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]

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.

[tvdemon]

Pluck! Once Vox has the feather in hand, he holds it up to the light. It's fascinating how something so dirty can still look so beautiful. It's like a rough diamond. Something that, with a bit of shine, could somehow surpass perfection. He slips it into his back pocket, where it should be safe. With that done, his hand returns to the wing, fingers pressing down near the base where it meets Lucifer's back.

"You know, I'm not really a bird lover, but there's something about wings in particular that's just so fucking... fascinating. You get what I mean, right? It's the perfect blend of functionality and aesthetic."

Even as he speaks, his fingers keep rubbing along the wing's base, sticking to the top where the bone would be. He tries to apply pressure here and there, tries to run the sharp tip of his finger along the surface just to test how sensitive it is. Lucifer's reactions will be assessed very closely.

[thisducks]

"Yeah, fascinating."

Ironically, despite his dry, tense voice, he does get it. Birds had been based on the design of their true forms, after all, so in a way, they are one of the animals closest to angels outside of humans. There's no small reason why he loved rubber ducks so much, given his own.

He had loved making birds of every kind, from the humble little sparrow to the elegant beauty of birds of paradise. Being able to watch them in flight, flying along side of them, the pure joy of being on the wing... something that had made him happy in an otherwise quiet existence.

Quick, with the use of a claw, Vox begins to pull the tiny, delicate little feathers askew, but that's something Lucifer can grit his teeth against and do his best to ignore. When the very tip catches the even more delicate skin underneath though, while he can bite back a sound, it makes the wing twitch with the sharp, unexpected little pain.

[tvdemon]

The delicate little feathers along the wing's top are soft. Fluffy and wildly appealing to touch, like fur. Vox loves the way everything parts beneath his fingertip. Sinners already rarely have wings, but none of them have been blessed like this. Even the most bird-like Sinner wings always look muddled and rough, like a pale imitation.

He catches skin through the layer of fluff and the effect is instant; the wing twitches away from him. He hadn't even scratched anything open, as far as he can tell. There's no blood. One press of a sharp fingertip was all it took. He chuckles quietly, putting his full hand down on the wing again, palm pressing against the base.

"Wow, you are really not enjoying this, huh? Not even if I give it a little... stroke?" he asks, and with that, his hand sails up along the outline of the wing's bone. The pressure is significant and sure to ruffle more of those feathers, but it's nothing that would cause outright pain. Under normal circumstances, anyway. Hell if he knows what it does to an angel.

[thisducks]

Of course he isn't enjoying it! No one enjoys being pet like a dog by someone they don't like, never mind someone they find utterly repulsive. Lucifer has to bite back a growl on that, the anger bubbling up hot in his gut. Every little nugget of sound or reaction he gives Vox he knows the sinner is just eating up, but he can't control all of it.

Like the very faint quiver that runs through the wing being ruffled, but it gives no more than that.

"You really do enjoy talking just to hear yourself talk, don't you?" because it's nearly as annoying as the touching and the pain and just as unavoidable. The worst ones just never. shut. up. Vaggi had been so surprised to hear that he hadn't been paying attention to what Vox was saying about his daughter, and this was exactly why - because it just became noise, endless noise, unless he tuned it out.

[tvdemon]

Vox's grin widens a little further again, catching on that Lucifer's attitude problem is returning. Protest for the sake of protest, but it's all hollow and helpless. All it does is give Vox an excuse to play rougher. To punish. Any good ruler squashes an uprising before it can truly begin, after all.

"Yeah. Sounds about right, actually!" A mean chuckle leaves him, like it's all a big joke. In a way, it is. "But ya know what? Enjoying the little things in life is what makes you a happier person. Or... The little things in the afterlife!"

Without warning, his claw tightens around the top of Lucifer's wing, squeezing and applying pressure at a somewhat unnatural angle. His fingers crackle, electricity dancing along the digits before shooting down into Lucifer's body through the wing bone. It's a nice, good jolt, but not a very lengthy one.