SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVILS - - p, Argus

[Luciferr]

Hymn of Ruin

LUCIFER GRIMM — TYPHOON — STRIKER — VERY DIFFICULT

Lucifer had never been an wholly elegant creature - he wasn't a blunt instrument either, no he had been moulded to be a precise thing, a tool for his father, a weapon wielded by the mad entity, where his mother would have wished him a choice in all things and yet he was not given that as his chance in life with the mad void deities schemes snatching him away from a more free life.

the lurid red scarring was enough to testify to what end they - his brother and he - had been taken, it marked who their sire was without question and it marked the bane and curse of his line well enough,

it was a small thankfulness that none of his children born in skyclan or bloodclan had ever inherited the line of leviathan's curse, nothing good came of it.

if one asked Lucifer what he was or what he was made of in a matter of context, he would say three things

he would say darkness,

he would say violence,

he would say tragedy.

for his story, his past was nothing but made of tragedies - too many lives with too many taken, he'd lost everything more than once in all his long living and he'd been blamed for a thousand fold crimes in his father's name he never committed - chained and sealed away in retribution to pain he hadn't caused and then freed to wreak a revenge so terrible it had cost him his sanity and his truth for awhile.

until he remembered himself again and knew regret like an old friend drawn back in.

it is this why he watches her now, watches his daughter in law bare her soul to him as she would never consider to otherwise and he knows - oh void does he know what it feels like to bear a neverending agony.

he's watched his family slaughtered by his brother - he's killed his sister in the grips of insanity and watched on as thousands and millions drowned to the drumbeat of his terrible wrath.

he knows the ghosts hound him - and he knows he will never be free of them.

and this is why he reaches towards her to pull her against his cool scales - he is always cold, so so cold, cold as the void, he can never feel warmth again - and doesn't speak again for what feels an age and when he finally does it is a final blow - a final acknowledgement - he accepts her words and her worst fears projected and he lets  them  g o.

he sees this creature and sees himself,

Hurting and screaming on the inside, unable to stop, unable to do anything - red, red, red, his sister's blood on his claws and he cannot think past the screaming in his mind and the laughter in his ears, no, no, no, what have I done? - he knows this pain,

and for all she has done, for all he sees reflected back,

he accepts it,

and he does not turn her way,

"I know Argus"

"I know"

#psychosocial.