cxffexngel

[cxffexngel]

Also made a new blog for Nehan! still gotta make his verse, rules, etc pages but know ya can poke him! @mediclzen

[cxffexngel]

using that sword... the Efes. Feels weird and yet a breath of fresh air. Unlike his ever trusty broadsword Lucifer bestowed him, betrayed him with and continued his path upon the skies and protecting them with it's worn edges until the very end.

When and how he got his hands on it remains still an enigma even to him - a fateful day after the encounter and defeat of the Phoenix, the blade had just piqued his interest from afar and took it with himself - something called to him from within, it's blade all twisted and mangled and yet deals poweful strikes beyond mortals would ever imagine.

Nonetheless, Given it's unknown nature and having let Cags deal with examining it, Sandalphon has found himself relying back to his old one, the one he's used and worn down tough hands that marred in sins, blood and callouses from millennia worth of battle. – most importantly.... It requires a good check up as well, even swords made from astral technology and Lucifer's blessings were not free from wear and tear; the telltale signs in the form of dulled edges and a very deserve polishing.

So, for now – lonesome soul that Sandalphon is, shall occupy the blacksmithing room for himself, obviously having asked for it's use beforehand and hopefully not one interrupting his little self proclaimed tasks, a ritual of sorts only he wants to do alone.

[cxffexngel]

Sandalphon truly didn't have many expectations when crafting such a sacrilege to the craft, from making those tapioca balls to mixing hard earned roast with the sweetened milk and chocolate syrup – Really. Expecting the other's reaction to be either neutral – but the hints had been there from the past. From needing less strongly scented brews to whenever he'd remember passing times at Raduga's and those only milk drinks that the eternal would order.

But despise the horror sinking in his core, knowing the other had absolutely adored it from that silence alone to how the poor amalgamation of a drink simply disappears before his eyes... At least it helps to know this made the other happy. Truly.

Even when he's still in the opinion mortals taste on drinks sometimes is the most scandalous things he's been witness to.

'' It appears it is your taste. Need a second round? I... still have leftover tapioca that would go bad if I leave them overnight. '' There's a slight defeated sigh in his tone but nothing to think about. A personal quip that only he's at fault when in the end, it's outweighed by the delight he's been able to bring to the other. '' As far as I know, a lot of mortals like to chew on these after the drink or... even play with them using that wide straw. I don't get it, but if it makes them more comfortable... ''

'' My idea was to someday open a free drink stand at stardust town – Seofon brought the idea to the table sometime ago and considering mortal children aren't usually fond of stronger drinks, I guessed adapting my brews to things Lyria favors might paint better with the children there. And perhaps even the more grown ups. '' But the deal is there to stay too - if even adult mortals loved the drinks who is he to deny them this even when he personally would rather serve black brews? Except for the winged fool that once every a blue moon decided to flaunt that face with that smile that was all wrong. Now that's someone who's permanently banned from even breathing in his direction.

[ @cxffexngel said; ] '' This is... Boba coffee Machiatto. It escapes me why adding tapioca does something for mortals but I guess if to bring a more comfortable space for people means to adapt my menu... '' But little would Sandalphon like to admit that he found it a crime against everything he stands for to see the drink of millenia old crafting, the very epitome of what bonded him to... Lucifer, defaced in such a manner...! And yet, it was how it evolves with each millenia what he would've loved to see the most. Ever so kindhearted Lucifer ever was. '' You can try it, it's sweet and doesn't have strong smells. '' It hardly could be considered coffee at this point honestly, with the milk and chocolate and those ball shaped little mass thingies resting idly on the bottom of it... What an absolute horrifying creation his own hands have been defiled with–!

‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍... what a curious concept. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍a concept that it didn't take a genius to see that Sandalphon was not exactly privy to.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍there's deepness to his voice, a way that he's fighting for his expression not to change as he stares down at the amalgamation creation that Six similarly scrutinizes.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍except that Six's gaze is filled with curiosity, in contrast to Sandalphon's great indignation.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍he isn't sure how much he really believes that people actually like... food, in their drinks. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍a part of him believes that this is perhaps some sort of myth someone spread that he is unfortunately to act as the debunker for, and it makes him apprehensive.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍but, on the other hand...

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` I can't promise you that I won't spit it out. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍I'm not used to having things in my drink. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍and, if he's honest, he's also worrying about swallowing too fast and choking on one. what will one of these beads feel like when it enters his mouth? what if he swallows one whole?

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍a trail of sweat travels down his exposed temple, and pulls the cup a little closer as his ears swivel back. he can feel his reservations creeping up his spine.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍... at least there truly was no smell as he promised. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍( not that Sandalphon would ever lie to him. )

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` Here goes... `` ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍his lips close around the wide straw... ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍... and he sips.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍... and he sips some more.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍... and he sips even more.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍his arms cross atop the table in front of the cup, as he if he's claimed it, and he just keeps sipping.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍— until finally, he pulls off to chew.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` Mm... `` ♪

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍he likes it.

[cxffexngel]

The question hangs over Sandalphon's head, not really taking the hint for several moments until the familiarity of the other's presence, those eyes... A reflection of a long gone past where it was him bidding the extra time, to make up an excuse to bond with the sun itself a younger, naive sandalphon once tried everything in his disposal to make the one that his heart belonged to stay – even if for just a single minute more.

A understanding smile dawns on the archangel, unspoken but yet so clear as day against the dim welcome light of dying candles that the archangel's own power keep alive but not too bright - Slowly he's better at reading others without assuming too much or too little so he opts to shake his head a bit. '' I just finished being the Barista for the day, but that doesn't mean no one is allowed to be here. on the contrary... I tend to stay even after these hours to simply enjoy the silence - count stars perhaps. Clean here and there... I'd not mind a hand. '' Offers as bargain, all while pointing at the pile of washed dishes not to far to their right, upon the dishwasher. '' That or you can simply stay, this place... It's more or less what I wish to make for a future cafe if I ever open one myself; long after should this airship reach it's destination and fate allows it for some peace. ''

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍the sound causes an ear to give a slight flick. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍the frequency is high, enough to tickle the sensitive inner canals, but not enough to warrant anything more. if anything, it piques his intrigue, and he ventures a step closer to sate his curiosity's calling.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍putting things away, possibly?

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍or pulling cups out for a bit of a late night indulgence?

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it wouldn't be out of character for him, either which way. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` No... I just wanted to see if I could take up some of your ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍time, if that was alright with you anyway. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a brief pause ends with another question.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` Did you just finish, or can I help with something? ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

'' Ah... I just sent off the last of crewmembers on their way to close and leave the kitchen to anyone needing a break. So... Theoretically yes. '' Comes the words after the gentle clink of various cups stashed away within the comfortable walls of shelves of worn wood, kicking up a bit of dust as they settle but goes unseen to the naked eye. The pause is slight, the Archangel untying his apron in an expertly quick way to let it hang on one chair for the day, and then bring back his attention to the Erune.

'' Is something the matter? '' and even if nothing's wrong, Sandalphon himself didn't mind a light chat, not with how slowly he's come to find the Eternal's presence more than just an acquaintance's presence but some sort... of friendship. A comfortable one that didn't disturb his quiet and peace and in turn, brought actually interesting nights sometimes. So his expression is inquisitive, a brow raised slightly but leaves the space for the other to either keep going or pull back, no judgements at all but a neutral ground with enough familiarity.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` @cxffexngel... ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍Do you have a minute? `` ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

It is through trial and error, patience build brick by brick - temperance and a bit of his own mix of empathy that's amassed ever since creation thousand millenia ago that sandalphon has learned that sometimes it's good to depend on others.

where once he'd just have to take care of just a pair of wings, suddenly he had to work with three pairs – mixing the floor into a colorful mess of fluffy pinnions that sometimes the girl in blue and singularity themselves would help scooping away when they'd not fade into the ether as they usually do - more desnse in magic as they held on their physical form for longer. Those times he'd either store the feathes somewhere, absorb them back to his core or let Lyria toy with them to her heart's content after a several minute long stare-off of big, beady eyes against harsh red ones.

She'd always win those.

Seox was more meticulous, even for someone who was anxiety's incarnate when the mask peeled off the other's face on those unfortunate moments becoming prey of the captain's whims. Those times reminds Sandalphon a lot of when he's the end of the joke, being shot back his own words at the most unpreceded moment to be caught off guard– one never knows when captain will strike, such is their power of being an unpredictable force to turn the tides of fate plays in hand to even the smallest things, actions...

The erune is careful, shy... his hands may have more blood staining them than many could imagine and yet treated his wings with the care of a porcelain vase, Sandalphon learning how to let his walls down, to trust – so it was only natural to offer the same. Knowing an Erune's ears were as sensitive and needed some extra care, being also in an angle where one's own hands could only reach so much before they needed an extra help, so it had come as a surprice when Seox had accepted, after a bit of a wait, his offer. So he'd pay the carefulness with rough hands that also attempt gentleness, Seox's instructions followed from start to finish, carefully handling the swam with soothing oiment between fluffy hair that protected it's inner cannals. Truly... it was a much different thing to know by books how mortal anatomy worked versus having it up close.

'' It's the least I can do– for sparring with me, and helping out with my wings. '' he says like it's a matter-of fact, eyes fixed on the fluff while his other hand carefully pulls away any pale and grey fur to see better where he's cleaning. '' It was not easy to pick from so many wings and yet you did flawlessly on your first try... Even Lyria often gets tired halfway in, heh. '' Which is obvious considering their grand difference in terms of life experience and built bodies. Lyria is frail, petite where Seox hid a well toned, scarred body worth of a warrior – So if was only normal the other man would rarely tire himself unless finding the perfect match; a long sparring between the eternal and the current supreme primarch, claws and blade meeting soundlessly at speeds the eternal would often tell the other to either hold back or hold nothing back against just to test their limits, strengthen the body and soul.

'' So, more or less, I'm doing this in desire to help back for the same reasons you offered to assist me with my own plight. I'm still... getting used to so many wings, as heavy as they feel on me. ''

‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍when Sandalphon humbly requested his help in preening a few pesky feathers that were just out of his reach, Six had thought little to nothing of it.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍in his mind, these were things that friends did. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍like telling someone their hair was in disarray after going through a wind tunnel, or pointing out a bit of food that had missed someone's mouth by just a few centimeters.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he had not anticipated receiving similar treatment, let alone so quickly. or to such an extent.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍more than that, he could have refused. Sandalphon would have listened, and he knows he would have.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... but instead, he bit his tongue. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍if Sandalphon, a friend, wished to help him too, then... he shouldn't turn him away. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍even if this feels like asking too much.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍so, he instead sits, ears standing tall and unmoving as to not disturb the hand currently swabbing inside of the sensitive canal with a ball of cotton. ‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍

‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... Are you sure you want to be doing something like ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍this? You don't owe me anything, you know. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍I'm fine with just leaving it at that. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍which isn't to say that this didn't feel nice or anything, but he also wanted to make it clear that he didn't... expect this of him. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍( at the very least, he isn't outright rejecting his kindness. )

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍@cxffexngel offers support. ‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

The archangel could have an inkling of what could've happened. Knowing the gist of the other's power - summoning mirrors of himself to match the speed and in the end, also never hurt anyone during a sparring.

that didn't mean that he'd hurt himself, and Sandalphon can't help but be worried, despise if he had (and probably could maybe do the same) such an ability he'd also spar with himself keep his senses sharp. So... he kind of understands. There's a solemnt moment of deliverance, where sharp, crimson gaze digs into the other's collapsed form and wounds that were trying to heal on their own - a healer would be able to mend them in no time but one right now would be a bit far.

It'd take a walk, perhaps. Or maybe visiting that one erune doctor that he's seen the other both talk about and also visit often whenever they'd visit the island full of mortal children - the very same that would sometimes flock the archangel and demand to see his wings and be handsy little menaces.

Heh.

'' There's no judgement here, about your plight. I constantly push myself more that captain would be happy to see me doing, your secret is sealed with me. Allow me at least to assist you. '' Says, gently as the current supreme primarch downs himself to one knee, wings tucked on his back politely as the larger flight feathers tap on chipped, old wood a bit and push dust away. A hand is offeren a bit as the outlines glow with a gentle, soothing feeling. '' Try to not worry them too much, I may not show it but also I thrive for looking out for everyone here, so whatever i can help with, I'll gladly try and lend a hand should you need it too – I finished my duties for now, after all. '' The once bitter angel says with a soft rumble in his voice, low for them two, existences burdened with violent pasts amending to be their best selves, that only offers nothing but understanding. There's a gentle quirk on the side of his lip, an understanding smile he offers. '' I could help you spar as well, considering the eternals can hold their own even on the most impossible situations – perhaps that could be better than mirror battles. ''

‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍@cxffexngel asked, ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍"This isn't a training exercise, is it?" The primarch is still.... kind of getting used to the long road of mortal customs. Whatever is the eternal doing definitely is out of whatever he knows. There's a concerned look in his eyes and the way brows knit subtly, brown wings out from having flown with a few cargo that were delivered to the nearby village that the crew were assisting so his plumes are ready with some magic for any necessary healing.

‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍————————

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... at least, at the very surface level, that was the truth.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍when a sparring partner couldn't be found, his own afterimages sufficed. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it kept him sharp. kept him quick. and if they managed a hit on him, it obviously meant one round wasn't enough.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍as such, as the very last shadowed likeness of himself was slashed to nothingness, Six's movements stilled, shallow pants heaved in and huffed out in quick succession.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍there was a ringing in his ears. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍one of his clones managed a harsh kick right to the center of his chest at one point, and another took the opportunity for a follow - up blow to the side of his head.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it wasn't hard enough to concuss him, but the dizziness that sets in after the fact is proving difficult to shake off.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍as adamant as he would have been to call forth another set, he decides a break is in order, even if it interfered with the true reason he'd wanted to lose himself in this training in the first place ; ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a mental deterrent.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... though, it seems that perhaps fate is on his side today. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍just as he sags to try and further catch his breath, shaking his head back and forth to quicken the process of regaining his senses, a familiar voice cuts through the deafening ringing.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it was Sandalphon, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍and at the mark of his descent, Six forces his back to straighten again, squaring his shoulders and steadying himself on his feet. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... Something like that. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍I can't allow myself to get too complacent, or slow. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... the mind fog was still thick, however. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he has to think a little harder for the words, be a little more mindful to make sure they're coherent enough to comprehend as he strings them.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it's safe to say that healing may indeed be necessary.

[cxffexngel]

While the smaller angel talks Sandalphon can't help but sigh, not dejectedly nor from exhasperation but something close to... fodnenss, maybe glee in there as well that Sandalphon definitelly prides himself as to not let it show too much. (Which, honestly, anyone can guess it's written all over his face.) '' ... Yeah. But don't let them hear you they might pick on you, Uriel especially tends to be very handsy when complimented. '' or worse, smother her in praises until poor Raziel is left into a shaking, blushing mess probably as the four would absolutely find her nothing less than adorable – not a bad end for her, but even then Sandalphon would like for everyone to be alive even one day.

And there it is, that bitterness that often looms at the back oh his mind every time faced with any of the angels and archangels whenever they'd drop by. Raziel, who was created after him had already a purpose - that Sandalphon could only watch with nothing but eyes that slowly muddled with jealously and later anger; not at her but that even she was able to flare her wings and fly off to missions while he'd root in his man-made prison without bars.

This, he doesn't say. Nor his face sours which he's learned to prevent by occupying himself with a blend of his own to drown the poison of his tongue. '' It all comes with time. It hasn't exactly been easy for Michael, especially, as far as I've heard from the others. She's lived with Uriel for a while figuring out what she wanted to do... so I guess – What you want to do besides collecting enigmas might come later. '' And he adds with a gentle sigh, scarlet gaze falling on various of the fruits stacked neatly by the countertop. Fresh, glistering clean from having washed them before. '' I still plan on opening a more permanent cafe of my own when Captain's mission is over, so trying temporal stays like this helps considering various factors. '' And seeing horrible crimes as how mortals still prefer silly drinks with nonsense flavored mixing rather than his hard earned beans be of use....!

Actually, scratch that. Raziel definitely will make someone uncomfortable or scare them off with her nosiness – but..... at least it's extra seats for the eldery? So supposing that's not a bad idea, Sandalphon for now will overlook it. '' Alright. Then... uh – just pick the orders of each customer whenever they call with a hand up or something. If I'm too full with orders feel free to assist me as well. '' And yet despise his best attempt at being a Leader, Sandalphon's unsure how to even begin. Thankfully the other distracted with the pastry offered, he just goes back to the usual, giving his back to the other.

It shouldn't be too bad, right?

Hours pass, orders come and go, the sun slowly has moved from high up to now almost meeting the sea by the horizon as it paints the skies a warm orange and pinks as fluffy clouds also paint the canvas of blue skies warmer tones that looked nostalgic. Skydweller numbers starting to dissipate as most of them are back to their inns and hotels, older ones staying but preferring the stalls that offered obnoxious alcoholic drinks (Even now he cannot understand the drinking culture, and probably will never come and begin picking on it as last time he tried a taste.... it didn't go well.) And seeing Raziel so earnestly doing her best.... has made the day a bit brighter. Truly. So before she's back from her last orders delivered, Sandalphon had prepared a more warm blend, the usual – it's cold, nights become only bright at the gentle peek of the moon and the lights of various lamps. No disasters have happened besides whatever nonsense he'd see from the corner of his eye at whatever the Captain would probably do or have happening around them.

For now, his assitance was not needed, for now... he will allow himself a selfish thing. '' Raziel... Lets rest for now. I prepared a blend that.... he used to like a lot. ''

"lord michael of fire, she is so valorous! lord gabriel of water, as graceful as peaceful rain. lord raphael of wind who is as noble as persistent zephyrs. and lord uriel of earth, humble and unshakable. no wonder they were collectively second only to lord lucifer himself. with their strong foundations, i have no doubt that even if it's difficult, they would've found a way regardless." her hands fold upon the countertop, contemplating awestruck memories of their remarkable forms. each of the primarchs were gifted six splendid wings and miracles beyond anything raziel dreamed of. despite having helped the singularity attain something close to godhood, that sight of her former superiors would still be the guiding light towards whatever accomplishments she aimed towards. they were strength aided by lucifer's parting words.

her gaze wandered a bit. in reality, she'd never really expressed herself so candidly until she was able to meet sandalphon on terms not under the pressure of some world-ending event. it felt... nice to get all of this off her chest. "i can't speak for them, though for me personally, i enjoy my designation. i don't know if it's because it's my programming, or what, but it brings me personal fulfillment. aha... i tried my hand at authoring. i still think i have a ways to go..."

in a world that has long outgrown the need for their kind (angels, she has concluded, were an invasive species, just as the astrals themselves were; they were never meant for the authority given to them), no doubt that adapting was of utmost import should they continue to exist — all primals were on this same boat. that was fine, she supposed. they had eternity to figure it out. sandalphon's graceful offering was answer enough. her smile widens and becomes as sweet and sincere as the treat offered, gladly taken with bright enthusiasm.

"mortals are inquisitive too, you know. they only advance because they ask questions!" a cheery giggle. if her wings were out, they'd be fluttering. in place of that, she enjoys deliciousness with sparkles in those light eyes. "so i doubt they'd be terribly oppressed by a query or two! though, as grateful as i am, i'm not here to ask direct questions. rather, to spend time with you on this sunny, enigmatic beach! getting to know someone doesn't have to be probing."

not him. "oh, that'll be no problem... i don't think i'll ever get used to him." his face was uncanny... so was his personality... what was up with that?

raziel becomes comically serious, getting her game-face on. "lord sandalphon, the kind of help i can offer for now is... maybe, i can handle the customers? serving coffee seems to be your forte, i wouldn't want to interrupt that at this stage. no, i require more observation to fully understand your method."

[cxffexngel]

words about what happened in the clan the Erune young man comes from is vague. Sandalphon hasn't made much research or asked; from simply not digging in the information at all and not to disturb the only two that remain from such a violent past. Especially the progenitor of what had befallen the guillotine of carnage and death's scythe upon all of what it was.

'' Perhaps. '' The words fall mutely at the downcast gaze that held millenia old stories and weariness. '' We all are fools but, in the end, as far as I've learned, is what makes us what we are, that we are alive. '' The entire crew is nothing but a bunch of fools. Fools that love too much, that trust even their enemies as soon as they're brought down to an understanding; the captaim themselves was the biggest, strongest fools out everyone. This, has been something Sandalphon learned ever since joining the crew, forced to interact after holing himself in his room for months after everything that happened in what feels like it's nothing more than few weeks ago and instead has been, in reality, now years. Eyes follow the other's movements a bit, looking at the torn mask that the other donned a lot along that the one that covered half the erune's face. Six was an enigma, one that the archangel was, perhaps, a bit curious about – but never had a chance of meeting beyond his times with the other one whenever assisting with mundane things himself. From delivering medicine and food, bringing the kids some donations from the grancypher of supplies they needed...

'' I was who caused the death of the one I loved and admired the most, and yet never once I was blamed for it. Is it bad to wish that maybe I could be blamed for it? as stupid at it may sound? '' but he'd not expect an answer for that one. There's a gentle, bitter chuckle that airs out his lips as a rough hand supports his head while on the counter by the other. Index finger fidgeting with a curl that catches on the digit.

'' He's back, and my mission now remains to just... live. And yet it's not an easy mission as some make it out look to be, I feel like you understand this. So... Sometimes is easier just to remain awake, do something to clear my mind and being here.''

‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍there's a short silence that follows, as was how Seox worked. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍internalizing information, feeling it ; ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a creature ruled by emotion, whose understanding came from what feelings each piece invoked within.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍these ones, he finds, were not new. they were old, but still raw — would possibly always be raw, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍granted the tenacity of the bloody hands belonging to the ghosts brought to be by his own actions gripping at his neck. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he is not a monster, the captain insisted, but he knows his slaughtered clanmates would not agree.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍and who knew of Nehan's stance on the matter.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍last they spoke, it had ended amicably... ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍in comparison to all times before.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍perhaps there was hope there, but Seox knew never to hold his breath. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍there are still parts of Nehan that he couldn't understand. parts that he wanted to, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍but would only be allowed when Nehan was ready to let him. if ever.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍nevertheless... Sandalphon's words were ones that perhaps he himself would ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍have said based on those two facts alone, had he have taken the opportunity presented to speak first.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍so was to say...

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... Sounds like me. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍and because it sounds so much like him, he decides to even the playing grounds a bit. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍his mask is set down onto the table — the full one, anyways. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍Seofon had taken the incentive to have it remade when he'd come back from Karm, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍but he always kept the one that Nehan had broke.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍it was a reminder. proof of what he had done. proof that he must face it. both his past, and his present. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍proof that he now slips over the right side of his face. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... But I've never heard of a case where strength or ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍position dictates whether or not you're allowed to be ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍haunted by the past. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍Or whether or not you're allowed to be afraid of making ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍a mistake.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍... I've been afraid for most of my life. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍Of myself. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍Of the possibility that I could repeat my own folly ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍once again, someday.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍Put that beside the fact that Eternals are meant to be ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍the strongest mortals in the skies...

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍Then, what does that make me? A fool? `` ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

Donning his own summer wear – one that had to be hard fought to put on the archangel at the start and later, with time, had seasoned himself into actually wearing it on purpose – Sandalphon's eyebrow quirks up. Surprise there, clear as the day where the the background noise of many visitors of the island heed no attention, each lost to their own drinks the archangel had served them. Fro fruity iced drinks to shaved ice variants. Even when he tried his best offering iced coffee or offer discounts, mortals had the gall to ignore it in exchange of sweeter drinks; but Sandalphon knew best than to force it.

Unlike Raziel. Who even now does her best to try and get closer; which Sandalphon, truly, doesn't mind. It's not her fault – she had been created hand to hand by Lucilius and Lucifer to fulfill a rather endless task that would exist for as long as the skies remain ever changing; but to have her before him... It's something else. '' There's... actually not much about me to know. Truly. '' Words fall hesitantly from pursed lips and downcast eyes as rough hands crank on the shaved ice machine.

' even back on canaan, saw you at a distance, too. the only other one in the skies who was like me... '

'You're wrong, you're nothing like me. You're way stronger and perhaps much more that you give yourself credit for.' Is what he'd like to say, blurt out unfiltered by tempered flames of ire that brew everlasting inside his core. Even she had a purpose – something Sandalphon, far in the past was envious of, searing in a rage he felt like wasn't deserved for her. Which truly, it's not. She was made for a purpose, even when her life was to be a lonely one there was something to hold on... and yet. '' You carried on duties even after Lucifer dismissed it; was it worth it? The other Four Primarchs all have tried making a mundane life on their own... I haven't really kept in touch besides when they visit. Other than that; it can be rough. But they've made the most of it even getting jobs and discovering themselves by pure chance. '' It has been rough for him, a cycle of feeling relatively ok to spiraling back into his own misery and regrets, it's never easy for anyone - lest it be for sinners.

A steps are taken to make a bit of distance, pouring all of the newly shaved ice into a container for later use should more orders come in - for now, he will shove down to the depths of his core whatever he feels right now and attempt to be friendly, for now... He will try. Even when seeing the archangels in general, despise everything, still brings the sting of shame, regrets and perhaps more things Sandalphon hasn't taken time to process; because the truth is, is none of their fault in the end. '' .... Fine. You may help. '' His eyes doesn't meet hers, but it's clear as the crystalline salty water of the sea up beyond the stall that there's a smile painted from where curly locks of aurburn hair cover the other's small smile - one that after he turns to face the archangel, a sweetened cold, coffee jelly with a nicely adorned whipped cream swirl and ornate chocolate white wing is offered for Raziel. '' Just.... make sure Lucio doesn't come over here. He's banned for life. '' Adds, his tone dropping a few octaves low into a petty growl.

The captain had stressed many times he should give himself a chance... so he will.

'' ... You may ask me anything, but please try not to scare mortals with questions too. ''

@cxffexngel sent: '' Raziel.... You really do not have to overexert yourself just because you still feel guilty. '' Comes a hushed, yet a tint exasperated sound from the Archangel behind the counter. Within the seasonal stand that opens at Auguste each summer even amidst all the nonsense and wacky things that keep happening every single time that the crew lands in this Island alone. '' You should go join the rest, I can manage the stall alone enough. '' Aka please don't stay or else Lucio might also want to eagerly join, too. And a new headache would absolutely not be what Sandalphon seeks unless he can excuse beaming scorching lights right into that man's face once more despise somehow him always being unscratched despise everything. At least, he hasn't been around like a fly – and instead it's been the not so long resident archangel herself that in ironically similar circumstances than his own, has found a home within the grand walls of the Grancypher. '' I'm enough by myself. '' Adds, as another way to coax her into something else despise the knowledge of how stubborn sometimes Raziel can be.

auguste had many quirks that were worth investigating. what she hadn't taken into account was that the new supreme primarch, sandalphon, liked to put up shop here. or at least, she assumed he wanted to. well, who wouldn't? this place was amazing! clean beaches, sparkling oceanfronts, zany critters that could eat them alive at any moment! most importantly to her, it was a chance to experience the very thing she'd spent so long cataloguing, and those records were all out-dated anyway. but if there one elusive puzzle that eluded her, it was the one who stood across the counter.

"you may be right, but... hear me out." for once, a melancholic expression appears upon her typical cheery countenance.

"i spent several millennia observing the world around me. i fell in love with it, but only at a distance. even back on canaan, saw you at a distance, too. the only other one in the skies who was like me... and all i could do was look towards that garden, as though it was an ornate picture frame with floral trimming. i wanted to reach out, knowing that wasn't possible..." to be created by the supreme primarch himself — god among angels and the highest authority who was kind as he was fierce. it was a novelty being the solitary two who could claim him as progenitor. though that wasn't really it or the actual reason why she cherished this identity so much. no, the reason was more it was because she could have some camaraderie out of it.

raziel was created to tolerate being by her lonesome, spending long periods among the shadows where mysteries thrived, not disturbing the landscape from which they grew. yet in the back of her mind, she thought of that purposeless angel that spent his days alone; he too, was a mystery — the only one she wasn't allowed to solve. however, now, untethered by rules...

"so, lord sandalphon, consider yourself an engima. i want to get to know you!" she flashes a tiny smile. "and this is an easy way for me to do that, engaging with something we have in common. not to mention, we archangels were a large organization. you may think you're enough by yourself, but like humans, we're meant for community."

then, comically, she pulls the rim of her sunhat down to hide the sides of her head in exaggerated distress.

"besides... the flying oysters are tooooo weiiiiiird...!! no matter how often i see them, they stress me out. i need a break."

[cxffexngel]

Ah. Even now Sandalphon fails to understand how others keep reading him like a book. Sensing that something was in his mind (and yet it'd be stupid not to deal with the fact he's once more at odd hours of the night tending the cafe. That'd be child's play to guess something was up) so escaping or deflecting being the option at the foremost of his tongue, ready to dart out.

Instead what erupts is a gentle but groggy sigh, as if a weight had landed upon old shoulders as they melt just a bit while sitting across the Erune's presence. '' Heh... '' A gentle sip from his own cup, and Sandalphon's eyes wander a bit thorough the cafe. '' It's... the usual, in my case. Nightmares, the past haunting me even when I believe I've overcome it somehow. ''

which is half the truth – the nightmares... Even when Lucifer is back and alive, away for now because he took on some mundane mission carrying ridiculously heavy cargo that mortals would struggle with but he could do with ease and, sometimes, odd jobs at taking care of mortal children here and there; even with the constant reminder that his struggles all were not for naught there's still that demon by his side, that whisper that murmurs what he hates.

There's another intake of air, bitter as the drink that cools as time passes during this calm night, and then a tired, little smile is offered for the erune. '' I may not know much about our circumstances but... Lets say that even when I've managed to reach some of my biggest goals, there's still part of me that doens't believe it to be real. Or that the smallest mistake could undo it all... Heh, even for someone like me it must be stupid to think that. '' So much power at his fingertips, being one of the strongest among the crew in many ways... and yet, powerless.

‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍— Ladiva...

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍Seox's attention is caught by her mention, and his head lifts just slightly.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... to think, after all this time, and all the years that had passed since he had last seen her, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he was still a thought in her mind.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍absently, he's brought to wonder the same about Jamil. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍surely he had not impacted him as much — but then again, he had thought the same of ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍Ladiva, too, and she evidently regarded him enough to remember his preferences.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍on top of that, it was him and Jamil that looked after those kids when they were so insistent ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍on going out to forage those herbs. who really knew, then?

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍maybe he should visit them himself soon, even if he imagines that Jamil would be harder to track down. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍so much has changed since that time. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` I'll have to thank her for that. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ I... Have a lot that I owe to the people around here and ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ the kindness that they've shown.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ There were things I took for granted long ago that I have ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ yet to express my gratitude for. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ That ought to be my incentive to start. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍another sip — this time, a bit more enthused, perhaps to drive the point and clear any doubts. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍while not as tailored to his tastes as Orologia's — ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍somehow, they seemed to know exactly how he liked it to the letter — ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍it still held up just as well. a bit of difference wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` This... Actually feels familiar. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍he recalls, at that time, it was also Ladiva that had offered him a place of refuge ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍and the comfort of indulgence. now was not too different, if only that his company was not the same. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍it was calming. he already feels... soothed. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... Sorry. Just reminiscing. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍As unbelievable as it may sound, I'm no stranger to ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍lending an ear, either. With what you just said, you ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍probably could use it more than I do right now. Even if I ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍feel the same about any advice that I have to offer.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍I imagine there's a number of things that would keep ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍someone called the Supreme Primarch up at night. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍‍‍You hear some things down the grapevine. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍  ‍‍Seofon isn't known for shutting up. `` ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

The name rings a bell. The dragon of casualty and time... He's even interacted with them a few times but much he knows is sparse beyond having been personally who made the reality they live in what it is. '' Really...? '' There's uncertainty at the tip of his tongue. '' I... That flatters me, thank you. '' Which incites a gentle pause from the archangel as he takes a seat across the erune, arms crossing before him on the table's clean surface as shoulders sag a bit, eyes meeting the reflection of his own cup.

'' I try to observe everyone and guess what they might like the best. I had heard from the Draph woman that runs Raduga about your aversion to strong drinks – so I hope i didn't err on my side. Otherwise... Let me know, honestly, if it's not of your tastes. I can accommodate. '' Which years ago would've been bewildering words that never would come out his mouth. Such is change and life as it continues to evolve, Sandalphon's own hand becoming better and better at the drink that he's realized can help shape his reality and bring solace to everyone.

There's a gentle pause after the quietest of chuckles. Red eyes like a tender fire offering a bit of comfort at the other's presence. '' Seox is it. Right? Usually, I lend my ear to Primal beasts and other archangels that feel lost, even if I don't really believe my advice or knowledge be much beyond just another perspective to what bothers them. If... you wish to talk or let out whatever might be bothering you, I could listen. Or... ask about me, perhaps. We haven't really formally met, after all. ''

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍| '' ... Even now, I only hope it isn't captain that drags either of us back to bed, considering their tenacity. ''

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a sentiment shared between the two of them. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍as much as it comes from a place of care from their large heart, it cannot be helped when another's is weary.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍rest does not come easy for the wicked. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a weight upon one's chest makes it impossible to breathe.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍... which is also to say that Sandalphon — whose name was easy to pick up from Lyria, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍with as much as she'd spoken of him and his brewing talent — left nothing to the imagination.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍a voice can carry more than just an emotion. a tone carries a story. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he would know.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... `` ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍nothing is spoken of it as his seat is taken in time with a pair of busy hands occupying themselves with their respective expertise, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍Six choosing the easier route for the night.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍he'd asked for coffee, not a life's story. moreover, he doubts Sandalphon is privy to speaking his own to a stranger, even if Six is willing to listen.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍the least he can do is understand these surface - level hints before his focus shifts to the rich array of scents that, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍if he were to be honest, assault his nose.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍sweet, bitter, earthy undertones... the many flavor profiles at once trigger an involuntary reaction, and one of his ears flicks — ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍once, twice, again, incessantly.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍he is reminded that there is a reason why he doesn't typically come here during the day ; ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍these acute senses were made for the hunt, but they did not favor well with strong smells.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍but, he tells himself, this is much more bearable than it ever would be if this room were full of people.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` I ought to. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍at the very least, he doesn't smother the blend in sugar. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍equal part translates between granules added and ounces of cream, both being very minimal — ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍just enough to help it go down easy.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍after a good stirring, his hand hesitates as it reaches up for his mask.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍his fingers always tremble at the prospect of eating or drinking in company, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍most definitely because of the fact that he must take it off in order to indulge, ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍but it's something he normally manages. it something he manages now, too, after some internal deliberation.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍it's lifted partly from his face, enough for him to turn and hide behind its cover while he takes his first sip. ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍the verdict comes not long after he swallows it down.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... I see. It's not just talk. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ You and Orologia have an uncanny aptitude for this. `` ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

Sandalphon wasn't privy of every single life that dwelled within well loved wooden walls that made up for the entirety of the grancypher's halls and rooms. But can sense them, feel the ether and life force that carry them – strings that he can feel because of his newfound power alone even when he stagnates within the confines and comfort of the cafe well past closing hours, when a vast mayority of them are sound asleep.

Seox, of the eternals – mysterious but strangely close to the captain; close to the not so long recruited erune that often stays at the island that harbored so many orphaned mortal children. A strong individual he's heard here and there about from Siero herself, missions that had included him and simply what the wind carries on about happenings that Sandalphon had staid behind from. '' ... Even now, I only hope it isn't captain that drags either of us back to bed, considering their tenacity. '' Low, tired voice makes out from the dim light of candles and yellow glow from more modern lamps that gave a comfortable, warmness to the cafe. Nimble but scarred hands expertly working on cleaning a washed cup between them and a small ornate towel, his expression not any different to serenity stockiness that the current supreme primarch dons nowadays.

Not too intimidating, but one could guess easily that he wasn't one to mess with – thankfully he knows seox is not a threat; in all of his power.... the Erune often fell victim of the captains bullying quite often, just like himself. A price to pay for the Airship repairing when they had rammed it against his rampaging self.

So Sandalphon entertains the man, not wasting time to heat up water after the flick of his fingers summoning a small spark of fire under the kettle by the stove so it gains a nice, comfortable warmth. Within minutes the cafe once more gaining that serene scent of coffee and herbs as he prepares a light roast. Sweetened by a few pumps of chocolate syrup as dark as the blend itself that now rest inside a decorated mug – Usually, when receiving an order like this the angel turning his nose up at it in disgust; but for now he saves it. There's a vague memory about the Erune and liking more milk based products. '' Cream or no cream? '' His deep, but soft voice says as the archangel pushes the warm blend across the table for the other to have it, can of whipped cream on one of his hand as the other works on placing different utensils like a spoon, the sugar container, tissues,

‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍| ‍‍‍‍@cxffexngel said; ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍| ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍'' This isn't the first time I've gone without sleep.''

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` And I'm sure it won't be the last for either of us. ``

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍— contrary to the chiding he's certain his newfound company must have had an inkling he'd be subjected to.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍no. Six was no stranger to sleepless nights.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he knew them as well as the back of his own hands — ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍as well as the sins that hung over his head with every breath.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍they have kept him awake more times than he can count.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍he was in no position to be telling anyone to retire when they could not.

‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ `` ... I heard that your coffee is the best on the ship. ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ May as well humor each other if neither of us have any ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ intention of sleeping anyway. `` ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍

[cxffexngel]

It always flies over the Archangel's head what Gran is capable of doing, trusting those that have at least tried killing them once, twice, or even are actively trying to take his life at the deep hours of the night in his sleep - The Grand, loved halls of the Grandcyper always having mortals and primals of all backgrounds, most of them some sort of very much not sane (But he can't complain about this, as his own... situation within the airship also has similar circumstances. As much as he likes to dodge this subject.) '' I am. '' But he doesn't elaborate. All the while serving himself a cup for himself, aimlessly toying with the foam with a pick as rough fingers trace circles where dark browns of foam and lighter ones merge into little swirls. '' It's what keeps me close to who it's my guiding light, the one who I am here for... He bestowed this to me as he did for the sky realm so long ago, so in a way... It's to remember him, or have him close. '' A vulnerability he allows to be, as slight as it is. A light layer that at this point many knew because not too many weren't privy of the supreme primarch's current happenings nor how he ended up within the Grancypher. But even then, with such a big airship as this one is, there's always those that logically were new to it – or even didn't even realize that they are before a primal beast. He is, after all, very human in appearance when stripped of all of his armor and not emanating any kind of aura or magic at all.

It felt even like a deja vu, back when he had been presented with the saunas and trying them out and all the stupidly insane misunderstandings that happened as those days progressed – Alas, Sandalphon's better at keeping his cool that he was some time in the past. Offering a quirked eyebrow at the Albion knight's words. '' ... Right. '' He's not entirely convinced, yet it'd not be the first time rather curious encounters occur in the cafe. It was, after all, a public space for those abroad, to come and go as they please and it just so happened Sandalphon had taken the kitchen for himself whenever it came about the drinks he serves along other things like baked goods and sweets. (This last one entirely just to accommodate Lyria, this... even if clear as the day outside, is not something tells out loud, though. )

So it comes as a surprise how... pleasant the woman is. It is welcomed considering the slight twinkle within those tired eyes and the smile at the little doodle he had drawn upon foam. Truly, if such a mere, temporal thing is able to ignite those smiles, Sandalphon was more than pleased to try and see other ways to make more of these, to practice more complex drawings perhaps. It was, after all, well received both by the younger ones along even the most war-torn veterans within these walls.

'' Haah...? '' Quizzical the sound comes raspy within his throat at how quickly it all crashes into.... this?. Just... when did suddenly she made up such a story to think he's competing with her at this very moment? The questions all at the forefront of his face, on the way bright scarlet eyes stare back at the knight, flabbergasted as if presented with yet another ultra powerful enemy just out the blue, but no – While he definitely knew a good fighter when he sees one, right now.... '' What.... makes you think– Agh... look. I just serve cups those who ask. Some pay me in rupies despise I do not really get the sense of economic exchange. If I'm bothering you or whoever you have your heart in, '' A breath in, and then another out. Had his usual aurburn wings been manifested at the moment they'd definitely be the telltale of Sandalphon's bewilderment upon such a misunderstanding. '' I'm not here to steal anyone's romantic partner, I– I don't even know who it could be. '' Katalina? Perhaps the black knight? Sandalphon rarely was out beyond the cafe, the deck if not because it was the captain or the other primarchs requiring his presence or his own volition at trying to have some fresh air. But... Actually, there's a way to dissuade the situation, he thinks.

'' The one who taught me coffee, Lucifer; he is who I brew these for. T-To someday, surely, share what I learn under the skies he watched over. If the one who picked at your heart likes my blends, I'm flattered b-but it doesn't mean any more than that...! '' And at this he tries making peace, palms held upright as if he had the end of a sword pointed at him, before they settle again back into his own cup with a tired sigh. '' I don't know why this kind of misunderstanding feels too familiar even... ugh. ''

the other was of a mature poise rarely found in those she oft surrounded herself with (not by her choosing! fate merely shoved these incompetent people into her life! perhaps it was a test to see if she was able to overcome any and all situations that could pose a threat). it wasn't played-up courtesies, or something flashy by being verbose (although, when he got going, he sure sounded like an old man). no, he wasn't, ah... that's what it was. haughty. in a manner that could be respected. was it due to what he was? she's unsure. although these details, at the end of the day, didn't matter. the only part that did was that he was competent and that much has made itself well-known.

she was close to jumping the gun and interrupting him until a particular part of what he explained stood out, making the young woman take pause and actually consider the nature of his statement. centuries to perfect just one thing? for one person? without realizing, vira softens a bit, even if a bit. if she had such a lifespan, oh, the eternity of joy she'd have doing everything possible under the skies with her dearest katalina.

"why, yes," she responds, though with less energy than her initial abruptness. "it's for someone. seems like you are familiar with such desire."

it spoke to a certain vulnerability, but she's found that in proclaiming so, even if in small morsels, helped the overflow of emotions. love is meant to be shared. others, too, may harbor similar feelings. for whatever reason, it's that commonality that eased any creeping paranoid loneliness. hands fold behind her back, sincere in her expression of pure devotion. her bond with luminiera was also reflective of that.

"it's important to me that i'm able to provide the things that make her smile and that i can do so to the best of my ability. at least, things i know i'm good at. i'm no chef, but i enjoy culinary ventures all the same. this would be part of that."

as she mentioned before, she wanted to watch him, so observe she did. though, he made it look... quite easy with how deftly he did everything. well, he did say this has been going on for centuries. sandalphon presents to her the freshly prepared drink, and she cups it daintily in her hands. a faint blush tints her cheeks seeing the foam's drawing (oh, it's so cute...! katalina would love it! it's so round despite its simplicity! wait, does he do this for everyone? it is always the same?). such aroma... it almost reminds her of her youth before the academy, where her family's servants lined the table with hot breakfast. it's been so long since then. she takes a sip — !!

oh. he's in trouble.

"coffee — i read — has addictive qualities. if she ends up here too often because of your diabolical beverage, i might have to take drastic measures." whatever that meant. "i'd rather she come to me to satiate her cravings than a man who molts so much i might get an allergy. you may be an angel, but the devil can live in anyone."

[cxffexngel]

[ Vira ] || @literanis :: "i wouldn't consider myself much of a coffee drinker..." there's always something that follows one of vira's seemingly innocuous statements. "but you came with high recommendations from those who's opinions matter. so, there's no longer any avoiding it. in fact, i want to observe your technique." a grin, and she leans over the counter of the grandcypher's cafe as though she had been challenged to some sort of one-sided contest (the one she made up in her head). "so that i may surpass it. yes, that's right. i will master your craft."

Mornings and evenings cycle in a slow, steady rhythm that the Archangel had long since accustomed himself to. A cycle of gried and peace, both in battles fought and won to the tumultuous thing his mind likes to be. Always a betraying thing like his core, ever so weighted with grief and too many emotions at once. Ceasing it's whispers with a simple but fulfilling act of tending to the Grandcypher's cafe had been a great escape, one that everyday proved a great opportunity to forget, for a bit, everything that's wrong about him, his flaws even when he could clearly still see the scars marring his hands and forearms as echoes of the past. It's also an opportunity to lend an ear when he never had it in the past, when Lucifer returned once every centuries or more, even when he'd not always have a good answer to the pleas and mourning mortals harbored themselves.

No wonder Lucifer always found potential in them. With such short lives they still persevere despise the great misfortunes they might experience. No apocalyptic scenario made them less willing to live on, and that fills his core with a sour hope that he, too, can push forward – no matter how many times he thinks of that farewell how much he wanted to look back, that it physically hurt terribly greater than the grandest sword upon his chest just to give Lucifer one last glance and be enticed by his selfish request for another cup.

There's mortals that have a much too similar grief as his, Sandalphon knows. Both from conversations that picked his interest from the distance to when he's been a witness of their plights. Vira is one of those he's heard about, sometimes Gran, too, talking about her and his efforts to help the woman through what seems a struggle greater than the Singularity alone can manage. An unique case of a primal and mortal share fate somehow, Luminiera itself a small, lesser primal of great power when given a compatible host. He'd like to see more of it, but motivation and curiosity weren't quite there for most of the time. Sandalphon kept to himself much of the time, only talking when talked to, approaching when others approach. It was better that way.

So it comes as a surprise the times it was Vira the one coming ime from time. Never talking much beyond side eyes he pretended not to notice. It wasn't worth it – nor it'd be the first time other crew members tested the current Supreme primarch as most never felt so much a speck of intimidation despise the power at his fingertips; he never gave anyone a reason, anymore, to fear him, too. And much more so at the face of a.... challenge? Ah.

'' Excuse me? '' Truly, most of her words had bounced right off his head at the complete surprise in which she has approached the barista. Sandalphon can only blink while processing better what he can recall and then deflate visibly with a sigh. '' Ah... I'm not a good teacher, but if it's learning how to brew a cup is what you want, you can just ask. '' He tries not to sound too annoyed at this but alas, the tone sticks a bit dry, yet indulges her as rough but always meticulous hands pick the coffee pot he had just finished brewing and pouring for storage. '' I doubt much of that line of though, '' He says between almost muscle memory dance of pouring the drink delicatedly as the earthly but familiar scent puffs with a gentle steam from a clean porcelain cup, his other hand keeping it steady from within it's wooden rest. '' it took me centuries to perfect it myself, for someone - but even then there's mortals that have come out with their own blends as eras passed and for that, I'm quite fascinated. '' And scandalized, too. Especially when they dare sully the brew with too much sugar or milk before his very eyes. This, he absolutely doesn't say at all despise the light tick at the edge of his lips.

It takes a moment, but once it's done, foam manipulated into a gentle little doodle of a bird is when Sandalphon scoops the cup into his hands to offer it to the woman before him. Gentle as he can be. A brew not too strong nor too sweet, with tints of caramel in it but never clouding upon the bitterness if it, as far as he can adapt the blend from his initial impression of the host of Luminiera. '' Say.... You wish to learn for someone, or just curiosity? ''

[cxffexngel]

'' I never usurped anything. The only time I did was when I broke free – Now, adobe everything else, was lent to me. Even when I didn't want at first. '' His voice even when it held the fires of calamity itself, hot and bright like the sunset adobe that paints red skies amidst debris and smoke, dirt and stars beyond. Calmness mars his usual frown, from a new king born from ashes rises the revenge and promises-driven Archangel, wings battered unlike the other. And yet, still shining bright to full splendor. '' I never desired to take Lucifer's place, I would've given anything to deny his sacrifice; but he choose this. And I'll honor that.'' Even if it means finishing what the other started, even when Lucifer, as far as he can imagine, didn't want to burden anyone with these things when far back past many millennia, Sandalphon truly wanted to exactly do that and take on the other's burdens.

All so those tired smiles could relax, even if just a little bit. And even more now, knowing the silent wars waged within the silence Lucifer offered, thankless jobs the other did when no one ever asked him to.

'' And yet you speak of me as nothing but vermin. And maybe i am. Maybe the mortals down us are all nothing but sand but then what? what if their choice is also to live even when reality is an imperfect myriad of contradictions. Is it so bad to wish for that? Lucilius!? '' And yet, he knows there's also that darkness that comes from it, not ever a true peace but a balance of cataclysms, strife and wars that brew between mortals that wipe entire populations time from time. It's an inevitable thing. But what then?

'' You cannot choose for the world – in my eyes, and maybe I'm wrong, it all comes from selfishness of yours, greed and something you seek. '' The god adobe, the great one. Sandalphon couldn't care less about a oh so called higher being that created all this when it was such an imperfect world. But it is what it is, somehow, somewhere, maybe even when it had long departed or turned it's back on the world, even then there's a meaning to it or simply exists without a reason.

And yet, even when the grand light that resides still within him, as labored pants drop from battered lungs and broken lips with blood still sometimes mixed with spit. Various circles manifest from behind, a last attack. To vanish the other for good or so he wants - Anything to get away from the looming danger that he feels coming, a whisper coming from somewhere that says to get away as soon as he can. A familiar voice? Huh...

'' There must be more plans you had, but for now, cease to be. '' Lucifer probably isn't even mad at you. Is left unsaid, at the back of his mind, something that's beyond his own voice as the magic circles behind him against fanned out rainbow wings all but bring light, warmth, a myriad of gold specs and promises like an embrace. Even when at the side of his eyes he could feel something else, another rainbow, something that makes the back of his battered hair stick upright and tattered skin goosebumps in a warning. He has to get away, and yet he still stays. Blinding but even then, even when this spell itself did not belong to him. It's something that even before free him himself from cold, steel talons, comes from a guiding light, something that serenely whispers to him how it goes, each symbol that draws out the ether into a condensed thing, a light that both gives life as it also burns it away into it's never ending cycle of rebirth and destruction. A paradise lost – one that even now sandalphon can feel it's weight on his tired shoulders that stubbornly hold taut despise the tears and bruises and slashes that have cut tendons that heal much slower because of the other's corruption.

'' This isn't your story, Lucilius. Neither is mine. Be gone!! Paradise lost – !!! '' It isn't a good bye – far from it, he knows perhaps the other might survive it, find a way out. Whatever is happening not so far from them could be a tric of the other, whatever it is. He doesn't intend to do a half finished job, as the rays of a spell borrowed, lent to him falls in a myriad cascade of light. He announces it like a hymn, a wish, even when his throat hurt like as if he's swallowed nails and debris, even when his lungs blurted out blood and bile.

if lucilius was someone who could feel on any meaningful level, then he'd definitely say wringing the other's neck evoked some kind of sick joy. or rather, more accurately, a catharsis thousands of years in the making. unhurriedly squeezing his neck as if to get every last moment seared into his memory, to draw out as much suffering as he could inflict. and yet this damn obstacle kept talking, kept blathering on about drivel that only mattered to skydwellers, to beings who didn't know any better. sandalphon was in a position to rule, to guide, to carry wisdom within himself, and yet the words that oozed from his gaping maw was nothing short of mortal fallacy.

insisting that it'd been lucifer's "choice." his "selfishness." what dizzying nonsense. how dare he speak on what he could never know? even with his legacy, how could he ever hope to fathom it? it's this impasse that causes lucilius to falter but for a split second — and sandalphon's resistance throws him right off. lucilius rolls but then regains composure, his stance wide until he's bombarded with fierce blades of providence yet again. until...

"thieving is the one before me, usurping a body you crafted yet never belonged to, stealing the light from the skies without giving a choice..."

he stops. collapsed on the ground, keeled over, with brilliantly luminous blades of violet protruding out from his body like overgrown grotesqueries and stained bangs hiding his expression. he stares, long and hard at the ground before sandalphon's feet, and it's then the world falls quiet. it's not peace he feels, oh, far from. it's not defeat, nor is it languish. he's felt this way before — once, but all the same. that day he realized existence was worthless. resignation.

his fearsome wings vanish, feathers gently falling (they descend because gravity dictates). he's not going to bother indulging sandalphon the explanations to every aspect of his plans and designs, his philosophies and long-lived truths. least of all was he going to explain that being resurrected wasn’t his choice, let alone at the expense of lucifer himself. and perhaps a deep part of himself didn't want to admit that death had truly felt like splendor.

there's a long pause of silence before he moves again. slowly, the harbinger of darkness rises, still with the other's swords adorning this borrowed frame of his (what a mess, comes the idle, dull thought, what a mess they've made of lucifer's body). when fully upright, lucilius, one by one, pulls them out and returns them to aether. the pain is undeniably intense as it shocks those frayed nerves with each excavation, ripping through disjointed vessel without abandon. yet he doesn't stir. he stands there, listless. a hand touches a wound, tracing it carefully, then splays his palm before himself to look down upon it, drenched in dark, sanguineous abyss. he can see his reflection. there's red in there (it's sandalphon's blood. lucilius' blood had been red once, too. it'd coated lucifer's sword so resplendently). shimmering, white hair is painted with the same. in the end, he is but a shadow of his former self. his creations were brought to ruin. he'd been made a monstrosity without his consent (that idiot). the sullied hand curls into a fist.

an empire of dirt.

"in the end, creations will always usurp their creators."

the seraph of amalgamations says his name in a manner that evokes... something. his chest stirs, grasping within dark expanses at a memory. the last memory before he re-awoke. the same cadence, the same defiance as lucifer had right before departing head from neck. it was a quick, clean slice — dare he say he was almost proud at how perfect the stroke was. the jokes... truly wrote themselves.

at long last, he finally looks at sandalphon right into his burning, crimson eyes, yet he doesn’t attack further, instead standing there like a looming tower. lucilius' visage runs affectless, like someone who has truly died. that ire from earlier, extinguished. ripe, with decay. "don't speak my name as if you know me, let alone with such vitriol."

[cxffexngel]

Even amidst adrenaline rushing like magma against his veins, taut muscle littered in burns, cuts and beyond, it all were nothing unlike the true pain searing into his very being at the other's poison. It's something Sandalphon knows ever since Lucifer's memories started digging into his brain in the form of dreams - he knows. Shame and guilt instantly pushing down into his core much worse that dull but grand gold and red blades that have repeatedly graced his core if not because quick reflexes even now. Sandalphon's expression falters, horror in there, mixed with deep anger that further helps fueling the power within a disarray of battered, but stubborn twelve wings holding the promises and trust of people he personally had hurt himself. Somehow even now the world forgives him, a wench, a spare. A no one that should've not been created.

And oh how he still pains the most at the vivid memory that plays out, screaming from within the cradle in a dream that even then wouldn't really change anything. Lucifer being slowly dismembered as the other limp away from his killer. Never once defending himself despise he could've vanished the entire island if he wanted to.

All because Lucifer was selfish, for once. And that was the nail in the coffin. It all is because of Sandalphon.

'' It is – it is my fault, but he chose that! '' Roars out, even when the words feel stale against the blood and sweat that stains lips and fangs that belong more to a beast than a man whose pinnions keep falling like gentle snow against the storm up adobe. And oh, those icy eyes - they were almost like the coldest of thunder. Quick, bright, all focused in a single point for he is, ever since the battle had started, the target of all that focused power. '' If he chose this, t-then...! '' Another thunderous cough that rattles lungs that hardly function, but even then the Archangel can stand somehow. Wounds that permeated his body, blades that had pierced all the way of his body oozing blood no mortal could withstand without meeting their end, all healing back in a pinch thanks to his own innate regeneration - one that comes with a price of course. Pain being a friend that he's had for a while now, ever since his imprisonment back in pandemonium and the never ending wall of survival against the other beasts crawling their way inside the maze-like thing the prison was. And sandalphon somehow managing to thrive there with fangs and claws no better than just a crazy beast himself.

So it was nothing, even when with Lucilius's blood splattered around him, acting like poison by itself negating his own healing and worse – it burns. It burns so bad, as if it had life on it's own. And oh, the sound that he manages out is nothing short from a wail or a broken cry from it. It's worse but even then his eyes still lock on the other, even when the blinding light in the wake of his swords vaporized, he still has the will to live. '' If it has meaning, then why someone without meaning has been given so much then!? What if maybe, it exists because it just is!? Isn't that also this oh so called stupid free will you desperately grasp on?? ''

And even with the new weight against his throat, the vice grip that makes his limbs twitch uncontrollably and eyes rise with surprise - the determination doesn't move an inch. '' A-ACK–––! '' But just as quickly the other has taken a hold with talons suited for a beast like him, Sandalphon, too, was a dirty fighter. Without swords he still could fight, without his wings he still would claw his way out even if it made him lose each limb. And so his own heel rises just as quick, breaking from the pain that's nothing more like a buzz in his brain and stars that fall into his eyes. A swift kick upward with impossible flexibility. Heels used at their prime with a strength that despise his lithe body, could absolutely break dozens of islands if he wanted to.

This, also is something he could do, and yet. He took Lucifer's promise, despise having threatened the other he'd use this power for the worst when Lucifer was no more. Amidst the burn and the ichor, ink blacks and blues, even then he still finds a speckle of strength, as if Lucifer's own arms could calmly guide his own limbs, not like a puppet and puppeteer but more like a guidance – his guiding light. Lucifer never, ever knew the answer to these skies. What makes the sky blue? he'd ask, and Sandalphon couldn't respond.

What the hell does it make it blue? why do they have to? he doesn't know. Scientifically, it can be explained but theoretically? within the tumultuous thing a heart can be? '' I know nothing. I only now am understanding or trying to - Unlike you and your wretched, destructive ideals and truths that somehow you have chosen to be the absolute. '' Growls, as that hand that grips over steel crushes down in the same fashion his own windpipes barely can make sound – even then, his voice is almost absolute, not coming from his lips but perhaps beyond. If a halo ever managed to form on his crown, then perhaps, it's the golden bath glow of pinnions of so many colors that help push that. Ever so distant voices still there, still fighting for an uncertain and imperfect reality. Something even Lucifer saw potential on, just like in him – even if he never said anything. It being in those much warmer blue eyes unlike those before him full of cold anger. '' If lucifer chose to die for me, then there is a reason – selfish as it is, I want to know and you wont get in the way, and if it's not me, it will be the world. Who the hell cares if god wont grace this world!? if it turns out to be nothing but another danger then I'll fight it, if it costs my life I prefer it being a death I chose just like his! '' And like that he manages to break free, once more. Even if skin tears and his throat is sliced as blood gushes from tattered lips as heavy pants erupt in mouthfuls and lungs gasp for air out instinct. It's like this that sandalphon turns the tides, in a flash of particles and now it's his own ravaged hands, his grand blades all once more erected from within magnificient magic circles all four pinning limbs as his skin is sprayed even messier from ichor that continues to eat at his own armor and broken skin. '' If existence is such a burden, to you, to everything why wont you – like you so disdainfully told me and the crew, exercise your oh so precious free will to die? Thieving is the one before me, usurping a body you crafted yet never belonged to, stealing the light from the skies like this without giving a choice. Perish the though you may win for I will haunt you, Lucilius! '' Sneers back, his own rage burning bright and warm against the cold fangs of the beast. A sun against the black hole, a losing battle that might last millenia for both are undying stars propelled by equal power.

Even if the distant rainbows might engulf them at some point, Sandalphon prefers his end to be one with meaning, having done something for someone. To know he mattered as he is and achieved.

it wasn't enough to kill him. it wasn't enough to rip out each of his feathers one by one. it wasn't enough to pierce him with one-thousand daggers. it wasn't enough to burn him, section him into chunks to feed into the crimson horizon. to paint the world his scarlet entrails just as life's dusk began to set. no, there wasn't enough to inflict physical peril. lucilius could blot out the sun with his expansive dozen wings — so magnificently pitch black no light escaped its lusterless vacuity — and it wouldn't snuff out the love that sandalphon desperately clung on to. that stupid, stupid thing he thought gave him purpose, meaning.

that wasn't the facts. that wasn't reality. it was delusion brought on by his desperation. a love he wasn't meant to have. only by some fluke did it exist at all because lucilius had been so careless as to allow him to live for as long as he did. only for lucifer to be so blinded by that trite emotion that he died for it. sandalphon, by all accounts, was the disease that'd killed lucifer. this is what he concludes.

his voice falls flat, like an anchor crashing upon the ocean floor. "it means he'd be alive if it wasn't for you."

"your promise..." oh, that... he laughs. he genuinely laughs. it's a short, sharp chuckle, void of any amusement, but it was a laugh all the same. impossibly blue hues were wide, bright against darkness, against the scarlet blood sandalphon splattered his face with. "i instructed that you be created without purpose, not to leave out a brain."

a sneer forms. it's an ugly thing on a usually dispassionate visage. lucifer, in his relatively long life, never revealed more than statuesque melancholy. a distant, solemn frown when conflicted. all poise, all gracious divinity. seeing such mania on lucilius' face was a window into another life — a life where perhaps lucifer could've been just like his creator. there was a point in time lucilius truly thought it'd be the two of them, standing as equals as the world fell apart. he remembers that gaze of his like it was yesterday.

yesterday, two-thousand years ago.

even in recalling those memories, lucilius felt his anger rise to heights he'd never imagined possible. is this what insanity felt like? he hates the thought that this simpleton got the absolute better of him after everything. none of this mattered, except one thing had all along. he wears his skin and it still felt so far away. each of sandalphon's violet blades pierce him with unbelievable force, spraying stygian viscera across the sky, dark feathers raining down from the jolt. what a waste, this body getting battered down. it wasn't supposed to be like this. it wasn't —

"you love being so confidently wrong." he derides, obsidian ichor dripping from blueish, pallid lips. he lets it flow freely. what's it matter. "it's not enough to be perfect. it has to have meaning. when all is destined to ruination, no one, no matter how well-crafted, survives. then what? tell me..."

'he was perfect to me' went unsaid.

lucilius is just a copy of some god's henchmen. he truly, sincerely, exists for no reason other than happenstance. and what an insult to creation — to existence — that was. such fact would've been the ultimate humiliation if it weren't for a literal spare trying to get a rise out of him. skydwellers don't mind imperfections because they do not have the vantage he has. the perspective. the ability. they're but beings only beginning to crawl and god takes no mercy on them. fine, neither will he.

a blinding light explodes from his form, shattering sandalphon's blades, and he launches towards him, steel talons from his gauntlets aiming for the little seraph's throat. against the bright glow of sandalphon's primarch wings, glistening could be seen amidst the bloodshed, like snow, like flying tears. ink stained lucilius' visage.

"tell me, you thieving wretch! what do you know about the skies?!"