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GIP
*pokes the Anthy-angst*
Base graciously stolen from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shati, whose Utena icons have to be seen to be believed. So. Much. Pretty.
All right, all right, I'll add something else so that I'm not just spamming your flist with my icon appreciation.
Slowly scribbling out some Hob/Lucifer interaction and resolution, because if I can't RP it then it's got to fight its way out of my consciousness somehow.
~
It’s at this moment that he has a revelation. It could almost be called an epiphany, but those are both words with overtones too religious for his liking. It is, simply, this:
He has spent many lifetimes doing what he wants to do, not beholden to the desires or orders of any other being. Upon a rare moment of self-examination, he awakens to the fact that what is keeping him from acting is something else – pride, possibly, which has always been high among his motives but not exclusively so. Stubbornness. A point being proved – but what is he proving?
Lucifer Morningstar stands gracefully and walks across the room to take exactly what he wants, just as he always has.
“Ah…” He takes the Lady’s wrist deftly, not a hint of uncertainty or concern on his face, and completely ignores Hob; the man is falling back into his chair, shaking in some strange mixture of relief, pain, anger, shock…
“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?” Her smile is impish, pleased, with a hint of surprise to be seen around its corners if you know her well.
“You can stop this, now.” A sharp intake of breath from behind him. His gaze doesn’t move.
“Do you presume to break your word, Morningstar?” A flippant toss of her hair, but she watches him seriously, shaking her wrist free of his grasp.
Smile, incline your head, say it like you’ve got nothing to lose –
“I forfeit the wager. You have a favour of mine, Lady.”
“Well, now,” she breathes, green eyes wide and far too expressive for monochromatic ovals, flickering to Hob and back again. “It has a hea–”
“I wouldn’t,” he says softly, and she remembers the pain. She subsides, the spark of delight in her face fainter but still present, and brings her lips to his ear.
“He means a little too much, doesn’t he?”
“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Lucifer smiles and runs a finger down the side of her face, speaking in a tone too low to be overheard. “I am claiming a soul that is mine.”
“And he is, isn’t he? More than any of those wretched sinners you ensnare. I doubt you could be rid of him even if you tried.”
“I –”
“But you’ve already found that out, haven’t you?” Her voice is light but infused with certainty. “You’ve already tried that particular experiment…”
“Lady.” He laughs, and it doesn’t sound forced in the slightest. “If you’ve finished examining my motives sufficiently, do you think we can conclude our business?”
“A favour, you said.” A green fan appears in her hand, furled and slender, something to tap thoughtfully against her chin. “Tempting, my lord, but I think I’ll waive it just this once.”
“That is unexpected.” It’s almost a question.
“The Morningstar is unwisely concerned with the well being of a human soul, immortal though it may be. That’s enough of a payment for me.” She disappears before he can voice a denial, but he doubts he would have bothered to anyway.
Lucifer does not turn, for a while, he stands and he looks into the empty space where Luck stood, smiling faintly. It looks as though he’s forgotten the entire reason for the pleased air dancing around his being.
There is a sigh from behind him, resignation mixed with something else, and a soft English voice that isn’t quite sure what reaction it’s going to get.
“Why did you do that?”
~
(insert more random dialogue that-I-have-not-yet-worked-out here!)
~
He thinks for a while, aligning the words in his head, working out the truths and the nuances that will serve him best here. It takes longer than normal, because Hob is learning; slowly, but with the persistent ability of those in the grips of an irritatingly unshakeable love; learning to read him and to see further than most.
“He was exactly what I needed at the time. He was a means to an end, and while he had your masochistic streak he blatantly indulged it rather than blocking it out. The closest thing to love to be found in his mind was for someone else entirely.” Something seems to be melting in Hob’s sharp eyes, diamond turning liquid and wary. Lucifer does not touch him, but his eyes meet the softening with a brilliant intimacy of their own even as his voice rises and falls in quiet, formal cadences. “I should not have punished you for leaving when it was I who sent you away. I am sorry.”
There are some who might say that the devil has never apologised, but they would be wrong. Every generation or so he deems it necessary, in the depths of his own brand of honour, and it denotes that the receiver has earned some measure of his respect.
Hob Gadling could not know this. All he can hear is words that he would never have thought to hear, and all he can see are red eyes almost teasing against a dark, lovely face.
~
*dies pathetically of own waff*
Lucifer cravings = slightly appeased.
Base graciously stolen from
shati, whose Utena icons have to be seen to be believed. So. Much. Pretty. All right, all right, I'll add something else so that I'm not just spamming your flist with my icon appreciation.
Slowly scribbling out some Hob/Lucifer interaction and resolution, because if I can't RP it then it's got to fight its way out of my consciousness somehow.
~
It’s at this moment that he has a revelation. It could almost be called an epiphany, but those are both words with overtones too religious for his liking. It is, simply, this:
He has spent many lifetimes doing what he wants to do, not beholden to the desires or orders of any other being. Upon a rare moment of self-examination, he awakens to the fact that what is keeping him from acting is something else – pride, possibly, which has always been high among his motives but not exclusively so. Stubbornness. A point being proved – but what is he proving?
Lucifer Morningstar stands gracefully and walks across the room to take exactly what he wants, just as he always has.
“Ah…” He takes the Lady’s wrist deftly, not a hint of uncertainty or concern on his face, and completely ignores Hob; the man is falling back into his chair, shaking in some strange mixture of relief, pain, anger, shock…
“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?” Her smile is impish, pleased, with a hint of surprise to be seen around its corners if you know her well.
“You can stop this, now.” A sharp intake of breath from behind him. His gaze doesn’t move.
“Do you presume to break your word, Morningstar?” A flippant toss of her hair, but she watches him seriously, shaking her wrist free of his grasp.
Smile, incline your head, say it like you’ve got nothing to lose –
“I forfeit the wager. You have a favour of mine, Lady.”
“Well, now,” she breathes, green eyes wide and far too expressive for monochromatic ovals, flickering to Hob and back again. “It has a hea–”
“I wouldn’t,” he says softly, and she remembers the pain. She subsides, the spark of delight in her face fainter but still present, and brings her lips to his ear.
“He means a little too much, doesn’t he?”
“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Lucifer smiles and runs a finger down the side of her face, speaking in a tone too low to be overheard. “I am claiming a soul that is mine.”
“And he is, isn’t he? More than any of those wretched sinners you ensnare. I doubt you could be rid of him even if you tried.”
“I –”
“But you’ve already found that out, haven’t you?” Her voice is light but infused with certainty. “You’ve already tried that particular experiment…”
“Lady.” He laughs, and it doesn’t sound forced in the slightest. “If you’ve finished examining my motives sufficiently, do you think we can conclude our business?”
“A favour, you said.” A green fan appears in her hand, furled and slender, something to tap thoughtfully against her chin. “Tempting, my lord, but I think I’ll waive it just this once.”
“That is unexpected.” It’s almost a question.
“The Morningstar is unwisely concerned with the well being of a human soul, immortal though it may be. That’s enough of a payment for me.” She disappears before he can voice a denial, but he doubts he would have bothered to anyway.
Lucifer does not turn, for a while, he stands and he looks into the empty space where Luck stood, smiling faintly. It looks as though he’s forgotten the entire reason for the pleased air dancing around his being.
There is a sigh from behind him, resignation mixed with something else, and a soft English voice that isn’t quite sure what reaction it’s going to get.
“Why did you do that?”
~
(insert more random dialogue that-I-have-not-yet-worked-out here!)
~
He thinks for a while, aligning the words in his head, working out the truths and the nuances that will serve him best here. It takes longer than normal, because Hob is learning; slowly, but with the persistent ability of those in the grips of an irritatingly unshakeable love; learning to read him and to see further than most.
“He was exactly what I needed at the time. He was a means to an end, and while he had your masochistic streak he blatantly indulged it rather than blocking it out. The closest thing to love to be found in his mind was for someone else entirely.” Something seems to be melting in Hob’s sharp eyes, diamond turning liquid and wary. Lucifer does not touch him, but his eyes meet the softening with a brilliant intimacy of their own even as his voice rises and falls in quiet, formal cadences. “I should not have punished you for leaving when it was I who sent you away. I am sorry.”
There are some who might say that the devil has never apologised, but they would be wrong. Every generation or so he deems it necessary, in the depths of his own brand of honour, and it denotes that the receiver has earned some measure of his respect.
Hob Gadling could not know this. All he can hear is words that he would never have thought to hear, and all he can see are red eyes almost teasing against a dark, lovely face.
~
*dies pathetically of own waff*
Lucifer cravings = slightly appeased.
no subject
no subject
I have all these ideas floating around my head, though Lucifer is batting down most of them as being ridiculously emotional.
Graduating in four weeks time! W00t!