Trapped [in the scary box]

[thisducks]

So, maybe he'd messed up a little in his desire to make up with his daughter and now, he's paying for it. Everything's gone quiet in this big empty warehouse of a space, the room impossible to see into as dark as it is, and it's left him utterly alone with his thoughts. Around his limbs that are slowly going numb as time ticks on he can feel the warmth of the holy steel, faintly echoing the throb of his heart, making a prisoner of his body while the silence does the same to his mind. The latter, for someone like him, is infinitely worse.

It leaves him there to feel like an utter fool, of course it does, and worse that not only does Vox know the ugly truth of his punishment, but so does everyone. The sinners that he only kept in any kind of line through that great deception now can make everything just that much worse. How is he supposed to protect Charlie from their filth now when they know not only can he do nothing for her, there's damn little he can do for himself?

Every time he tries to help the ones he loves, he just makes it... worse. Charlie screaming at him, anger and tears in her eyes, it just keeps playing on repeat in his mind, only as the night goes on to be replaced by her mother. Just how angry will Charlie be with him when she finds out he's gotten himself stuck like this? The abuse his own mind forces upon him drags him further and further down that spiral until his head sags, body slumping as much as it's able in his imprisonment.

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[thisducks]

Unlike the other times, he catches that tone of voice, maybe even some deeper sense than sight picks up on what's about to happen in the split second before it strikes. Just enough for him to tense up- but there's no real preparing for it. It takes everything just to not cry out and give Vox that satisfaction, but he can't stop the way his body arcs up or how violently it sags back down when the charge finishes. Even just that short duration is like a kick in the chest, stealing the breath from him, and leaving him panting there with his head dropped forward.

This is why he hates them. Why he despises them so deep to his bones, despite Lilith's desire to see them rise, despite Charlie's belief that they can rise in a whole other way. In the end, there's too many who are in Hell for exactly the reason they should be, typically only getting worse with the freedom from the mortal coil gives. They have no idea of the gift they were given and so many of them squander it, or worse like Vox earlier straight up fail to even understand the gift it really is!

That dark bitterness comes up as a whisper, just loud enough to be heard from how close Vox is. "Thought you said... you were good at that. Or do you just brag about everything you do... then always disappoint?" He knows it's only going to make Vox more angry, that it's going to result in more pain, but somehow it doesn't matter so much in the moment. There's a brief thought that if he can keep Vox focused on him, the asshole won't be able to focus on his plan, or that he'll fuck up somehow and he'll be able to get out, but really those are a distant second to his own venom that's crept up to the back of his throat.

This is the side of him he never wants Charlie to see.

[tvdemon]

If Vox didn't know any better, he'd think Lucifer was getting off on this. Still, he's not sure why else this fool of an angel keeps baiting him. Maybe he's been stuck in a boring routine down here for so long, he needs something new to feel alive again. Maybe he's just a glutton for punishment without the arousal. Weird if true. Either way, Vox is happy to provide.

"Ooh, I see. The great King wants the royal treatment. Why didn't you say so?"

Vox's hands slip down Lucifer's back, tips of his fingers pulling at the fabric of the angel's jacket as they go. The clothes probably won't tear so easily, but that's what makes it more fun to give them a good tug. Once his palms are down to hip level, they slide forward instead, both of them coming to rest along the gut region. Vox pulls, applying pressure there, stepping forward at the same time to close the distance entirely. His own torso presses up against Lucifer's back, ensuring a tight hold from both sides.

The little crackle of electricity flitting between Vox's antennae is probably an unnecessary warning by this point. It should be more than clear what he's about to do. Still, there was that split second to brace before the real discharge happens, currents blasting at full force from Vox's entire body. It's not brief, this time. No holding back on the voltage. Lucifer gets the full experience of what Vox can do, short of going full demon form.

[thisducks]

There's a tiny, high pitched choking sound as the pull on his tailed coat and the shirt beneath jerks it up to his throat, the fabric digging into the skin and forcing his head back. The thick fabric fights on two fronts at once - beneath Vox's claws and at the pressure taut across Lucifer's wind pipe - until the claws win their battle and tear down through the fabric. It falls forward on his arms, leaving his back exposed- and more so, the markings of his wings. They look almost like closed eyes done in gold in mirrored patterns on his back, all focused to an approximate circle between his shoulder blades where there sits something else gold, more ragged - a scar.

Perhaps all of that gets missed as Vox's claws glide over his skin and then pull at his stomach, leaving Lucifer to feel utterly repulsed as most of the lengths of their bodies lie against one another, even as he knows what's all too likely coming. Unfortunately, when that first tiny pop of electricity starts, he knows he's right.

Fuck does it hurt.

He tries at first to avoid from screaming, even as he goes completely rigid in Vox's grasp as every muscle contracts all at once, but finally a sound leaves him despite his every effort to keep it in. Vox has the pleasure of a ragged sound leaving the devil, not even a proper scream because the electricity breaks up his vocal muscles too much for that. It's still unconstrained and full of agony, twisting as much as his body does in the sinner's hands, and even if it isn't a continuous sound it ends up picking back up again and again when the electrocution doesn't end!

[tvdemon]

Vox is getting just a little turned on, this time. Lucifer's body twisting and writhing against his own, along with those ragged gasps of agony... That in itself already feels like foreplay. However, there's also something so intimate about sending those currents into Lucifer's body. Even outside of him, the electricity is still a part of Vox himself. Everything it connects to becomes part of a grander whole; a network. So long as the currents are flowing, Lucifer body feels like it really is his, as physically close as it could get short of being devoured.

His eyes close and his claws tighten their hold, digging into flesh. The currents won't halt until a good minute has passed. Not only did Lucifer issue a challenge for Vox to put his all into this, there's that sentiment to keep in mind that nothing he'll do can kill Lucifer. There's no need to hold back, no need to worry about taking it too far as he might do with others. And that too was a challenge issued by Lucifer himself.

Even after the electrocution dies down, Vox doesn't move- not even an inch. He keeps his hands where they are, fingers still curled inward, and he waits.

[thisducks]

It's not just humiliating; it leaves him feeling violated through and through as a part of Vox, even if it's just his energy, touches every part of him inside and out. He can feel it like a million needles piercing into each muscle, tapping into every nerve and using them which leaves them burned out. It goes to the point that even his hidden wings, tucked into the aether yet always a part of him, feel as fried as the rest of him.

Starting at his gut where those claws lie pressed into his skin now lies a pattern like the leaves of a fern all in gold, spreading upwards over his chest to meet the scar just under the breastbone that mirrors the scar on his back, continuing upward and outward to his arms.

Lucifer no longer remains upright under any of his own strength, his body twitching under Vox's grasp for a far longer period than it had before. There aren't even thoughts in the wake of that pain, lying in fractured, scattered parts of his brain as his body struggles just to breathe. It would have killed most sinners, hell it might have even killed some of Vox's fellow Overlords given his completely unrestrained use, but even if he's hurt... Lucifer is still breathing and in one piece.

[tvdemon]

Silence... Still, Vox can hear Lucifer's breathing if he focuses. And he can feel it beneath his hands, too. It's erratic. The rise and fall of Lucifer's chest is hampered, like a shudder. He can't stop himself from chuckling under his breath, and his fingers finally ease up on their hold before withdrawing somewhat. They come to rest on Lucifer's hips instead. The angel's waist is very slim, he thinks to himself. Petite. Not too dissimilar to Vox himself. He'll keep his hands there for now.

He waits another moment for Lucifer to regain more coherence. He wants to make sure he's heard, after all. Once he thinks that minimal amount of consciousness is back, he leans himself further forward again so he can all but purr his next words into Lucifer's ear. "Was that good for you too?"

[thisducks]

Hearing those words as the first semblance of consciousness starts to resurface makes Lucifer want to throw up, a combination of sensation and emotion strong enough to nearly make it into reality with a churning of his stomach. He can still feel Vox everywhere - inside of him, a voice in his ears, hands on his hips as intimate as a lover. All he wants to do is turn his head and take a bite out of that screen with an unhinged jaw full of teeth with all the viciousness of a wolf, but even as the thought rises in his head, he barely gets to turn his head before he feels the invisible chains wrap around his throat and halt the action entirely. It's the truest punishment they ever could have laid on him, though the angel of long ago might have disagreed, for he had once loved humans as pure and true as love could possibly have ever been. He wouldn't have wanted them harmed.

That angel, he thinks bitterly, is long dead, but his actions still lie heavy on his soul like a scar. It's why he has tried to protect Charlie from so much of Hell when she resembles that sacrificed creature. Just... has to keep her hope alive.

That doesn't mean that hadn't hurt so. fucking. much.

"Looks like... Heaven doesn't have... much to fear." It takes effort to get it out, but now he has a plan in motion and so long as he holds onto it, he'll be protecting Charlie.

[tvdemon]

Even now, after all that, Lucifer's still trying to fight back. Still has that attitude problem that tells him to keep challenging Vox further. It's fascinating, in his opinion. There haven't been many others who would let their hatred carry them this far. Most would've stopped in their tracks by now and tried to retreat instead. It would be an angel who's this resilient.

"You must really hate yourself, begging me to keep punishing you like this." Lucifer is stupid, but not that stupid. He must know that every time he says shit like that, pain is sure to follow. And yet, he keeps saying it anyway.

His fingertips press against Lucifer's hips for a second, then start sliding upwards again, towards his back. He takes a step backwards as they go, allowing for more space. The jacket is fucked now, as is everything beneath it, allowing Vox's fingers clear entry to bare skin. There's something there, just barely visible through the tatters of ripped fabric. Something gold. Markings?

"I wonder... how to make to make those wings pop out," he muses, mostly to himself but with every intention of planting a little more dread in Lucifer. His fingertips slide along the markings as he says it, moving towards the scar in the center.

[thisducks]

They couldn't hate me any more than I hate myself. The words he had spoken once to Lilith had stuck with him, even all these years, because while he had been in a very rough depressive episode when he said them, they had been true. Even Vox's angry rant earlier had been far from the first time he'd heard something similar, they still couldn't hold a candle to the things he's said and even done to himself in his own bitter hatred. Even the pain he's suffering tonight can't truly touch the pain he suffered during his Fall, the tiniest glimpse of which Vox is just getting to see the edges of. The markings surrounding the scar are too symmetrical and perfect to be anything but by design, almost tattoo like, and yet its the ugly imperfect circle at their center his fingers find that has more texture. An unmistakable texture that all humans know at some point in their lives - that of scar tissue.

It sits larger than a silver dollar, ever so faintly oval shaped, and far more white than the markings that surround it. Old scar, this one, and without a doubt one that had to have done some sort of significant damage given its location. It lines up with its near twin on his chest, though whatever had gone through him had been at a downward angle as it came out under his breastbone. What else could leave a scar on an angel other than the most obvious culprit of angelic steel?

Vox's words definitely hit their mark though, those shoulder blades tensing beneath his hands. There's an unusual lay of muscle around them, ones that must be involved in flight somehow even though wings couldn't have lifted even this petite body off the ground without a super natural element. "They're not for you." The idea of allowing them to be broken under Vox's hands like a child and a fragile toy makes his stomach churn again.

[tvdemon]

While Vox sees the scar in the center and wonders about it for a second, he lets it slide. He doubts that's got anything to do with what he's looking for. No, it's those other markings that look more promising. Wings hidden in plain sight. The comment that they're 'not for him' just makes him want to figure it out even more.

"Ooh? But you were so willing to show them off at the rally. So ready to act like we were meant to be in awe," he points out, his fingertips still sliding along the markings, towards the shoulder blade and then back down again. "Come oooon, don't hold back on me now."

There's really no result from just touching so far, so Vox does what he does best: He zaps. Current is directed at the muscles below those markings with laser-accurate precision, to see what'll happen when those get stimulated into movement. Even if it's nothing, at least he got to hurt Lucifer again and that's never a waste of effort.

[thisducks]

The problem with those markings is that they're sensitive. As soon as those fingertips find one of the markings, there's a delicate ripple of muscle under the surface that he can't stop from happening. They're there, aetherically bound with only the faintest manifestation on the surface. There are few things more intimate than to touch one another's wings among angels in situations that most people would consider private, so there's another layer of disgust that comes from old held standards that haven't seen the light of day with him for an untold length of time.

Having them so specifically targeted for that damn zap jerks a cry out of him, but what Vox gets isn't a sudden flare of those wide angelic wings. Instead, the odd line of gold suddenly splits open at the same time as the cry to reveal a blazing eye of gold on crimson, its pupil pin-point tight due to the pain. It stares out at nothing, then after a moment, the muscles around it twitch and it focuses directly up at Vox with its wide glare.

Beneath it, the bigger muscles flex, and the eye closes again, the edges of its lids sealing back to a perfect surface.868

[tvdemon]

Vox is watching closely, and so, it's hard for him to miss what happens next. The eye opens- it appears pained. Of course it would be. Currents flowing through the controlling muscles like that is no joke. But then it seems to relax, seems to focus, and it looks directly at Vox. He meets the gaze unblinkingly, hit by a mixture of fascination and exhilaration. The eye is somehow beautiful, terrifying, morbid, disgusting and awe inspiring all at once.

Once the lids close again, he lets out a little laugh. "Haa haha, would ya look at that! Didn't see that one coming! Be not afraid, right? I know I'm not. Honestly, that was a little pathetic."

[thisducks]

Damn it... he could see that look on Vox's face when briefly one of his otherly eyes opened. The dead silence until the eye closes is more telling than Vox might like, but it doesn't change Lucifer's position unfortunately. "There's a reason angels had to say something like that before we decided forms like this would be easier on human senses."

Is Lucifer telling the truth with those words, or spitting bullshit? It's actually hard to tell from his tone that is dry and tired, his breathing still harder than it would be naturally. "You're not worthy of seeing anything more than what you've already seen."

Maybe he could use human curiosity to his advantage.

[tvdemon]

'Easier on the human senses', yeah right. Vox really can't imagine angels could take any form that would faze him. And if they could, said fazing would be exhilarating in its own way. It's been a long time since he was actively awed or intimidated by a mere sight. Lucifer's following words are just bullshitty as those before them.

"Not worthy?" He repeats the accusation with a deep hum to his voice. Not a growl, more like a rolling low tone. It's so insane that Lucifer keeps saying these things to him. "It's not about worth either way, now is it? It's about power, and having enough of it to take these things."

His fingers press against the markings again; one hand left of the scar and the other hand on the right of the scar. Perfect parallels. It shouldn't come as any surprise when he sends more currents to the muscles down below. Stronger, this time. Lasting a little longer.

[thisducks]

Maybe, just maybe, this insane plan in the back of his head might work, but he knows its a long shot. Worse, he knows it involves more pain. Pain... pain he can deal with in order to help Charlie in any way he might be able to. There's little he wouldn't do to try and make up for where he's failed her. While in reality, he does sort of realize he's maybe given her a little too good of a life, one too sheltered from the ones she calls 'her people', but really, wouldn't any father have kept his child away from the worst people imaginable? Every decent father wants to protect their child from the bad. If he hadn't been quite so much about it, maybe... things wouldn't be where they are right now. Then again, he knows Charlie might not have turned out the way she had - for better or for worse.

So he'll deal, and he'll fight, and he'll suffer with Vox's pathetic need for power and respect - for her.

"You'll learn someday that there's things no amount of power can get you, and if you don't, you'll go mad trying to get it." Lucifer's eyes close as he says those words with an unknowing level of prophecy. As soon as the fingers touch him again, he knows its coming. Without even a way to defend himself thanks to the steel wrapped around his wrists and ankles, all he can do is take it.

This time, both markings snap open, but their focus immediately snaps onto Vox, staring him dead in the eyes even as Lucifer's back convulses beneath his touch. They show pain, just like the first time one had opened up alone, but it's almost as if they're searching for something with the way their pupils move.

[tvdemon]

What Lucifer's saying is similar to something Alastor's said to Vox before. Maybe even more than once- hell if he can remember. It's the notion that Vox will never be fulfilled. That because he keeps chasing new fads and moving the goalposts, he's never going to find an end to his sprinting. He's basically set himself up to reach for the infinite. Personally, he disagrees. He thinks being a god is a perfectly good final goal to have, and in that same vein, it'll grant him all that power that Lucifer thinks he can't get.

While he's still a little disappointed there's no wings popping out, at least he can delight in the sight of those eyes some more. His knees bend as he tries to get down to their level, meet them head on. It does mean sinking into a full crouch, what with how short Lucifer is and how large Vox's own head is. The flow of electricity remains constant, so he can keep watching them for a while longer.

"These are pretty neat. I wonder if I could gouge one out with an angelic knife..."

Thankfully for Lucifer, he doesn't have one on him, but it's an idea worth keeping in mind. In fact, there's a lot of fun things he could do with an angelic knife, so he's going to bring one next time. For now, unless something happens, he'll let the currents die down again.

[thisducks]

He knows Vox is bullshit, that he can only hope for an idea of something that he can never have. Lucifer knows what a real god is like, what true infinity feels like, and no mortal soul is capable of handling either. There's a reason that the Speaker had been created, so the Word could be spread among angels of all kinds. Sometimes he wonders if his Creator ever could have seen that the beautiful creation that was the human soul could turn out like... this.

This monster, willing to kill and torture and lie- one completely touched by her darkness. Even as angry as he is at Heaven, knowing he owes them nothing, he can't allow that darkness to enter its gates because it will mean the end of everything. With the eyes on his face closed, he stares hard at the monster behind him, even as his breathing falters not just from the pain but the agonizing contractions of the muscles of his chest opposite those eyes.

Carmilla wouldn't give just anyone a blade, but the fight at the Hotel had put any number of blades out into the hands of those who hadn't before and every attempt to keep track of them after had been nearly useless. What had once been far more carefully controlled now... the threat is any and everywhere potentially anymore. There's no surprise the Vees would have made sure to get their hands on some.

Lucifer sags bitterly in his restraints as the current finally dies down, but now there's a piercing throb starting in his temples. The beginnings of a headache that threatens to bloom into an agony that will take over his skull. Those eyes close again, sealing to their golden markings, but they heave with Lucifer's every dragging breath.

[tvdemon]

Nope, still nothing. Still no wings. It's starting to piss Vox off a little. Lucifer was so keen to show them off at the rally, or even during other more menial moments that Vox has caught through his cameras. He knows summoning these things looks easy as shit. Trivial. They're being held back on purpose, just to spite him, he can feel it.

It's time to change his strategy, because Lucifer's clearly not too bothered by pain dished out to his own body.

Vox stands up straight again, hands sliding downward and sideways to land on Lucifer's hips again. Fingers press against flesh, the sharp tips not quite piercing skin just yet. "You're a sneaky little bitch, aren't you? You're really gonna keep holding out on me no matter how hard I punish you? Weeell... That's okay. If I get bored with what you've got to show off, I can always go find my kicks elsewhere. With you and Alastor outta the picture, that shitty little hotel your daughter's running has got no security left whatsoever. I'm thinkiiing... I could probably turn it to ash."

[thisducks]

There was definitely some sort of ancient, instinctive need in angels to flare those wings out like animals trying to make themselves look bigger. It is easy for him to summon them or put them away, as simple as it is for Vox to tell his arm to move or twitch a finger, but just the same he could keep them in retreat with long, long practice. Better likely than any other angel because no other angel hid away their wings beyond the Fallen.

Lucifer doesn't even realize what Vox wants from him! He presumed that Vox was just entertaining himself with his body, discovering pieces of him that only Lilith had known previously. What the hell does he mean 'holding out on him'? With gritting teeth, he gets ready to snap back at the sinner when suddenly, Vox decides to threaten Charlie's hotel. His eyes flash open, heart slamming against his chest. He wants to do everything he can to protect her dream, to keep the hope alive inside of her that had died within him. Alastor he's known can never really be trusted in the way that for some god awful reason Charlie has, but he can't even be there to help her...!

While he does believe the others would step forward to defend the hotel, he knows the flaws in that plan - there's not enough of them. Angel's chains could bind him more tightly than he guesses. Charlie is stronger than she could ever even begin to understand, but she hasn't had the time or the drive to fully grasp everything she can be, and it's safer if neither Heaven or Hell doesn't understand it-!

"What the fuck do you want?"

[tvdemon]

That did the trick, by the sound of it. No more shitty quips, no more pushback... Just Lucifer preparing to bend to Vox's whims, to serve himself up on a silver platter. He would've used Charlie as a bargaining tool sooner, but then, it's not as if the experimentation he's done so far was a waste of time. He's already learned and seen quite a bit. It's just not quite what he was looking for.

"I already told you, Lu," he says, leaning in closer for a second- so close that his mouth is just inches away from Lucifer's ear. And then he backs away again, instead slapping a harsh hand down on his shoulder. "Wings. Let's see 'em."

It's very much a command, void of any more teasing or lilting of his voice. Non-negotiable, because his threat still stands. He takes a few steps backwards to free up enough space behind the fallen angel, because the last thing he needs is to be hit in the face with these things.

[thisducks]

The sudden slap to his shoulder is like a jump scare, though not a huge one, making him twitch in his bindings. His wings, of course, his fucking wings. There's a moment of pause where it feels as if Lucifer might defy him anyway, but it doesn't last. Teeth gritting together before he sags in shame at giving into the demand, what definitely had been eyes moments ago instead glow faintly before the wings very much magically unfold themselves from whatever space of existence they reside in when not on Lucifer's back, or visible on Lucifer's back, or however the fuck his weird angelic body works. How much do sinners understand about realities beyond their comprehension, never mind the physical form being compromised of more than one level of said realities?

They unfold in their unkempt glory, coming out from beneath one another until they flare out and then pivot down at the largest joint to fold behind him. Up close, it was much more obvious that Lucifer just didn't really take care of his wings much at all. There are feathers at angles, plenty no longer neatly laying over one another, a hint of oily sheen in places. Impossible to see at any real distance, but Vox has a front row seat to the signs of Lucifer's depression.

It would be utter embarrassment for an angel to be seen like this in Heaven, and a ghost of that humiliation lingers enough to make him close his eyes and his lips press together, saying nothing at all. ]

[tvdemon]

And there it is. That's the money shot, right there. Even with all the Exorcisms these past years, Vox has never seen an angel's wings up close before. Kinda hard to, when he's been hidden away in Vee Tower every time waiting for these murderous fuckers to leave. Now here they are, just a short distance from his face. He's not exactly giddy with excitement, but he does feel accomplished. Prideful, content, victorious. It appears much more meaningful than the eyes.

"Theeere we go. Was that really so hard?" he asks in a cheerful taunt. He takes a short moment to examine the wing joints, the sheen, the minute details hidden away in the feathers... He was expecting something that would reflect perfection, but that's not it at all. The feathers are askew and matted, dirty, in need of attention. It's all just short of being outright damaged, and Vox can certainly escalate the wings to that point if he wants to. But for now, he'll just reach out a hand to touch them. His fingers land on the center right wing, then run along the feathers to ruffle them. Literally.

[thisducks]

The wings are in a sorry state, nothing like the glory of the angels who had so foolishly visited Hell in their attempt to make right the horrific wrongs they had done or even the steel-shine brightness of the exorcists who had come to kill, but that doesn't mean they aren't soft. There's an incredible softness to the flowing edges of each feather, a dense cloud-like feeling to the mass of tiny covets at the top of each wing. It's far more intimate of a touch than anything else Vox has done to him so far, leaving him fighting back the urge to pull away or cry out or do anything that would let Vox have the greater pleasure of seeing how disgusting it makes him feel.

He knows more pain is coming. He knows- it's going to be bad. So long as it's done to him and not Charlie, if this is the only way he can protect her and keep Vox focused elsewhere than on her, then so be it. There has been worse, when the darkness had swallowed them whole and for the first time in his existence, he knew what it was to be touched against his will and what it was to be tainted by something he couldn't stop.

All of this is dragging up memories he doesn't want to relive.

[tvdemon]

It's exactly what Vox was hoping for. The feathers are so soft that it's almost unreal. It's certainly not the sort of softness to be found in Hell. Ethereal, but not in a way that's harmful, as divine magic would be. In a different type of situation, it'd even feel soothing. "Ooh... Now this is something else. Love it! I don't get why you were so shy about showin' this off. It's perfect."

As his fingers stroke along the feathers' edges, really focusing on the texture of it all, he can't help but think this is the sort of feeling to take home with him. Maybe even to package up and sell. It's something to do once he rules Heaven; take angel feathers for his own gain. Velvette was talking about making dresses, but he can see many other uses.

For now, though, he'll see if he can pluck one from Lucifer's wing. He'll go for one of the feathers that's already set at an angle, looking disheveled and possibly loose. Maybe it's impossible to sever even a single feather from the greater whole. He's about to find out.

[thisducks]

They're angels, not statues! A thought Lucifer might have had if he knew Vox was questioning if he could pluck a feather. They'll regrow feathers, over time, though they aren't capable of regrowing... everything. Feathers Vox will have no trouble plucking free as he so desires. His wings are one of those subtle digs into his psyche, always knowing he should maintain them but without the heart or necessity to do so, and now someone is staring at them from inches away able to see all they are.

And steal one of his feathers. It's not like fallen hair or fingernail or any other piece of bodily discard that humans were used to as part of their existence, even if typically they would simply use a hint of the fire within to flash-burn away the remains after a preening. Maybe it's because he knows Vox is likely eyeing every inch of his wings to decide how further to use him with their presence. There is no place too low for Vox to go in order to feed his greed.

There's only the faintest twitch when Vox frees the feather, showing that it had been loose, leaving him with a single angelic feather that while even if it needs to be cleaned of a faint sheen of oil, still almost glows white.