[ 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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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. ]