Istredd always remembers that Lucifer isn't human, he never gets fooled by the exterior, by the body he knows he is possessing as a host. He may look human and start to have human-adjacent feelings, but ever since Istredd touched his mind the first time, he knows. Lucifer's mind is unique, fascinating, alien. Divine, apparently, but not human. The archangel he showed him once, majestic and bizarre, does feel more like him. But Istredd doubts he would be able to touch him in that body, so he is glad for the vessel.
The rest of the room might as well not exist to him right then. His eyes and attention are fully on Lucifer, especially since they are so close physically. He considers his answer, caressing a thumb against the outside of Lucifer's hand.
I am really not interested in salvation. Sin is frankly not in his mindset of things to worry about. His world is cruel and cold. Sin is something religious people worry about. Moral grayness is where he lives permanently. Grasps at happiness, maybe, or conviction, satisfaction, peace. I lived for years content enough in my research and discovery. No suffering there, although I suppose it would be mundane to most people. He has had extremely bad things happen to him, suffering was on him from a young age, but it wasn't only that.
With all due respect, Lucifer, you lived through billions of years of suffering. Our lifetimes are so small compared to yours, even mine. Human time living in pain? It's a blink of an eye compared to Lucifer's billions. Since Lucifer is blocking some of him from view, the other hand does what it did earlier, just runs along his scaled jacket, intimate but not out of bounds.
If I spent a hundred more years in pain longing for you, our friendship would be worth every moment of it to me. We came from different universes, we should have never met, never had this. So of course I cherish it in every form. Every word rings truly because Lucifer knows he can't lie to him. He probably could, but he'd give it away by trying to block him from seeing.
He smiles though after a second, amused. "But I am very relieved it didn't take a hundred years."
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The rest of the room might as well not exist to him right then. His eyes and attention are fully on Lucifer, especially since they are so close physically. He considers his answer, caressing a thumb against the outside of Lucifer's hand.
I am really not interested in salvation. Sin is frankly not in his mindset of things to worry about. His world is cruel and cold. Sin is something religious people worry about. Moral grayness is where he lives permanently. Grasps at happiness, maybe, or conviction, satisfaction, peace. I lived for years content enough in my research and discovery. No suffering there, although I suppose it would be mundane to most people. He has had extremely bad things happen to him, suffering was on him from a young age, but it wasn't only that.
With all due respect, Lucifer, you lived through billions of years of suffering. Our lifetimes are so small compared to yours, even mine. Human time living in pain? It's a blink of an eye compared to Lucifer's billions. Since Lucifer is blocking some of him from view, the other hand does what it did earlier, just runs along his scaled jacket, intimate but not out of bounds.
If I spent a hundred more years in pain longing for you, our friendship would be worth every moment of it to me. We came from different universes, we should have never met, never had this. So of course I cherish it in every form. Every word rings truly because Lucifer knows he can't lie to him. He probably could, but he'd give it away by trying to block him from seeing.
He smiles though after a second, amused. "But I am very relieved it didn't take a hundred years."