[ He's had a bit of a fight with Grigori, a demon not of the Lilim but strong enough to grow arrogant. Perhaps he'd also become used to a Hell without its ruler - to be fair, Lucifer hasn't visited the deeper parts of the realm since he left for L.A., back when. It's been ages. Millenia.
So, when Grigori heard the tones of the Moonlight Sonata trailing down even to the deepest pits of Hell where the white rooms are, where souls are torn to pieces and spat out, the demon instantly began to sow dissent amongst its ranks. Naturally, all that gibberish made its way to Mazikeen who took it back to Lucifer once she realised that there were talks of somebody going rogue, of queen-napping.
Grigori, happily, put up a semi-decent fight and when Lucifer returns to his throne, he's got a nice, foot-long gash running up his left side, courtesy of the demon's stolen, Hell-forged blade. Good for him he didn't steal it from Maze, supposedly. With Lucifer, he mostly just lost the power of speech, sight and movement.
In Hell, it can always be worse.
Slumping a bit on his throne, Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment, the tones of Beethoven's masterpiece still echoing in his mind. Beautiful. Then, abruptly, his spine starts tingling and he looks up to see a door etched onto the cliff side further down, all alone, all pretty and white and French-looking. Elio's pet demon is clinging to the handle, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Lucifer tilts his head sideways, stares at the door for a moment, feeling something inside soften at the sight. It takes him another few seconds to properly identify the feeling, the tension in his shoulders and back dissipating a fraction. Then, he spreads his ashen wings and flies, ignoring the demon (lucky demon) and slipping in.
Right into Elio's bedroom, it seems.
He pauses. Stares at the glory in front of him.
Elio, naked, slim lines and soft-looking skin, the moonlight silvery as it flows in through the windows. ]
Oh.
[ He just stands there, his wings curved down his shoulders and his mouth a tiny bit agape. ]
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So, when Grigori heard the tones of the Moonlight Sonata trailing down even to the deepest pits of Hell where the white rooms are, where souls are torn to pieces and spat out, the demon instantly began to sow dissent amongst its ranks. Naturally, all that gibberish made its way to Mazikeen who took it back to Lucifer once she realised that there were talks of somebody going rogue, of queen-napping.
Grigori, happily, put up a semi-decent fight and when Lucifer returns to his throne, he's got a nice, foot-long gash running up his left side, courtesy of the demon's stolen, Hell-forged blade. Good for him he didn't steal it from Maze, supposedly. With Lucifer, he mostly just lost the power of speech, sight and movement.
In Hell, it can always be worse.
Slumping a bit on his throne, Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment, the tones of Beethoven's masterpiece still echoing in his mind. Beautiful. Then, abruptly, his spine starts tingling and he looks up to see a door etched onto the cliff side further down, all alone, all pretty and white and French-looking. Elio's pet demon is clinging to the handle, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Lucifer tilts his head sideways, stares at the door for a moment, feeling something inside soften at the sight. It takes him another few seconds to properly identify the feeling, the tension in his shoulders and back dissipating a fraction. Then, he spreads his ashen wings and flies, ignoring the demon (lucky demon) and slipping in.
Right into Elio's bedroom, it seems.
He pauses. Stares at the glory in front of him.
Elio, naked, slim lines and soft-looking skin, the moonlight silvery as it flows in through the windows. ]
Oh.
[ He just stands there, his wings curved down his shoulders and his mouth a tiny bit agape. ]