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]

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.