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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[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.]

Yes.

[That much is a no-brainer. He doesn't have to think twice, and it's refreshing.]

Although there isn't much that I can do in this state, I'll do what must be done. [Sandalphon pauses, reflecting on his brief tour of the city.] This place is unlike any I've ever been to.

The same can be said for me, too. [He wonders how all of this is going to go, honestly... But they were stuck here when neither of them was supposed to be, so whether they were suited to the situation or not probably wasn't going to matter. There's a short pause before he adds:] But I'm grateful that I can count on you here.

[Sincerely.

...also, he's just gonna... put down this second cup of coffee. He feels bad about it but he's been holding onto them for so long. He is sorry.]

[So sincere, in fact, that Sandalphon averts his gaze to said cup of coffee. There's the third one still in Lucifer's grasp.]

. . . You should drink that before it gets cold.

[And three drinks are still three too many. In any case, he gestures to the heart of the communal area, where there lies a coffee table and some seats.]

[He never wanted all of these. But the invitation is also appreciated—he's glad that Sandalphon at least trusts him now, even if he doesn't seem to be quite as comfortable with him as he used to be.

But that's alright, too. He didn't know how long they'd be here, but this was already more time together than they'd had in a long time. He's glad for what he has.

(It's pretty weird to even be in a situation where it's "okay" to think that. It's such a selfish thing, but... well, it's a thing he'd wanted for so long, and the circumstances were different now. So it can't be helped.)]

Of course. [It's a little thing, but Sandalphon doesn't have to be doing it. As he goes to take a seat, he explains:] I thought it would be interesting to see what they do with coffee in this world. Everything is so different.

[But he doesn't sound the least bit put off by that.]

[He never wanted them, but he'll get them all. Sandalphon swipes the two cups off the counter and follows suit to set them down on the coffee table, then takes the seat across Lucifer. Talk of coffee hadn't been on his mind when he'd offered his help, but it goes to show that some things just don't change.

While Sandalphon has doubts about the coffee, he won't be the one to rain on Lucifer's curiosity.]

So? . . . How is it?

[It's cute he thought he could get away without at least a little talk of coffee, tbh.]

Hmm. [He takes a thoughtful sip. It's not the first time he's tasted it, but this is important, so he needs to give an accurate assessment.] It tastes like mint. It's very sweet. It's different, but I don't dislike it.

[Why can't he be that honest or specific about anything else, huh—]

[This is why they can't have nice things.

Well, that's a surprisingly positive verdict. And it tastes like mint? That's different, worth looking into. He glances at the untouched cups between them.]

What about the others? Are they the same?

I believe they're different, but I have yet to try them. The young woman had many recommendations and insisted I do. Unfortunately, when I told her that was quite alright, she began making them anyway.

[It was very thoughtful(?) of her, and he appreciated her enthusiasm(???), but it was a bit much... Not that he couldn't drink that much coffee, probably, but he certainly didn't need to, and it would be rude to keep it all for himself. More than that, he just enjoyed being able to share with Sandalphon, so that was the ideal scenario, really.]

Will you try some?

[Please say yes—]

[If it were anyone else, he'd decline right away. "Like the young woman who served you, I insist." However, this is Lucifer; as tense as their current truce is, Sandalphon can't recall a time he's ever denied Lucifer anything, nor does he feel the inclination to begin now. Thus, following a brief pause, he reaches out to grab a cup and slowly brings the lid to his lips.

Somewhere along the way, his free hand that rests on his knee has curled into a fist. He furrows his brow in deliberation of the taste as he pulls the cup away from his face.]

It's creamy and thick. I wouldn't say that it's sweet like the first one.

I see. [He nods, approving of his judgement.] I don't know if I would drink this everyday, but it's an interesting taste, and a new experience.

[It was different and exciting, and also convenient. Maybe it wouldn't be an everyday thing because he liked the way things were between him and Sandalphon—their own little "tradition," if it could be called that, the way they did things—but it was still interesting.]

I look forward to learning more about how they do things here with you.

[Wow, he's really stuck now.]

[This is wrong.

Drinking coffee and talking together—he should be over the moon, happier than he's ever been. He thought he'd never have a chance like this again. Yet all Sandalphon feels are a generalized numbness and a slight tremor in his fist. Their exchange rings hollow, and he sets the cups back on the table with a cross look.

He swallows, the aftertaste of the coffee lingering in his mouth. His other hand comes to rest on the homolateral knee. For a precious few seconds, he simply sits there, his thoughts swirling in his mind: 'Again.']

. . . Is that all?

Hm... Is it?

[Is Sandalphon just trying to get rid of him or is he expecting something from him, that is the question—

Though, maybe it's him who should be asking that.]

What's on your mind, Sandalphon?

[Truthfully, he's not sure if asking would help—it's clear there's a lot on his mind. But he asks, anyway. Even if Sandalphon doesn't want to talk to him, the least he could do was try.]

How can you do this . . . How can you act like nothing's changed?

[His voice comes out strained; the words, strangled. The pent-up frustration from his time in the cradle to this moment begins to overflow.]

I know what you want. But I . . . [He inhales sharply before surging onto his feet, the force knocking the chair behind him onto the floor.] I can't give it to you like this! I can't go back to the way I was!

[He knows what Lucifer wants. He knows, and he wants to give it more than anything—but not like this. Not like this.]

What are you trying to achieve? Offering me coffee and asking for my thoughts, telling me not to worry . . . Nothing's changed! If you're sorry about not having been able to talk properly back then, why are we pretending now? Why do I still have to force my way in? Why did you have to die!?

Edited (yesss, let your anger flow) 2018-03-21 05:49 (UTC)

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