Hilariously, Lucifer doesn't hear the yell either, already in his own world.
It's not that Kyle's message is too late, but it's that it doesn't matter much to Lucifer.
He told Lenore that the only one that ultimately mattered was Josselyn Creed. He meant that. Anyone else was just fodder. A bunch of unknown cloaked figures that were likely blinded by faith and had as much information as any of the Summoned on their ritual shroom high.
Lucifer doesn't bother drawing his own blade and that only cements just how wrong the scene is. He doesn't further acknowledge Kyle just as he doesn't make it known that he sees the scrawl of writing across snow. He's already descended on the acolyte with inhuman speed, taking a cut across his arm in what should have been easily avoidable but he wanted to feel the sharpness of it.
"Ah, ah, ah," Lucifer tsks, then shushes the man, cracking bones as he wraps his palm over the hand holding the blade, and turns the knife back towards the acolyte. He might as well have said stop hitting yourself on top of it all, cutting in.
There is an intensity of Lucifer savoring the kill, drawn out torture that only in reality takes moments, all knife work and impossible strength. A mangled corpse dropping and blood crystallizing on snow and then Lucifer's gaze sets their focus on the second acolyte, so nicely corralled by Kyle.
cw: blood, pointless violence
It's not that Kyle's message is too late, but it's that it doesn't matter much to Lucifer.
He told Lenore that the only one that ultimately mattered was Josselyn Creed. He meant that. Anyone else was just fodder. A bunch of unknown cloaked figures that were likely blinded by faith and had as much information as any of the Summoned on their ritual shroom high.
Lucifer doesn't bother drawing his own blade and that only cements just how wrong the scene is. He doesn't further acknowledge Kyle just as he doesn't make it known that he sees the scrawl of writing across snow. He's already descended on the acolyte with inhuman speed, taking a cut across his arm in what should have been easily avoidable but he wanted to feel the sharpness of it.
"Ah, ah, ah," Lucifer tsks, then shushes the man, cracking bones as he wraps his palm over the hand holding the blade, and turns the knife back towards the acolyte. He might as well have said stop hitting yourself on top of it all, cutting in.
There is an intensity of Lucifer savoring the kill, drawn out torture that only in reality takes moments, all knife work and impossible strength. A mangled corpse dropping and blood crystallizing on snow and then Lucifer's gaze sets their focus on the second acolyte, so nicely corralled by Kyle.