abraxaslogs | I don't trust, but I see right in front of me

"You should take it into consideration," he says, "lost, looking for a flower in the woods, alone?" He slips back as the cat follows the direction of its tail and lunges for him. He makes two dodges and drives his spear down into the ground just shy of one of its paws--purposefully missing, but getting it to draw away for a moment.

Giving itself space to get a charging strike, Lucifer thinks. Watching and calculating them just as Lucifer's been observing it.

"Tad suicidal, you think?" he continues.

Any time she laments how un-fun this is, it only makes her more amusing. She's not helping her own circumstances.

"Do you know what a anglerfish is?" He pulls his spear back out of the ground. He's only ever seen them hunt solo, but he's cautious anyway that something else is going to take advantage of him being chatty. Predators don't differentiate between Annoying Chatter and Instructional Chatter. "It's like that. Distracts you, draws your focus so it can tear your throat out."

Her eyes dart from the large creature to the man for a brief moment, mouth falling open in disbelief. It prompts her to snip back, "Suicidal? Don't you think that's a little extreme to be calling something as innocent as going to find a particular flower suicidal?"

"The herbalist told me that it was close to the entrance of the hunting grounds." Her voice is less accusatory and more of a whine than anything else. Hilda is well aware that she's the one at fault for getting lost in the first place but she's still reluctant to admit as much, especially to someone that is more likely to mock her for it than comfort or sympathize with her.

His explanation isn't comforting - but then again, nothing about this man screams comfort to her right in this moment. Before she can reply the cat lunges for her, jaws stretched wide and gaping. Had she not spun her lance up, it probably would have torn at her throat. Hilda's muscles strain as she pushes back against the Gealaci Kucing. "This is the furthest thing from anglerfish!"

Don't worry there's only like five people that Lucifer's arrival would be a comfort to and even then it might be a stretch depending on the day.

"No, it's completely accurate," he says plainly. Don't come into the woods if you're not planning for something to go Horribly Wrong; that's Lucifer stance. It's just smarter than way.

She wasn't prepared for getting lost, ergo she's suicidal.

"You are very much not close to the entrance of the Hunting Grounds!" he continues, in more of a laugh than she'd likely prefer, but he does finally go on the offensive and get a strike nicely embedded in the creature's side and digging in deeper to hold it wriggling in place.

Ideally this is where a smart hunter would take a strike but he's already deemed her as not very smart, so, he might have to take a different approach.

"How do you know? I was there when anglerfish were born, were you?"

It's really not her fault that she's lived a mostly charmed life (if you ignore the war she's currently fighting at home) and has more or less expected the things she experiences to pan out in a similar fashion, okay? Or may be it is. Regardless, getting lost and taking a wrong turn definitely hadn't been in the plans. Then again, neither had running across a gigantic glowing cat and a snarky man who was judging her for it.

"No kidding!" Hilda's reply is punctuated by a heave as she pushes the jaws away from her with a snarl of her own. He probably hadn't meant to give her an opportunity to do that, but it yowls at the strike. The creature attempts to turn on him exposing his other side. With its attention diverted, Hilda aims her spear right into its throat.

The gurgling yowl is outraged as she presses it further into its flesh but the furrow Hilda's brow has more to do with her confusion at what he's said than concentrating on this. "Of course I wasn't! And I know you look old but you don't look that old. You know a skin care routine would really help with that."

It's probably obvious that she doesn't believe him.

Oh good, she's not completely incompetent. This feels a lot like a cat trying to teach a human how to kill a mouse, honestly, but he turns his attention to check around them as he angles his spear to take the last of the killing blow, though she had done well enough of a job. The blood is already pooling, running little rivulets away from the body.

She should have seen him when ol' Nick's body couldn't contain him. Skin flaking and sores, burning the vessel from the inside, out.

Super great time.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," he drawls. "I happen to look stellar for a few billion years. You're just scrawny."

They didn't seem to draw any other attention, and a scan of the trees has nothing else waiting to pounce while they're distracted.

There was a lot that was delivered in the snark that she can't address all of it. Thankfully the scrawny comment is one of the things she can at least let pass with nothing more than a wrinkle of her nose. She wishes she were scrawny. Then her claims to being a delicate flower wouldn't be met with any skepticism.

"A billion years?" That definitely draws a startled look from her as she hefts the spear out of the still warm body. The noise it makes is less than appetizing and the surprise turns to a grimace at the sound of it. The visceral on the spear is shucked off with a bit of a heft.

When there's enough of it off she turns to him still incredulously confused as ever. But once she's certain that he isn't just feigning safety she fully turns to him asking, "Do people that are billions of years old develop awful cranky attitudes as a side effect?" She would have thanked him for not leaving her to die but...you know. Priorities.

He pulls his spear free and thumps the hilt down, tilting the weapon to run a finger carefully over the bloodied blade to keep from slicing his own skin, rubbing the odd blood between his fingers to test the consistency.

But hey, at least he's not licking it.

"Yes, actually, they do," he says in complete seriousness because honestly... there is some accuracy to it. She should meet all his siblings. Not to mention his Father--he's the crankiest old bastard himself. "You'd be cranky too if you were expected to deal with everyone's problems."

Except he got locked up but she doesn't need to know that.

Sir, please. Licking the blood of a large cat with a glowing tail can't be good for you let alone hygienic. What if there were some weird, funky side effects that came with it? The list of things that she's qualified to do is already pretty slim and shockingly, dealing with someone dealing with the effects of potentially hallucinogenic blood is not on that list.

Her eyes track his hand as he rubs the finger between his fingers wondering if there's a purpose behind it. Hilda's thoughts are momentarily sidetracked though when the seriousness colours that response. Huh. Maybe he isn't bluffing. "Are you some kind of ruler or something?" Why else would he have to deal with people's problems?

He drops his hand. "I was King of Hell before coming here," he says blandly. So, yes. He had to deal with a bunch of ankle-biting, backstabbing, ugly-worshiping, pains-in-the-asses children that he was the original creator of, so he only has himself to blame for how much he despises them.

They had to be the gum underfoot humanity's shoes for his point to be made about humans.

(He was also technically, what-would-have-been temporarily dethroned, but he never tells people that).

He gives her an annoyed, tired look, leaning on his spear.

"Your flower is supposed to be near the entrance? What's it look like?"

What's the point of 'helping' her out of her predicament if she's just going to get more lost and still die. If she wanders off again this whole farce literally would have been a waste of his time.

King of Hell. Bit of a weird name for a country or a kingdom, but who is she to judge? After all, she isn't in the business of naming places. That sounds like far too much responsibility for her tastes. Before she can inquire further though, she finds herself taken aback by his question because it doesn't quite match up with the clearly annoyed expression on his face.

Meanwhile Hilda's expression is clearly a little bit doubtful - or suspicious if you wanted to venture out on a limb and say that. "They're meant to look similar to lily of the valleys but a little bit larger. And they glow in the moonlight so they shouldn't be too hard to find." Assuming you don't get lost.

There's a brief pause before she asks dryly, "Why are you going to be mean and send me off in the wrong direction?"

"What's the point of letting you get killed now? As amusing as it is to watch people run about in chaos, I would've just let you die here."

Come on, get with the program.

It does probably give away that he had considered letting her die.

But don't worry about that.

Hilda can't read minds but she can definitely pick out subtext. Her dry look falls completely flat. It's hard to keep the attitude out of her reply but it feels warranted considering he had stepped in only when it looked like she had been having trouble with the big cat.

"My lord is so kind to me," she says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. But the way she sees it unfortunately is either trying her lucky with the King of Hell or relying on her hopeless sense of direction. "Lead the way then, I guess - is there a name I can call you? Because I definitely don't plan on addressing you as 'King of Hell'. It's such a mouthful."

Sarcasm or not the comment still fills him with unhealthy levels of delight. What can he say? It's been awhile since anyone called him 'my lord.'

He does peel off into a direction, different from where she had been coming from and walking towards. So clearly she was quite turned away.

"Lucifer," he answers.

Most people might not have offered their own name back in return after a ridiculous exchange like this, but decorum and her upbringing dictate that she take the less petty road. Before she can reply however, the King of Hell is already striding away.

Of course he doesn't say anything as he heads off. Hilda lets out a noise of annoyance. "I'm Hilda - not that that matters apparently," she huffs out before muttering the last bit as she hurries to catch up with him towards what she hopes is her flower. And if he doesn't and ditches her somewhere? Well, that's a bridge she'll have to cross if they come to it.

This the last time she ever comes into the hunting grounds by herself that's for sure.

He files her name away somewhere with the mental notes loud, annoying, not completely useless because names are important. He's actually not one to judge if someone doesn't respond with their name because Lucifer for the longest time in Thorne was against introducing himself to anyone. Too used to the reactions an identity gave him.

It hasn't been bad lately and it also doesn't matter what he wants, he's put a target on his back alongside Istredd. He can use his damned name.

By some absolute miracle he does get her near the entrance of the Hunting Grounds and doesn't even step on the flower she's been searching for, one hand in a pocket, the other holding his spear close.

He nods in the direction for how she gets out. "Don't get lost again. I'll let you die next time," he says, before turning and dipping back into the shadows to leave her to her own devices.

I don't trust, but I see right in front of me

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