abraxaslogs | am I a villain or a saint?

He doesn't imagine he can keep the ravens put for too long, free-spirited and flighty as they are, but he's been in these woods enough with them that they will definitely side with Lucifer for the time being.

"Oh, that you 'know of', very reassuring. You're letting him walk around without a shadow? Ah, no, I suppose that would be Castiel's gig, trailing at his heels." He thinks of dinner with his brother one of the nights on the boat and makes a face.

"A thank you would be nice, actually." He puts a hand to the side of his face and sniffs. "Just a little bit of acknowledgement from time to time." Says the guy like he doesn't get heaping amounts of indulgence to keep him leveled on a good day. "But no," he says, sounding serious for the first time, "as much as it disgusts me I'd prefer your brother not be a walking murderbot. Even if he is a faction away."

He's not so petulant as to walk away, but he considers it again if only because of how Lucifer plants himself familiarly in the back of Sam's mind. Worse yet is to be on the same page — a fact that Sam is bemoaning amidst what amounts to a stomach grumble.

(How can he be hungry at a time like this? Did he imagine himself that way or is it just the churn of upset expressing itself as something recognizable in this landscape? Couldn't he leave? Why doesn't he just leave?)

"Glad we're on the same page. Did you follow me here just for that?" he asks, assuming. It's easy to assume when Lucifer's involved because even if he's wrong, Sam doesn't feel bad about it.

"Follow you here?" Lucifer blinks. Tilts his head. Laughs. "Uh, no, Sam, contrary to whatever goes on in your head," which the 'not a lot' is implied, "I do like to get out. I like this place."

And he does not know what a Winchester is doing with Wanda, but there's a cool protectiveness--so impossibly rare--that smooths over Lucifer, his body motionless as he watches Sam with a deadly gaze.

"And Wanda?" His voice is low. "She's a friend."

Sam huffs. "Does she know that?"

He can't help but think about his short conversation with Jack Townsend, how he'd sort of alluded to being friends-but-not with Lucifer. And would he be surprised? No. The angel has a way of insinuating himself into lives, existing in such a way that you think you might want him around, or maybe he just looks too lonely to leave be.

Is that the reason Sam's still here? He convinces himself it's little more than morbid fascination, if anything at all.

He is Absolutely Not Friends-But-Not with Jack Freaking Townsend.

Mentorship through necessity is the closest thing they are!

"She does. And before you go off with your Winchester Hero Complex, she also knows who and what I am." He's not going to reveal how similar he and Wanda are; that's not fair at all to Wanda. Doesn't know if Sam even knows Wanda is a witch. "And really, you'll just annoy her if you think you can make decisions for her."

"I'm glad she's the master of her domain," he says, rueful in the way a person can be only if they've had issues with mastering their own domain, so to speak. And the fact that the issue particularly relevant to that happens to be dangling like a limp dick over his head at present doesn't help.

Sam sees the words between the words, he knows the way Lucifer works. It's misdirection and deceit around every corner (unless the truth is more cutting). "Have you told her what you've done?" Maybe he has. Maybe she doesn't care.

Despite Sam's dubiousness about everyone, he hasn't given Wanda nearly the same grief he'd given Geralt, and Geralt's vetted. They are somehow generally analogous in his mind and that's equally sobering considering how little leeway he's given. It's an uncomfortable situation and all Sam can do is hope that Lucifer's been deceiving Wanda, that Wanda's none the wiser to how truly awful he can be.

Hilariously while Lucifer is more or less a master of his own domain--with some flaws--he's not a master of his own appearance.

"She knows why I was Caged," he says. It's close enough. There's some part of him that despite going off the deep end, he still won't quite lie to Sam. The problem is he doesn't entirely know how much Wanda knows, recognizing much later on that she very likely gleamed a lot from him while his mental defenses were shaken.

He tilts his head. "She knows alllll about my family drama." Whether or not she wanted to get involved. Sorry, Wanda. "It's funny to me that you think I have to lie to the people here. Maybe you should try it, Sammy. Opening up to people." He waggles his eyebrows, but his tone remains neutral. "Telling them all your naughty secrets." He laughs.

Similarly, Wanda has found Sam on several occasions when his defenses were low, and while he hadn't detected any kind of obvious probing, there had been more than a few uncomfortably prescient thoughts that had made Sam wonder. Even here and now he suspects that they aren't entirely shielded, like the crows will take back word anyway.

"I don't need to lie," he lies plainly (perhaps also thinking that omission is, as always, inadmissible). And he doesn't consider himself closed off (although his Arcana suggests otherwise) but still he folds tightly around himself and leans all six-and-some on a gnarled root, content enough (apparently) to share this quiet moment with an all-too-familiar face.

Sam sighs. "Is there a reason you're up there? Please, don't let me interrupt your— creeping," he says, gesturing. But he's certainly not moving on, is he?

'I don't need to lie.' Spoken like a liar, and Lucifer's true vessel. Who're you trying to fool, Sam?

"Thorne is suffocating," Lucifer explains. "I prefer the illusion of breathing room instead of a gilded cage." He clicks his tongue towards the ravens. "And her birds like me."

But he finally leaves their presence, a rustle of wings and a disappearing act, to be standing in Sam's immediate space. "The real question," he continues, if Sam doesn't try something inane like stabbing him--not going to be effective in the Horizon, "is why are you here?"

Sam wishes he was surprised, but after a thousand acts just like, he's not anything but perturbed to find Lucifer within striking distance. He sure does love to tempt, but that's the nature of the Devil, isn't it?

"That's certainly a question," Sam agrees obtusely. There isn't any reason he needs to reveal his intentions, although now that he has the opportunity, it crosses mind to lead Lucifer on a wild goose chase. He disregards the feeling, bit only just.

"Does it matter?" he asks, but there's no part of him that wants Lucifer to be interested. He knows better — the guy's obsessed — and in asking he's only trying to bait Sam into more of this bullshit. To his credit, it works. And Sam hates it. "My reasons don't involve you."

"Of course it matters, it has to do with you," and he his definitely obsessive. He waves it off like it's nothing, but it's still stated pointed and matter-of-fact. Which of course means Sam isn't going to tell him, but hey. He's the honest one of the two of them.

He paces away a few steps. Without Lucifer's presence in the tree, the birds look restless, and bored, some of them already moving on to different parts of the woods. He almost tells Sam that Wanda doesn't much like Dean, but opts not to. He doesn't know her relationship with Sam, and he's not about to tarnish another of her interactions with other people.

Look at him. Growth. Cancerous, ugly, friendship growth.

Sam watches, feeling the shift in the surrounding wildlife. He wonders who controls the birds, Wanda or the Singularity. Whether they have a free will or if they're little more than figments. Could a person get lost in these creations? Or lose themselves? And what's their purpose? The concept feels a little too much like your own slice of heaven for Sam's tastes.

"I just needed to clear my head," he finally relents, compelled as much by loneliness as he is by spite. He didn't come here looking for Lucifer and he doesn't want him thinking for even a second that was the case. Not when he knows exactly how to get under Sam's skin.

(He's better at fighting it, he tells himself. He's getting better, at least. Like a road to recovery for any other... affliction, there's bound to be bumps in the road as it stretches ahead.)

Sam wets his lips and asks, "Why Solvunn?" Lucifer hadn't pointed it out for its color alone, so this time Sam takes the bait.

He'll allow Sam his out, if only because there may be some truth to it if Lucifer is here for similar reasons.

"They preached non-interference."

He rolls his eyes. He has so many opinions about That.

He folds his arms and leans against a tree.

"The 'neutral' party, though that's started to finally lose some recognition. Thorne and Free Cities focuses on their constant hatesex and ignores Solvunn. Even though Solvunn was actively trying to lay claim to the contested Badlands, which would give them territory near the Singularity--despite believing it should be left as it always has been. Maybe they simply want to keep a closer eye on it because of the rest of the factions," he jeers. "Reeks of suspicion to me."

It's not even getting into the rest of it, but there's your Mini Lesson, Samuel.

There's always that moment of uncertainty where Sam has to decide if Lucifer is telling the truth or winding him up. Maybe it's always both. The words roll out the same way, anyway, and the part that really unsettles Sam is how he's never quite disinterested enough to stop listening. Worse yet if he agrees, as if Lucifer can't be right.

Unfortunately, Sam knows otherwise. It haunts him in a way and it's moments like these that he wishes he would have brought along some company so he'd be too ashamed to engage so willingly. Jo, if anyone, because she's less likely to act. Dean probably would have blown his top by now.

"I guess some things are universal," Sam says, not wanting to agree or disagree even if it sounds plenty plausible. All he knows of Solvunn is what he's told and even that suffers without context.

Sam picks at a piece of bark, breaking off pieces and tossing them away. Diverting, he asks, "How long have you been here now?"

Always falling into the same natural patterns, again and again, inescapable. If Sam fought against it more, he'd just find himself closer to Lucifer's machinations. Really, Lucifer doesn't even have to try. He knows that eventually that Sam will find his way back to him.

One day, maybe Sam will accept that.

In the moment though, Lucifer sighs like the rest of his grace is escaping his body. His complaint is loud, immature, and like he's communicating with an old friend. "Seven months! Can you believe it!"

Sam huffs. There have been days, certainly, where they're easily old friends, just not the kind of friends that are good for each other.

"Seven months, wow. And you've settled somewhere provincial and made friends," he says, unable to keep himself from taking the opportunity for a short jab. But it certainly does highlight for Sam how Abraxas has taken out their teeth, their nails, whatever else it pleases. Never mind the supposed gifts. He almost asks Lucifer what he's been bestowed but realizes he doesn't want to know lest they have to discuss someone believing in Lucifer enough to reward him.

Clearing his throat, Sam gestures vaguely. "Did you make one of these for yourself?" And how does Sam ensure he doesn't stumble his way into it?

Maybe a few months ago Sam's jab would've impacted him. Maybe a month from now it would be able to land a different blow entirely. That's the way of Abraxas.

Or maybe just Lucifer.

He gives Sam a look like he's an idiot. "Uh, the ability to create? Something that, oh, my kindest Father didn't think his children deserved?" Please, Sam. "Of course I have a domain. What, don't you? Or did you, like your brother, also steal that blonde's establishment as yours?"

Of course. Why is he even surprised? The sins of the father have always been the same, an old theme, rote in its application through all things. Lucifer helped invent the (religious) constraints of the parent/child relationship so it's unlikely he needs reminded how much it sucks, but when it's all you have, it's all you ever think about, he supposes. Sam wonders briefly if Lucifer finds reason to blame God for a split stream when the piss hits his own boot, knowing as he does that Lucifer often applies reason to others but excuses this in his own relationships. Certainly, when it came to (and still comes to) Sam, his reason has been lacking.

"Honestly? I don't trust the process. Maybe I've had a few too unwelcome visitors," Sam says, indicating his head. "So, for now? Yeah, sure, I'll suffer the discomfort of being uncreative in exchange for family and security." It's kept Lucifer out, hasn't it? So, mission accomplished.

"I have seen and experienced the Horizon corrupted more than once," he says, almost like a teacher acknowledging a student for a good thought. His manipulations of Sam Winchester is something, by this point, that he simply can't turn off, the different angles to come at the man.

And anyway, Lucifer's basically claimed partial ownership--with permission--over another person's domain. He's a hypocrite, as always.

The confirmation creates a flicker of disdain and Sam acknowledges how he hates being right the most when it's in agreement with Lucifer. Despite all of that, he's relieved in a way to have company in this suspicion; so many others seem to just assume the best, or look well past because it feels too good to have something of yourself (especially so easily shared).

"What happened?" If he doesn't ask he'll wonder.

Sam makes it so easy. To establish a reason to trust Lucifer. To see the resource in the devil, though weakened as he is. To let Lucifer in.

"Around when I first arrived, many were plagued by the... mm, nightmares, around them and tried to escape to the Horizon. Pieces of their domains would be corrupted. That wasn't so unusual; if you assume the Horizon works with a connection to our minds, if the creator is out of sorts, the domain may mirror it, mm?"

"So that wasn't so much the abnormal part. But around that time, first it was... flickers." He holds up a finger just at the edge of his own peripheral vision. "An image, just a flash, almost out of the corner of the eye, and only when arriving to the Horizon. Had a visible arcana attached to it somewhere, engraved maybe. Different than my own, but I didn't hear too much about it from others, I just know it wasn't rare."

He takes a few steps out, slightly ahead of Sam, facing him. "Then there was the heralds; I should hope someone told you about them." Lucifer's so much anti-other-deity but he won't deny how strongly those few weeks affected him. "People were getting trapped in parts of the Horizon, in areas that were not domains of any of the Summoned. Minutes, to hours. Unable to receive communication, unable to pull themselves out. Also with a featured arcana marking it. Multiple different, unknown, no reason locations."

Hard enough to make sense of any of this as-is, but Lucifer's additions only itch at a distrustful part of Sam that demands no more intrusions. He only needs one voice in his head, so to speak, and just the idea that something as sinister (or more so) than his current list of concerns makes him that much more relieved to know his own brain-space is intermingled with those he trusts most. If something (or someone) comes looking there for Sam (up to and including Lucifer), resistance is bound to be met.

"It sounds like you're telling ghost stories," Sam says with a huff. It's meant to be a joke, but the gravity generated between Lucifer finding it worth mentioning and Sam's disinterest in being an experiment (brain laid open to whatever else AGAIN) means that he can't help a small expression of his own concern over those shared details.

He watches Lucifer for a moment, then walks past him at a leisurely pace, sort of expecting he'll come along side (or otherwise get the picture that Sam is on his way out one way or another).

"Oh, believe me, I wish I was," he says. He's had the misfortune of being a pawn to the Singularity's web from the moment he crawled out of a fountain in Thorne. For as much as he wishes he could just ignore it, live and let live, he's rapidly learned that he needed to go about things differently.

For God's sake he's been learning magic. Him! The devil himself! True, actual Abraxan magic, like a chump!

This is where his need for survival has gotten him and he despises everything about it!

He is not revealing that tidbit to Sam, of course. He'll be open with Sam about some parts of himself, things that people have already figured out, things he isn't really revealing but Sam might grab a hold of and find himself once more in Lucifer's sights before he realizes.

He does not follow Sam.

Sam can think of it whatever he will. Like it's some new game of Lucifer's.

Honestly, Lucifer just doesn't want to show up with another surprise at Wanda's front door. It's the only kindness he can grant her. If Sam reads deceit, so be it. Not everything is about him. Ha.

He does whistle out to the only raven remaining on Lucifer's previous perch. Staccato, Lucifer's accidentally-named bird. The raven doesn't move, but fluffs its wings to show it's acknowledged the sudden attention. Lucifer calls out: "Get him to where he wants to go."

The bird waits, considers this, and then swoops down by Sam and then back up to a further tree along the precarious, unknown path.

"I'd get going if I were you," Lucifer tells Sam. "They do eventually grow impatient." He doesn't tell Sam that once the birds start getting impatient they will actively "help" more than idle guides. Can't give his vessel all the answers; where's the fun in that?

am I a villain or a saint?

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