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

Entry tags:

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?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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!

[He wouldn't claim it if it wasn't his own!! He'd never been much of a liar. But he supposes he has no reason to believe that.

That Sandalphon was there and had received his message is a relief, but it also says a lot about his current denial.]

I'm sorry. I see this has weighed heavily on you. It was not my wish to burden you like this.

[Between his sudden death, the thrusting of new responsibilities upon him, appearing before him suddenly now— It's not hard to see how this would be a lot for him. He wishes he didn't have to do all of this at all.]

I'm sorry that I wasn't able to speak with you properly then.

[He'd learned through perceived years of isolation that saying, "Sorry" does very little. But coming from this Lucifer, he finds himself somewhat assuaged—if just enough to consider the impossible.]

I don't care about that.

[It's ground out, but so, too, does the hostility fade. At the end of the day, he'd mourned for what they'd never had. The promise is not a burden.]

If that was you . . . If you're truly whom you claim to be, answer me this: the question that people have wondered for thousands of years . . . What is it?

[It's a reasonable demand. During his last few breaths, Lucifer had spoken as himself. If this being before him can evoke that side, then perhaps . . . ]

[Ah, is that it? That's easy enough--after all, it's something he's wondered a lot about, if for slightly different reasons.

He had never doubted Sandalphon, but if this was a dream, it felt so very real when he talked about that. Maybe it's because it was just-- one of the few indulgences he'd allowed himself then. A rare, raw kind of honesty that had been put on hold for so long.]

"What makes the sky blue?"

[A small part of him soars at those words. The larger part of him, however, crumbles as he snaps his head aside, glowering at the cup of coffee sitting innocuously on the counter. The seconds that tick by in silence feel like an eternity.]

. . . I don't understand.

It can't be you. Someone like you shouldn't be in this situation. You've passed on your powers. [Sandalphon had prayed. An existence of forced servitude is not finding peace.] If you're Lucifer, why are you here!?

I, too, wish to know the answer. Perhaps it has something to do with the nature of this world, or the extent of the witch's powers, though I cannot say for certain. I know no more than you.

[It went a bit beyond not wanting to be here—it was about something that technically probably shouldn't be possible, for multiple reasons. He wanted to know how, but he also wanted to know why, so he could do whatever needed to be done and move on with his life (if it even actually worked like that).

But it wasn't all bad. Being able to see Sandalphon again is a blessing, even if the circumstances probably were not. For that reason alone, he thought himself incredibly fortunate.]

Neither of us should be here, but here we are. Do you also doubt that?

[Maybe they couldn't know the reasons yet, but they were definitely here, talking, in this strange world. That was an undeniable fact.]

[How can he not? But how can he, when there's the proof before him?

What a sight he must make, a supreme primarch pruned of his wings. The old habit surfaces and he thinks with derision that this shouldn't be surprising. On the other hand, Lucifer doesn't belong here.

Still refusing to lock eyes with his predecessor, Sandalphon brings a hand to the counter and curls his fingers into a loose fist.]

Is this because I inherited your wings? Did my taking your powers do this?

[If Lucifer were at full power, could the witch have taken him? He knows he's reaching, grasping at straws. The timing doesn't add up. He doesn't have all the pieces. But he can't help but to think.]

[WOW... So quick to blame himself. Did he need answers so desperately?]

I can't really say, but that seems unlikely to me. [You know, on account of... being dead...] With or without them, I'm afraid I would not have been able to fight back regardless. And even if that were not the case, it was my decision to give them to you. That is my responsibility, not yours.

[He hadn't even been able to ask if he was okay with that, which is unfortunate, but such were the circumstances. He would have done things differently if he'd had more time, but...

Of course, then there's the question of why those wings aren't actually there, but that will come later, too, he thinks. It's like Sandalphon's bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders and it's clear even to him that there's a lot he doesn't know or understand, even relative to their own world let alone this one.]

[He grits his teeth, biting down an impulsive response. Lucifer is right: that isn't his responsibility, as intertwined as their fates are. Still, he huffs, the exhalation vaguely resembling breathy laughter.]

You gave them to me, and I've lost them. You don't feel it either, do you? It's gone. The supreme primarch's power is no longer growing within me.

[One. Just one. He'd had one job and he hadn't even lasted a month. At least Lucifer has an excuse for being here.

Sandalphon doesn't even feel bitter. This is just how it is.]

How unsightly.

[And to think he'd warned Lucifer about giving those powers to him.]

[Honestly, if he's gonna be real, he doesn't even really care too much about that. He had hoped that someday, neither of them would need them—that was the dream.]

Are you troubled by this? [It's conjecture, because he doesn't know, but...] Perhaps this world does not require the abilities of a supreme primarch.

[It's wishful thinking, but maybe they can relax a little bit. At the very least, maybe whatever burdens they have will not be theirs alone.]

[The fact that Lucifer has to ask that clarifying question takes Sandalphon back to the simpler days. It serves to ground him: Lucifer never was one to rise to his invisible, albeit unintentional, baits.

He looks down at his fist, studying the rounds of his knuckles.]

But the sky realm does. What if the connection fails to reestablish itself? The role of the supreme primarch would fall to obscurity before its time.

[Truthfully, that had been the most frightening knowledge upon regaining consciousness. He'd made a promise, and he intends to keep it. Lucifer would forgive him, of course; however, he'd never forgive himself if he were to fail.]

[Well... That's a fair concern, he supposes. Certainly, their world was not finished with him yet, and it definitely felt— different. Like something that was supposed to be there was not quite. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be, at least. And he wished he could do something to help Sandalphon with that, but...]

I understand your concern. However, if what we were told is true, there is little to be done about that here.

[At least, as long as they were in Shehui, it seemed. Perhaps whatever world they visited next would be different, but in the meantime...]

For now, please don't trouble yourself with this. We should do what we can to learn about this world instead.

[And anyway— if it's him, he's sure it will turn out fine.]

[He can't not trouble himself with this, but Lucifer brings up a sound point. There are more pressing matters at hand—immediate concerns here that need to be addressed, rather than those that are worlds away. Sandalphon's fist unravels.

Then, finally, he lifts his head to meet Lucifer's gaze.]

Fine. Let's do that.

[That's a blatant dismissal of his troubles, if there ever was one. He isn't particularly pleased with it, and there is still a great deal that has been left unsaid; yet some space to recover from his outburst would be desirable. He chooses not to close the meager physical distance between them.]

You'll help me, then?

[Maybe that's a silly question, but considering the situation, and considering Sandalphon's... er, difficulties accepting it, it only feels right to ask. Besides, technically, he wasn't really obligated to do anything for him now anyway... But it would be nice. He understands this must be hard for Sandalphon, and maybe he needs time to figure it all out, but he appreciates that he's here nonetheless.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject