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primarchy[ What do you do when you've given up your power, bequeathed it to an heir? Granted all that you are, your purpose, your place in the world, your subordinates beneath you, your title and the duty that's defined your very existence for eons, to someone else? When you've all but vanished, turned to nothing but motes of light, and then find yourself, somehow, impossibly, not dead as you expect?
What do you do when you find yourself alive, returned at the hands of your enemies, your stolen body filled with a terrible power that's meant to sunder the very sky you were made to protect?
To Lucifer, finding himself returned, standing before Sandalphon, a jagged, pitted spear in his hand, there's only one answer.
Lucilius's command echoes in his ears, high and inescapable and ringing. Kill your spare. He meets Sandalphon's eyes; he doesn't even know if his own are still blue. His wings aren't white anymore, what's to say his eyes haven't darkened, too?
But he smiles as he lifts the spear, smiles the same cool, calm smile he'd worn so many times as the perfect leader of the archangels, fearless vanguard of the Astral's divine army, a shining, flawless mask. He smiles as he turns away from Sandalphon and turns on the ones who'd brought him back.
(They should have expected this. He's already betrayed his creator once, and that was before he was fallen.)
He throws himself into the fray, a dark slash against the red of the sky, light glinting off Eden's jagged edges as it rips into Beelzebub's flesh. And as the dark, twisted energy that makes up Beelzebub's blood runs hot over his hand, the smile sharpens into hot triumph. He can give Sandalphon this, at least, even if it's not the reunion he'd wished for. No garden, no coffee, but he can at least ensure that in their reunion, Sandalphon doesn't have to look upon him as an enemy. No, he'll make sure Sandalphon never has to do that.
And when Belial and Lucilius have fled the carnage, no match for the weapon they've crafted, Lucifer finds himself kneeling, panting on the ground at Sandalphon's feet.
What do you do when you have nothing left, when you've given everything you are away? The answer is easy.
Gently, he lays down the spear, folds his dark wings, and lowers his head. ]
Sandalphon-sama.
[ The only answer he has: swear himself to the one he left everything. If he's to be nothing but a weapon, then he'll become the new Supreme Primarch's blade, if Sandalphon will have him. ]
What do you do when you find yourself alive, returned at the hands of your enemies, your stolen body filled with a terrible power that's meant to sunder the very sky you were made to protect?
To Lucifer, finding himself returned, standing before Sandalphon, a jagged, pitted spear in his hand, there's only one answer.
Lucilius's command echoes in his ears, high and inescapable and ringing. Kill your spare. He meets Sandalphon's eyes; he doesn't even know if his own are still blue. His wings aren't white anymore, what's to say his eyes haven't darkened, too?
But he smiles as he lifts the spear, smiles the same cool, calm smile he'd worn so many times as the perfect leader of the archangels, fearless vanguard of the Astral's divine army, a shining, flawless mask. He smiles as he turns away from Sandalphon and turns on the ones who'd brought him back.
(They should have expected this. He's already betrayed his creator once, and that was before he was fallen.)
He throws himself into the fray, a dark slash against the red of the sky, light glinting off Eden's jagged edges as it rips into Beelzebub's flesh. And as the dark, twisted energy that makes up Beelzebub's blood runs hot over his hand, the smile sharpens into hot triumph. He can give Sandalphon this, at least, even if it's not the reunion he'd wished for. No garden, no coffee, but he can at least ensure that in their reunion, Sandalphon doesn't have to look upon him as an enemy. No, he'll make sure Sandalphon never has to do that.
And when Belial and Lucilius have fled the carnage, no match for the weapon they've crafted, Lucifer finds himself kneeling, panting on the ground at Sandalphon's feet.
What do you do when you have nothing left, when you've given everything you are away? The answer is easy.
Gently, he lays down the spear, folds his dark wings, and lowers his head. ]
Sandalphon-sama.
[ The only answer he has: swear himself to the one he left everything. If he's to be nothing but a weapon, then he'll become the new Supreme Primarch's blade, if Sandalphon will have him. ]
