my thoughts seem extra loud, with how quiet it is. In the morning, when we have created our defenses, I want to create a mirror to look at myself properly. I know I will not like it, but if this is what I'll be forever, I want to know. My wings- both of our wings- are stained red. The same color as humans when they bleed. I saw Adam bleed just once, and now... it will be there forever. [ Reaching out to his brother, his finger idly starts to trace the muscles of his arm, down to the golden stain at his chest. Stained the color of human blood, stained the color of their own blood.

Looking just ahead of him, Lucifer's tired eyes focus to create what Michael had asked of him. A small stone vessel with a cap and within it, he thinks of a salve. One thick enough that it will remain where smeared, but it won't gum up their feathers. It will produce a gentle heat for the aching muscles and encourage them to heal. By the morning, they would both know if their angelic healing has been lost forever in the Fall.

All he knows is Heaven and Eden, so he decides to create a new scent all together. A bit spicy on the nose, but pleasant. The scent will relax as well. A touch of the scent of the bark of trees, the smell of bright sun warming a field of grass, and because it's his choice, the familiar smell of Michael when he's returned home from training.

Reaching out, he grasps the vessel and takes off the lid, breathing it in. To him, it smells wonderful. ]

The salve you wanted.

[admonish]

I did not draw blood, therefore it was. I find myself wondering if you are serious or simply trying to distract me, brother. You have never had to see me at my roughest and I hope you never do.

[ his expression goes through several stages, from amusement at Lucifer’s antics to hesitation and finally to pensive. there is a deep-seated worry there, that he might scare him when he finally sees him at his worst. Lucifer is so full of kindness and love, what will he do when faced with him protecting the only thing he has here? should anyone or anything come for his brother, the retribution will be swift and brutal.

to pull himself back into the present, he tugs on a lock of his brother’s hair and draws it up so he can press a kiss to it. that will hardly be a ward or protection for him, but it is a start. he lingers, finally pushing his hair aside so he can press a kiss to his forehead. ]

A worthy compromise. However, should you let it grow too long, you will surely trip over it. You know I’m right. [ his humor slips back into the picture as he ruffles his hair. ] I will have to braid it so extensively that your hair will weigh more than your head.. and that is a feat. But! [ before he can protest, he cuts in again. ] I will grow it out.

[ all according to plan, he can feel the way he melts against his hand and that is enough for him to continue kneading at his hair. it seems like such a minute comfort in the grand scheme of things but if it helps him right now? he will keep it up throughout the night if he has to, or at least until he falls asleep. ] Your thoughts seem loud because you are loud, once things start coming together the silence will be drowned out by your creations. This unease won’t last forever, that much I can promise you.

[ at the mention of the mirror he frowns. ] Are you sure that is wise? I understand wanting to know, and I will not stop you, but it will only bring you more pain. The silence is a jarring sentiment in itself, I don’t want you to take on more than you can handle. Pace yourself. As for the color of our wings.. [ he hums, letting his hand dip from Lucifer’s hair to his cheek. ]

A beautiful sunset can also feature the color red and, as it is felt from the heart, can passion also not be associated with it? You can think about blood every time you see them or you can be reminded that you passionately tried to protect the ones you love, knowing that what they were experiencing was wrong. It isn’t a sinful stain, Lucifer, it marks you as one of the few willing to take a stand against injustice.

They, and you, are beautiful. Never let another soul dictate otherwise. [ the smell of the salve catches his attention and actually pulls a smile out of him. the source is easy enough to find, so he reaches out and dips his fingers into the salve before sitting up and rubbing it between both hands to warm it up. if his own skin is any indication, they are dry enough to begin applying it, so he starts at Lucifer’s shoulders and works his down to his back, fingers attempting to knead away any tightness he feels. ]

Of all the scents.. [ he teases. ]

[thisducks]

Do you even know how to braid hair, Michael~? [ Lucifer tries to tease in return, even though the idea of him with his hair long and full of flowers sounds like a lovely concept, he doesn't know what he really looks like anymore. Michael... his handsome twin has changed so drastically. The hands are difficult to put into his mental image of his brother, even as he looks at them right before his eyes. It has always been Michael's eyes that tell him so much, even when Michael has tried to hide things from him or soften his words, and now... now they're gone from view. A very sick place in his stomach wonders if they're gone forever, if nothing lives beneath those hands any longer. He swallows something sour at the thought. ]

...I can't hide from myself forever. [ The quietest whisper, giving away that he knows it will bring him more pain. He's almost terrified of what he's going to find, but not knowing keeps building up higher and higher his imagination until he either will see anything but the truth when he finally looks, or he'll never be able to look at all.

But Michael's words about sunsets and passion do give him something to think about. As Michael starts to work into the muscles of his back, he'll feel the tiny twitches of muscles trying to respond, to control the wings that are as naturally apart of their being as their hands or legs. The instinct to want to curl his wings around him in a self-soothing gesture, but there's too little motion from them to do anything. Everything is tight, and yet at the same time, too loose. The damage will take time to heal. ]

It's all scents I like! [ Lucifer quietly protests, looking over his shoulder with a pout. ] I can make another that smells different, if you want.

[ But he settles himself back forward, going quiet as he sits there beneath his brother's ministrations. His eyes slowly start to close as Michael works in the warming salve, the physical massage helping just as much as the medicine. His lids finally close entirely, his breathing evening out as he slumps forward by degrees.

The exhausted fallen is finally having the most emotionally and physically demanding day of his life catching up to him. ]

[admonish]

I thought you were never going to doubt me. Who do you think helped Jophiel braid her hair? You do know my days are not completely devoted to paperwork and training, right? I could prove it now, though I cannot promise it will be tidy. [ it would probably look like something akin to a Picasso, but at least the thought would be there. ]

No, but rushing it could make it worse. You have plenty of time, looking in a mirror now will destroy any confidence that you have built up since we arrived. Pace yourself, Lucifer, and take the time to get accustomed to our surroundings before your progress is regressed. I would never make the choice for you, but I do want you to think about it first.

[ with Lucifer facing away from him, he doesn’t see the minute shifts in his expression as his fingers find all of the evidence. he could rattle off everything that he finds but, as he seems as relaxed as possible here, he tucks the prognosis away for a later day. he can do little for the lax muscles but redoubles his efforts to work the soreness that surrounds them out. ]

That will not be necessary, if you like them then I will wear them with pride. [ ointments are intended to smell badly, he thinks, to remind the injured person not to act recklessly again. he is about to speak up again when he feels him slump forward. any semblance of rest is beneficial, even if it only lasts a few minutes, so he lets him do just that.

unfortunately, the silence gives him time to think and thus dwell on the possibilities. before he can stop himself, he thinks about what would have happened if Lucifer ended up here by himself. undoubtedly, he would still be half buried in the ash, wrapping his arms around himself as that would be the only comfort he could be afforded. he can practically hear him pleading for forgiveness and help between broken sob—and Father likely wouldn’t be the first name he sobbed out. ]

[thisducks]

[ He would have been in the ash for nearly endless time, given that time has no meaning down in this nothingness. His wings broken and useless, unable to even wrap them around himself for warmth or comfort, he would have ended up scrambling to his knees and staring upward once he managed to clear his eyes. Then... he would have screamed for one soul before any other. With how dry and ashy their throats had been upon waking, Lucifer would have been only able to gasp out his brother's name, but eventually, blood would have cleared enough of a path to scream properly into an unhearing void. Screamed for his brother to come for him, to save him. Screamed apologies, begged forgiveness, pleaded for mercy until his throat finally gave out, leaving him voiceless.

A gasping, ashen monster laying in the grey, his mind shattering in the silence only broken by his breathing and broken sobs. There would have been no one to pull him from spiraling thoughts and so they would have dug in deep their claws, tugging sanity from his soul like crows on carrion until it was lost. Without care given to those dragging wings, without cleaning the piercing wounds, they would never be white again, perhaps never heal properly. The constant drag would destroy them, leaving the lowest set to be nothing but bone, the middle to have ugly, rotten, clinging feathers, and only the upper to give semblance that they had once been wings, laying in a foul cloak down his back and only protected by the mess that had been the other two sets.

Would a mind so broken know to scrub the ash from its flesh, or would it become simply the same color as the landscape it found itself a part of, with only the blackened parts to break up the skin along with the swollen red eyes? Eyes that carried nothing of the innocent angel that had loved too much and instead were those of an animal, ready to lash out with tooth and claw and tail to defend itself.

And what would an animal do, when the first souls began to arrive in Hell? What any animal would do - it would hunt and it would eat.

Hell would be an endless plane of black and ash, with endless footprints and small, terrified huddles of souls together, finding something in the company of others but far more breaking apart like the thing named to rule over them. Yet they would fear one thing more than each other, and that would be the thing that hunted from the darkness and struck without a sound, the silence only broken by the scream of its victim and the tearing of flesh and snapping of bone. And then, just like it came, it would be gone again to go where it could hide away.

Perhaps a den made of bone and cemented by ashes mixed with blood - both golden and crimson - not even tall enough for the creature to stand upright, but that hardly matters when it doesn't any longer with the weight of lies on its back. A wild matting of grey hair tangled into bone appendages that come out of its back like spider legs, growing down its sides and over itself. A self-grown blanket to keep itself warm in a place endlessly cold.

The only light it knows is that from its own glowing eyes, with no vestiges of sanity or humanity in the crimson slits. Everything has been taken from it, and the only thing it has is to witness the worst of all humanity had been and ever would be, and to feed its skeletal body with their blood and flesh and sins.

The Eyes no longer watch it from the darkness. They don't need to. After all, it has become the same endless madness and darkness that gives them existence.

When had Michael crossed the line between his darkening thoughts and nightmare plagued sleep? ]

[admonish]

[ meanwhile, Lucifer’s one chance to finally relax is dashed by a similarly bleak dream. he is standing before the host again, all of the angels looking down upon him with an exaggerated level of contempt. but Michael is also there, surely he will look upon him with the same love and pity he did before.

no. far from it.

the only thing reflected back at him is a sense of duty and the familiar glow of the holy fire that coats his blade. he has dropped down from his perch as he did before but now the guards flank him without being asked to. if Lucifer looks especially closely at the angels looking down at him, he may even see a familiar silhouette—Father, watching the proceedings unfold from just out of sight. He never utters a single word but the disappointment is palpable. ]

You know what you have done, Lucifer, tears only hinder you now. Will you fight against what is coming or shy away like a child? [ he isn’t taking cues from anyone, the power behind his voice is his own. ] To disobey Father is to disobey Heaven, which you no longer have a place in. You are forcing my hand.

[ The Sword marches forward, the guard a few steps behind him as they circle around Lucifer to keep him from finding an opening to flee. once surrounded, Michael steps forward and points his sword at him, the blade practically humming as it comes to life. ]

Do you believe yourself to be on par with God? Your reasoning does not matter and nothing will save you from being casted out, but I will give you a chance to say something. You can tell me why or you can remain silent, either way it will be the last of your words spoken within these walls.

Make your choice.

—————

[ time acts differently in the land of the dreaming, because not only does he have to witness Lucifer losing his voice, but he also has to watch the madness consume him mind, body and soul. what took millennia to achieve plays out in less than ten minutes for him, and what he sees is likely to plague his nightmares for years to come.

he is standing there beside him not in the demonic body he possesses now but the angelic one he had before, the hem of his robes stained through with ash. he tries, he tries so damn hard to cover him with all six of his pristine wings, to shield him from the evil that has tainted his grace. ]

Lucifer, no, I came with you. I Fell with you, you were never alone! Please, come back to me.

[ no, no, no—it would never come to pass, he made sure of it the moment he stepped in front of him and chose to share his punishment. it must be this place, a final attempt to break them down and quash any form of rebellion that might have spawned from their anger. lost amidst his rationalizations, he somehow doesn’t hear the creature his brother has become approach, not until a clawed hand bites into his shoulder and a voice that hisses like hot water in a pan finds his ear. ]

M̵̧̳͕̫͖͎͙̜̹̆ì̴̡̢͖̘̞̲̤̣̈́̀͝͝ć̴̛̼̖͓̻̬̻̥̘̎̔͌̈́͘͜͝ͅḩ̵̮͉̪̪̈́̀͘ạ̶̟̳̉̆͌̿̈́̃͝e̸̛̱̜͙͊̒l̸̜̯̻̘͒̕—

[ gone is the sweet natured brother, this version of him has forgotten what kindness can be. it never speaks another word to him but a series of growls and grunts show him that it is trying to, maybe he can still save him from this fate. with their healing capabilities, he never should have been rendered to this state, which delivers a heartbreaking truth—he is well and truly gone, and the only way he can save him is by ending his suffering.

he has to kill him.

pressing his lips into a thin line, he can’t stop the tears that begin to well up in his eyes, even knowing this is the kindest thing he can do for him. he can still see that smiling face in his mind and, as if to give a form to his pain, the flames creeping up his blade dim. ]

Please, do not make me do this..

[thisducks]

[ It is everything he could have feared staring back at him, the moment between salvation and damnation that in reality, had been spared by his brother's voice but here in his darkest nightmare, he stares into eyes that show no love, no care, not an iota of the millennia beyond count shared together in the closest of bonds and deepest of loves. All he sees is Duty, reflecting like a mirror to show his own terrified expression and hiding the brother he had always known. The flames dance in those reflecting eyes, showing him burning in their power. ]

I didn't mean to do- you know I would never hurt them on purpose! I love them... I love you. [ All he can do is stare at his brother, the blade pointed at him not a true threat because in his heart, he believes utterly that Michael would never harm him. His brother who has always protected him, who loves him. This can't be happening. It must be a test, something to teach him a lesson. So his voice, scratching slightly from his panicked screams, is quiet and for Michael alone, no matter how many can hear him. ]

Michael. ...please. Please. I love you. [ He reaches out towards his brother, imploring, needing. ] I don't want to be alone. [ His voice cracks on the final word, fingers outstretched. ]

---

[ The demon that had once been an angel looks at the angel that had always been its brother, breathing with ugly sounding wheezes from a ruined voice box. The bare bones of what were once wings lift, flex. The fur- hair draped upon them almost mimicking what had once been. Claws, thick, curved, overgrown things dig into the ash that it was nearly a part of, and it stares without fear of the blade. Is it accepting its fate, or does it no longer possess the intelligence to know the weapon is a threat?

Either way it sits there, a small creature feared by the denizens of what is truly a hell beyond imaging, and it waits. It has nothing but time, endless time, endless punishment. A beast not forgotten by God but worse, condemned by Him.

But it had said Michael's name. Some small part of it knew. A bond so deep that even time and the most horrific madness could not fully part them. ]

[admonish]

The brother that loves me never would have committed an act like this. He never would have broken my heart, so you cannot be him. I lost my beloved brother the moment the first bite was taken, I will not give this moment a second thought after today.

[ Lucifer is dead, he chose the humans over him, chose to go behind his back to defy what they stand for. he never spoke to him of his plans, he didn’t trust him enough to let him in, and now he has to pay the price. when the guards step forward and aim their weapons, Michael raises a hand to stop them. ]

Stand down. He did not confide in me but he still wears my brother’s face, I will be the one to enact his judgment. It is my parting gift, to let you see a familiar face rather than one unknown to you.

[ his outstretched hand is greeted not by a warm embrace but by the cold steel in his grip that will keep him from reaching him. ]

You claim to love me but could not trust me with the knowledge of your plan, when I would tell you all and more. I was your reflection and you were mine, Lucifer, now you are my greatest shame.

[ when the guard begins to back away, Michael advances forward until the point of his sword nudges against Lucifer’s robes. at the last second the flames trickle away from the tip and he uses the momentum to begin ushering him backwards. if he does not move with him, then the blade will cut him. he is done asking questions. ]

With your sins to accompany you, you will never truly be alone. But remember this, everything that happened today was put into motion by you the moment you made your choice. I did not turn my back on you, you turned yours on me.
—————
[ his fingers grip the hilt of his sword so tightly that the ornate handle bites into flesh, sending a trickle of gold rolling into the ash at his feet. ]

I love you more than any being could ever love. Look at me, Lucifer. If you can hear me, if you understand anything I have said, then look at me. Give me a sign that I am making the right choice.

[ his mind fully made up, the holy flames erupt out of his sword and flicker in the dark to light up the area around them. even now, lost within this nightmare, he can visualize him and Lucifer arriving here together and raising the spirits of one another. from the sobs and pain to the laughter they shared within the tub.

it should have been enough to save him, so why did it have to come to this? why was he allowed to join him if he was going to have to end his life at a later time? the answer is glaringly obvious to him in a moment of anger: Father. even here He moves them about like marionettes, idly observing their torment so that He will learn from this mistake.

but they are not mistakes, they feel and hurt more deeply than He ever could. perhaps that is why they are here now, because he wishes to study misery. before his rage can boil over, he carefully searches those red eyes and draws a hand to touch the side of his monstrous face gently. ]

I can end this suffering, you will finally be able to sleep again. No more darkness, no more pain, no more screams—just a pleasant sleep. When you wake, this will all have been a nightmare and I will be there to greet you.

[thisducks]

[ His vision blurs as tears fill his eyes to fall down his cheeks as the tip of the sword touches his robes. No, no, this can't be happening! Michael would never hurt him! And yet those words... they drive spike after spike into his heart, turning Michael's condemning statements into an iron maiden that closes around him. You are now my greatest shame.

A whimper escapes him, a tiny sound that he has no control over as fear - true fear - latches onto him. Something he has never felt the depths of in his sheltered life, now given to him as a last gift from his brother.

He can't find the words so he shakes his head in denial, driven back step by step until he feels the edge catch just at the back of his heel. There's no where else to go. As tightly pressed against his back and sides as they can get, his wings begin to quiver as his body starts to shake. It's fear that manages to get him to whisper something, even as it makes panic take a hold of him and all he can feel or hear is his heart pounding in his chest. ]

I never stopped loving you! Please, please- Michael-! Don't send me into the dark! PLEASE!

---

[ At first, for several agonizing seconds, the monster does nothing in response to Michael's pleas, but then suddenly it leans the weight of its head into his hand like a dog asking its owner for affection. Then those crimson eyes look into him. Not towards him, but eyes to eyes, steadily met. A gnarled hand lifts, ashes falling from it, and it places its palm over the golden blood. As it scrapes the fingers back through it, that broken voice that is barely a voice says a single distorted word without looking away. ]

Ḇ̶̡̺̟̥̲̫͈̝̳̞̗͠ȑ̷͍̖̤͚͙̺͕͎̞͙̅͘ơ̴̡̟̤̜̠̣̟͇͚̣͈͌̓̀ẗ̷͖̼̯̠̫̳̭̙̻̰̤̈́̚̚h̴̜̀́̌́̉͐͐ë̶̩̤̼̲̞̹͈̫͔̫̯́͒̌̋̆̕ͅř̸̤̮͚̆̊͛̍̀̈́͂̈̅̕...

[ It sits on filthy haunches, the spread bones across its back going limp. It almost seems like it's presenting its chest to Michael, and as it does so, the clawed hand comes up and smears the blood across its ashen flesh directly over its heart.

Then the hand goes limp, and it waits. It does not blink nor does its gaze shift from Michael's own. Visually, nothing remains of the star of morning, the angel that shone brightest, the fire of imagination and personification of dreaming.

All that remains are the ashes of the fire that had been put out and left to go cold. ]

[admonish]

This is going to happen whether by my hand or theirs, an enemy of Heaven cannot go unpunished or else others will be tempted to follow in your footsteps. Even now they question the validity of my actions, they will even say that I am cruel, but that is where it will end. I will smother the fire before it erupts into a blaze and brings us all to ruin.

[ he can stop the cycle before it morphs into something that will destroy Heaven and the balance that it stands for. the fact that it is his blood he faces down now draws nothing but cold indifference. ]

Even your tears cannot soothe the damage you have done. You have delivered evil onto us all, your apologies are meaningless words. To protect my home, I will do whatever it takes. That was why I was created, to protect them, even if it is from my own brother.

[ he appears to lower the sword, as if he might be having second thoughts, but that is far from the case. without waiting for his answer, he reaches out with one hand to partially embrace him. once he has lulled him to a sense of security, he kisses his cheek and whispers something for his ears alone. ]

Why should you be spared from the darkness you unleashed onto the world?

[ since he has a hold on him, and likely his attention, he may not even realize he has lifted the sword again and pointed it at his chest. the shift of his body is so slight that the only thing that will clue him in on what is actually happening is the agony that follows as he plunges the blade through his chest and the flames roar to life.

in real time, he experiences the pain of having his wings crippled all over again, this time by the one who loves him most of all. ]
—————
Yes, Lucifer. Forgive me for not giving you the strength you needed before, but I am giving it to you now. Do you remember the ducks, Lucifer? They will be there as well, ready to bathe their creator in the love they have been saving for you.

Can you recall how they followed you like a shadow? You were their mother, after all, you even dressed up like one when they refused to enter the pond to show them the way. I believe some of their most peculiar habits came from watching you.

[ he never thinks about looking away from what he has become, he meets his gaze and never allows his own to waiver. instead, amidst the story, he reaches out to place his hand over the golden smear atop of his heart just to feel it beat one last time. but it also allows him to bathe him in some of his own power, to show him something beautiful in his final moments.

a memory of them attempts to cut through the fog in his mind, both of them sprawled out in the grass, a time when it was just the two of them, staring up into the clouds and trying to discern their shapes. did they even know what a cloud was? with their hands linked together and laughter in the air, Lucifer points to a suspiciously duck-shaped cloud and proclaims he will create something like that. the memory then shifts to Lucifer asleep in his lap with the most content smile on his face, with Michael gently smoothing his hair back while plucking stray leaves out of his feathers.

at the same time, he reaches up to pet what should be his hair. when he blinks, his tears begin to fall as he adjusts his weapon and tries to smile at him but his lip quivers. ]

I love you, and I always have.

[ steeling his resolve, he moves in to embrace him before his sword finds its target. even when the flames emerge he never lets go of him, intending to ensure he does not do this alone. but even before the first tendril of fire appears, he feels the unfamiliar burn of rage not for the cursed brother before him, but for the one who made them. ]

[thisducks]

[ For an instant, Lucifer believes things might be okay as Michael lowers the blade and pulls him into an embrace. His voice catches on the back of a sob, his hands automatically coming up to wrap around his brother and grip to his clothing. The sheer terror and confusion in his chest feels like it's going to burst out of him, growing larger and larger and pressing against his ribs. His face turns down to press itself against Michael's shoulder, just as it always has when Michael takes him into his arms.

But the words whispered into his ear make his heart stop its rapid beat entirely, just in time for cold fire to sear through his chest, bright and burning and so incredibly cold. His head lifts and he meets his brother's eyes. That's where the ice is coming from, stabbing into him and stealing his breath. From those eyes.

He tastes blood just before raw agony splits him down the center, but rather than the three feet of fiery sword piercing through his tiny form, he thinks it is from his heart breaking. ]

---

[ The beast that had once carried the name of an angel doesn't flinch or pull away or even cry out when the blade sinks into its flesh but instead, reaches around and roughly grasps the back of Michael's robes in a mimicry of the embrace holding it. The fire catches hold easily on the unholy creature, meant to cleanse it all away and bring back purity to the world. It follows desiccated strands and the foul stench of burning hair quickly overpowers, turning the smoke black and ugly even as the flames lick higher and higher. It takes longer for any part of the fire to take hold of Michael, almost as if it is reluctant to harm its maker, but when it senses the angel's resolve, the fire erupts across him.

The beast howls, but the sound isn't agony.

Relief. The punishment will end.

It all ends in raging holy fire, and in the end, all that is left are ashes that are added to the endless plane of other forgotten, failed projects. ]

---

[ Lucifer screams.

It's a horrible choking scream, one that claws its way up and out of the throat, bursting with the raw terror that comes only from the worst of nightmares or the most horrible tortures. It surges out as Lucifer surges up, his hands clawing at his own chest. Still unfamiliar claws bite into flesh, causing real pain that feeds back into a mind not yet released from the visions plaguing it. It's all pure panic, the kind that rids the mind of logic and common sense and lets the ID control the body. His back and chest are on fire, Michael- Michael hurt him-

His eyes flash open, brilliant crimson with only the tiniest dots of gold. ]

[admonish]

[ Lucifer will soon have something else to fear, because the second that horrible scream is released is the moment the wicked creature his brother has become meets his end. unable to open his eyes, he is momentarily lost between the waking and dream worlds and the smell of fresh blood in the air does not help matters.

Lucifer is hurt.

the scream hasn’t even reached its conclusion before Michael rolls off of the bed, takes his sword in hand and points it at the offender. all of the rage from his dream carriers over into into life, so the flames that appear roar to life angrily, nipping at the air around them and giving off an uncomfortable heat. nothing could have gotten through the barrier, he had been assured of that, but it will take more time for his mind to catch up. in the meantime, his sword is pointed over Lucifer’s head.

should he turn around, he will look upon a face not only twisted with rage but also see that the hands once covering his eyes have moved—it would be less startling if they had stayed put. the hollow sockets of Michael’s eyes seem to look right through his other half. his shoulders flex repeatedly in an attempt to flare out his wings in a warning. he ignores the pain and bellows out in a deep voice that seems to reverberate off the walls. ]

Get out!

[ but to whom is he speaking? no one is there but the two of them but he seems adamant that someone else is there. ]

Even a wounded hound will bite. If you hurt him, I will.. [ all at once, a fire begins to burn behind those empty sockets and he sneers. ] I will destroy you so thoroughly that there will be nothing left to bury. Nothing for your family to mourn. This is the only warning you will receive.

[ hurt him.. Lucifer is alive, the scream tells him that much. and the only thing his eyes “see” is that beautiful golden glow his brother possesses. the only thing he hears are the frantic breaths of his twin. no one is here, he needs to calm down but the smell of blood in the air is pulling at him. he squeezes his eyes shut. ]

Lucifer.. ?

[thisducks]

[ whimper.

A single sound of terror so powerful that nothing else can come out, for the movement of his brother had immediately made him believe he is falling backwards - backwards into the void - that he turns and tries to lift his wings to catch himself but they don't respond, he is falling he is FALLING-

But it makes him turn and he sees Michael like a twisted version of his nightmare. The eyes that had condemned him have becoming nothing but hollow pits until fire burns within them. It is absolutely terrifying, and Lucifer can't help but scream as he tries to scramble away. The attempt ends with him falling off the bed due to the dragging weight of his wings and ends with him pressing his back against a stone wall. His hands come up, covering himself, hiding, as his heart races in his chest and his chest and back hurt.

He keens in the back of his throat, pitifully curled up and waiting for more pain to come. ]

[admonish]

[ the sword hits the ground with a clatter and fizzles out as he crouches down and moves to reach for him. that’s when the sickening realization hits him, what Lucifer fears is right in front of him—him. thinking quickly, he pulls the top sheet off of the bed and moves to drape it over the quivering form.

instead of speaking up immediately, he lays on the floor beside him and jerks his wings forward with a hand to cover him. they may not work at the moment but the warmth they provide has not changed and will thus be familiar even if they are damp. it is only when he makes sure he is bundled up in the blanket, he even covers his face, that he finds his words. maybe if he does not have to look upon him, he will not be so scared. he needs a moment to calm down, to will himself to creep away from the edge. ]

There was— [ no, he doesn’t need to hear about his dream right now. it will hinder his progress and scare him further. instead, one of his hands find the top of his head and rest there but there is little he can do to keep it from trembling from the adrenaline. ]

I did not mean to scare you, something startled me. I could not open my eyes and all I could smell was blood. I would never harm you, Lucifer, not ever. Until you find your strength again, I will not move.

[ even if it takes days, he will not budge. he promised to protect him and he has already failed in that. those hollow black eyes linger on the trembling form under the sheet as if they can actually see him in detail and his brows furrow. ]

Dry your eyes, my brother, you will never have anything to fear from me.

[thisducks]

[ In Michael's wings, as that ancient comfort hits Lucifer, all he can do is sob. They're heart breaking sounds, like an animal wounded, with the erratic breathing of someone crying as hard as they can. Reality and nightmare blend and it leaves Lucifer unable to parse out the truth - hollow, black pits with fire or eyes full of icy hatred, damaged wings and claw wounds or a coldfire blade rammed through his chest and out his back, his loving brother comforting him in their fallen state or one showing fake care in order to damn him?

He finds himself trembling, shaking as if he's chilled to the bone and he can't make it stop. Even the black length of tail has unconsciously wound itself around his waist in a new form of self-comfort. An aching chest manages to suck in a hard breath, one that hurts to his core but he needs to breathe even if it results in another gut-wrenching sob.

Thankfully, not even someone as traumatized as Lucifer can keep up that kind of crying for too long. His already exhausted body finally dumps out the last of its fear-induced adrenaline, the sounds lose their volume until they vanish entirely, with the shaking the last element to go. It leaves him bundled up tight in his brother's arms with his chest, back, and eyes sore. ]

[admonish]

[ only when the sobs begin to die down does he pluck at the fabric of the blanket to reveal his face again. by this time, the hands have covered his eyes again and any rage he felt before has been leashed in favor of making sure he is okay. ]

Shh, shhh.. I am here, nothing will bring you any harm. I promised.

[ gone is the rough voice, he speaks quietly and with hesitation. like he is carefully choosing what words to say so he doesn’t upset him further. a clawed hand finds his hair, itching at his scalp as it did before. he seemed to enjoy the attention, so he is hopeful it will do something for him now.

when he feels him slump a bit, he holds him even closer. other than the gesture he doesn’t make a move to touch him again, opting instead to let him come to him when he is ready. if he wants to tell him what happened he will, but far be it from him to try and pry it from him now. to push now would only cause him to retreat further into himself.

instead, he begins to hum a song, one he often used to calm him down when he was feeling particularly anxious. he can recall the words but believes the melody itself will be enough when accompanied by him smoothing his hair back. ]

[thisducks]

[ It takes time. It takes those soothing gestures, the familiar hum, to finally break through Lucifer's boiling emotions to let logic finally get its grip back in the driver's seat. Once it does, his head slowly lifts to look up at his brother - what will he see? Pits, hatred? Neither. Those strange hands again, hiding his brother's eyes. Maybe, he decides, it's for the better right now. ]

Michael. [ Just a soft whisper, but it's spoken in relief. His fingers reach out and slowly touch flesh anywhere they can find, then pull his brother in closer. The racing heart pounding in his chest has finally slowed to a normal beat, letting him curl up in closer to Michael with his head on his brother's shoulder. ]

...I love you. [ Another whisper, but at its end, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for the reply. It even feels like his heart stops as it waits for Michael's response. He needs to set it against the nightmare, to wield it like a shield against the blade the nightmare had pierced through him. ]

[admonish]

[ since he has finally calmed down, he winds an arm around his shoulders and uses the other hand to wipe any leftover tears away. he might not be able to see his expression but the fact that his trembling is starting to pass tells him all he needs to know, while also giving him even more questions.

for the present time, the only thing he is aware of is his own need to hold him and never let go. the nightmare is still vivid in his mind, having a physical reminder that he is actually here is the only thing keeping him from losing it again.

at the declaration, he turns his face and kisses the top of his head. he can feel that Lucifer is not the creature from the dream but a part of him is waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. ]

I love you too. When you want to talk about it, know that I am here—and I always will be. You landed awkwardly, are you hurt?

[thisducks]

[ The very idea of telling Michael the truth of that vivid nightmare is nearly as terrifying as the nightmare itself. He knows Michael would take it horribly, maybe even make his brother question if he secretly believed Michael would do such a thing. Telling him feels out of the question, at least until they're far away from this mental state they're both in. ]

I- [ Saying "I am fine" is a lie, given that he is anything but fine, and lying to Michael is what got them both into this situation. ] My chest and back hurt. [ He admits it so softly, still holding onto Michael with a desperate strength. ] I think I was trying to use my wings. [ Their weight is heavy on his back, but he has to believe that they will fix themselves with time because the idea of them being broken for the rest of eternity is an impossibility he cannot comprehend and unlike his brother, the other idea of cutting them off is just as impossible. Angels were born to fly, even before they could walk.

But, maybe, there is another choice. He can change his shape, after all. Maybe he could just, for a little while-

Michael will see the golden burst of magic, feel as Lucifer suddenly becomes smaller in his hands, because Lucifer's wings disappear entirely. ]

[admonish]

It will take time for us to adjust to being without them and mistakes will be made. Fortunately, thanks to someone, I have a salve I can apply to your chest as well.

[ behind the hands, he attempts to squint out of habit against the light. even before the wings disappear, he finds himself reaching out as if to catch the light. instead, his hand dips over one of Lucifer’s shoulders to check for the wings.

it surprises him of course, but it also gives him an opportunity. he hooks one arm beneath his twin’s knees, lets the hand of the other find his back and pushes off of the ground with his hooves to move them off of the floor. it might appear to be a seamless move but it comes with a dull ache that he ignores. very carefully, he turns to deposit him on the bed before taking the spot beside him. without the wings, he has a much easier time pulling him to his chest. he hopes the proximity might soothe his anxiety some more. ]

Even if you do not feel like sleeping, rest your eyes. [ the claws of his dominant hand have already started raking through his hair again, carefully tucking it behind an ear. his voice is a whisper at best. ] If I guard you, no one can harm you. If fear tries to find you again, I’ll simply have to turn it away.

There is no safer place for you than here with me.