King's Rebellion

[the_rebel_son]

The moment he set foot in Chaos the attacks came. He knew they would. The Fallen sensed the change in his presence just as the angelic had sensed his presence upon Eve in the Garden. Though in the Garden, his presence was a lot less noticeable on the human woman than the angelic presence was on his aura. They had touched spirits, mingled their energies, and the heavenly mark wove through his own essence down to the very core. He could still feel the touch of that angel on his body and his soul, for a lack of a better way to think about his energy and the Grace that had so intimately touched.

Some would not dare confront him, some he could hide it from, a few would openly support him, but the stronger archangels could feel it at a distance. He had been able to hold his own until they started coming in groups, too often to heal completely between assaults. Moloch had taken the chance to raise riot against his rulership, though the arrogant angel took any opportunity to do so, this would be a quite different rebelliousness to quell. He had transgressed against the very black and white dividing line between Host and Fallen. It would not be tolerated by either side of the war. He was the Morningstar, transgressor of all restraints, this was but another manifestation. At least his daughter had understood, and dissolved into rancorous giggles when she learned of his trespass. Both of his children understood and would hold true the rulership in his absence. He trusted them, and many of the Fallen feared them.

Lucifer had cloistered himself in Pandemonium with intent to heal the ever growing number of wounds inflicted by the other Fallen. To transgress was always his way by choice or circumstance, but he was aware of the consequences. Aware and uninterested. Still, as a lord, he knew strife and war were to be avoided, though hard to avoid when one ruled those who willingly rebelled against God himself. The cloistering had a purpose if only to delay because he knew it would not avoid confrontation forever. Still, it had given him the opportunity to speak with his advisor and children, to plan what was to come and how to proceed. In his own realm, within Chaos, Lucifer had a measure of omnipotence that he possessed nowhere else. He knew the clash was coming to his door but pride always overruled his uncertainties in the end.

“Lord Lucifer.”

He had not moved from where he stared out on the blackness of Chaos, even when he heard Moloch's voice. Of all the Fallen, Moloch was the one who challenged Lucifer most. In the past, Lucifer had wondered if the sins of Pride and Arrogance were not more fitting for this archangel than they were for himself. Moloch believed himself more powerful than God, and now in the Abyss, more powerful than Lucifer. Moloch had not even been expelled from Heaven for aiding Lucifer, but for taking up arms against God while Lucifer was being bound and judged. Even in the midst of the rebellion Lucifer would have only put himself as an equal to God, no more powerful. If a place had existed to banish him to the Lord of Hell might have done so. Instead he allowed Moloch to build his own palace, stir up his own rebellious angelic host from the members of the Fallen Angels. Better to let the enemy wave their banners in plain sight than struggle to follow subverted and hidden acts.

“We will speak with you.”

Moloch's voice was full of demands. The sound alone rustled anger in Lucifer. To challenge him, even in voice, within his own palace was a slight that would come with punishment. He reached out listening to the threads of action and motivations that let him see beyond this moment. This was not the first time Moloch and his loyals had chosen to attack Lucifer since he had returned almost two weeks earlier, by human terms in his own Creation. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed in the Nexus. The room hung on the edge of war.

“Fallen Betrayer, you will address us.”

Lucifer spun on those words, wings spreading and alighting with fire. The growl that came was fashioned of wrath, pressed into a maelstrom by his pride. It was a threat to the others who numbered many, perhaps several dozen or more. The weaker willed backed away from the display and exposed their compatriots from whom the war would arise.

“You have consulted with the Host. We see the marks upon you.”

Even in his fit of rising rage, Lucifer smirked at the commentary. Diplomatic liaisons were the accusations. The suggestion was laughable in the face of what he had actually done while outside the bounds of Chaos. The debauchery and taste of Balthazar's lips still caused his heart to flutter wildly when he thought about it, even now with his anger in control. He could only imagine the fury if the Fallen knew. They might fall to complete madness if it was discovered.

“Tell us who has lead you to this betrayal so we can go forth and strike them down.”

Those were the wrong words. Of all the combination of words, in all the languages, that Moloch could have chosen, these were the worst to speak. Lucifer's whole being went to fire as the sin of wrath took hold of his presence and burned away all other considerations. He brandished his power as a threat, a prelude to violence. Angels instinctively averted their eyes. Several of the angels fled in the wake of the change. But Moloch, he drew sword to clash with his king. A moment of hesitation passed through Lucifer. He could kill these archangels without thought but it would do nothing for his station. To humiliate them and send them crawling back to their brethren in shambles was, and had always been, more effective. He would have preferred to rule by other means but the Fallen, most of them anyway, provided few options for alternatives.

Moloch had not moved. He and Lucifer were locked in a competition of presence as the flames spread farther into the room. It wasn't just Lucifer's wrath that was brought to bear but the whole cocktail of sins and virtues. The King was charging up his inner strength like Godzilla about to blast Tokyo. The other angels stood aside afraid of the energy coursing through the Seraphim. The brightness blinding, and the fire arching over the Fallen Angel as scorching as the pit of fire itself. Too often had they seen this battle and some had learned to interfere in it lead to pain and crippling injuries. It was rare in the conflict between the two angels for Lucifer to bear his presence in threat. Most had never seen Lucifer this infuriated and simply stood in awe of the display. Moloch would move soon, Lucifer could sense it in the air currents.

A heartbeat and then a sword flashed. Lucifer grabbed Moloch's sword arm, twisting it to force the other angel to release his weapon, bones snapped in his arm. Moloch cried out as joints were rendered with the force. The sword clattered to the ground but Moloch had taken hold of the flaming wings, ripping a handful of feathers free. It was the utmost insult in Chaos. To damage wings was the action of God and a show of utter contempt. It was an intolerable affront to Lucifer's pride and crown. Moloch had grabbed a second hand full as Lucifer threw him across the room. More ripped free, burning feathers raining down in the room like volcanic ash. Moloch slammed into the wall with such force his wings shattered and his essence reverberated with the impact. Flames burned the angel that would rebel against his king, leaving Moloch to flee midst agonizing screams.

The others fell upon Lucifer choosing to burn themselves in battle rather than relent. Even in his wrath, thirty or more to one gave some opportunity and advantage to the others. He had been speared by one of the angels. Which, it did not matter. They were ripping out his flight feathers and sought to damage his wings. A grounded angel was vulnerable and took out much of his maneuverability. It was an attack on his person and pride. He cast them aside, many crawling from his presence, a broken wreckage of what had entered the space.

“Out!” a voice bellowed above the din of clashing angels. “Out! Before you are laid to ash and ruin.”

The angels obeyed, if only because they were forced to in their mind. Like rats, they scurried from the room, most wounded but they would heal over time. Free of his aggressors Lucifer assessed his own wounds as he tore the spear free from his shoulder. In the depth of rage he felt no pain and heard nothing but the sound of fire. He felt weary from the injuries and constant need to heal, but the King was still incredibly dangerous.

“Lucifer.” the word came gently once the angels loyal to Moloch were driven from Pandemonium by the guards. Belial stayed at the door, wise enough to refrain from any action. “Lord?”

Belial waited patiently for acknowledgment. His senses were fixed on the feathers strewn about the room. They had taken enough that it might impede his King's ability to fly. His mind drifted to the King, all the flight feathers were gone and one wing lay ragged. There would be no flight possible now. He mused that the other angels were lucky to be anything other than ciders. However, the fact they had not been consumed by fire told the counselor much about his Lord's disposition.

The fire was slowly dying away and Belial stepped into the room without hesitation. In the face of Lucifer's wrath it was important to show no fear and tread lightly with your words. Belial knew what had happened between Lucifer and the heavenly host but he had not pried. The depth of it had caused emotional outbursts that he knew better than provoke. Here it seemed to be laid out again, something that drove this kind of fury was not a petty squabble, brief discussion, or even a one time fling. Belial could see the rebellion, the wrath in full blossom as when Lucifer raised war against God. The advisor could trust his Lord to speak when needed but he was curious about the reason so much fire was levied against Moloch. Lucifer clashed with the other angel enough that it seemed common place and barely an incident. This, this was an incident to find Lucifer in his full, terrifying glory.

Instead of talking he approached and did what none other in Hell, except for the twin heirs, would do. He reached up and brushed blood soaked hair from Lucifer's face. The fires were still scorching but Belial had spent eons with Lucifer. He could judge the Seraphim's power with ample wisdom.

“They will return. Moloch is convinced you have weakened.” He spoke soothingly to the enraged angel but also used his mental abilities to calm the fires and wrath. When Belial had been blinded by God for rebellion, Lucifer had granted him the ability to see with his mind as clearly as others might with their eyes. It was a gift, one of many Lucifer had bestowed upon him since his creation.

“He will never learn the lessons the others have.” Lucifer admitted to his advisor in a low growl.

“It does seem he is destined to remain your adversary.” Belial felt the fires die away and the control reassert itself. It was safe to speak. “The Fallen say you are consulting with the Host of Heaven, that you may seek a truce.”

Lucifer gazed at his companion while feeling his mind reaching out. He did not resist. The Lord of Hell trusted Belial implicitly. Since his creation, Belial had been at his side. Once it was in the awe of creation and now as his reason and eyes in the greater brood of Fallen. Lucifer smirked proudly as he felt Belial's mind come in contact with his, searching for the memories of Balthazar.

“What need is there to speak with...” Belial's words trailed off to silence but the silence was quickly filled with a high, full laugh from Lucifer.

Belial collected himself and wiped the blood away from Lucifer's face with the sleeve of his robes. He had not expected to find affection or love in the midst of the memories about the angel his lord had met. Though, from his encounter with the angel, he had expected the desire and sex. The outbursts made sense now. Belial had been there to know how Lucifer behaved when he was charmed by someone else. “That's not the type of meeting they believe you are engaged in.”

Lucifer appreciated Belial's lack of expectations and his utter acceptance. It was Belial alone that Lucifer regretted being mangled by the hand of God after the Rebellion was quelled. He had been grace, humanity, and dignity. Even Fallen, Belial was the most humane and diplomatic of the angels and had never lost his desire to see what sprang new in creation.

Lucifer could not hide from this angel, had never chosen to keep him out. “They will come to confront me no matter my choices.”

Belial nodded his assent to the claim before embracing the Seraphim. Lucifer returned the gesture as a father would to a concerned son. The younger archangel buried himself in the warmth of his friend, ignoring the blood soaking into his garments. “If any could enact such transgression and rebellion against the whole of the Host and Fallen, it would be no other.”

Lucifer chuckled but he could feel the disquiet within the other angel who went on speaking. “You need to heal. It would be prudent of you to spend that time outside their reach. Thnísko, Amartolósa, and I can tend to their brash foolishness.”

He was going to protest but the other angel interrupted, something very few angels would dream of doing. “I will tell them you are within the realms. Let them search in vain while you recover.”

It was a wise plan in the face of his injuries. He would not need long if he were not constantly harried by opponents. He needed to get back to full strength in order to reassert his rulership and rouse the other fallen to turn on their brethren for challenging his position. Sighing heavily he released the embrace and nodded in agreement. Belial and his children could manage for a time, time enough to recover.

He would need his son to safely make it to the Gates of Chaos. The angels had enacted their purpose. His left wing broken in multiple places and his flight feathers torn out, the Fallen Angel was grounded and unable to fly, and too spiritually exhausted to heal more damage. Lucifer sought his son. Thnisko waited for him with Azazael, his standard bearer. Azazael had been a child by angel standards when he had stood with Lucifer in the rebellion. He had been loyal unto sacrifice since Lucifer waded back into the fires of Chaos to free him when he could not break his bonds. Death was feared by the other angels, especially with Lucifer's presence, even as broken as his current state. As two seraphim rooted in destructive powers, together they could obliterate any angel that might bar their way. It gave them rather free passage to the gates of Hell. Lucifer exited and Death locked the gates. Azazael took up post outside the gate to guard against the Seraphim who might make designs on Chaos if they knew the king was injured or long absent. They would not open the gates unless Lucifer spoke.

He was a pariah of the Host and now, more than ever, a target. The host could potentially see his transgression as a more serious sin against order than the Fallen had. When he was seen as corrupting a human they had tortured him and bound him to the fires again. What they would do in retaliation for corrupting an angel, he could not discern. He could not stay here, in his own creation, and so departed for the Nexus. Even there he would not be able to stay. He would have to return to Chaos and deal with the Fallen before long.

By the time he reached the Nexus, Lucifer's head was spinning from exhaustion and injury. His armor, though technically weightless, felt incredibly heavy. Even a being of his age and power could only endure so much before their conscious waned. He would not die, but passing out in the open wasn't an option. Angels of his own creation could follow and find him incapacitated. He needed to find Balthazar, if he was even here and not within his own creation.

Vague memories existed of the apartment, somewhere. Weakly, Lucifer reached out getting a bearing on the imprints left by the other angel. He could feel the river and smiled to himself as he started walking a different direction, another condensed feeling of his presence. He hoped it was the apartment or, at least, where ever the angel stood now.

He moved slowly and recollected at least one instance of coming around on the ground after passing out. Still, with determination and time he found the penthouse door. The Fallen Angel was barely holding himself upright as he leaned on the door frame. He had intended to just knock but it turned to a slamming of his fist on the door as he fought to keep balance. There were wounds everywhere, some were already healed to fading scars and others still bled freely. Blood was running down his left arm and dripping from various points on his wings where feathers had been torn free. Blood smeared the door where he had knocked and pooled at his feet. Even his essence was dull from the burnout of constant healing and battle. Lucifer called out to the other angel but he couldn't tell if it was voice, or his spirit, or just in his mind. He was too weak to tell the difference. His own angels, the Fallen, could sense his presence even without a call, would come to him. Maybe the same would be true for this angel. Will alone kept Lucifer from falling into unconsciousness. All he could do was hope Balthazar was inside.

Comments

[tryingitall]

Belial had given Balthazar plenty to think about. For all that he's always been a sociable angel, he's never been all that ambitious, and thus never bothered to follow celestial politics too extensively. Oh, he knew there were rivalries over who would rank up or who might get singled out by the archangels for extra responsibility. Zachariah was always vying for attention, and he wasn't the only one. Balthazar liked to keep tabs on some of the gossip, but he never got any more involved than that.

If he never understood Heavenly politics, he's got no way to comprehend Hellish ones. He's not sure what Lucifer will be facing, or how he will face it, and that's deeply troubling. He's also not sure what the chances are of any of it bleeding over, despite Belial's word on the matter. Between that and his conversation with Aziraphale, it's occurred to him to take some precautions in his apartment.

He's constructed the Enochian spells very carefully, because the last thing he wants is to create something that would shut out Lucifer, or Crowley--or Aziraphale for that matter.
When Lucifer staggers into his door, if he's lucid enough, he may sense the layers of careful warding. Much of it is directed at angels of the more heavenly sort, but it's tweaked very finely to a visitor's intent and meant to quiet and pacify entrants with violence in mind rather than harm or expel them.

Balthazar is not, in point of fact, in the apartment when Lucifer approaches, but he hears the call anyway. He was in the Nexus shopping, and it's a matter of a split second for him to come to his own door, dropping his bags on the nearest chair and flinging it open, worried even before he sees him.

The sense of blood and pain and exhaustion wash up against his Grace at once. Alarmed, his wings flare, feathers standing on end as if to frighten off whoever's done this to Lucifer. He says nothing, though, only reaching out to gather him into his arms as gently as he can, bringing him inside whether he has to guide him or outright carry him.

[the_rebel_son]

Lucifer didn't necessarily know the intent but he could feel the wards. They wouldn't have surprised him had he the mind to think about more than staying conscious. Even on the edge of passing out the flash of Balthazar's presence when he lands on the other side of the door pushes Lucifer to shake off some of the haze in his mind.

There's relief when the door opens, and a smile. Here was the reason he fought, and seeing him again, Lucifer still regretted nothing. He was where he wanted to be, with who he wanted to be, and hell could be damned. The wounds and pain were insignificant comparatively. They could be healed. His presence, though exhausted, brightens and finds comfort in the flared wings, the protectiveness. He speaks quietly to reassure. "No one followed."

Stubborn and proud by nature, even or possibly especially around this angel, he refuses to look weak, insisting on walking. Despite all of his peacocking, Lucifer has to lean heavily on Balthazar in order to stay upright. Wounded as he is, Lucifer leans in and places a gentle, if bloody, kiss on Balthazar's cheek. He's in no condition to struggle against being lead anywhere.

[tryingitall]

The last thing Balthazar wants to do is fight, but he's prepared for it, hair-trigger instincts awoken at the sight of a wounded angel. Luckily for everyone, perhaps, that no one's followed Lucifer. He hates to fight other angels, and he'll refuse to kill one, but he'd find some way to defend them if he had to. Even if that involved stuffing frogs into an opponent or trapping them in an alternate dimension. He fights weird. He fights dirty.

"Well, whoever did this owes us both for the cleaning bill," he murmurs, trying to make light. The door closes behind them and the locks click, and Balthazar guides him right to the sofa. "Can you stretch out here? Good lord, you're a mess, you're lucky I'm medic-trained."

Despite the light chatter, his Grace is vibrating with worry, reaching out to soothe pain. Balthazar is extremely good at easing pain, because of the Rit Zien. If you want to have half a chance to patch up a wounded angel, you have to be able to prove they're not suffering too badly to live.

He wants to ask what happened, doesn't want to know, isn't sure what happens going forward from here. He's prepared to do whatever needs to be done to heal him, though, and as soon as Lucifer is relaxed on the sofa, he gets a couple anxious kisses on the lips, before Balthazar slips into the other room to fetch blankets.

[the_rebel_son]

Though ragged and weak if another angel had shown, had followed, Lucifer would have used the last of his energy to kill them. He was too vulnerable. Worse, he wouldn't be able to protect Balthazar if they managed to report back to Chaos. He's glad there are no angels to burn, that his remaining energy can be focused on healing.

"The Fallen." Lucifer's voice was pained and quiet. "I knew they would." This was his cost for the choice he made, the danger he tried to help the angel see, and only the start of that road.

Lucifer sits, nearly falls, to the couch. The shattered bones of the broken wing causes his vision to tunnel as he tries to maneuver it into a position that will allow him to lay down. Pride drives him to suffer in silence but the agony is tangible. With help, a lot of help, he can lay down.

Balthazar's grace reaching out makes it easy to see some of the wounds; particularly the spear hole through the shoulder, and a break in his wing, are more than physical. There are holes torn right into his spiritual essence, his grace. These wounds would be difficult to heal, if they could be healed by anything other than time. Despite his condition, Lucifer's own essence reaches back, weak and full of pain but also affection and the gladness of being back here.

The kisses still bring a smile in spite of the misery. When Balthazar leaves Lucifer starts working on removing his armor, beginning with the spaulder. His fingers fumble with the buckles and straps. The spear wound was the worst, by Lucifer's account. It would need the most care. Once that piece is tossed to the floor he moves on to whatever strapping is easy to reach without causing too much pain. Doing something would help him remain conscious.

[OOC: Armor reference in case it is wanted/needed.]

[tryingitall]

"I don't know if I'll ever understand why you went into this, knowing what you were risking, for me." Gentle hands smooth back Lucifer's hair. I hope I'm worth it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he won't say them now, not while the other angel is in pain, bleeding out on his sofa. But he hopes Lucifer knows Baltahzar as fully as he thinks he does, that this whirlwind romance isn't destined to hurt...well, Lucifer. Balthazar is less worried about himself.

He can feel how happy he is to be here, in spite of the pain, and it leave the younger angel a bit giddy. He comes back with a couple pillows, towels and a blanket, and hurriedly spreads things out as best he can to allow Lucifer to get as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

The tears in his Grace are frightening. That's the kind of wound that leave the Rit Zein shaking their hears and readying to smite the wounded angel beyond the point of ever being able to suffer again. The most reliable way to actually heal a torn Grace is via contact with a human soul, but he's not sure if that trick holds true for Lucifer's world.

That, and the only soul immediately available is the one belonging to Balthazar's own vessel. There's something about the idea of using that that feels morally questionable, even to a decidedly grey sort of angel. He'll see what he can do without it, first.

"No, no," he says softly, seeing Lucifer working to remove his armor. "You stay as still as you can, I'll handle that."

[the_rebel_son]

"I hope you do learn." Lucifer whispered. There were so many reasons that he had taken this path. True, some of them had been incredibly impulsive, foolish. Lust was part of it, temptation, but those had faded over time. Rebellion had replaced them, then affection. Lucifer's own disregard for torture and pain surely made the choice easier, now and previously. In his current state though, Lucifer couldn't track the way his approach had changed in the time they had spent together. He could only focus on right now. The pain and damage were so familiar in his life, not always to this severity, that it almost didn't matter.

It is good that the Rit Zein were not here. Even in his state Lucifer could be incredibly dangerous, maybe more so because he was wounded. Healthy, he wouldn't kill if he could help it. In this condition, he wouldn't think twice about disintegrating a threat because he wouldn't be able to repel them by any other means. Balthazar might be the only thing that would be able to deter him. Lucifer knew the wounds to his grace would heal over time. The wounds from Michael had, eventually.

Even if it did work, was offered, Lucifer would not take anything from Levi, not for any reason. Consuming or damaging a human soul was well outside the bounds of Lucifer's own skewed moral standards. Never mind the fact that in his own Creation it was God who killed humans and injured their souls, not the Fallen.

Balthazar's work to soothe the pain had a measure of effect given the severity of his wounds. Humor and clarity came back as the pain became more manageable. The exhaustion still kept his thoughts a bit muddled but it was better than nothing. He relented to Balthazar's request and stopped struggling with his armor.

"This is not how I wanted you to undress me when I came back." Crippled or not, Lucifer wouldn't pass up an opportunity to flirt.

[tryingitall]

Balthazar wouldn't even be able to use Levi's soul without his consent, which makes it trickier, but if it's not necessary, so much the better. He has to hope the sheer age and power of this particular angel make him better able to heal himself.

But Balthazar can help. In a minute. The ripple and flow of his Grace over Lucifer's continues to soothe the pain, but his hands are busy undoing fastenings and easing the armor off of his patient. He blinks at the joke, then laughs, letting his true voice ring softly with the mirth, guessing that Lucifer will find it pleasant to hear.

"Tell you what, you heal up a bit and then we'll put everything back on and do it properly, with music and champagne."

He sets things aside piece by piece, arranging them neatly on the floor, then takes one of the towels and presses it carefully over the shoulder wound. "Try not to faint, love, all right? Easier if you can stay awake and move around until I've got you cleaned up."

[the_rebel_son]

Now that he is laying still and feeling less vulnerable he could go back to healing. He's not working on the large wounds, more damage control, staunching bleeding and returning range of motion. The wing and shoulder will take more energy than he currently has. He'll have to sleep before those wounds can be addressed.

The laughter is welcome. Despite needing, and wanting to be here, Lucifer is worried about the impact the situation will have on the other angel. There will be time enough to address that later. Right now, he grins. "Should I wear my crown too?"

He wasn't wearing his crown, rarely did, but the teasing and flirting was a good distraction from the pain. Lucifer starts giggling, amusement and exhaustion making it more intense than usual. "You are the beautiful fainting flower."

Pain flared through his essence when the towel was pressed to the wound but he ignored. With their graces close there is a distinct sense that Lucifer had suffered wounds like this before. He was resolute about the surges of pain.

"Balthazar, I am happy here with you." Those weren't the words he was looking for but they were the best he could manage with his mind still muddled from exhaustion.

[tryingitall]

Balthazar isn't a total idiot. He's aware that no matter how hard Lucifer tries to insulate him from his doings, they will impact him. That's what happens when two people are close. He may never see the Fallen that challenged the Morningstar, much less be at risk from them, but because they affect Lucifer, they affect him.

Right now, he doesn't care. "I don't know, what does it look like? Is it nice to look at or is it all eldritch angles and frightening shiny bits?"

When the pain flickers through Lucifer, something in Balthazar's Grace responds, like an echo. Sharp, pain, behind one eye? He shakes his head a little as if to clear it, and kisses Lucifer's temple softly. "I'm more of a weed."

He's careful when he starts sending healing energy into him, going slow and easy to test the effects on the both of them before risking anything big. The best thing to do will be to feed into Lucifer's own ability to repair himself, sending him strength.

"I'm happy you're here," he answers softly. "Bit worried about the state you're in, but happy."

[the_rebel_son]

As usual, something random from this angel dispelled his spiral into negative thoughts. It was quite uncanny how he could say something at the right time to derail the spiral into darkness. Lucifer smiled, manifested his crown and offered it to the other angel.

It was of iron and silver. All around the two metals were twisted to form hollow triangles that had a spike of each metal at the apex. Inset at the base were semi-translucent cut pieces of volcanic glass. At the front and back an intricately carved downward facing triangle protruded from the circle. Flames curled over the metal though they wouldn't burn. If the other angel took it, the crown would feel incredibly heavy for its size.

Lucifer felt the pain in the other angel, concern in his expression. "Are you alright?"

"Weeds have beautiful flowers too." He was trying to avoid anything negative but the worry over the pain in the other angel concerns him.

Lucifer had not had assistance with healing before and his essence balked against it at first. It took time for Lucifer to adjust to his healing being assisted. He ensures that Balthazar's grace does not come in contact with the ragged hole in his spirit while trying to assist, as a precaution. Despite his condition, Lucifer's ability to heal is still strong, though slow from the exhaustion.

"There is no need to worry." Lucifer gently touched Balthazar's cheek. "I do not mind fighting for you."

And that was how Lucifer saw his injury. He had fought for the right to be here and despite being ragged the others looked worse than he did. That was a victory of sorts. Hopefully it made enough of an impact to keep the fighting to a minimum in the future.

[tryingitall]

Maybe it will make Lucifer feel better to know that he never ceases to surprise Balthazar, either. Just the slightest of questions and pop! here he is manifesting his crown and just handing it over to Balthazar to look at. He gives him an incredulous blink, then a grin and a kiss on the cheek, accepting it to turn it in his hands.

"Intimidating," he murmurs. "But I suppose it's meant to be."

He sets it down gently on the arm of the sofa; hopefully it won't burn the upholstery.

"I'm fine. Just a random ache. Probably because I spend so much time in this vessel, and he was a bit sickly when I picked him up..." No, it's not. He knows better than that, but something in him shies away from questioning it further. There are rumors, and Lucifer does not need to hear about them while he's weakened.

He reaches up to put his hand over Lucifer's, closing his eyes for a second. "It's easier for me if I think of it as you fighting for the freedom to choose your own lover. But...I suppose if the situation were reversed, I wouldn't mind a few perforations for the sake of your company."

[the_rebel_son]

"It is meant to be an albatross." Lucifer smiled as the crown was set aside. "It has some properties that make it worth bearing, especially when I am within my own kingdom."

It wouldn't burn the sofa. Thankfully God hadn't been so vicious to make the crown burning on top of being an attempt to drive him insane with visions and a near god-like omnipotence.

Lucifer listens but his eyes narrow. He can sense that he hasn't been told the whole truth; in part skill and part the closeness of the grace near him. Even more so, the choice of words when talking about his vessel feel colder than he has heard in the past. "Please, do not."

He's not sure if it is a lie, evasion, discomfort with the topic or something else but he doesn't want to be closed out of whatever is happening, especially if it is causing pain.

Pain be damned right now. Lucifer leans up and kisses Balthazar despite the dull pain radiating from his damaged left side. "I am fighting for my freedom. My freedom to choose you as my lover, if you still want me after I have ruined half your penthouse with blood."

He's smiling but there is a cautiousness in his presence though not in his expression or tone. The fallen angel adored Balthazar, but his heart, if one could call it that, was creeping out of the darkness. The angel that laid buried under the sin and wrath of the fallen king was waking. Its first glimmer flickering as his pride and selfish nature surrendered to his devotion to someone else.

[tryingitall]

For a second, Balthazar thinks he literally means the crown is meant to be shaped like a bird, and squints at it trying to see it. Then he realizes there's a metaphor there and looks sheepish. "Well...bit futile then, I'm sure. You seem to be the embodiment of 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'."

He hesitates at the protest, wincing inwardly. He forgot who he was talking to. You can't be dishonest with Lucifer. Even in his world that holds true. "Sorry, I suppose you're right. The thing is, I'm not sure, and if I tell you what I guess, I don't want you losing your temper."

He smooths back the other angel's hair, cleaning blood from it with a wisp of his Grace. "All I know is I get a little pain behind that eye now and then, which translates directly to one of my largest eyes in trueform. The last time I saw Annabiel, she was going into prison for re-education and something she said made me think...well, I know I've been re-indoctrinated twice at least, but it's hard to remember what exactly happened after you've been there. It's just a vague horror and a sense of you don't want to come back here, and sometimes lingering aches that last a few weeks and then go. I assume it's a scar of some kind but the less thought given to it the better. They'll never get their hands on me again, anyway."

He's trying to couch this in terms as delicate as possible, speaking as lightly as he dares without cracking jokes. There was almost certainly torture involved in re-education, judging from the pain, the aches, but Lucifer doesn't need to be thinking about that, and frankly neither does Balthazar.

"I'm never going back there," he says. "Not to my world's Heaven. So it won't happen to me again."

He pulls him into a winged embrace, his cinnamon-and-incense scent flaring up around the two of them to cover up blood and fire. "Penthouses are replaceable, darling. You are not. I want you forever."

[the_rebel_son]

Balthazar was right. As soon as his mind caught on to the fact that he had been tortured the wrath flared. Even mangled, there is a sense that Lucifer would be extremely dangerous. Though he has no intention, right now, of bursting through some heavenly gate to exact revenge the thought definitely crosses his mind. He did not want to think about what would happen to Balthazar's universe if he were taken for torture and Lucifer went to break him from thier prison.

"No, they will never lay a hand on you again." It was a threat, generalized and aggressive, but it dissipates quickly. "I believe that was the original purpose for the lake of fire, to force us to submit to God. It had the opposite effect, and is a portion of the reason I am a King."

He went on voice gentle and soothing. "When I have recovered, perhaps I can heal the scars that remain. I will try if you wish."

Lucifer pulled the other angel closer, the flicker of angelic within burning brighter. The declaration felt like the world stopped, his heart and breathing definitely skipped.

"Then, I will be yours." The words were immediately followed by a slow, loving kiss. He felt dizzy from the emotions, pain, and exhaustion, had to lay back or blackout, and pulled the angel onto the couch with him.

[tryingitall]

Balthazar's world suffers enough chaos, really, without a war with another dimension. Balthazar himself doubts the re-educators are at work any longer. Why would they be, with the Apocalypse halted? If Raphael manages to start it up again, maybe, but until then, they're probably on vacation, he assumes.

(He's wrong, but he assumes.)

"I can't imagine they're worried about little old me just now, anyway," he soothes. "And that one spot is the only one that aches any longer. If you want to look at it, I'll let you, but later."

Definitely later. There are some weird secrets to be uncovered there, if only either of them knew.

But, oh, he can feel the brightness, the emotion and tenderness as he's pulled closer. Is...is he changing him? Bringing out the angelic nature? Even temporarily? That thought is breathtaking, and more than a bit scary. Still, Balthazar's nature is inherently loving, sensual, and his loyalty is firmer than steel; he meant what he just said, even if there is some rational part of him shaking its head and wondering what the fuck.

The couch is a bit small for two, and Balthazar makes an anxious noise, afraid he'll squish some wounded part of Lucifer as he's tugged closer. After a moment of careful squirming and rearrangment, though, he makes sure he's beneath and beside him, and that seems to satisfy his concerns. He puts an arm carefully around his waist, below the wounded wings, and settles. A vague gesture with his free hand causes a television mounted on the wall to click on, though the volume stays low. "Relax, love. I've got you. We'll take things easy for as long as you like."

[the_rebel_son]

"I will." Lucifer smiled but he did not like the other angel being in pain. It unsettled him.

He was changing. He was falling in love, had fallen in love? Truth was he couldn't tell which was correct any longer. Had he hit the bottom of the fall or was there farther to go? He hadn't been able to stop. Even if he had slammed on the breaks at some point, figuratively, it would have done no good. He was already on the path before he noticed it was happening. It would be awhile though before Lucifer dared to say anything too intimate. His words were binding, once spoken they could not be revoked. He wondered if Balthazar realized that one truth.

Lucifer would have endured the weight on his wounds if it meant the other angel was close to him. Once Balthazar settled he wrapped his unwounded arm around him. "I need to sleep."

Laying still with the angel close enough to protect, and healed enough the bleeding had stopped, the exhaustion was finally taking precedence. "I may sleep for a long time, and look dead, but I will remain aware."

He figured that he should issue that warning. Sometimes he would stop breathing or be hard to awaken while healing. It might take days. He didn't want Balthazar to panic for no reason. He'd be on high alert in his sleep and fly from the couch like an angry hornet if anyone came with threats. He doubted any would but the sentiment was there.

[tryingitall]

The l-word is a scary one, for all that Balthazar drops it blithely as a random endearment. He's very much aware of what's happening. Were they on a similar level and rank, he might be more open about his own feelings, but this is happening at breakneck speed, and he's not sure yet what all the ramifications might be. If it were just him at stake, it would be no big deal, no regrets, full speed ahead. It's not, though. And as much as Lucifer is a person who needs and deserves love, as much as he is a kind of distant family even over and above this romantic affair, as much as Balthazar is sure he wants him and will not stop wanting him, he's also aware that he is an immense cosmic force with a role to play in his own universe. Interfering in that might be unwise.

Then again, he's the angel who unsank the Titanic. Fuck destiny.

"Sleep, darling," he murmurs. "If I need to get up, I might move you to the bed. Otherwise, I'm fine right here."

And he is. He ends up watching television on low volume for hours as he cuddles the sleeping Devil, and he knows entirely too much of the plot of an android-centric telenovela by the end of it, but he feels no need to move, or leave, or sleep, himself. Even inert, Lucifer's company is worth enjoying.

[azazael]

Azazael was in a rush when he finally found where the King was. He should have checked hours ago, but got distracted by people and things. It was unlike him to be derelict of duty but being in an entirely new creation had overwhelmed his sensibilities somewhere along the way. Death was going to be pissed at the angel for abandoning him at the door, well theoretically, Death really didn't get angry but Azazael imagined it. That is what a normal being would do if they had been told a short time and that turned into hours.

It was early morning when he flew, literally, up the internal stairs of the building. He wasn't thinking too clearly, but this was his King's, his King's angel's?, place so he was allowed there unbidden. That was how Chaos worked, why not here?

Azazael moved fast when he wanted to, could outpace Lucifer even over a short distance and that is the kind of speed he was moving at when he landed outside the penthouse doors. He felt the wards but none of them barred his passage, he was used to wards anyway though these were different than those on the rooms of Pandemonium.

He willed the door to unlock, and entered abruptly, but quietly. His blue wings mottled with white were still out glowing brightly in a soft blue. He was jittery and nervous when he stepped in unsure of the situation. After all, there was an angel here that he didn't know. An angel of heaven that had somehow stood its ground with Lucifer. That alone was terrifying though he didn't think dangerous. A heavenly angel willing to spend time with the devil couldn't be that dangerous. Though he second guessed that thought knowing he was unchanged by the Fall, still pure as when he walked in Heaven. Maybe that would matter, maybe it wouldn't.

He wasn't paying attention much, mind focused on locating the King in the rooms, even though he could sense the other angel was here somewhere.

[tryingitall]

Balthazar is not, of course, asleep. He rarely, if ever, needs that level of rest, and in any case he feels compelled to keep an eye on Lucifer. However, at this point he's switched from telenovelas to children's shows and he's frowning deeply at PJ Masks when Azazael finds his way inside, because he finds the entire concept of toddlers putting on their pajamas to be superheros profoundly troubling, and he's really hoping there will eventually be some indication that they're dreaming.

He feels something pass through his wards, but they're so strongly geared toward warning him about Heavenly angels, it feels like a light, innocuous touch. He's inclined to assume it's just a deliveryman or a new neighbor until the door actually unlocks itself and opens, and then he starts, mildly alarmed, and hurriedly teleports his way out from beneath Lucifer to rise and stumble toward the door, wings flared and feathers on end. He's not being particularly aggressive, just startled, but he pointedly puts himself between the stranger and the couch.

"I beg your pardon. In my dimension, we usually knock before entering." He knows at a glance this isn't one of his siblings, and his wards would have pushed back against a threat, but being walked in on like this is a little unsettling regardless.

[azazael]

The angel suddenly appearing, at least to Azazael's distracted perceptions, causes him to step back. In his world displaying wings like this is definitely threatening. His eyes are wide with shock and fear. When his senses come around enough to look closely at the angel his eyes get even wider.

He stands there dumbfounded for a second until the other angel starts to speak. His immediate reaction is so ritualized that the motions are stiff and swift. His hat is off, he drops to one knee, head bowed, wings closed and arched over his back. This was trained formality, an instinct once he realized the angel challenging his presence was the King's angel. He's trying to stay still but he's so nervous that his wings continue to shift.

"I'm sorry." The words come out apprehensive. Azazael isn't sure what to expect. Then thinks to add, "My Lord." just as a precaution, though he isn't sure what this angel's title should be, lord was a good neutral ground.

[tryingitall]

If he were trying to threaten, he'd be rattling those wings, and might even get out his blade (though he's not about to use it on another angel). He can see how the peacocking would be viewed as aggressive, though, and so when he sees the look of alarm on the stranger's face he eases up a little. Just a little, letting the span of feathers shrink slightly as he fold the wings closer to his back.

And then he's being knelt to, which is very much a new on on him, outside a BDSM scene anyway. Another angel would not do this. Bow, sure. Kneel, no.

He's quiet for a moment, calming himself and struggling to think things through. After a breath or two, he stands down, folding up his wings completely and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "Well...clearly we were raised with different protocol. I'm Balthazar. The title isn't really necessary, but we can discuss all that later. Who are you, again?"

[azazael]

Azazael is used to some of the Fallen who are surly, and worse the Heavenly of his own world which might turn on him instead of listening. This was respect and courtesy of a first meeting. He's not supposed to look until he is given leave to stand but the name draws his eyes up, still wide, to stare at the other angel.

He can't help but wonder if that was his name or that was recently given to him. How odd, if that was the name he had before he met Lucifer. As a linguist the meaning catches his curiosity.

"Azazael, messenger of the King." He almost adds the title again, starts to say it then bites back the words. He's still nervous. Even with the wings closed, this was still a celestial bold enough to cross lines and break rules like Lucifer. Azazael can't quite come to grips with what that means as far as power or how to treat him.

[tryingitall]

Azazael. Balthazar looks at the luminous wings, feels the aura of this uncorrupted angel, and sighs, a little smile crossing his face. "From this Lucifer's world, I presume? Your namesake in my world is...very different."

He holds out his arm, offering to help the young angel up. "Goodness. You really should have knocked; I was startled. But you're welcome here now that I know who you are. You were looking for him, I imagine. He's resting."

[azazael]

He blinks at the "this Lucifer" comment. It did make sense though if there was another place with angels there would be other Lucifers.

"Yes, I serve your Lucifer." He affirms. There's hesitation when he's offered a hand up but he takes it after a moment of internal indecision. Standing he feels the need to explain himself.

"We don't knock. We know if we are permitted to enter or not. This is where my King stays and my station gives me leave to be here."

Azazael glances at the couch, senses the exhaustion and then figures that Lucifer probably hasn't had the time, or energy, to explain nuance to this angel.

The nervousness is starting to fade as he lets go of the other angel's arm, having completely forgotten he was still holding it. Azazael also remembered his hat in his hand and puts that back on too. "He's fought a lot of angels. We didn't know if he'd find his way or not."

[tryingitall]

"We're going to have to work on terminology," he murmurs thoughtfully. His Lucifer. Well...that's probably a more apt designation for the one he's sleeping with than the one from his world that never gave him the time of day, but it feels weird.

"I don't follow your court protocols or hierarchy," he says gently but firmly. "And I don't intend to, except inasmuch as he needs me to, to keep things from going off the rails. And this is my living space as well as his."

He'll talk this over with Lucifer when he's awake again. No point in stressing Azazael out, but Balthazar isn't sure he likes the assumption that because his place is Lucifer's as well, his close confidantes can come and go as they please without at least checking with Balthazar.

They've all got a bit to learn, really. It's weird, but Balthazar can be as patient as he needs to be. "He's got a few significant wounds," he says, "but he seems to be healing some already, slowly but surely. I've done what I can."

"Come to the kitchen, won't you? I'll make cocoa, we can talk there."