[ It's only taken them a minute to reach his father's door, because when Lucifer says he doesn't know, he senses, what he means it that he senses it so strongly that a trip which would have taken Elio half an hour normally takes the both of them together about three steps, give or take. Having left the door open behind himself to let Lucifer in, Elio steps inside with a familiar, hello Papa, looking around. The loop pauses, then, the demon playing the Woman filtering out the door all but in a hurry, so it's only Elio and his father there. Well, Elio and his father and Lucifer, the King of Hell. Elio is so used to silence at this point, that he starts checking out the bookshelves, tall wooden structures taking up the entire end wall now, the hotel room looking much more homely than you'd usually find it. The armchair has yet to manifest, but Elio knows it will once he needs it. Once the reading starts.
Because the reading will start, the reading always does.
Elio grabs Medea off the top shelf, almost out of reach, but only almost, and turns towards Lucifer, still glancing sideways at his father, sitting on the edge of the bed, the way he usually does. One time he got up and Elio had almost embraced him, only to find him turning away, looking towards the door through which the Woman had disappeared and marveling out loud, like the water of the stream, who said that, Elio. Elio had answered, Heraclitus, Papa and waited, but nothing more came of it. He'd waited a long time, too. A long time. ]
This is how far I can get right now. Even when we talk, we don't really converse. [ And to show what he means, Elio looks over at his father and says, pleasantly. ] Do we, Papa?
[ As per usual, his father doesn't answer. His eyes are fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer who looks strangely at home in the middle of Samuel Perlman's regrets and Elio grabs the English translation of Medea between both hands, like an anchor, looking at the other man through his father's eyes for a second. The Punisher. A cock of his head and he feels a weird sense of unrest, like something is shuffling beneath his feet, although nothing happens. The hotel floors remain hotel floors. The bookshelves still stand.
[ He calls for the loop and it calls back to him, loudly enough that it doesn't take him any sort of time, locating the appropriate door. Sometimes, it'll be a bit more of a struggle. Perhaps Elio's footsteps emphasize the call somehow - as they step inside, it certainly feels different, even as Belios in an admittedly attractive human form gets to its feet and scurries out. That part, too, is new. Usually, the demons will remain to do their jobs unless he specifically excuses them.
Clearly, they are meant to be here alone, him and Elio and the soul sitting on the edge of the bed. He's a slim man, too, Elio's father. Shorter by a few inches, it seems. Right now, he looks frail, like he's stepped out of his mortal coil late enough in the process to bring aspects of his death with him into the afterlife. Elio, meanwhile, has grabbed a book off the shelf and Lucifer pauses at the sight of them. They feel new, somehow. Unblemished. Meaning, no doubt, Elio's created them and now, they manifest for him when he enters.
The loop, responding in kind.
Curious. ]
Obviously, I can't speak for you.
[ He glances at Elio before he moves closer to the bed. The man - Elio's father - watches him warily, though he doesn't look particularly afraid. Of course, he wouldn't be. Elio is definitely his son. ]
Usually, my presence in the loops exists on a spectrum, I suppose you could say. From completely unseen to completely present, interactive. This is up to me. Like so:
[ He pauses in front of Elio's father, only a couple of feet away. The man is looking directly at him, clearly sensing his presence, understanding that there's something here of significance. Lucifer amps it up a fraction and then, then and there, Elio's father blinks and steps back just half a step, looking up at him like he's coming out of a trance. "I --" he says, then stops. His gaze jumps sideways, over Lucifer's shoulder.
A complicated set of emotions swipe across his features.
"Elio," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes Lucifer take an instant liking to him which, hey, that's awesome, he's his frickin' father-in-law, isn't he? Thank Dad he isn't an arsehole like the rest of the men in Elio's life. He'd had to, what, tie him to a boulder and sent it hurtling down a cliff otherwise, what a sad predicament for everybody involved.
Instead, Lucifer watches Elio's father, wondering why the nether layers of his loop feel... oddly out of bounds. ]
[ Of course Lucifer won't speak for him, neither of them knows how these things interrelate, but he explains how his presence is on a spectrum in the loops, how he can go from invisible to interactive, giving a taste of this bending of his presence by halting in front of Elio's father who seems to follow him with his eyes, though he must sense more than see at this point. Yes, he is, it turns out when Lucifer amps up his...
Elio doesn't know how to describe it, it's like whether you walk onto a dark stage with or without a spotlight following you. Lucifer goes from no spotlight to full on, five projectors in the blink of an eye and Elio's father isn't the only one to step back one step, then. Elio feels a wave of something heated and light surging through him, like he's also gotten lit up without asking for it, actively. Hell seeing to his needs again.
Or the Devil doing the same.
At the mention of his name, he looks from the outline of Lucifer's back to his father, eyes widening slightly before his whole face, eyes, mouth, hands grabbing the book, softens. Elio steps up next to Lucifer, drawing closer to his father and glancing up at the other man sideways, expression almost disbelieving. His father, in turn, looks between them for a moment. No, no, no, he mutters and Elio's frown is immediate, about to tell his always worried, but never intrusive Papa to mind his own business, it's all tangled up as it is, his hell loop, how long it's taken Elio to get this far, really. His father doesn't have the privilege of worrying for Elio over who he's dating. He has to worry for himself.
Like Elio worries for him.
However, when he continues, it's as always much milder than you might expect, his mild-mannered father: It's much too soon, Elio. Aren't you too young for - this? He gestures around, not at Lucifer specifically, very carefully not at Lucifer.
Elio reaches up and presses his palm flat against the small of the other man's back, just for the sake of touch, connect. ]
I'm not dead, Papa. [ Turning a little, just so he's focused completely on Lucifer, angling his head to look up at him, into his face, Elio purses his lips for a moment. ] You made me visible, too.
[ The old man wakes up to his immediate reality, telling Elio no, that it's too early for him and yes, indeed, you'd think so. Wouldn't you. Lucifer shuffles his feet a little in response, watching the two of them, meeting Elio's gaze when the other man turns his attention back to him. He jumps a little at being addressed, feeling suddenly impossibly awkward. This is his father-in-law. In literal Hell.
Even Dante couldn't come up with something like this. ]
So it seems. Um.
[ He looks at Elio's father. ]
Hello, yes, nice to meet you. I'm the Devil. Hope you enjoy your - commodities.
[ He glances at the book shelf. The hotel room. Back at Elio's father, who's just watching him, looking not unlike his son, all patient eyes, quiet expression. Lucifer swallows. Gestures around himself, a bit lamely: ]
Such as they are.
[ Deflating like a balloon, Lucifer turns away before Elio's father can get around to possibly answering him, choosing instead to survey the room as it is. It's a hotel room like any other, really, though no doubt very significant to the man himself. He glances out of the windows and sees the contours of a big city, oh, London, yes. That's nice. But when he reaches for the surroundings, trying to make the room open up, it keeps itself stubbornly closed. Lucifer frowns. The hotel door leads out to the hallways. It'll provide no other kind of exit for them and certainly none for Elio's father who's a long ways from understanding the intricacies of his own loop.
Lucifer draws closer to the bathroom near the bed, the door firmly closed. He stares at it. Tries the handle, finding it locked, the door tightening somehow against his advances. He growls. Pulls the handle clean off with a snap of wood and metal, staring dumbly at it whilst it re-grows without a care in the bloody world. ]
[ It doesn't truly dawn on Elio, not until Lucifer is all but deflating in his presence, that his father is also Lucifer's father-in-law and not only that, but Lucifer's father-in-law is in Hell, a Hell which is of Lucifer's own making and it sounds like something out of the Divine Comedy, except even Dante couldn't quite imagine this, could he? How absurd, then, it must seem to both Elio's father and to Lucifer himself - meanwhile Elio stands somewhere in the middle, regarding them both and finding it the most natural state of things. It simply can't be different, right? He doesn't mind, so why should they?
Obviously, though, Lucifer minds, slinking away, observing the room for a moment at a safe distance from Elio's father who just watches him while he works. Elio feels it, the way Lucifer reaches out, it's an almost physical sensation. However, rather than disturbing him, he turns towards his father and meets his eyes, for the first time in a decade. It feels like relief and direction, even as his father asks, you're here as his partner? Elio nods, his queen.
Ah, Elio's father says, then, as if it suddenly makes sense and knowing his father, it probably does. His father is one of the most intelligent men Elio knows. He'd recognize the story for what it is. He'd recognize his own place within its framework.
He's bound to eventually understand why he's where he is now, too. That should solve a whole lot of their current problems.
Because none of them see anything but the top layer of his loop at the moment, not Elio's father, not Elio and not Lucifer either, it appears, as he growls behind them, tearing the bathroom door handle clean off the door, the door re-manifesting itself without a single hiccup, good as new. Elio frowns, leaves his father's side a bit reluctantly and walks over to Lucifer, looking at the firmly shut door, then up at the other man, biting his lower lip briefly. ]
Has this ever happened before? That you couldn't go further? [ The bed creaks as his father sits down again, Elio turning half towards him to check he's alright, finding him looking straight at him. It's still such a novel sensation, being looked at by him, being seen, he hasn't been seen for so long. Maybe never, a small part of him whispers, but Elio ignores it. His father has been the best father he knew how to be. If that's a part of his regrets, Elio can take that away from him, surely. ] He isn't ready, I guess.
[ He doesn't attempt to touch the handle any further, though a small part of him is secretly relieved that at least, it didn't disintegrate in his hand. Stepping away, he shoots a glance at the old man on the bed, seated once more, staring directly at Elio. Clearly aware, still, whatever that might mean to the other man. Lucifer frowns at the question and looks back at Elio, burying his hands in his pockets instead, just to do something with them. ]
It's never happened before. But it seems as if...
[ He turns. Puts one hand, flatly, against the surface of the door, feeling the vibrations of it, almost desperately fluctuating beneath his palm. He shuts his eyes briefly, letting the feel of the place, the voice, translate itself. ]
Yes. [ It's a mutter, mostly. ] It definitely wants to shift for me.
[ He steps back. Waves his hand at the door, the surface flittering restlessly in response, though it doesn't change beyond that, doesn't transform. He glances out of the window at London beyond and waves his hand, watching the cityscape disintegrate into ashes and rocks, darkness, the coldness of Hell. Quickly, he eases it back to its default setting. So, on this level, the loop will submit to him. He stares out of the window, trying to put the pieces together, suddenly missing Amenadiel's analytical mind. He isn't ready said Elio, whatever that means. Ready to do what? To step inside the depths of his own, deepest regrets?
When will anyone ever be ready for that?
Gaze darkening, he glances out of the window, watching the city breathing outside, a false mirage but beautiful, too. Shining. Reminds him why he used to escape from here, though of course, here never had Elio before. Things change.
This level does. [ Elio concludes, looking around as Lucifer waves his hand at the windows, revealing Hell beneath the glittering lights of London. It's just a brief glimpse, obviously, to see how much of the loop is resisting, why it is, too, but as soon as the theory has been tested, the other man eases the illusion back into place. Gently, carefully. Elio looks at him while he works, feels a deeply rooted sense of gratitude. Lucifer always cares for him. For what is his.
Elio's father watches it all happen with a unsettled calm about him, a tremor to his shoulders, but the same expression. His eyes following Elio every step of the way as he walks back to the bed, looks him over, his rumpled clothes, his gray-streaked beard. Would he have looked like this, had he lived to be in his 60's?
Guess they'll never know, will they? A frown. ] But not the next. Or the next.
[ To his father: ]
Papa, what are you waiting for?
[ It seems obvious to Elio that his father is waiting for something in particular to click into place and unlock what lies beneath. The strength, somehow, to delve deeper. Elio has tried everything he could think of, but of course, until now he hasn't been able to just ask the question directly, has he? Maybe his father knows, maybe he doesn't. Maybe, like Elio, he only senses what it will take, but then they'll go from there. His father folds his hands on his knees and looks away from Elio finally, fixing his gaze on Lucifer instead, the tremor returning to his shoulders. My Lord, he says and it's obvious whom he's talking to, right, no one addresses Elio Lord, it's Lady or Queen with him. Elio's father continues, softly: Don't you think Elio should play something?
There's a brief second in which Elio can't really breathe, where his immortal lungs lack all air, but then he gasps softly and looks automatically over his shoulder at the spot where his armchair would usually manifest. A grand piano ripples into existence, pushing the walls a bit further back to make room.
It's their old instrument from the summer house, the one Elio has played a thousand times, early morning practice, late night entertainment. Home, he thinks. Is that where they're going? ]
[ He doesn't reply, letting Elio's words float in the spaces between them, his question to his father making something hurt in Lucifer's chest. Many thousands of years ago, he had periods - long periods - during which he'd over-reflect on the nature of this place, the depressive implications of it. The base idea of humans, trapping themselves with their biggest regrets for all eternity, adding torture to the mix because nothing less could possibly do it. He's grown wiser, since. He doesn't think about it.
The questions don't make anything better. He's reminded of that now, looking down at his own feet, trying to think about a way to advance Elio's father from this point and failing. After all, if he'd known... well. Hell would be empty, wouldn't it? He was created to punish people but surely, punishment in general shouldn't be...
It should have an end.
He feels the old man's gaze on him and looks over at his soft, My Lord, hating not for the first time how his titles come so natural to people down here, souls, demons. It makes him feel like the master of an empty house. He stares at Elio's father as he asks him whether Elio shouldn't play something and seconds later, a grand manifests in the room, pushing the walls apart to properly claim its space. It's beautiful, old-looking, and it reminds him of something he's seen before, once, many years ago. Swallowing, he looks over at Elio, feeling wrung-out for reasons he can't properly articulate. He's tried to create music down here for such a long, long time but it never comes to fruition.
He can't bear to hear Elio's music turn to ashes, too. ]
Music isn't the same down here.
[ He crosses over to the piano. Staring at it intently, he presses down one of the keys, a small, distorted echo wailing out from inside the instrument as the key disintegrates beneath his finger. It comes back, of course, right away. This is Elio's manifestation, not his. He sighs and looks back at Elio, shrugging slightly. ]
[ Music isn't the same down here, Lucifer says and Elio watches him for a long moment, quietly, respectfully. The King knows his realm, of course, Elio isn't going to question that, but he questions why music can't belong to Hell like it belongs to any other state of being, music is integral, after all, if it isn't here, it's because something is standing in its way. And as its sole and authoritarian ruler, who would you imagine that is? Walking over to the piano, Lucifer presses down one key to demonstrate, how the sound echoes, distorted, while the key itself disintegrates beneath his touch. Even on Elio's creation, Lucifer won't let himself. Because that is the issue, he won't allow himself the music he loves so much, not here. In the place he uses to punish himself as much as he does everyone else.
Like he can't touch Elio's salt pitcher. Or anything Elio doesn't acutely need. But it's just that, Elio needs music now, doesn't he? His father is asking for it. For him to play.
It'll work. He's sure of it. It belongs, if not in this realm, then in this loop. Lucifer might shrug it off, not know what to do with it, but Elio knows. In this moment, he knows. ]
The worlds are overlapping now, Lucifer. Or I wouldn't be here at all.
[ Following close behind the other man, he moves up next to him, looking down at the old, well-known piano. Then, he sits down on the bench slowly, leaving Lucifer close by, feeling his presence like this, a little bit out of touch. He twists slightly and looks back at his father who's smiling now, as if seeing them like this, side by side, Lucifer and Elio, pleases him.
It pleases Elio, too. He smiles back. ]
What do you want to hear, Papa? [ His father replies after a second, no hesitation, Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement, he requests. Elio's smile widens a little bit as he turns back towards the keys, placing his hands on them, feeling the familiarity of it. The width of the instrument, the weight of it. He hasn't played in ten years now, so he jokes, softly: ] I'm not warmed up, you've been warned.
[ He breathes in deeply, then comments, only partly for his father's benefit, but also because he remembers. He remembers the first day in Lucifer's penthouse, how he'd butchered this piece out of nerves and Lucifer had picked it up, played it for him. How they've played it back and forth between each other ever since. No matter what it's going to sound like, the Beethoven, now, it's fitting. ]
The Moonlight Sonata is Lucifer's and my piece. [ Without looking up at him, he remarks to Lucifer: ] It's as eternal as you are.
[ Then, he starts playing, the sound of the piano soft and clear, the tempo meditative, even. Every key he strikes performs to perfection, and so does Elio. ]
[ Elio follows his his manifestation this time, rather than Lucifer's underlying dismissal and it feels, for a second, like something shifts, as if the realm re-asserts itself, another piece of a much-too-complicated machinery falling into place. Lucifer frowns and watches as the other man seats himself by the piano, asking his father (Lucifer's father-in-law) what he wants to hear. Moonlight Sonata replies the old man, 1st movement, because - like his son - he knows exactly what he wants to hear, what's called for and what isn't.
Lucifer sighs. Shifts a little in place, from foot to foot, feeling out of place and out of time simultaneously. He's the ruler of Hell, sure, but Hell isn't what it used to be and he's... struggling to understand what it's trying to become. He thinks about a Hell with music, with touch, with warmth and smiles and the scent of newly-baked pancakes. Sounds wrong, doesn't it. Sounds like something else entirely.
When Elio tells his father that the piece belongs to them, to him and Lucifer (eternal as you, he says, and oh, how is he like this, how can he even exist down here at all?), something inside him breaks. He listens for a couple of seconds as Elio strikes up those achingly familiar rolling triplets, sending him hurtling backwards in time, hundreds of years, to one of their first nights together when he played it wrong and Lucifer, consequently, became aware of how to love him.
Even down here, it sounds...
It sounds...
Something cold slams through his system. He straightens, lips thinning for a second before he reaches out, forcing himself to be gentle, and runs his fingers across the back of Elio's neck, his curls tickling his fingertips. Thank you, it means. Please, forgive me, too, and I don't know what this is about, except that it isn't you and then, wordlessly, he turns away and stalks towards the door, past Elio's father, wrenching the door open and exiting the loop.
The door falls shut behind him, quietly. The tones of the Moonlight Sonata follow him, echo-like, as he flees. ]
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no subject
Because the reading will start, the reading always does.
Elio grabs Medea off the top shelf, almost out of reach, but only almost, and turns towards Lucifer, still glancing sideways at his father, sitting on the edge of the bed, the way he usually does. One time he got up and Elio had almost embraced him, only to find him turning away, looking towards the door through which the Woman had disappeared and marveling out loud, like the water of the stream, who said that, Elio. Elio had answered, Heraclitus, Papa and waited, but nothing more came of it. He'd waited a long time, too. A long time. ]
This is how far I can get right now. Even when we talk, we don't really converse. [ And to show what he means, Elio looks over at his father and says, pleasantly. ] Do we, Papa?
[ As per usual, his father doesn't answer. His eyes are fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer who looks strangely at home in the middle of Samuel Perlman's regrets and Elio grabs the English translation of Medea between both hands, like an anchor, looking at the other man through his father's eyes for a second. The Punisher. A cock of his head and he feels a weird sense of unrest, like something is shuffling beneath his feet, although nothing happens. The hotel floors remain hotel floors. The bookshelves still stand.
But something has changed, Elio's sure of it. ]
no subject
Clearly, they are meant to be here alone, him and Elio and the soul sitting on the edge of the bed. He's a slim man, too, Elio's father. Shorter by a few inches, it seems. Right now, he looks frail, like he's stepped out of his mortal coil late enough in the process to bring aspects of his death with him into the afterlife. Elio, meanwhile, has grabbed a book off the shelf and Lucifer pauses at the sight of them. They feel new, somehow. Unblemished. Meaning, no doubt, Elio's created them and now, they manifest for him when he enters.
The loop, responding in kind.
Curious. ]
Obviously, I can't speak for you.
[ He glances at Elio before he moves closer to the bed. The man - Elio's father - watches him warily, though he doesn't look particularly afraid. Of course, he wouldn't be. Elio is definitely his son. ]
Usually, my presence in the loops exists on a spectrum, I suppose you could say. From completely unseen to completely present, interactive. This is up to me. Like so:
[ He pauses in front of Elio's father, only a couple of feet away. The man is looking directly at him, clearly sensing his presence, understanding that there's something here of significance. Lucifer amps it up a fraction and then, then and there, Elio's father blinks and steps back just half a step, looking up at him like he's coming out of a trance. "I --" he says, then stops. His gaze jumps sideways, over Lucifer's shoulder.
A complicated set of emotions swipe across his features.
"Elio," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes Lucifer take an instant liking to him which, hey, that's awesome, he's his frickin' father-in-law, isn't he? Thank Dad he isn't an arsehole like the rest of the men in Elio's life. He'd had to, what, tie him to a boulder and sent it hurtling down a cliff otherwise, what a sad predicament for everybody involved.
Instead, Lucifer watches Elio's father, wondering why the nether layers of his loop feel... oddly out of bounds. ]
no subject
Elio doesn't know how to describe it, it's like whether you walk onto a dark stage with or without a spotlight following you. Lucifer goes from no spotlight to full on, five projectors in the blink of an eye and Elio's father isn't the only one to step back one step, then. Elio feels a wave of something heated and light surging through him, like he's also gotten lit up without asking for it, actively. Hell seeing to his needs again.
Or the Devil doing the same.
At the mention of his name, he looks from the outline of Lucifer's back to his father, eyes widening slightly before his whole face, eyes, mouth, hands grabbing the book, softens. Elio steps up next to Lucifer, drawing closer to his father and glancing up at the other man sideways, expression almost disbelieving. His father, in turn, looks between them for a moment. No, no, no, he mutters and Elio's frown is immediate, about to tell his always worried, but never intrusive Papa to mind his own business, it's all tangled up as it is, his hell loop, how long it's taken Elio to get this far, really. His father doesn't have the privilege of worrying for Elio over who he's dating. He has to worry for himself.
Like Elio worries for him.
However, when he continues, it's as always much milder than you might expect, his mild-mannered father: It's much too soon, Elio. Aren't you too young for - this? He gestures around, not at Lucifer specifically, very carefully not at Lucifer.
Elio reaches up and presses his palm flat against the small of the other man's back, just for the sake of touch, connect. ]
I'm not dead, Papa. [ Turning a little, just so he's focused completely on Lucifer, angling his head to look up at him, into his face, Elio purses his lips for a moment. ] You made me visible, too.
no subject
Even Dante couldn't come up with something like this. ]
So it seems. Um.
[ He looks at Elio's father. ]
Hello, yes, nice to meet you. I'm the Devil. Hope you enjoy your - commodities.
[ He glances at the book shelf. The hotel room. Back at Elio's father, who's just watching him, looking not unlike his son, all patient eyes, quiet expression. Lucifer swallows. Gestures around himself, a bit lamely: ]
Such as they are.
[ Deflating like a balloon, Lucifer turns away before Elio's father can get around to possibly answering him, choosing instead to survey the room as it is. It's a hotel room like any other, really, though no doubt very significant to the man himself. He glances out of the windows and sees the contours of a big city, oh, London, yes. That's nice. But when he reaches for the surroundings, trying to make the room open up, it keeps itself stubbornly closed. Lucifer frowns. The hotel door leads out to the hallways. It'll provide no other kind of exit for them and certainly none for Elio's father who's a long ways from understanding the intricacies of his own loop.
Lucifer draws closer to the bathroom near the bed, the door firmly closed. He stares at it. Tries the handle, finding it locked, the door tightening somehow against his advances. He growls. Pulls the handle clean off with a snap of wood and metal, staring dumbly at it whilst it re-grows without a care in the bloody world. ]
no subject
Obviously, though, Lucifer minds, slinking away, observing the room for a moment at a safe distance from Elio's father who just watches him while he works. Elio feels it, the way Lucifer reaches out, it's an almost physical sensation. However, rather than disturbing him, he turns towards his father and meets his eyes, for the first time in a decade. It feels like relief and direction, even as his father asks, you're here as his partner? Elio nods, his queen.
Ah, Elio's father says, then, as if it suddenly makes sense and knowing his father, it probably does. His father is one of the most intelligent men Elio knows. He'd recognize the story for what it is. He'd recognize his own place within its framework.
He's bound to eventually understand why he's where he is now, too. That should solve a whole lot of their current problems.
Because none of them see anything but the top layer of his loop at the moment, not Elio's father, not Elio and not Lucifer either, it appears, as he growls behind them, tearing the bathroom door handle clean off the door, the door re-manifesting itself without a single hiccup, good as new. Elio frowns, leaves his father's side a bit reluctantly and walks over to Lucifer, looking at the firmly shut door, then up at the other man, biting his lower lip briefly. ]
Has this ever happened before? That you couldn't go further? [ The bed creaks as his father sits down again, Elio turning half towards him to check he's alright, finding him looking straight at him. It's still such a novel sensation, being looked at by him, being seen, he hasn't been seen for so long. Maybe never, a small part of him whispers, but Elio ignores it. His father has been the best father he knew how to be. If that's a part of his regrets, Elio can take that away from him, surely. ] He isn't ready, I guess.
no subject
It's never happened before. But it seems as if...
[ He turns. Puts one hand, flatly, against the surface of the door, feeling the vibrations of it, almost desperately fluctuating beneath his palm. He shuts his eyes briefly, letting the feel of the place, the voice, translate itself. ]
Yes. [ It's a mutter, mostly. ] It definitely wants to shift for me.
[ He steps back. Waves his hand at the door, the surface flittering restlessly in response, though it doesn't change beyond that, doesn't transform. He glances out of the window at London beyond and waves his hand, watching the cityscape disintegrate into ashes and rocks, darkness, the coldness of Hell. Quickly, he eases it back to its default setting. So, on this level, the loop will submit to him. He stares out of the window, trying to put the pieces together, suddenly missing Amenadiel's analytical mind. He isn't ready said Elio, whatever that means. Ready to do what? To step inside the depths of his own, deepest regrets?
When will anyone ever be ready for that?
Gaze darkening, he glances out of the window, watching the city breathing outside, a false mirage but beautiful, too. Shining. Reminds him why he used to escape from here, though of course, here never had Elio before. Things change.
Evidently. ]
no subject
Elio's father watches it all happen with a unsettled calm about him, a tremor to his shoulders, but the same expression. His eyes following Elio every step of the way as he walks back to the bed, looks him over, his rumpled clothes, his gray-streaked beard. Would he have looked like this, had he lived to be in his 60's?
Guess they'll never know, will they? A frown. ] But not the next. Or the next.
[ To his father: ]
Papa, what are you waiting for?
[ It seems obvious to Elio that his father is waiting for something in particular to click into place and unlock what lies beneath. The strength, somehow, to delve deeper. Elio has tried everything he could think of, but of course, until now he hasn't been able to just ask the question directly, has he? Maybe his father knows, maybe he doesn't. Maybe, like Elio, he only senses what it will take, but then they'll go from there. His father folds his hands on his knees and looks away from Elio finally, fixing his gaze on Lucifer instead, the tremor returning to his shoulders. My Lord, he says and it's obvious whom he's talking to, right, no one addresses Elio Lord, it's Lady or Queen with him. Elio's father continues, softly: Don't you think Elio should play something?
There's a brief second in which Elio can't really breathe, where his immortal lungs lack all air, but then he gasps softly and looks automatically over his shoulder at the spot where his armchair would usually manifest. A grand piano ripples into existence, pushing the walls a bit further back to make room.
It's their old instrument from the summer house, the one Elio has played a thousand times, early morning practice, late night entertainment. Home, he thinks. Is that where they're going? ]
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The questions don't make anything better. He's reminded of that now, looking down at his own feet, trying to think about a way to advance Elio's father from this point and failing. After all, if he'd known... well. Hell would be empty, wouldn't it? He was created to punish people but surely, punishment in general shouldn't be...
It should have an end.
He feels the old man's gaze on him and looks over at his soft, My Lord, hating not for the first time how his titles come so natural to people down here, souls, demons. It makes him feel like the master of an empty house. He stares at Elio's father as he asks him whether Elio shouldn't play something and seconds later, a grand manifests in the room, pushing the walls apart to properly claim its space. It's beautiful, old-looking, and it reminds him of something he's seen before, once, many years ago. Swallowing, he looks over at Elio, feeling wrung-out for reasons he can't properly articulate. He's tried to create music down here for such a long, long time but it never comes to fruition.
He can't bear to hear Elio's music turn to ashes, too. ]
Music isn't the same down here.
[ He crosses over to the piano. Staring at it intently, he presses down one of the keys, a small, distorted echo wailing out from inside the instrument as the key disintegrates beneath his finger. It comes back, of course, right away. This is Elio's manifestation, not his. He sighs and looks back at Elio, shrugging slightly. ]
It belongs to another world.
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Like he can't touch Elio's salt pitcher. Or anything Elio doesn't acutely need. But it's just that, Elio needs music now, doesn't he? His father is asking for it. For him to play.
It'll work. He's sure of it. It belongs, if not in this realm, then in this loop. Lucifer might shrug it off, not know what to do with it, but Elio knows. In this moment, he knows. ]
The worlds are overlapping now, Lucifer. Or I wouldn't be here at all.
[ Following close behind the other man, he moves up next to him, looking down at the old, well-known piano. Then, he sits down on the bench slowly, leaving Lucifer close by, feeling his presence like this, a little bit out of touch. He twists slightly and looks back at his father who's smiling now, as if seeing them like this, side by side, Lucifer and Elio, pleases him.
It pleases Elio, too. He smiles back. ]
What do you want to hear, Papa? [ His father replies after a second, no hesitation, Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement, he requests. Elio's smile widens a little bit as he turns back towards the keys, placing his hands on them, feeling the familiarity of it. The width of the instrument, the weight of it. He hasn't played in ten years now, so he jokes, softly: ] I'm not warmed up, you've been warned.
[ He breathes in deeply, then comments, only partly for his father's benefit, but also because he remembers. He remembers the first day in Lucifer's penthouse, how he'd butchered this piece out of nerves and Lucifer had picked it up, played it for him. How they've played it back and forth between each other ever since. No matter what it's going to sound like, the Beethoven, now, it's fitting. ]
The Moonlight Sonata is Lucifer's and my piece. [ Without looking up at him, he remarks to Lucifer: ] It's as eternal as you are.
[ Then, he starts playing, the sound of the piano soft and clear, the tempo meditative, even. Every key he strikes performs to perfection, and so does Elio. ]
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Lucifer sighs. Shifts a little in place, from foot to foot, feeling out of place and out of time simultaneously. He's the ruler of Hell, sure, but Hell isn't what it used to be and he's... struggling to understand what it's trying to become. He thinks about a Hell with music, with touch, with warmth and smiles and the scent of newly-baked pancakes. Sounds wrong, doesn't it. Sounds like something else entirely.
When Elio tells his father that the piece belongs to them, to him and Lucifer (eternal as you, he says, and oh, how is he like this, how can he even exist down here at all?), something inside him breaks. He listens for a couple of seconds as Elio strikes up those achingly familiar rolling triplets, sending him hurtling backwards in time, hundreds of years, to one of their first nights together when he played it wrong and Lucifer, consequently, became aware of how to love him.
Even down here, it sounds...
It sounds...
Something cold slams through his system. He straightens, lips thinning for a second before he reaches out, forcing himself to be gentle, and runs his fingers across the back of Elio's neck, his curls tickling his fingertips. Thank you, it means. Please, forgive me, too, and I don't know what this is about, except that it isn't you and then, wordlessly, he turns away and stalks towards the door, past Elio's father, wrenching the door open and exiting the loop.
The door falls shut behind him, quietly. The tones of the Moonlight Sonata follow him, echo-like, as he flees. ]