nexuses | can't a man have some coffee in peace

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can't a man have some coffee in peace

[The thread that connects him to the supreme primarch's power has unraveled, taking with it his wings. Rent of what makes him an archangel, he's no better than a human with a purpose thrust unto him by a weakened witch. All in all, the whole situation reeks of nonsense.

Indolence won't help his brooding any. Sandalphon tours the city instead, pointedly taking the less populated path. Even then, too many people approach him with their wares and saccharine smiles, and he rebuffs each one with a single-word response. It's not soon enough when he slips into a shop that smells faintly of coffee, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But even here, the employees jump at every person to come around. Sandalphon grits his teeth in reflex annoyance when a rehearsed greeting and a request for an order is thrown his way. He hadn't intended to buy anything. Still, he can't just turn around and leave.]

Fine. Give me coffee.

[That unleashes a whole new can of beans. Regular or decaf? Perhaps a mocha, a latte, or a cappucino? And what about ice?

Does any of this matter? No one makes coffee like Lucifer. It hasn't been more than two hours, and Sandalphon wants to quit Shehui.]

That doesn't matter to me. Make what you want.

[At the very least, the service is quick—too quick. Sandalphon eyes the cup in his grasp with mild suspicion. What's with the lid?]

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[The coffee is a lost cause. There's no salvaging the spilled drink—but he does pick the lid and empty cup off of the floor, and an employee is already rushing over to mop up the mess. He dumps the waste into the nearest bin, then spins on his heels to eye the burgeoning crowd.

The culprit who'd knocked into his drink is long gone. Inwardly, Sandalphon thinks, What nonsense.

—or so he assumes. Without realizing, he has directed his thought outward.

That's more than enough. With a final glare, he turns away to exit the shop and free himself from this hell.]

[It's the sound of those familiar words in his head that immediately pull Lucifer's attention away from the menu and the doting employee. Had he really heard that? He supposed it was possible—apparently, telepathy was a thing that did not require much skill or effort for those who had been brought here like he had. But it almost feels too good to be true. (And that's such a selfish thing. For the sake of others, it'd be better if it weren't true, but for his own...)

Well, there was only one way to find out, and he'd rather know sooner rather than later. He might be wrong, but...

'Sandalphon? Is that you?'

He has a hundred questions, but that's a good place to start.]

[The voice is like a swift punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of Sandalphon. He pauses mid stride on the street, less than a yard from the door, with wide eyes and an unnatural tension set in his shoulders.

The noise of everyday life in Shehui fades into the background. In its absence, white noise seems to fill his mind.

In his shock, his thoughts have frozen and he manages only an audible whisper of pure disbelief.]

Lucifer?

[He waits for a moment, but there's no response. Had he been wrong?

'Perhaps I imagined it.' Unfortunate, but probably for the best. 'If I've intruded upon your thoughts, I apologize.'

It would be better if Sandalphon wasn't here, but maybe a part of him couldn't help this wishful thinking, that if he could be here, then— maybe he could see him again, if only once.

Well, back to the doting employee, who's actually just ecstatic that Lucifer is paying attention to her again—]

[It had to have been the wind. There's no way that he could have heard Lucifer's voice with such warm clarity, even if those words had sounded more achingly real than anything his memory can possibly conjure.

But there can be no doubt now. The voice continues in his head like it's the most natural correspondence, and Sandalphon, in his panic, scrambles at the notion of being left behind.

'Wait, Lucifer!']

[Stop... You'll give him dokis...

But finally, there's the response, and it's— well, it's a little worrisome, but it's a relief to hear it, too. As the barista happily heads off to make his drink for him, Lucifer finds himself relaxing a bit. Even though he can't see him, his heart feels at ease.

'I thought I heard your voice.' His thoughts sound content, despite the panic in Sandalphon's own. He's just— happy. 'Where are you?']

['I . . . '. He doesn't understand. Has he truly gone mad, in spite of all the progress he's made between the Cataclysm and now? That can't be.

He'd prayed for Lucifer's soul to find peace. To backtrack on that and indulge in this would be the same as spitting on the previous supreme primarch. Irrational, in other words.

Yet Sandalphon fears the voice leaving his mind, and so he thinks, 'Outside, in this place called Shehui. The shops are more crowded than the streets.'

Does the voice know about Shehui? Is it real? Or, by following the sweet aroma of coffee, has his yearning somehow manifested with perfect imitation of the cadence and resonance of such a soothing sound? (Impossible. His memories are a faint thing these days. Even something like Lucifer's voice is beyond him now.)

He can't remember a time when Lucifer had sounded so happy.]

['I would like to meet with you.'

He didn't know this place well yet, and maybe it shouldn't be his priority, but— he wanted to. It had been so long since he'd last seen him, let alone spoken to him. He wanted to make sure that he was well.

Even if he shouldn't be here.

So when the barista finally finishes with his drink...s, Lucifer is finally able to escape the shop. He'd look for him all day if he had to. Even if he is currently juggling three(?!) drinks.]

[Lost as he is in his thoughts, time passes quickly for the reluctant Sandalphon. He wears tension like a second skin around his numb body, and it's half of a miracle that he even hears the noise from the shop spilling outside as the instigating source exits. He's only just fully processed Lucifer's words.

He dares to chance a glance, turning halfway before he spies the head of white and eyes of blue. A face that looks healthy. A body that's present and struggling with more drinks than is necessary. Whole. Alive.

Sandalphon's breath hitches. All he can do is stare as if he's seen a corpse.]

[THERE HE IS... SWEET, SWEET SANDALPHON.

He was certainly right—it isn't as crowded out here (for now), so it isn't hard to spot Sandalphon. The expression on his face doesn't go unnoticed, either, but it's understandable, he thinks. At the very least, he must already know that something has happened to him, so it isn't at all strange if he's surprised. Truthfully, it's surprising to Lucifer that he's here, too.

...he should probably do something about this third drink. But even though it shouldn't be too hard to pawn it off or something, he's making his way over to Sandalphon instead, closing the distance between them. First things first and all.]

Is everything alright?

[That's probably a silly question, given his expression very much says it is not. But that was the next most important question, for him.]

[Just like that, the illusion ends. As if a bucket of water has been dumped on him, Sandalphon snaps out of his haze. He clenches his fists, his fingers digging into his palms.

This is Lucifer. No, this looks like Lucifer, whose soul has passed on. It can't be him, no matter how it looks or sounds. Shock wears off to make room for anger as Sandalphon's expression twists into a grimace.]

Is this a joke?

[Oh... Why must he inspire discourse wherever he goes...

Well, at least in this case, Sandalphon's feelings are justified.]

...I see. It must be surprising for you to see me here. [In a way, this isn't a bad thing—they might not be on the same page, but maybe they were close. It was better than having to break that kind of news to him in the first place.] But I assure you, this is no joke. Although I'm uncertain how such a thing is possible, it seems I have not fulfilled my purpose just yet.

[He didn't know this world well enough to be able to explain his presence here, and yet the fact that he was here was an undeniable fact. Well, there was the possibility that maybe this was just a dream, but...

Honestly, if that was the case, maybe that wouldn't be so bad, either.]

[If it were before his rise as the new supreme primarch, he's sure that he would have lost his cool by now. He's steadily reaching that point, but he keeps a cool head on his shoulders as the claims soak in and he still finds himself unconvinced.

If it were anyone else, he'd scoff. Purpose? What a pretty, vague word. Anyone can say a word. Slowly, he schools his features into a moderate, if still noticeable, scowl.]

I don't believe you.

[His words are measured and cautious, issued as a challenge to be told otherwise.

He doesn't care how many people are watching—and there are many, all flocking around this Lucifer as though he were some sort of a prized jewel. Sandalphon knows better than to be distracted by a pretty gleam, and he's not stupid enough to let a crowd distract him.]

[This is becoming a bit of a problem... Sandalphon not believing him is one thing, but the attention they're (well, he's) garnering is another one entirely.

He has to hold back a sigh. Every time.]

I would like to prove myself to you, but I'm afraid that now isn't a good time...

[He spares a glance toward the growing crowd. It seems they'd noticed his escape sooner than he'd hoped. If they stay here any longer, something bad (worse) might happen.]

Perhaps we can talk somewhere else.

[The earnest response doesn't change anything, although he agrees that this is neither the time nor the place. People are already whispering; some, shouting at each other for inane reasons. This is a brewing mess he would be happy to leave.]

Fine. We'll use the apartment.

[Specifically, the apartment to which he was assigned. It was empty when he left, and he doubts anyone is there now. Either way, the location will be one of his choosing. Sandalphon turns back to his originally intended direction and begins walking.

It feels wrong to turn his back on someone who so perfectly resembles Lucifer, but he musn't allow his feelings to cloud his judgment. This could take a turn for the worse in a flash.]

[That's fine with him. There weren't a lot of other places they could go, anyway, and maybe Sandalphon would feel better doing things on his own terms. It's a little sad, though—Lucifer can understand why he might feel doubt, but it doesn't bring him much joy to see Sandalphon like this. Hopefully they can clear things up quickly...

But in the meantime, as he follows him:]

By the way, would you be willing to take one of these off my hands? I have no need for three of them.

[Or two...]

[That gets Sandalphon to pause in his tracks and look over his shoulder. He'd noticed the drinks earlier, of course. He's only now realizing how ridiculous the sight looks, however.]

Then why did you order so many?

[To his credit, he doesn't sound snappish, and it's not a question that he's interested in having answered. He stares for a long second, sighs, and reaches for the most precariously positioned drink.

He has no intention of drinking the thing. As far as he's concerned, this Lucifer in front of him is responsible for all three cups.]

[Something about the way he asks makes him feel a little embarrassed......]

Ah... The young woman insisted... [He didn't ask for this. Even though he'd tried to decline, she'd already made up her mind about it. Sigh.] But I thank you. I had hoped we might be able to share them.

[...well, he realizes that might not happen now, but that had been the intention. (Or, rather, the intention... after extra drinks were shoved on him, weeps.)]

[Lucifer would have brewed his own coffee, Sandalphon thinks. This time, he doesn't broadcast the thought, already whispering low in his own mind as he is.

He gives a noncommittal hum in response as he turns back to resume his initial pace. His strides are long and brisk on a path that goes straight to the apartments. The sooner they lose the pursuing crowd, the better.]

It's on the fourth floor. The apartment, that is.

[He stubbornly refuses to call it his.]

[Please... Free him...

Little by little, they lose the crowd, which is fantastic, but he's already wondering how he's supposed to go about things here. He still needed to see this place and learn more about it, but if he was going to keep drawing attention like that...

Well, maybe that was a problem for later. It'd probably be easier to find a way to deal with that once Sandalphon knew that he could trust him.]

I see. That will do, so long as we aren't followed.

[Is that possible, though... He wouldn't even mind if there were people around while they talked, just... no more fighting... :'(]

[There will always be fighting.

Sandalphon has nothing to say to that. It isn't like he can do anything about the stalkers—although if they try to enter the apartment, there will be problems.

They make it to the apartments, where few stragglers remain while others are discouraged from entering. The idea of being stuck in an elevator with bickering strangers is far from appealing, so Sandalphon leads them to the stairway.

At the door to the assigned unit, he lets Lucifer inside first. Then he stands in the doorway, a physical barrier between the diminished crowd and his guest, and deepens his scowl.]

Begone.

[And summarily shuts the door. Someone dares to bang on it, but Sandalphon is already headed for the communal portion of the shared living space.]

[FINALLY... He is free, at least for now.]

Thank you, Sandalphon, although I understand it wasn't for our benefit. ["Our," because it wasn't just a matter of his comfort—it was a matter of everyone else's, too.] Now I must show you that I am who I say I am, but I'm afraid my powers are no longer my own.

[This was probably mostly on account of, you know, dying, but even if he hadn't, there was a good chance they wouldn't have worked here anyway, if he understood all this right. That would have been his go-to, however, because there were many things he could do as Surpreme Primarch that others could not.]

If you doubt me, it must be because you are aware that something happened to me. Was my message able to reach you?

[The mention of the message draws a knee jerk reaction from Sandalphon, who grimaces again. He sets the drink he'd taken on the nearby counter, where he loiters, none too eager to close the distance between them. A treacherous part of him wonders: no one should know about the message.

But in the end, doubt wins the battle. Doubt always wins.]

Do you still intend to continue this farce? You can't be whom you claim to be.

Edited 2018-03-19 05:35 (UTC)

[Goodness. It's like the more he tries, the more he just upsets him further. He's caused nothing but trouble for people today!! Maybe he should approach this another way.]

In that case, what would you have me do? I would like to convince you, but it seems my words are not enough.

[Which... is fair, he supposes. But it hurts that he seems to have so much doubt in his heart in the first place, and he hates that he can't do this in a way that's— easier for him.]

[The logic behind the approach serves as a cold reminder that he's being irrational, in spite of his trying to keep his feelings in check. Sandalphon falls silent. He gives this Lucifer the onceover, and the perfect resemblance revives a plethora of conflicting emotions. The grief he'd set aside aboard the Grancypher comes roaring back to life.

When he speaks, his voice starts off low.]

I received the message. There was no need for a messenger. I was there. I was the only one there.

[That's why this can't be Lucifer. He'd screamed and begged, and that hadn't changed anything. Lucifer had died with unsatisfied yearning in his heart, all the while Sandalphon had been powerless.

He thought he'd sorted all of this out. But now, after everything, he finds himself bleeding again.]

I was there when Lucifer died. You have no right to claim his identity!

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