"Does it actually?" he asks. "Or is that just what they told you happens."
Lucifer, ever-questioning authority, even when it's not anyone in relation to him, not even his world.
There's a trill underneath the catty layers of Lucifer's mind, pinpricks of radiance through cracking dry muck. Easily, purposefully overlooked. Lucifer hums, almost as wrong as his whistle, this eerie, lulled. He has not taken his eyes from Istredd's once since he grabbed him.
He seems startlingly pleased for a moment. "Called out, hmm. I thought I could make it longer toying around. Well. Normally? Because it's fun," he says with a snap, but there's a note to his thoughts that discourage Istredd from pulling away. "A quick snack, feeding on pain, misery." He twists his grip on Istredd's wrist. "You though?" his voice softens, becoming neutral. "Sure, there's testing boundaries." And his other fun, harmless passes, not the opposite end of the spectrum that this blatant display had been.
"But. It's cracks," he says.
For as much as Lucifer badmouths humanity, he sure does reference things from it a lot. Heaven and Hell are so cut and dry, humanity is all he's got to pull from.
"There is a practice called kintsugi. It's about repairing broken pottery using gold." Or some other material dusted with powdered gold, he's not sure, that doesn't matter. "Highlighting and honoring the damage instead of sealing it up like it's nothing, like it never happened. Making beauty to imperfections, failure."
I can't find all your cracks, Lucifer says plainly, yet.
They can't fill the lines back in until they knows where the breaks are, and finding where the weak points are, what's holding strong in spite of everything.
Istredd's there. He sees him, mind and body, but he's a ghost of his full self.
Can't think Lucifer could patch a mind back together than balk at the method. Lucifer never does anything typical of most people.
He grins and finally releases Istredd's wrist, spreading his palms. "That though," he says, nodding to the treasured book, and the grin shifts to a smile. "Is you."
no subject
Lucifer, ever-questioning authority, even when it's not anyone in relation to him, not even his world.
There's a trill underneath the catty layers of Lucifer's mind, pinpricks of radiance through cracking dry muck. Easily, purposefully overlooked. Lucifer hums, almost as wrong as his whistle, this eerie, lulled. He has not taken his eyes from Istredd's once since he grabbed him.
He seems startlingly pleased for a moment. "Called out, hmm. I thought I could make it longer toying around. Well. Normally? Because it's fun," he says with a snap, but there's a note to his thoughts that discourage Istredd from pulling away. "A quick snack, feeding on pain, misery." He twists his grip on Istredd's wrist. "You though?" his voice softens, becoming neutral. "Sure, there's testing boundaries." And his other fun, harmless passes, not the opposite end of the spectrum that this blatant display had been.
"But. It's cracks," he says.
For as much as Lucifer badmouths humanity, he sure does reference things from it a lot. Heaven and Hell are so cut and dry, humanity is all he's got to pull from.
"There is a practice called kintsugi. It's about repairing broken pottery using gold." Or some other material dusted with powdered gold, he's not sure, that doesn't matter. "Highlighting and honoring the damage instead of sealing it up like it's nothing, like it never happened. Making beauty to imperfections, failure."
I can't find all your cracks, Lucifer says plainly, yet.
They can't fill the lines back in until they knows where the breaks are, and finding where the weak points are, what's holding strong in spite of everything.
Istredd's there. He sees him, mind and body, but he's a ghost of his full self.
Can't think Lucifer could patch a mind back together than balk at the method. Lucifer never does anything typical of most people.
He grins and finally releases Istredd's wrist, spreading his palms. "That though," he says, nodding to the treasured book, and the grin shifts to a smile. "Is you."