[ He sees it right away, of course, because it's quite an impossible thing - around Elio's feet, something starts growing from the naked rock, something that looks suspiciously like grass if they'd been underwater, maybe. It's bluish and seems to carry its own, inner glow. Lucifer stares at it, completely flabbergasted. What the...
Folding his wings away mindlessly, he crouches down in front of Elio and runs his hand over the grass, feeling it sway softly against his fingers for all of a second before the strands start withering away, crumbling into ash. Startled, he pulls his hand back. Stares some more as it re-grows in his absence.
Well, fine then. Lookie, no touchy. ]
How are you feeling?
[ He looks up at Elio, at the long, slim lines of him. He's got ash stuck to his curls, obviously, because this place wouldn't be Hell if it didn't ruin your looks at every bloody opportunity. In the background, behind Elio's turned back and several miles away, his throne stretches upwards, overlooking the realm. All's as it used to be, except... it isn't, is it?
With a half-smile, just because he can't help himself, he runs his hand up Elio's leg, following the line of his calf, sliding over the the jut of his knee. They're here together. It's almost impossible to comprehend - that Elio is here, whole and alive and, uh, apparently creating, just by his mere existence but you know, mysterious ways, yadda yadda.
[ One moment he's about to turn around and look what's behind him, whether there's more rocky ground and narrow streets between bluish-glowing doorways to see, the next Lucifer is crouching down in front of him and he looks down at him, the hunched up shape of his back, the lines of his shoulders, head on level with Elio's thighs. Elio frowns, then he notices the grass that's grown around his feet, Lucifer's long fingers slipping through the strands, his pale skin carrying the glow of it like a canvas, momentarily, until the grass withers away. Almost aggressively beneath his touch. Elio wants to tell it, no, no, it's fine, it's okay, but he thinks it shows the effect Lucifer has on his surroundings down here quite effectively. The opposite of his mojo. There's no magical, magnetic pull, but rather a visible reject.
The strands of grass re-emerge once Lucifer withdraws his hand and something about that seems so wrong, as if the other man's touch has been polluted somehow. Give it here instead, Elio feels like saying and Lucifer seems to follow the same drift, because he asks him how he's feeling and runs his palm, big and warm and present, well-known, up his leg, from his calf to his knee. Elio breathes in deeply, then smiles, shaking his head a bit in wonder. ]
At home. [ He reaches out and runs his hand through Lucifer's hair now, flakes of ash caught in the strands. Elio can imagine what this place must do to his wings. They'll need a lot of preen oil. That should be fun. ] I can't explain it. I've rarely felt at home anywhere, but of course most places aren't ruled by someone who truly wants me there.
[ Bending down further, his hand grabs Lucifer's shoulder instead and starts urging him to his feet. Let's be on eye-level, he's wordlessly pleading, or as close as we'll ever get. As he steps back a bit to help the motion, the grass glows brighter for a moment and then fades, rippling again. Like the Earth rippled. ]
Most places I've been, I didn't truly want to be, either.
[ He closes his eyes at the feel of Elio's fingers trailing through his hair, so well-known and so lovely. Around him, he senses Hell responding in kind as well - it's not used to comfort or sympathy or pleasure, there's been no place at all for those things or anything related to them, not since Lucifer arrived here back when, not since it rose around him in arches of blackness, sulfur and smoke. He breathes out slowly. Listens, as Elio tells him he feels at home which is a ludicrous thought except to some extent...
To some extent, perhaps he understands.
Things really have changed, haven't they, since he met Elio. They've sailed so far past the borders of known territory that they've arrived in strange lands indeed, even here, the place Lucifer's known for billions of years. Full circle, in a way. Everything starts anew.
He gets to his feet when Elio grabs his shoulder, clearly wanting him up, eye-level, balanced out. Straightening to his full height, he looks at Elio, feeling uncharacteristically soft all over at the sight of him. Around his feet, the grass has re-grown. It's starting to spread down the rock, too, in shining, blue patches. ]
You're an odd one, aren't you.
[ Said with a smile. He lays his hand gently on Elio's shoulder, squeezing it briefly before walking around him, pausing to stare ahead. They should ascend the throne, presumably. Get a view of the land. He can't sense any difference yet, in terms of the loops or the souls still slipping from this plane and backwards, to Earth which means they have work to do, him and Elio. Shoulders squared, he takes a deep breath and unfurls his wings again, sending the ash around them swirling upwards. ]
[ Getting to his feet, soon Lucifer towers over him, at least a head taller and Elio looks up and up and up at him, smiling warmly as the other man puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, before walking around him to look out over his kingdom. You're an odd one, aren't you, he comments and Elio turns after him, though he doesn't step up close, giving him plenty of room to unfurl his wings. They extend to either side of him, dull white, making the ash swirl around, dance like snowflakes. It's beautiful in its own right, Elio thinks. Then, he thinks it's not odd liking any extension of you, but doesn't say it out loud, because it's not an argument for the time being. Lucifer isn't ready, he's already working on absorbing the mere fact that Elio's presence in his space is creating imminent, visible changes. The grass has begun growing across the stretch of rocky ground, spreading out, ripples.
So, Elio just nods, answering both questions at once, yes, maybe he's weird for liking it here and yes, because he likes it here, he'll gladly see more, he'll see it all, everything Lucifer's willing to let him see, he'll see. Maybe more. Eventually. When they've settled and Lucifer's space is Elio's space, too. He doesn't want to intrude, he wants to belong, after all. ]
Please show me.
[ Elio returns to him, then, he halts within reach and holds out his arms in invitation, take me, it means, take me to your places. Before them, in the distance, something that looks like a huge stalagmite, grows from the ground and up, up, up, taller than Lucifer, taller than anything else in its vicinity. It looks fortress-like, Elio thinks. It looks impenetrable.
It looks lonely. And because it looks lonely, Elio gets the feeling it's important.
In splotches where his soles have touched ground, grass is glowing faintly blue, like a splatter of neon paint, showing the way. ]
[ He picks Elio up, the movements and his weight between his arms so very familiar at this point that it might as well be a habit. He'd like that, he thinks. Picking Elio up as a habit. Smiling a little, he holds him close, finds enough footing and lifts off, his wings sweeping downwards and making them airborne. He takes them past the precipice (the grass stops spreading as they go higher, bluish, shiny trails left behind in Elio's wake) and up, up, soaring over the rock formations on the ground. Each houses a cell, a door, a shimmer of cold, trembling light. As he takes them higher yet, ash sticking to his brow and eyelashes, Lucifer angles for the throne further up.
It's empty, of course, as it ought to be. You need wings to ascend in this place.
He hovers above it for half a second before settling down upon the seat, his wings curling behind him and fanning out to either side. There's ample room for him, sure, but it wasn't really meant to carry two grown people so to avoid any unnecessary flailing about or Dad forbid, falling off, he leaves Elio in his lap, seated sideways. He keeps his arm curled firmly around his waist, feeling the other man against his front, his warmth, the way his chest moves when he breathes.
It's so very different, this. Being in Hell, feeling... this.
He blinks. Pushes his mouth against the back of Elio's head and nuzzles his hair with his lips, just because it's getting a little much. Right now, he's having a hard time focusing on the fact that Hell is still broken, that they've got some sort of work to do that doesn't involve snuggling Elio from his main seat of power. It's just so lovely, really, being here. Knowing that the other man's alright, that he might even be quite powerful down here, that maybe this wasn't such an awful idea after all. ]
[ It's not something he needs to get used to, flying. Since Lucifer flew him across the bay back in L.A., it's felt like a natural addition to their ways of being together, they could as well go for a stroll or a drive, it's just another close proximity activity that brings them from one point to another. Closer than most of the others, true, but you don't complain about being pressed against the Devil's chest, not when Lucifer carries both his cologne and his own scent like wafting markers in the air around him. Not when he's hard muscle and warm skin beneath those clothes of his, right? Besides, down here, Elio can tell, strolling anywhere might not be anyone's first choice of pastime and cars are out of the question, from the looks of it, so flying it is. Flying was never strange, to him, that's the point and in Hell, it's even less so, obviously.
It's a new reality. He's getting used to that.
The stalagmite proves to be a natural landing spot and as Lucifer seats himself, Elio resting in his lap, safely perched across his thighs, one of the other man's arms around his waist, keeping him in place, Elio looks around and thinks, throne. This is the throne of Hell, this is from where Lucifer's power goes, flows, like undercurrents of lava. Far beneath them, the ground is still cracked in places, the rock formations housing glimmers of light and - not life, of course, but something's down there. Familiar gray shapes. Elio frowns a bit.
Behind him, Lucifer's nuzzling into his hair and Elio allows it, because they're both in unfamiliar territory, regardless of how long Lucifer's spent down here, it's never been like this before, it's never been with someone else. It's never been with Elio. He reaches up and wraps his arm around the back of the other man's head, keeping him pressed in against him in turn, fingers playing mindlessly with the hair near his temple. They're just touches. Because Hell is not without touch anymore.
Far below, the gray shapes all seem to be looking up, not towards the ash-filled skies, but towards the same point, the same fixture. The throne. Their King. Whatever Elio counts for now. ] We're being watched. [ His voice is quiet, doesn't demand any action, just observes. Concludes. ]
[ Elio wraps his arm around the back of his head and keeps him close, playing with his hair a little, touches simply for the sake of touch. Lucifer exhales slowly, then breathes him in again, just taking in that warm, familiar sweetness of him. Though it's a couple of hundred years ago to him, he still remembers the last time they made love quite vividly, not just owing to the fact that Elio more or less picked him apart. It's more than the pleasure of it, though the pleasure was lovely.
It was a sense of connection, something he never even knew he was missing with his previous partners. Really, if you'd asked Lucifer before he met Elio, he would've said he couldn't possibly conceive of a better sex life; he had beautiful people coming and going in his bed every night, he had Chloe for company in terms of establishing meaningful relations. He'd thought it couldn't truly get any better.
Elio tells him they're being watched and Lucifer blinks, kissing the back of his neck quickly before drawing back to peer over his shoulder. Indeed, it seems as if... are those souls?! Out of their Hell loops? With a startled gasp, Lucifer sits up straight, only just remembering to hold onto Elio to prevent him from tumbling off the throne. His wings flare out on either side, feathers twitching. He feels for the barrier, reaching out one hand, fingers curved upwards. It's there, definitely. Hell holds it tightly closed, now, in accordance with his command.
They aren't fighting to leave at the moment, though, the souls. They were before. Before they returned, Lucifer and Elio.
Lucifer makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, packing in as much punch as he can manage, thinking Return! Below them, a billion doors snap open simultaneously, then close, a thunderous roar of stone banging against stone echoing from all across the planes. The souls disappear. But they were drawn to here, weren't they, to the throne? Lucifer thinks about the grass, sprouting around Elio's feet. Imagines it growing all along the hallways and decides that yes, yes, it's worth a shot. ]
I have an idea. [ He sits up, pulling Elio close again, gripping him. ] Are you comfortable, going down?
[ A quick nod in the direction of the cliffs underneath, the lights and the doors and the empty hallways. ]
[ Drawing back, though not before having pressed a kiss to Elio's neck that makes him think, safe and want and here, Lucifer peers over his shoulder and gasps lightly, sitting up straight enough that Elio automatically tightens his grip in his shirt for balance. Not to give in to the sense of slipping and falling and there are hundreds of feet between here and the ground, where the souls are all standing outside of their houses, as close to the throne as they can get on their own. Then, the other man tightens one arm around his waist, as if he feels Elio's slightly panicked thoughts, his wings flaring out to each side, like a bird displaying, all intimidating size, wingspan, except Lucifer isn't a bird and when the Devil displays, you'd be stupid not to be scared. Unless you're Elio who isn't as much scared as impressed, pressing back against the other man's front, feeling for the hardness of him, the strength. Oh.
Lucifer reaches out his free hand, palm up, fingers curved as if cupping a feel, pretty much, the way you'd grab a crotch, and Elio watches from the safety of his lap, watches as he makes a sweeping gesture afterwards, the sounds from a million doors snapping open, stone on stone, echoing from below. The souls disappear, one moment to the next and somewhere at the back of his mind, Elio remembers that his father must be down there, going into his stone abode now in order to stay and they'll be holding his funeral on Earth tomorrow, however long that is in Hell terms, without Elio to recite the Kaddish. He swallows. Nods his head at Lucifer's question, as always grateful that the man cares about his feelings at all, it's a bit pathetic, maybe, from where he's sitting now, but he's still mostly human and he hungers for it. How Lucifer never makes him feel like an afterthought, even when the whole cosmos takes priority. And now, Elio's part of his cosmos, too.
That's the blessing, right?
He stretches carefully, leaning in to kiss Lucifer close to his ear, nose brushing over earlobe and he keeps his voice low, because this close, the other man will hear him regardless. ]
I'm comfortable. [ Thus, he slips his arms around Lucifer's shoulders again, holding on, displaying too. Displaying that he's ready, for Lucifer's idea. ] Let me look around.
[ He smiles, humming a little in response to the way Elio kisses him, close to his ear. Apparently, even whilst facing the worst possible crisis in Hell, the Devil remains deeply susceptible to cuddles. Oh, but there'll be demons watching this display and they'll challenge him later, he's well aware. Some of them, he's had to deal with several times over before he went back for Elio - Dromos, in particular, is the bull-headed sort. Lucifer tightens his hold on Elio a little, then tips from the throne and splays out his wings to catch them both mid-fall, soaring downwards towards the hallways below.
Hell, as it were, is a labyrinth to anyone but Lucifer and his demons - Elio might very well be another exception. Each door looks the same on the outside, save for few, minuscule details. Here and there, bits and fragments of music drift out into the hallways, like echoes of something that could have been pleasant or normal or sane. No such thing as music, however, not in Hell - only the memory of it, vaguely distorted and barely recognisable. Lucifer sets Elio down gently as they land, folding his wings away and wafting ash off his suit jacket with an irritated huff. Ugh. Honestly.
Stepping back a little, he watches Elio, waiting to see what'll happen, if anything, to their surroundings. Behind the doors around them, he can sense the souls standing silently, pressed up against their own, impossible exits. Within the loops, everything has stopped. The demons are left in a kind of stasis if they enter, frozen in time.
(Lucifer, however, can enter without problems, meaning he's had to pull hundreds of demons out of there since Hell started breaking down - which is the sort of manual labour that nobody wants.)
Lucifer frowns, suddenly. Raises his chin a little and feels.
[ It's a more fluid takeoff this time, Lucifer simply tipping off the throne and catching them mid-fall, the slight halt as his wings soar out and keep them afloat sending all kinds of chills through Elio's body, making him huff out a laughter and tighten his grip on the other man. He's strong, his muscles tightening in time with his wings moving and Elio basks in it, until they finally land in one of the long hallways between quiet doors and Lucifer puts him down, gently. Elio finds his feet and turns around in a half-circle, looking up the hallway, then down. It's deadly quiet, except for echoes of something that must have been music once but has been distorted beyond recognition. Even old memories recollect chords and melody better. His hands flex at his sides, before he turns back towards the other man, the King of Hell whose domain this is. Whose innermost it reflects.
Elio wants to embrace him, cling to him, to hang off his shoulders and kiss him deep on the mouth. It's not your fault, he wants to tell him, nobody should be expected to carry this alone.
Instead he says: ]
Yes, I sense it.
[ Maybe it's because he's a musician foremost, but the sounds of it, without the silence around them being broken or disturbed at all, resonate inside him. Desperate groaning, something like squeaking, something banging on repeat somewhere, he can't place it, but oh - it sounds lonely. It all sounds very lonely. Footsteps disappearing in a dream levels of lonely.
Heading down the hallway hesitantly, passing several doors along the line and they don't look the same to him, though he can't place their difference yet, it's just there, Elio turns on his heel after a few steps and looks back at Lucifer. For every step he's taken, grass is growing in patches, like little droplets of iridescent blue in the darkness, showing the way.
He meets Lucifer's eyes, halts a second, waiting. He's not in Hell to leave the Devil behind. ]
[ Oh, but look - the path lights up behind Elio as he walks, swaying grass in glittering blue and it looks like it wants to spread. He can sense it. Back in the day, when he first found his feet after his Fall, he'd felt that same, curious longing to spring forth and it hadn't been quite his own, had it, he'd been busy staring upwards towards the sky, utterly lost, wondering stupidly why the stars had disappeared. It had been this place, the energy of it, licking at his ankles like the flames curling from the molten lava which had dominated the planes at the time. Waiting to be forged.
It's doing the same now, except it's following Elio, Elio's movements, Elio's feet.
Lucifer watches, almost entranced for a second, blinking when Elio stops and turns towards him. When he meets his eyes, the other man doesn't look lost at all, merely open - what is this place, what does it want with me and was he ever like that, Lucifer? Did he ever allow himself to be? ]
Loops.
[ He walks up to him, taking his hand and entwining their fingers again. Slowly, he sets off down the hallway, letting Elio follow him, tempering his own pace to fit. ]
Souls, traversing their own, deepest regrets again and again. [ Pause. A minimal shrug. ] Though, at the moment it's more as if someone's hit pause on a silent film from the 1900s. Not sure what that's about.
[ He can sense it from somewhere deeper within the maze of doors, the one they're searching for. The call feels faint to him, though, even as they draw nearer and nearer. The thought doesn't thrill him. ]
Does it sound clearer to you, the call? More persistent?
[ The notion of loops makes sense to him on a purely theoretical level, he couldn't imagine anything that would be more hellish than having to relive your worst regrets for all eternity. Briefly, he imagines saying goodbye to Oliver for a million years. Saying goodbye to Lucifer for even longer. The very definition of Hell, right? He turns with Lucifer as the other man comes up to him and takes his hands, entwining their fingers in that self-assured, natural way that's essentially unapologetic. If anyone down here cares, of course, Lucifer's their King and they will have to submit, but there's still too much human experience trapped in Elio's body now not to remember.
Except, Elio is not human anymore. Humans in Hell? They have their loops. Elio has no loop, he has Lucifer who never feared what others thought of those particular aspects of him. Whose hands he held. Elio tightens his grip around the other man's fingers for a moment, not quite a squeeze, but something, a message. Thank you for taking me by the hand, love, it means.
At his question, Elio has to think for a moment, trying to feel for the right words to describe it with, what he hears. It's a voice, faintly recognizable, but he doesn't think he's ever heard the one it belongs to sounding like this - groaning and crying at the same time, as if pleasure and parting are one and the same where he is. And where is he? Where is he? ]
It sounds more familiar, I think. [ He walks next to Lucifer, feeling how the other man is tempering those long legs to fit Elio's pace. He leaves little grassy spots for every step. It looks like islands behind him, but no man's an island, isn't that what John Donne wrote? They have their loops, these souls, but they're not alone. He wants to tell that to the voice. ] It's a voice, faintly crying. I know this voice, Lucifer.
[ A frown and Elio pulls them both to a halt, gesturing with his free hand, a soft sweep towards the other end of the hallway, more doors, more loops, his father behind one, caught up in his own regret and that's what Elio's hearing. The echoes of despair. He looks up at Lucifer. ]
[ A nod. That makes sense, of course, that Elio would be drawn to that particular door. He thinks about his own hell loop, the one created for him back when he died to rescue Chloe. It's still here somewhere, though it doesn't beckon to him any longer, not strong enough to truly assert any sort of pull. He knows it's there, though. With his brother, waiting for Lucifer to kill him over and over again.
It's my father says Elio and very briefly, Lucifer wonders whether Hell intends to trap Elio in its depths too, after all, whether it'll eat him up just as a way for Lucifer to commit yet another ridiculous act of self-sabotage. He senses Hell reverberating in response, senses that flicker of unease, anxiety. It's a scary thought. Hell doesn't want Elio like that, maybe that's why it keeps calling for them both.
Imagine a human soul in Hell that Hell doesn't try to keep.
Giving Elio's hand a squeeze, he releases him. Looks towards one of the doors farthest down the hallway, one that looks like something he's seen thousands of times before, not in Hell but on Earth. He can't quite figure out what it reminds him of, exactly. He just knows that it's very familiar, almost to the point of making that full circle back to anonymity. He tilts his head sideways, listens. He hears it too, the voice from within, but it's very soft, very subdued. It doesn't feel like anything he'd want to pursue. ]
Then I think you ought to visit him.
[ There's a part of him that screams at the thought of Elio going inside one of those loops by himself, not knowing what to expect. But maybe that's the whole point of this exercise, opaque as it still seems. Elio keeps leaving traces of himself behind in the rocky foundation of Hell, blue blossoming in patches and glimmers. Not planned. Not presumed.
It just happens.
So, he figures this, too, might be something that just. Happens. ]
[ Releasing his hand, Lucifer tells him, I think you ought to visit him and it means, go. Like Elio's mother told him, before he went with Lucifer hours ago in human time, but Hell counts its minutes differently and years and years and years have passed between then and now. There and here. It means, I trust you to make the right calls, the right choices and Lucifer should, of course, because he's impacted every choice Elio's made before letting himself be swept away by him and landed them in this very spot.
A deep breath and he looks at his bracelet, its shining silver surface, clinging to his wrist so tightly it could as well be an extra layer of skin. Then, he looks up at Lucifer with a determined expression on his face, a very particular set to his lips, nodding in agreement once. ]
I probably should, yes.
[ Stepping forward and getting up on his toes, he presses a kiss to the corner of Lucifer's mouth, a small gesture of reassurance, because he truly isn't nervous about it. If anything, seeing his father's deepest regrets will only be one more aspect to him, an additional facet that Elio's never been allowed to witness before and who wouldn't want to know someone they treasured in that way, all the way down to their deepest, darkest corner. Another nod and he steps back, turns around and heads for the door, finding it looking anonymous and inconspicuous, everything his father wasn't. It's like a hotel door, the kind Elio's seen a thousand times throughout his life. He imagines his father has, too.
What does a door that in essence denotes travel mean to his father, though?
What did it mean to Elio?
He puts his hand on the doorhandle and turns his head to look at Lucifer briefly. Between Lucifer and him a stepping stone pattern of little grassy patches have grown, lighting up the way, as if some part of him knows where he's going, where he came from, where he wants to be. All those heavy questions people can't answer for themselves and that's why they're here in the first place. Elio smiles, small, soft and says, not loud, but loud enough for the other man to hear: ]
Wish us luck.
[ But because he knows Lucifer won't reply, because Lucifer doesn't lie and he's still a punisher by nature, humans aren't here for luck, he simply turns back towards the door, pushing it open and stepping inside the gray room inside.
The moment his foot touches down on the floor, however, color seeps back into every surface. The whole palette of it will break through the darkness outside momentarily, before the door falls shut behind him and locks it away. ]
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Folding his wings away mindlessly, he crouches down in front of Elio and runs his hand over the grass, feeling it sway softly against his fingers for all of a second before the strands start withering away, crumbling into ash. Startled, he pulls his hand back. Stares some more as it re-grows in his absence.
Well, fine then. Lookie, no touchy. ]
How are you feeling?
[ He looks up at Elio, at the long, slim lines of him. He's got ash stuck to his curls, obviously, because this place wouldn't be Hell if it didn't ruin your looks at every bloody opportunity. In the background, behind Elio's turned back and several miles away, his throne stretches upwards, overlooking the realm. All's as it used to be, except... it isn't, is it?
With a half-smile, just because he can't help himself, he runs his hand up Elio's leg, following the line of his calf, sliding over the the jut of his knee. They're here together. It's almost impossible to comprehend - that Elio is here, whole and alive and, uh, apparently creating, just by his mere existence but you know, mysterious ways, yadda yadda.
But he's here. Lucifer stares up at him, in awe.
Imagine. ]
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The strands of grass re-emerge once Lucifer withdraws his hand and something about that seems so wrong, as if the other man's touch has been polluted somehow. Give it here instead, Elio feels like saying and Lucifer seems to follow the same drift, because he asks him how he's feeling and runs his palm, big and warm and present, well-known, up his leg, from his calf to his knee. Elio breathes in deeply, then smiles, shaking his head a bit in wonder. ]
At home. [ He reaches out and runs his hand through Lucifer's hair now, flakes of ash caught in the strands. Elio can imagine what this place must do to his wings. They'll need a lot of preen oil. That should be fun. ] I can't explain it. I've rarely felt at home anywhere, but of course most places aren't ruled by someone who truly wants me there.
[ Bending down further, his hand grabs Lucifer's shoulder instead and starts urging him to his feet. Let's be on eye-level, he's wordlessly pleading, or as close as we'll ever get. As he steps back a bit to help the motion, the grass glows brighter for a moment and then fades, rippling again. Like the Earth rippled. ]
Most places I've been, I didn't truly want to be, either.
no subject
To some extent, perhaps he understands.
Things really have changed, haven't they, since he met Elio. They've sailed so far past the borders of known territory that they've arrived in strange lands indeed, even here, the place Lucifer's known for billions of years. Full circle, in a way. Everything starts anew.
He gets to his feet when Elio grabs his shoulder, clearly wanting him up, eye-level, balanced out. Straightening to his full height, he looks at Elio, feeling uncharacteristically soft all over at the sight of him. Around his feet, the grass has re-grown. It's starting to spread down the rock, too, in shining, blue patches. ]
You're an odd one, aren't you.
[ Said with a smile. He lays his hand gently on Elio's shoulder, squeezing it briefly before walking around him, pausing to stare ahead. They should ascend the throne, presumably. Get a view of the land. He can't sense any difference yet, in terms of the loops or the souls still slipping from this plane and backwards, to Earth which means they have work to do, him and Elio. Shoulders squared, he takes a deep breath and unfurls his wings again, sending the ash around them swirling upwards. ]
Ready to take a look around?
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So, Elio just nods, answering both questions at once, yes, maybe he's weird for liking it here and yes, because he likes it here, he'll gladly see more, he'll see it all, everything Lucifer's willing to let him see, he'll see. Maybe more. Eventually. When they've settled and Lucifer's space is Elio's space, too. He doesn't want to intrude, he wants to belong, after all. ]
Please show me.
[ Elio returns to him, then, he halts within reach and holds out his arms in invitation, take me, it means, take me to your places. Before them, in the distance, something that looks like a huge stalagmite, grows from the ground and up, up, up, taller than Lucifer, taller than anything else in its vicinity. It looks fortress-like, Elio thinks. It looks impenetrable.
It looks lonely. And because it looks lonely, Elio gets the feeling it's important.
In splotches where his soles have touched ground, grass is glowing faintly blue, like a splatter of neon paint, showing the way. ]
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It's empty, of course, as it ought to be. You need wings to ascend in this place.
He hovers above it for half a second before settling down upon the seat, his wings curling behind him and fanning out to either side. There's ample room for him, sure, but it wasn't really meant to carry two grown people so to avoid any unnecessary flailing about or Dad forbid, falling off, he leaves Elio in his lap, seated sideways. He keeps his arm curled firmly around his waist, feeling the other man against his front, his warmth, the way his chest moves when he breathes.
It's so very different, this. Being in Hell, feeling... this.
He blinks. Pushes his mouth against the back of Elio's head and nuzzles his hair with his lips, just because it's getting a little much. Right now, he's having a hard time focusing on the fact that Hell is still broken, that they've got some sort of work to do that doesn't involve snuggling Elio from his main seat of power. It's just so lovely, really, being here. Knowing that the other man's alright, that he might even be quite powerful down here, that maybe this wasn't such an awful idea after all. ]
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It's a new reality. He's getting used to that.
The stalagmite proves to be a natural landing spot and as Lucifer seats himself, Elio resting in his lap, safely perched across his thighs, one of the other man's arms around his waist, keeping him in place, Elio looks around and thinks, throne. This is the throne of Hell, this is from where Lucifer's power goes, flows, like undercurrents of lava. Far beneath them, the ground is still cracked in places, the rock formations housing glimmers of light and - not life, of course, but something's down there. Familiar gray shapes. Elio frowns a bit.
Behind him, Lucifer's nuzzling into his hair and Elio allows it, because they're both in unfamiliar territory, regardless of how long Lucifer's spent down here, it's never been like this before, it's never been with someone else. It's never been with Elio. He reaches up and wraps his arm around the back of the other man's head, keeping him pressed in against him in turn, fingers playing mindlessly with the hair near his temple. They're just touches. Because Hell is not without touch anymore.
Far below, the gray shapes all seem to be looking up, not towards the ash-filled skies, but towards the same point, the same fixture. The throne. Their King. Whatever Elio counts for now. ] We're being watched. [ His voice is quiet, doesn't demand any action, just observes. Concludes. ]
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It was a sense of connection, something he never even knew he was missing with his previous partners. Really, if you'd asked Lucifer before he met Elio, he would've said he couldn't possibly conceive of a better sex life; he had beautiful people coming and going in his bed every night, he had Chloe for company in terms of establishing meaningful relations. He'd thought it couldn't truly get any better.
Elio tells him they're being watched and Lucifer blinks, kissing the back of his neck quickly before drawing back to peer over his shoulder. Indeed, it seems as if... are those souls?! Out of their Hell loops? With a startled gasp, Lucifer sits up straight, only just remembering to hold onto Elio to prevent him from tumbling off the throne. His wings flare out on either side, feathers twitching. He feels for the barrier, reaching out one hand, fingers curved upwards. It's there, definitely. Hell holds it tightly closed, now, in accordance with his command.
They aren't fighting to leave at the moment, though, the souls. They were before. Before they returned, Lucifer and Elio.
Lucifer makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, packing in as much punch as he can manage, thinking Return! Below them, a billion doors snap open simultaneously, then close, a thunderous roar of stone banging against stone echoing from all across the planes. The souls disappear. But they were drawn to here, weren't they, to the throne? Lucifer thinks about the grass, sprouting around Elio's feet. Imagines it growing all along the hallways and decides that yes, yes, it's worth a shot. ]
I have an idea. [ He sits up, pulling Elio close again, gripping him. ] Are you comfortable, going down?
[ A quick nod in the direction of the cliffs underneath, the lights and the doors and the empty hallways. ]
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Lucifer reaches out his free hand, palm up, fingers curved as if cupping a feel, pretty much, the way you'd grab a crotch, and Elio watches from the safety of his lap, watches as he makes a sweeping gesture afterwards, the sounds from a million doors snapping open, stone on stone, echoing from below. The souls disappear, one moment to the next and somewhere at the back of his mind, Elio remembers that his father must be down there, going into his stone abode now in order to stay and they'll be holding his funeral on Earth tomorrow, however long that is in Hell terms, without Elio to recite the Kaddish. He swallows. Nods his head at Lucifer's question, as always grateful that the man cares about his feelings at all, it's a bit pathetic, maybe, from where he's sitting now, but he's still mostly human and he hungers for it. How Lucifer never makes him feel like an afterthought, even when the whole cosmos takes priority. And now, Elio's part of his cosmos, too.
That's the blessing, right?
He stretches carefully, leaning in to kiss Lucifer close to his ear, nose brushing over earlobe and he keeps his voice low, because this close, the other man will hear him regardless. ]
I'm comfortable. [ Thus, he slips his arms around Lucifer's shoulders again, holding on, displaying too. Displaying that he's ready, for Lucifer's idea. ] Let me look around.
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Hell, as it were, is a labyrinth to anyone but Lucifer and his demons - Elio might very well be another exception. Each door looks the same on the outside, save for few, minuscule details. Here and there, bits and fragments of music drift out into the hallways, like echoes of something that could have been pleasant or normal or sane. No such thing as music, however, not in Hell - only the memory of it, vaguely distorted and barely recognisable. Lucifer sets Elio down gently as they land, folding his wings away and wafting ash off his suit jacket with an irritated huff. Ugh. Honestly.
Stepping back a little, he watches Elio, waiting to see what'll happen, if anything, to their surroundings. Behind the doors around them, he can sense the souls standing silently, pressed up against their own, impossible exits. Within the loops, everything has stopped. The demons are left in a kind of stasis if they enter, frozen in time.
(Lucifer, however, can enter without problems, meaning he's had to pull hundreds of demons out of there since Hell started breaking down - which is the sort of manual labour that nobody wants.)
Lucifer frowns, suddenly. Raises his chin a little and feels.
Yes.
Something's calling to them. ]
Elio. You sense it?
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Elio wants to embrace him, cling to him, to hang off his shoulders and kiss him deep on the mouth. It's not your fault, he wants to tell him, nobody should be expected to carry this alone.
Instead he says: ]
Yes, I sense it.
[ Maybe it's because he's a musician foremost, but the sounds of it, without the silence around them being broken or disturbed at all, resonate inside him. Desperate groaning, something like squeaking, something banging on repeat somewhere, he can't place it, but oh - it sounds lonely. It all sounds very lonely. Footsteps disappearing in a dream levels of lonely.
Heading down the hallway hesitantly, passing several doors along the line and they don't look the same to him, though he can't place their difference yet, it's just there, Elio turns on his heel after a few steps and looks back at Lucifer. For every step he's taken, grass is growing in patches, like little droplets of iridescent blue in the darkness, showing the way.
He meets Lucifer's eyes, halts a second, waiting. He's not in Hell to leave the Devil behind. ]
What will I find behind the doors?
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It's doing the same now, except it's following Elio, Elio's movements, Elio's feet.
Lucifer watches, almost entranced for a second, blinking when Elio stops and turns towards him. When he meets his eyes, the other man doesn't look lost at all, merely open - what is this place, what does it want with me and was he ever like that, Lucifer? Did he ever allow himself to be? ]
Loops.
[ He walks up to him, taking his hand and entwining their fingers again. Slowly, he sets off down the hallway, letting Elio follow him, tempering his own pace to fit. ]
Souls, traversing their own, deepest regrets again and again. [ Pause. A minimal shrug. ] Though, at the moment it's more as if someone's hit pause on a silent film from the 1900s. Not sure what that's about.
[ He can sense it from somewhere deeper within the maze of doors, the one they're searching for. The call feels faint to him, though, even as they draw nearer and nearer. The thought doesn't thrill him. ]
Does it sound clearer to you, the call? More persistent?
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Except, Elio is not human anymore. Humans in Hell? They have their loops. Elio has no loop, he has Lucifer who never feared what others thought of those particular aspects of him. Whose hands he held. Elio tightens his grip around the other man's fingers for a moment, not quite a squeeze, but something, a message. Thank you for taking me by the hand, love, it means.
At his question, Elio has to think for a moment, trying to feel for the right words to describe it with, what he hears. It's a voice, faintly recognizable, but he doesn't think he's ever heard the one it belongs to sounding like this - groaning and crying at the same time, as if pleasure and parting are one and the same where he is. And where is he? Where is he? ]
It sounds more familiar, I think. [ He walks next to Lucifer, feeling how the other man is tempering those long legs to fit Elio's pace. He leaves little grassy spots for every step. It looks like islands behind him, but no man's an island, isn't that what John Donne wrote? They have their loops, these souls, but they're not alone. He wants to tell that to the voice. ] It's a voice, faintly crying. I know this voice, Lucifer.
[ A frown and Elio pulls them both to a halt, gesturing with his free hand, a soft sweep towards the other end of the hallway, more doors, more loops, his father behind one, caught up in his own regret and that's what Elio's hearing. The echoes of despair. He looks up at Lucifer. ]
It's my father.
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It's my father says Elio and very briefly, Lucifer wonders whether Hell intends to trap Elio in its depths too, after all, whether it'll eat him up just as a way for Lucifer to commit yet another ridiculous act of self-sabotage. He senses Hell reverberating in response, senses that flicker of unease, anxiety. It's a scary thought. Hell doesn't want Elio like that, maybe that's why it keeps calling for them both.
Imagine a human soul in Hell that Hell doesn't try to keep.
Giving Elio's hand a squeeze, he releases him. Looks towards one of the doors farthest down the hallway, one that looks like something he's seen thousands of times before, not in Hell but on Earth. He can't quite figure out what it reminds him of, exactly. He just knows that it's very familiar, almost to the point of making that full circle back to anonymity. He tilts his head sideways, listens. He hears it too, the voice from within, but it's very soft, very subdued. It doesn't feel like anything he'd want to pursue. ]
Then I think you ought to visit him.
[ There's a part of him that screams at the thought of Elio going inside one of those loops by himself, not knowing what to expect. But maybe that's the whole point of this exercise, opaque as it still seems. Elio keeps leaving traces of himself behind in the rocky foundation of Hell, blue blossoming in patches and glimmers. Not planned. Not presumed.
It just happens.
So, he figures this, too, might be something that just. Happens. ]
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A deep breath and he looks at his bracelet, its shining silver surface, clinging to his wrist so tightly it could as well be an extra layer of skin. Then, he looks up at Lucifer with a determined expression on his face, a very particular set to his lips, nodding in agreement once. ]
I probably should, yes.
[ Stepping forward and getting up on his toes, he presses a kiss to the corner of Lucifer's mouth, a small gesture of reassurance, because he truly isn't nervous about it. If anything, seeing his father's deepest regrets will only be one more aspect to him, an additional facet that Elio's never been allowed to witness before and who wouldn't want to know someone they treasured in that way, all the way down to their deepest, darkest corner. Another nod and he steps back, turns around and heads for the door, finding it looking anonymous and inconspicuous, everything his father wasn't. It's like a hotel door, the kind Elio's seen a thousand times throughout his life. He imagines his father has, too.
What does a door that in essence denotes travel mean to his father, though?
What did it mean to Elio?
He puts his hand on the doorhandle and turns his head to look at Lucifer briefly. Between Lucifer and him a stepping stone pattern of little grassy patches have grown, lighting up the way, as if some part of him knows where he's going, where he came from, where he wants to be. All those heavy questions people can't answer for themselves and that's why they're here in the first place. Elio smiles, small, soft and says, not loud, but loud enough for the other man to hear: ]
Wish us luck.
[ But because he knows Lucifer won't reply, because Lucifer doesn't lie and he's still a punisher by nature, humans aren't here for luck, he simply turns back towards the door, pushing it open and stepping inside the gray room inside.
The moment his foot touches down on the floor, however, color seeps back into every surface. The whole palette of it will break through the darkness outside momentarily, before the door falls shut behind him and locks it away. ]