[ @aaetherius​ ]

Lucifer's tattered boots slosh through the mud and dew-coated grass as he trudges through the dreary forest. Thick droplets of water roll off of the damp leaves, and plop loudly into the puddles nestled beneath the tall, imposing trees. Yet, despite the lush vegetation and vibrant flowers covering every inch of land he can see, it's eerily quiet. Aside from the occasional splash from the residue of the storm that had rolled through the town that afternoon, there's not a single sound to keep him company in the overwhelming darkness that prevails other than his own careful breaths. Light, too, is scarce at best. The thick canopy created by the trees looming overhead almost completely blocks out the light cast by the stars and gleaming moon lurking somewhere beyond their thorny arms. But he doesn't struggle to find his footing, nor does the endless darkness seem to faze him. No, instead, he moves with the grace and certainty that only those who feel at home in the night posses. And, of course he does--he has to, or he would have lost his life years ago. After all, the creatures he hunts are most active in the dead of night when the world is still, and the cacophony of one's heartbeat is the only melody they can hope to hear in hours. And, even then, that song often comes with a price--vampires have far better hearing than your average person, and one misstep or miscalculated breath can be the difference between life and death. He would know, he's seen more than his fair share of acquaintances fall victim to fear or overconfidence. It never gets easier with time, and the heaviness of their loss will never fail to haunt him, but, perhaps, his bleeding heart is what makes him the best of the best. To protect others, strangers even, there's little he wouldn't do. Which was why, now, he's willing to go so far on his own despite the fact that the locals had urged him to wait for the other to arrive before he left in search of the vampire that had been supposedly targeting their village. If he can subdue the killer without others getting involved he might be able to prevent further casualties. Perhaps that way of thinking if flawed or, perhaps, his bleeding heart is a weakness rather than an asset.

Against the dark browns and deep greens of the forest, his bright, piercing, blue eyes stand out as he walks without making a single sound. His heart is calm and his breathing even. When he inhales against the damp, night air he can faintly smell the bitter aroma of iron and salt, and his lips curve downwards at the all too familiar scent. If he stops, and listens he can hair a vague, cracking sound. It's nearly enough to make his heart sink into his stomach, but he's been in this line of work for years now, and he's grown accustom to the grotesque scenery that often comes with it. All he can do is simply hope he's not too late--that there's even the ghost of a chance that he might be able to protect someone; to keep them safe. His fingers curl about the hilt of the silver knife clutched within his calloused palm--its blade almost glowing in the low light that manages to slip between the treetops as he approaches the source of the scent and sounds he's been following since he stepped foot into the forest. Silently, he presses his back to the body of a tree, and inhales deeply, briefly closes his eyes before they flutter open once more as he cranes his neck around the creaking branches and dancing leaves sheltering him from view. And through the tiny gaps, he can see a figure nestled amongst the flowers not far from him.

In the moonlight spilling in between long, spiny, branches the stranger's crimson eyes are utterly breathtaking, and just as striking as the bright red splotches of blood staining the ground and his hands. Against his black attire, the startling scarlet is almost enough to make Lucifer's heart stop. He swallows thickly around the lump that's formed at the base of his throat as his gaze travels over the other's lean figure and unruly, auburn locks that somehow frame his handsome face perfectly. And, oh, Lucifer knows he's staring, but that realization doesn't stop the ache that tugs at his chest when he notices where the blood coating the other's skin leads. It doesn't lead to a person, instead it guides his attention to the body of an animal that's likely native to these woods. No, now that he looks, there's not a person in sight, or even a set of footprints that would have been left behind in the grime and mud if someone had come through her willingly or forcibly. He clutches the knife in his hand a bit tighter. Had he made a mistake? No, he's certain he had followed the trail that had lead out of the village.

But he's also equally as certain, in that moment, that the vampire before him right now isn't the one who had taken and killed the people missing from the village. With an abundant lack of self preservation, Lucifer silently sheaths the knife into the holster hooked around his thigh, and steps into the opening. "You--" he pauses as he comes into the flittering starlight, and meets the other's dazzling gaze. He feels the air drain from his lungs, and his heart, certainly, stops. "You're beautiful..." he whispers into the silent night before he catches himself, and yanks himself out of his own starstruck trance by clearing his throat, and exhaling while trying to push aside the words he had just muttered. "You...aren't the vampire that attacked the village," he forces out carefully. It's a statement rather than a question--there's not even an inkling of doubt in his voice, or the faintest hint of fear in the manner he carries himself.

         Night like rain, of stars and the unknown - Sandalphon has soundlessly caught yet another of those deer that would never sense an inch of his presence when wings flared and flapped as silent as the quietest drawn out exhale possible. Like an owl’s quiet praying, it was all too fast, the deer was done for the very moment Sandalphon had locked his focus on it, poor thing that did never stand a chance nor even able to run, perhaps not even think about surviving the attack nor given a second to process. It was better that way, no pain, not a cry, just the slight crunch of leaves when heeled boots met dirt and the body had collapsed as the Vampire wasted no time to drain until the last drop of blood from it’s victim before needing to carry it somewhere. Sandalphon never was a messy eater, he’d hate to later stink and that alert anyone within range. It’d make hunters’s job easier and Sandalphon, as much as he loved the adrenaline that surged when given chase, found it best for it to not carry on many risks. Get too close and they’d drop like flies before he’d even see the true killer, get too far and they’d be safe but still at some unknown danger the Vampire himself had been investigating within the shadows, forecasts of hell and catastrophe he could not understand but had the tug of his rotten heart to carry out without help. It was better that way. Take the blame, be seen as a monster, push away whoever dares lend a hand. they all died anyways. Even now, he can smell that scent of a living despise having concealed his tracks as much as he could - heels with the sole in unrecognizable shapes so they’d easily be buried in dirt, wings that made no sound despise flight coming barely handy in the thickness of dense forests, able to maneuver with inhuman speeds that gave him the title of the quickest death among the mortals, despise his killing count in truth being short, but people said otherwise. The beautiful, shining body of the deer almost intact, as if it has been caught in slumber tenderly cradled within the strong, exposed arms of the Vampire as he feed on it, only lips stained in red as bright as the eyes of the killer that under the moonlight reflected light as if they were two more stars, ones that fell from the skies to set fire to these very forests he roams around, shrouded within a cloak that for now has been discarded as it’s use only is found at daylight. Only a backless vest covered him, finger less gloves made of leather that quickly could be cleaned should they be stained and clear his tracks, and leggings that facilities movement, with leathery boots as black as the night, shining under the gaze of the moon that filters shyly from the leaves that mourn yet another departed one.


         He knew he had been followed, the scent was familiar. A hunter. The silver from that dagger sheathed was a known feeling that surged the faintest spark in his spine, knowing what would befall should it come in contact with cold skin. But Sandalphon never lets it get to him, never lets that lingering fear and instinct to survive stain much actions. He still had to find a suitable burial, he had to carry that Deer somewhere to thank it’s sacrifice and not let the villagers get the wrong idea. It was best for them to just believe he’s there for the people, and not their livestock or fauna. That’d surely call for more hunters, and deprive him of the only source he’s chosen to have, which little quelled that deep hunger from having tasted human blood decades ago, and the taste of it taunting him, eliciting the littlest wish to claw his way into a person’s body to have that rich taste again, gain even more strength that an animal’s blood gave him. But he rebels against it, reminds himself those looks of fear, the screams, the slaughter he’s capable of to twists himself in the agony it brings. And the thought are shoved down again, in order to focus on the hunter he feels close, wings lowered as they sprawl against an almost out of a fairytale bed of Begonias, Ferns and Hydrangeas, bothering their petals and getting messy with them as they twitch, a sign that’s he’s taken notice of the hunter’s presence, yet awaits his move. It’d end swiftly, the hand that’s shadowed by the Deer’s body reaching into leathered hidden pockets where feathers coated in light metal, daggers of sort the Vampire had forged from his own shed plumes served as weapons to fend off any intrusive soul that dared to face him, keep them at bay.

           Yet little decades of experience ever prepared Sandalphon from what’s about to come. Hair as light as the moon’s own shine, bangs that sway almost too slowly while his piercing glare intensified as the frown knits tighter as teeth bare, bloody as they are, as a warning. But the Hunter’s reckless, probably would have died right then and there when having stepped out that large bark of the tree had it been any other Vampire, but it’s Sandalphon. One of those rare cases where the Vampire retained some humanity, refused to feed on people unless they had perished from natural causes such as accidents that didn’t involve them, or sickness where the Vampire played a great role to purge those ailments people haven’t found cures for, as they are immune to everything but three things as of known for now. And he was about to warn off the man before him as flowers crush under worn boots and the desperate look on the man, of eyes as bright as the very skies he can’t look directly at when the sun mocks the Vampire to burn - first it was the beautiful part - He’s not. He’s a monster, he’s an predator of the shadows that feed on those that were at the top, and brought them down to let them know their mortality whereas Sandalphon could live forever if he survived enough. that’s not beautiful, there’s no grace on the droplets that slowly caress his jaw staining it faint red and orange as it falls from his chin into the flawless fur of his caught, long dead prey. It bristles his feathers with deep, tired rage and was almost ready to refute it, to snap and spout poison at the man that dared enter where he’s settled - But oh, nothing ever, no experience in his years of hunting had readied Sandalphon for what was to come, and it was no death, no pain, not arrow that’d get stuck on his chest until he’d pluck it off with minimal force and a wince that ached for a few days, he’d heal much faster if only having feed on a person which refuses on. ‘’ What… ‘’ Oh and the hunter is right. He’s not here for the people, he’s not hunting them. He’s protecting them and taking blames for those that disappeared when onlookers caught the glimpse of his red eyes. The true culprit having red eyes as well, broader and with wings that easily made the mistake of others pinned on him. and the Vampire shouldered it with pride anyways, it helped, in a way. Keeping people away from him, keeping any curious person as far from danger as possible, for them to take as many precautions needed - and yet.

         And yet? This man immediately did not think the same. It made his chest ache painfully, and Sandalphon’s instinct to survive, that distrust that’s been feeding on tragedy ever since the beginning acting first before even daring to reach out. With the dead animal on his arm firmly pressed to his chest, heavy wings lift and flare with all of their might as they cloud the dim light of the moon under the grand shadow of a demon, making the Vampire bigger to any that laid eyes on him as red eyes glared down the tall man. ‘’ Whatever you are daring to do, don’t. Give me chase if you dare, Hunter, whether you say it’s true or not, it doesn’t matter! ‘’ Sultry tones deep from his throat taunts, the ghost of a daring chuckle reverberating as an echo that bounces off wood and leaves, bloodied fangs giving away the false smile that Sandalphon manages as wings soundlessly flaps with a storm of wind knocking back light rubble off the ground, messing the flowers under and the dirt serving as smokescreen as the Vampire is lost from sight. No, he didn’t need help, he’d not let this man uncover the truth that easily if it somehow would lead the other to his death, that would certainly had been tonight had he found the wrong Vampire. It was better to give him a chance, and Sandalphon did not want to get another false kill on his list. And so, along his escape, the strong, bladed feathers of his pockets show into the hunter’s direction, none of all 6 of them even gracing the man at all, nor cutting. Another warning to tell him to not follow him.Upon contact where they fall, the weaponized plumes vanish in ashes, as if sun had touched them - good for keeping any kind of trace left behind and only the evidence of a small hole as vestiges.

[ @aaetherius​ ]

While this isn't the first Christmas Lucifer has spent with Sandalphon since his revival, that doesn't stop the butterflies from forming in his stomach. There's something utterly magical about being able to celebrate the holidays Skydwellers have created when, before, all he had been able to do was read about them in tomes or watch them from afar. During the countless years he had spent alone in Cannan, he had often dreamed about what it might be like to attend a festival or decorate a tree with the archangel. Back then, those thoughts had been little more that wistful and distant dreams he scarcely believed may one day come true. But they have. Multiple times now. Yet, every year that passes never ceases to surprise him, and every celebration still feels brand new to him. Even if he's done his best to brush up by reading about Christmas traditions, and pestering the crew for tips or typical customs. He's poured his heart into studying, and researching all to find the perfect gift for the one he holds most dear. But, the perfect gift is difficult to find. More than he could have ever imagined, and it had taken him quite some time to finally settle on something.

He knows he should wait until sunrise, but the anticipation of spending this day with Sandalphon has kept him awake well into the night. Not that such a thing is unusual when he and the current Supreme Primarch can often be found awake at odd hours of the morning depending on their schedules or whether or not a peaceful night's rest came to them. But he finds himself laying awake with the covers strewn about him haphazardly as he peers at the ceiling above, counting the wooden planks that compose it in order to pass the time. He's always been the patient type. Always been good at waiting. After all, he had waited two-thousand years to be reunited with the one he loves. Right now; however, the idea of doing so for just a few more hours seems unbearable to him. He longs to hear Sandalphon's voice. To see him smile, and to see him at peace without a war or the end of the skies hanging over his head. It's, truly, all he's ever desired - for Sandalphon to be capable of living the quiet life he hadn't been able to have until now. And while that dream is unlikely to come true for thousands of years to come, if they could simply pretend for just one night that would be enough for him.

A quiet sigh forces itself past his smooth lips, and Lucifer can't resist the urge to tilt his head towards the mass of brain hair sprawled out onto the pillow beside him. Beneath the wild locks and messy bangs, he can't hope to see the archangel's face. And he knows he should let Sandalphon sleep, but despite his better judgement, he reaches out to gingerly brush the other's bangs from his eyes. Resting his palm upon the Supreme Primarch's jaw, he gingerly caresses Sandalphon's cheek with his thumb to pull him out of whatever groggy slumber he was in, assuming he was even asleep to begin with. "Are you awake, my dearest Sandalphon?" Lucifer's voice is a hoarse whisper that doesn't dare echo off of the thin walls of the ship where they're nestled in their cabin. While he might be eager to wake Sandalphon up, he has no desire to rise the entire crew in the process. He waits a beat, a gentle smile forming upon his lips that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. "Forgive me if I woke you. I have found sleeping now rather difficult to be honest." His brows crinkle slightly as if to frown, but the smile never leaves his features. "Truthfully, I am looking forward to spending today with you, so much as I find it hard to rest."

His thumb never ceases its ministrations as he looks at Sandalphon. It matters little to him if the other can hear him or not; if he's awake or if he's still asleep. "Perhaps, then, I can give this to you early." His free hand reaches beneath the loose fabric of the soft pajamas he's wearing, pulling a delicate necklace from the safety of his pocket. The chain is a brilliant gold in color, and there's a single, rosy feather attached to it. "Lyria helped me preserve this for you. I am afraid my current feathers lack the same power my old wings had, but I still pray it will keep you company when I cannot be there with you." Just as the ring and sword that came before it have. He can't deny the worry that lingers in his core whenever Sandalphon is called out on a mission he can't help him with. Quietly, he slips the chain around Sandalphon's neck before bringing that hand to rest against the other's chest. "Merry Christmas, Sandalphon. I am looking forward to spending this day with you again." Carefully, he leans forward to press a soft kiss upon Sandalphon's forehead.

         Chest rises and falls to dreamless sleep weighted by mundane exhaustion that came in hand to missions and taking care of the airship's cafe that even in these festive days had been buzzing with people, those that wanted special pastries and sweets, others to surprise their loved ones with a beautiful drunk at the gaze of the gentle moon that peeks from the window during the night in Christmas eve, and simply for those that didn't celebrate, but wanted a break from the usual and pass by to let the scent of coffee that coats every inch of wood within the walls and tables and chairs adorning the homely space. But even such things as that were bound to tire the archangel out enough to have a heavier sleep for once, thankful that it is not riled by nightmares yet - but not completely asleep given the gentle shifting and awfully obvious fact that Lucifer is too restless for some reason to be able and sleep himself. But he lets it be, long, sharp lashes shut and his expression calm with the comfort lying together under many fluffy blankets provide for the pair, even when he unintentionally adds extra coats whenever wings decide to manifest, be it his own or the white ones. A Detail the other sometimes look all too pleased to witness or let the aftermath pf their presence paint a few extra stray pinions across his form, and fail to pick them off before someone else has to.

         When Lucifer speaks, Sandalphon's ears perk faintly but remains feigning sleep, allowing the moment to pass, but the anticipation builds and maybe, sightly, muscles tense a bit - but not born from anything negative but giddiness that births from the mere fact that it might be why Lucifer could not slumber. It was endearing the great lengths the other would go for something that Sandalphon little would care when the biggest gift was simply to be here with Lucifer, have these moments with him, to laugh and share pain, even when the scars of his soul would never heal nor the bitterness at the back of his mind sometimes whispering dark things. But he's past those moments, knows his hesitance to things even now is because pf the hurt Lucifer is atoning for each day they spend together, or learning new things, it's why, one day, he will have enough strength to tell him the things the other may have been blind of - and hurt with him. But not now, maybe not in a few months; with thousand years the wounds still feel fresh sometimes, even when it's piercing pain is no more than the throb of a sore muscle most day, it still stung too much and felt too since Lucifer's revival. He did not need to be burdened yet by it when he has just started to see much of the things he's missed, experience the good and the bad. The things he still doesn't know about or just never has occurred, to the new surfacing details that even the former primarch had been ignorant of up until now. Lips purse sightly, swallowing the need to smile as Lucifer continues, and feels how his weight presses against the mattress and in turn, makes his own body lean closer, but even then Sandalphon still feigns sleep even if at this point whatever masquerade put in front sucked at best.

        The filter of gentle moonlight finally bathing his features with it’s dim light is what shakes the archangel somewhat more awake, a shaky sigh laced with the grogginess of sleep tainting the silence of Lucifer’s sweet words a bit, but just as it’s low tune barely graces the thin wooden planks of the Grancypher’s cabin where they reside Sandalphon barely makes a sound - Lips purse a bit, fighting their natural dryness with a soundless yawn that barely opens chapped lips, and muscles that tense and relax in a barely effective stretching that announced further that he was very much aware of the other’s words. He tries to say something, but a low and husky yet unattractive groan filters past replacing whatever he had to say, and Sandalphon winces miserably at it - but lets Lucifer handle him and instead bask in the touch the motion alone gave war kissed skin. Hands that feel like velvet and so, so unbelievably soft when treating his battered body like something precious, and all to fix a small weight he still hasn’t seen around his neck. Something he allows it to sink first, feel and try and guess. A necklace, as far as he can tell from Lucifer’s words. And the soft tickle of a fluffy thing telling it had a feather, perhaps, adoring it where his core picks pace after the dreamless slumber he’s waking up from. ‘’ Lucifer… ‘’ Manages barely, low, more of a fond greeting than anything else. He’s woken to Lucifer’s voice more times he can count, and this wasn’t unlike those times yet still feels new; warm and welcoming, but it is the curiosity to see, finally, what has Lucifer given him that fills his body with some energy, even if barely, to move a bit. Shifting from his side to prop his frame up with both elbows as bones crack unceremoniously, and the archangel exhales in it’s sound along with relief when finally sitting up and eyelashes open up to reveal scarlet eyes that wander down to the bare of his chest - once more the sleepwear unbuttoned by accident but little the primarch cared when it made easier to see the golden gleam of a beautiful necklace, and the fairly sized rosy feather that dimly glows with it’s own little ember of power. Not grand like the previous plumage Lucifer once had, but it had the same feeling. That same aura that only spoke of Lucifer’s presence and memories. And Rough calloused fingers reach to delicately touch it’s glow, and a smile paint his lips. ‘’ It’s…. Beautiful. ‘’ Says first, touched by the gesture but even then his core, even as thousand butterflies furiously beat their wings inside his chest there was that little hesitance inside that held back the archangel. He ignores those voices thanks for the comfort of some of the sleep that still laces his mind. ‘’ It is not a problem at all, since those wings are yours. Just like those you gave me; Even when I came to hate their plumage once… If I close my eyes, I can feel you within these feathers. I’m sure that’s enough to me. ‘’ Oh but even speaking such truths like that twisted awkwardly his core in some ways, some fluster rising slowly despise the courage that he’s allowed to build with time. Indulging in things thousand years ago were no more than unreachable fantasies born to be discarded away before they’d taint his mind. Learning to open up, love and discover Lucifer’s own emotions and wants or wishes - This was part of it. Even when some of Lucifer’s ability to absolutely not feel shame for these things chipped at the archangel’s pride yet little he could say when blue eyes shined starlights and galaxies behind them from utter joy at even the most simple gestures or experiences.

        After a slow blink that clears the cloudy vision away, his gaze reaches Lucifer’s with his own little smile marring sharp visage, curls of aurburn bouncing slighting within the bird nest’s word of a mess his head must be from shifting around before finding a comfortable position within their shared bed - a low but heartfelt chuckle exhaled as he sits more comfortably and reach out with his other hand to take the former primarch’s shoulder and pull his frame within his own into an embrace, immediately letting himself bask within the warmth the other easily exudes. And a pleased sigh breathed out while diving his nose into the croon of his neck, whispering. ‘’ Thank you, Lucifer. Even simply having you here, granting you this freedom feels like a gift, to me. If I had to be honest… it is a merry Christmas. And I thank you, and the crew for it. ‘’ And he is, ever since millenia, for once he’s learning to speak his heart out, the good and the bad, fixing things where he can and atoning for his own mistakes while lettings old wounds heal. even when fears and anger still reside within as weak embers that would take hold of any fuel should he leave it unchecked, yet seeing Lucifer’s smile was enough to blow any problem away, as it’s been almost so, so long ever since he’s seen the taller look and feel this free. Almost mirroring the girl in blue’s in how his mannerism go, and was nothing short of… cute. Even if referring the former supreme primarch as cute felt like a sacrilege by itself.

[ @aaetherius​ ]

         Ever since learning of Valentine’s Day from Lyria curiously inquiring about whether or not he planned to make chocolates for someone special, Lucifer had spent nearly every hour researching and testing various molds and flavors in order to make the perfect sweets for someone who didn’t like them to begin with, but it was the thought that mattered - or so the girl in blue had assured him after his many failed batches. But the day to present his work to his special someone is finally here. Inhaling against the telltale scent of coffee and with something a little extra mixed in, he gingerly holds a neatly wrapped box in his hands. One covered in a shimmering, red paper with a beautiful auburn bow. Atop it sits a much smaller box in matching paper. The packaging alone was a direct result of him staying up far too late to ensure it was perfect. From what he's read and overheard, this holiday is dedicated to loved ones, and he wants to make certain it's special for Sandalphon.

          So he slips inside the cafe of the ship - the early morning sun spilling in through the windows and scattering light upon the countertops and tables until they were sprinkled with tiny particles that resembled gold dust. It's still well before Sandalphon usually opens it to the public, and much of the crew is still asleep, but above the scent that wafts from the chocolates he's made he can pick up the distinctive smell of black coffee so he knows the other is already inside. Tucking the box behind his back, he uses his wings to completely shelter it beneath beaming, blush feathers as a gentle smile slips onto his rosy lips. "Good morning, my love," comes his soft voice that he hopes doesn't give away his budding excitement as he makes his way over to where the other stands, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting as large plumes shiver visibly in his joy and bright, blue eyes seem to shine in the sunlight - it's painfully evident he's up to something."Have you heard of Valentine's Day?" He wastes little time leaping into the subject, unable to contain the delight bubbling up in his core. "Lyria informed me it is a holiday in which one makes chocolates for those they love. Though I have never made sweets before, given the purpose of the holiday, I wished to make some for you this year. In all of the skies, Sandalphon, you are the one I have always loved most. So, I pray you will accept this gift. Happy Valentine's Day."

        Wings part and he gingerly places the pair of boxes atop the counter, eagerly awaiting for the other to open them. Inside the larger of the packages is a box that contains the fruit of his labor - coffee flavored milk and white chocolates shaped in little wings. A few of them are stuffed with some highly questionable filling Lucifer would claim is cinnamon.They look good, but the taste is suspect if Lyria gagging as she gave him a thumbs up yesterday before dashing off was any indication. Inside the smaller is a delicate but simple white gold promise ring with a set of six wings painstakingly engraved inside the band. The meaning of such a gift had been unknown to him until recently when he had gone shopping for chocolate supplies and Siero had spotted him struggling. With her guidance, he had managed to get everything he needed, but not before she asked after whom he was making chocolates for and, with a knowing laugh, she introduced him to a jeweler who told him about them.

         Morning breezes with it's own peaceful divinity when sunlight casts it's serene grace to the lone cafe whose only inhabitant, for the time being, was the crowned supreme primarch. Up at early hours as an usual occurrence - and also a curse considering it wasn't, most of the time, at his own accord but always somehow door busted at unholy hours of early morning by certain scavenger mortal whose questionable tendencies of dragging his body out the confines of soft mattress and a pile of blankets was deemed an extremely necessity. Sandalphon doesn't question it, not anymore and knows best than to struggle against the captain's wishes, knows best to step away given the past day's usual ruckus whenever yet another holiday was just at the horizon to come. And ah - even his own gift for Lucifer, one he had made with so much care and dedication sat atop shelves where, usually, bags of coffee beans would decorate in it's place. Right now they had been moved somewhere else, somehow, in they place what decorates the shelves are a set of truffles coated in various saucers each, various vanilla scented cookies in various shapes varying on tiny set of wings, with slits at the base perfect enough so they can fit atop the rim of a coffee cup, others shaped like hearts, and a cradle shaped one - the specifics of how was he able to find molds for each a mystery to never be found. Something unique and of valuable effort just for that certain someone he knew was going to, also, grace his presence at the built - sublime in all it's way for Sandalphon who awaits the one who he knows, might have in mind the holiday too. It had been a fleeting comment from the girl in blue, and it was only the obvious considering the Grandcypher in general would make each one and every celebration a big deal that the dawning realization could come from any corner of the airship itself, and... Sandalphon can't help the flutter inside his chest, The way his core all but rattles in anticipation considering Lucifer's been absolutely up to something, yet he had never the heart to blow those endearingly awful attempts at not letting such excitement and the glow on azure eyes blow away it. No. Not when, apparently, he had been just as painfully obvious, to some of the crewmembers.

          Sole of shoes echo past the door that gives to the cafe's entrance, it doesn't even take a look to know whose presence had graced the always welcoming of worn wood, musk of freshly cleaned and moped floor by the archangel's very own hand. Another of those habits to keep his mind away from the bad things, to not overthink and instead, channel newfound energy into keeping his body moving, doing things, enjoying every second of it as cups, vases, each utensil and surface of tables, chairs and even the petite lamps adorning the room were clean and shining against sepia light that passes by the various windows which graced anyone's gaze with the mold of uneven clouds, winds that blew them away until their shapes all but morph into endless mysteries, and the expanse of the skies could be seen from most of what those frames and their curtains could offer.

       Sandalphon was done with a set of two brews, one awaiting for the former supreme primarch as he senses the other approach and pace in a slow but steady pace, scarlet yes looking up as hands keep expectedly pouring the hot drink on the second up and blossoming a warm smile, licked in some exhaustion all too familiar for the archangel whose hours of sleep usually never went past eight to nine hours at best. " Ah, Lucifer! Good morning, I hope I didn't disrupt your needed rest while I had to leave the room too early. " But he knew the answer to his light anxieties. Knew that he'd not mind nonetheless considering yet Sandalphon never stops with those worries, it was an habit, one that never brought harm and somehow, had always made the other, even if he dismissed his claims over and over, smile in a way that made even the farthest flowers come anew with life. So he lets the last of drops plop with a gentle noise to put away the used pot now dried of anything left, pace from behind the counter to meet the other's terribly obvious delight that seeps from any crack his attempt at feigning calm could try to be. Ah, each day Sandalphon was terribly aware just how everything about Lucifer was enough to affect his core, mold in in ways that twisted his and then reshaped it anew without a crack yet still feeling light into the heavens airborne the puffs of clouds, and as if a blade had embraced it with it's edges, about to bleed out and scatter like mush — Yet, as always. Plays along, head tilting to the side once he's infront the other but letting his back rest his weight against the edge of the counter. Wonder plastered all over his calm exterior. " Valentine's day. I have an idea about it given... the crew had asked me for recipes these last days. While I like the idea of trying making my own for the rest as a pastime, if they want to truly envoy their feelings for those said gifts are aimed for, they should have the guts to try themselves... " There's disdain in his voice, comical exasperation that cannot replace the way his core beats in anticipation. Oh those wings are hiding something, isn't it? And whatever feigned calmness dies little by little into utter fondness that becomes unbearable, along the realization that he's overlooking the simplest, but most horrifying detail about it all.

         " You... Did. Oh, Lucifer... " Oh he knew exactly the grave he's digging for himself. Knew exactly what await for him in the eternal life he was grated by where nothing could compare to the terrors those heavenly, delicate porcelains could conjure if he dared to try doing anything but coffee when calloused digits glide over the top of the larger box, and his curiosity is rewarded with the sight of handmade sweets. And yet, it's because Sandalphon couldn't, even if his very life depended on it, tell Lucifer about this meager detail that seemed everyone had overlooked, much as Katalina's own kitchen nightmares she had managed to produce whenever anyone had taken their eyes off her and allowed her to aid at the task. This does not defeat the archangel's resolve, but he does swallow dry, and brace himself when the other presents his heartfelt gifts, to receive them and ah - even if they looked edible, adorably crafted and everything, who knows what Lucifer had added on each one's mix. " You really shouldn't have to... Wait - is this a ring, too? " And his attention redirects from those absolutely not sweets to the glimmering ornament when he had gone and haphazardly also open the smaller looking box. " I... don't get it why would you give me this, but the shape... Are those yo-  My inherited wings? " And just like that, whatever perfectly disguised grimace in the form of fondness now truly becomes into whatever he feels now. A mix of genuine curiosity, wonder, joy... A lot passes over the smaller archangel before it settles into a melancholic but tender expression as lips draw upward shyly, and lift the ring to let it slip on one of his ring finger. It fits perfectly, resting with it’s shine perfectly - and is enough to let him completely overlook the little bombs of poison that lies close to his free hand, aimlessly reaching for one to take a bit and,

          " GhK — " It was terrible! Why in the skies had he put spicy powder on sweet chocolate and coffee!? Oh heavens, everything burned, yet somehow Sandalphon still could meet the strong, awful taste with an unflinching smile, and not breaking a single sweat despise the way every muscle wanted to scrunch into itself and let the void devour his existence. And he has to advert his gaze a bit before forcing the sweet inside and swallow it clean before it'd sap centuries off his eternity as he can still stand, and live like nothing had happened. " I-It's so good...! Haah — Oh Lucifer, you... really planed this, don't y-you...? " And he decides to focus, instead on guessing he's very much poisoned himself, on the ring, shaking off what best he could of the dread of whatever he had put into his mouth, brow arched a tad. " This ring... Lucifer. A promise ring, dare I ask, out of curiosity, why...? " And ah, even when he feels like he's dying all over again, the meaning about this other item had been something that flew over his head, from genuine ignorance considering rings and jewelry weren't things Sandalphon usually studied beyond their use cosmetically. Not beyond what they could mean in traditions the mortals partake, so it just felt right to ask, and delay the inevitable that is his share of gifts that await contemplatively at the coffee shelves, within their grasp but still not yet the time for them.

[ @aaetherius​ ] || [ dFSÑDSFDf thanks for reminding me to open the submit page, so now you have free real estate with length of asks!!! ]

Kiss day was something the Singularity had mentioned to him before, and something he was already familiar with due to Sandalphon once citing it as a reason for suddenly stealing a kiss from him a day that felt like less than a breath ago. But when it had come up again in conversation with the airship's stalwart leader, whom Lucifer, unfortunately, happened to get far too much information from when it came to the customs Skydwellers held, he had learned just how scared a holiday it was. Now he was utterly determined to return the favor to the archangel. But Sandalphon had slipped from his grasp early, and in his sleep-touched daze he hadn't truly registered the other's missing warmth against him until he had groggily sat up on a collection of tangled sheets as his palm lazily patted the mattress in search for the other only to find the area beside him empty. A few blinks and he woke to a room devoid of the Supreme Primarch, losing his chance to gently wake him with a kiss.

Swiftly following his first failed attempt to ensure he celebrated the day properly - as the Singularity had ensured him not doing so would have dire consequences, and he would not wish for anything ill to befall Sandalphon - he quietly made his way over to the cafe where he expected the other to be. The smell of coffee had been fresh in the air when he had slowly poked his head in, but, alas, by the time he had gotten there Sandalphon had already left. With his wings sagging against his back, he carefully followed after any trace of the archangel, the Singularity even popping in from time to time to help him locate the other. But every time he came close to, he could sense Sandalphon's presence begin to fade. By the time sunset had become to trickle in through the windows of the Grandcypher, his core is heavy with worry. He's scarcely seen the other all day, and he fears Sandalphon is working himself too hard once again. It morphs his excitement into dread until, finally, he spots the other beneath the orangey-pink hue of the dwindling light, and allows a breath of relief to flutter past his lips. His core, the fragile thing that it is, simply can't wait to embrace the other, and instead of following the advice the Singularity had given him (urging him to surprise Sandalphon), he simply rushes over to the archangel.

His strong arms come to wrap so tightly, yet still somehow gently, about the other's waist that he nearly, unintentionally, lifts Sandalphon off of his feet. Burying his face into the crux of the other's neck, he allows the scent of coffee to almost overwhelm as he nuzzles softly into the other's skin, and the fabric of his shirt. "Sandalphon," he whispers faintly as he slowly lifts his head after a few moment, gingerly holding the other as close to him as he can manage. "Forgive me, I pray you have not been working too hard, but I have missed you." Slowly, he leans forward to give the other the gentlest kiss upon the tip of his nose. "The Singularity has informed me it is Kiss Day, and I wish to celebrate it, together, with you, if you will allow me to."

          All the day spent with the other’s footsteps trailing his heels, and Sandalphon wasn't doing it for any ill intention at al - no. It was just fond fear, Lucifer now most prepared than ever with newfound knowledge he really has to someday question it’s sources had the former Supreme primarch much more giddy and all the more determined to properly 'celebrate' days such as these. The itch to go and throttle the life out the captain bubbling like a gentle fire fueled by petty alone, but the chance for retribution never once dawning for his hands hold that little trouble seeker. No, instead the danger loomed dangerously close, always sensing the other's presence no matter where Sandalphon manages to excuse himself to. From somehow making it out the bed without waking the former, to at least opening the cafe until time had called and he left someone else to serve for the time being. Manage to hang some laundry without much trouble and then unceremoniously scramble from the other's field of vision. And again, it wasn't for naught nor because he did not wish for Lucifer's love at all. It's just that he knew that once the other's strong hold embraced him, that's all for the supreme primarch; it's mark his penance and be showered upon kisses and kisses until left a complete breathless mess laughing like an idiot, feathers sticking everywhere and his hair a worse mess than it somehow manages to look certain mornings, as if a strong storm had hit the airship while taken by slumber.

           Yet sundown is already before the Grancypher's periphery, strong orange rays painting sepia the grand vast of skies and dots of what could be lone islands within the distance to be seen - And worry paints Sandalphon's core now that it's been a while, the chase having drawn enough to at least spare the other and left Lucifer find him, finally. So he stops, the handrails that make the best part of the airship's edges so no one would fall a good leverage to let his palms rest atop them, leaning a bit so his armor less frame meets the edge and take in a gasp pf air that his lungs had begged for a while now - unable to shake the fluster that weights his core and the slight guilt that also hangs from that branch, which he knows wouldn't last. Fate sealed when those footsteps once more meet his ears and muscles reflexively tense a bit, but then relax with silent relief; praying the skies to be prepared and let all that contained love the other bleeds with overwhelm his soul, whisper an apology for purposely hiding from the other in some sort of childish play the younger crew members often entertained themselves with considering the grand amount of rooms, corridors and places to hide they could choose and test their abilities. Yet it all proves for even more naught, no matter how much he braces himself or trains his mind and body to somehow meet the other's presence and simply melt with it - his strength rips the air from his lung, that bold hold striking the deepest parts of his core and cold blod rush through his entire body as blinding lightings and leave trails of scalding heat in their stead. Unceremonious noise, akin to a gasp and squawk unfiltered past lips that part with the surprise clearly painted across sharp visage and that's how he knows that not even today Sandalphon was going to survive this man's shamelessness. yet, as always, there will never a better way for Lucifer to express his emotions like this, it is something he'd never change or wish for it to cease in any way. Just prays his own core can somehow build enough stamina to not painfully throb at each and endless ways Lucifer finds to express himself outrageously.

         " L-Lucif— " Strained voice barely manages out, a higher pitch as hands had somehow found where Lucifer's circle his waist, relishing on his the tip of his heels seem unable to meet the familiar worn wood of the deg's surface as the other holds his smaller frame as if his life depended on it - and probably it does, because now that he finally has a look, from over his shoulder, to Lucifer's messy strands as they veil from sight how his visage might be. Yet even without looking Sandalphon already can feel the relief dawning upon the other, how that intake of air simply nourished his core with everything that is right and bright. It doesn’t fail to dust his cheeks a faint rosy color, and it doesn't help too the bashful chuckle bubbling from the depths of his chest as it heaves out within their silence. " I... Missed you too. I apologize for my absence. " But he doesn't have the heart yet to say the truth, not when it had somehow burdened the other now that he thinks of it; did Lucifer think something worse? But nearly tangent thoughts banish the second he processes the kiss laid upon his nose, blinking his own worries away in a miraculous spell as he slowly shifts to face the other better, and rest his hips upon the handrail as it lazily creaks with the newfound weight added to it. Sound that gets carried away by the gentle breeze along the downy pale skirt that flutters slowly under the belts that keep them upright, laying his palms at the edge where those long gloves end, and skin peek from Lucifer's biceps. " If to celebrate it with you somehow fills for the time we spent apart, then I would never say no. " It was impossible to deny further the other, his core also yearns for it even as they have exchanged more touches and kisses than the two thousand of years worth of silence could dare and even recall. Oh how Lucifer's soft tone was all in the world to undo his own stubbornness, the only thing along; stronger than Lyria's beady eyes or Gran's unbearably kind soul, that could sway his core into caving and forget about responsibilities for once in a while, even if his war torn body aches to do things, to meet battles or go around the airship doing things. So one of his hands, the one even now adorned with the shining golden ring carefully traces where that pale skin radiates warmth, touches with featherlight gentleness against the other's broader neck where fabric edges with golden rims, and then cups the taller primarch's jaw with an unspoken apology all written on his eyes as they soften when he meets his gaze with one of it's own. Thumb tracing aimless circles where the a rosy hue paints the edge of the other's lashes with life and admiring how the sunset's light never cease to frame his visage almost as if he had been descended from the stars themselves. " I hope this counts as an apology, too, dearest Lucifer. " He tries to sound a bit timid, but it's impossible to not let his adoration drip from his tongue, head tilting as eyes relishes on Lucifer's clear senseless and unconditional worry even now having a strong hold to Sandalphon's own guilt, one he will make up no with endless spoken apologies, but with actions that would tear the remaining hours this day was left with, and simply let himself be engulfed by the cocoon of feathers the other may subject him with, if his own didn't manifest first and steal Lucifer for himself in a selfish streak.

[ @aaetherius​ ]

Bright eyes admire the vivid, colorful lights dangling from various pieces of furniture in his room - the Singularity having insisted they be hung up in every nook and cranny of the ship. Despite the warmth of the ship, his breath is visible against the chilled air as he inhales with all of his delight and wonder at the sight despite the certain heaviness that lingers in his core. That same gentle smile that always seems to linger on his lips is ever present. The pearly hue of his wings only seems to shine all the more with the array of colors being cast upon them in the darkness of the room. His fingers, which had been gingerly running through Sandalphon's hair, suddenly retreat - index tapping softly once against the other's nose to get his attention. " Sandalphon, it has come to my attention that it is customary to give gifts to those one cares for on this holiday. " He speaks as if this is a dreadfully serious matter, despite his joy. "And since there is no one I care for more than I do you, I wish to give you something." He pauses for a moment, head lowering a bit, and long lashes coming down slightly to hide the collection of emotions that dances through his eyes. "However, it was difficult for me to find something that would express the depths of my feelings for you, and I spent quite some pondering over it before coming to this," He seems hesitant - uncertain - for once, but he shifts, reaching down to where his swords are resting, and takes one of them in his hands. Fingers brushing over the intricate embellishment that decorate the sheath before it's offered over. "This may seem a strange gift; however, I hope you will accept it. This sword has been at my side for countless battles, and kept me safe for many years. Now, I pray that it will come to protect you instead." His hand, free of the sword where he sets it down, reaches out to bush auburn locks back from the other's forehead so he can lean forward to press a soft kiss upon freshly exposed skin. "Merry Christmas, Sandalphon, I pray it will be one of many that I am able to spend beside you."

         Sandalphon, ever since having grown more and more familiar with the long lost sensations of serenity simple things such as the feeling of hands of someone running through messy locks of aurburn, long lashes having since a while fallen to the weight comfort seduces with, content with the ministrations as the room dimly lit by those ornaments only could hear the gentle breaths of the archangel, and the taller’s as he continued with the stubborn wishes to show the many ways love took form of for him. Thankful that, this time, it wasn’t out from one of those somewhat dusty books the archangel, for the most part, absolutely not because he felt self-conscious, kept neatly hidden from prying eyes. All until his own mouth had betrayed him into hinting about such thing existing a now fated to the cruel truth of sharing the overly sappy pieces of texts he’d come to stash.

         The gesture winning a rather lazy, yet curious look back, scarlet gaze hazily making out from the past bliss that kept it’s spell until words get processed, more complex fellings to sort out, the year had gone with a blink of an eye and so has the fateful moment of sharing these holidays along with lucifer, missing the warmth those hands brought to him yet trying the best to not let it show at the slight pout that worms it’s way to his lips momentarily, like the blink of an eye. Christmas being the one Sandalphon came to understand the most yet still hardly had sought to try giving presents to anyone; Lyria, the captain, maybe something funny for the crimsom dragon. And a Rose for the lone ethereally pale pinnion that used the place that now Lucifer has taken rightfully in it’s place, even if he hadn’t lost or discarded the memento as it still resides within Sandalphon’s room visible for anyone who dared to enter, atop a careful wooden box of letters the archangel has still need to finish it’s words – a slow process for both to bear and sort in the list of wishes the two archangels had yearned for, finally granted. But yearning didn’t mean being totally prepared, emotionally. Oh the more he listened, the more the smaller archangel’s face sumbits to surprice, fluster and another mundled array of emotions even he can’t get a grasp on the moment his core seemed to twist and seep in warmness, completely forgotten the slight chill had he felt before when they had been in silence enjoying their moment, burning the hours until it was time to properly sleep.

          Endearment marring his features at that sincere uncertainty, something unusual to ever be shown on Lucifer’s array of expressions that Sandalphon had come to slowly rediscover and treasure whenever chances bless him with those rare sightings, taking his time to listen, and then let the surprise once more take on his body in a blur, spade offered and taken almost out of habit alone despise the need to deny such thing, lips hanging open as if it were a dream - shaking his head a bit to make sure it really wasn’t one and Lucifer is, in fact, giving up one of those prestigial swords from a set of three, the very same ones centuries ago a lone angel had always sought to try and replicate just to mirror the very art of the swordsdance Lucifer always seemed to have when sparring with the air alone, bushes of untended leaves concealing the smaller angel from the act of prying the other whenever possible to later try and replicate those strokes of the blades, an art Sandalphon by now had mastered but not without his own flaws, not the same grace as Lucifer’s own yet still as fast and powerful. Ah... but he still has to actually say something, despise the slight quiver lips seemed to have, a tremble barely perceivable which colors a hitch in his voice when finally having enough consciousness grounded back to feel that kiss on his forehead. Free gloved hand gently coming to glide that very spot while trying to compose crumbled pride – and he counts to ten, inhales to himself and then brings the offered blade into an embrace so the hilt can rest on his chest. ‘‘ I... I really don’t know how to properly thank you. Lucifer. ‘‘It’s another way of his to admit that he’s happy. If the blush that darkens in red had anything to hint. ‘‘ Thankful is a short word and I feel like it doesn’t encompass enough of what I feel at this very moment, and... If you really are trusting me with this sword, then I promise, ‘’ Another shuddered, elaborated exhale, and a gaze full of melancholic fondness rises to meet those blue hues that very much were the skies for the smaller. ‘‘ -that I’ll protect you with it, both the one you first ever let me wield, and this one. ‘‘

         And he, too, had one of these gifts for Lucifer, having procured to wait until midnight to properly sweep it under plush pillows for the other to find, but now it felt hopeless. The urge to just shove it right into his chest and later share yet another round of endless kisses burning the archangel’s core with desperation, ablaze, and yet – despise how it hurt, it was a welcomed feeling. Something that Sandalphon prays to never get used to and always feel like a first time, which so far has succeeding crushing much of the composure left built in feeble granite. As if a mere touch of the other’s man, gentle and loving, were enough to push a crack open – and never would have it any other way. ‘‘ Believe it or not... I also had something for you, Lucifer. Please allow me a moment. ‘‘ Tone shy, somewhat silent. But even amidst all of that there’s seeping confidence and some anticipation in there, as he takes a step back and carefully let the large sword rest on the sheets of Lucifer’s bed, core beating a tad faster and he has to quietly clutch his chest before it could rip it’s way out - even if logically impossible. ‘‘ Those days I was busy, I apologize for being too secretive on my whereabouts. But it all was because of this... I know you fancy the scarf I wore in local events, along it’s brooch. ‘‘ Continues, most of his willpower set entirely on keeping the gentleness of his voice steady before it all overwhelms him. Not yet... ‘‘ So, I used some of my own savings, so the very same individual who made the brooch that decorates my scarf, could also make one for you, but adding a pinion of mine – I really hope it protects you from the cold, and... reminds you of me, for those times I have to go on missions without assistance. ‘‘ And he produces from the folds of his skirt a sky blue and white scarf, a mirror design of Sandalphon’s folded perfectly as it rests on the small archangel’s extended arms, offered to the other as on the top sits a silver brooch, one of the smaller feathers that the archangel sports embed perfectly on it.

[ @aaetherius​ ] : “ there’s nothing i wouldn’t do to keep you safe. ” { or } “ you’re safe with me, you always will be. ” { :) }

         Even when cups sat empty next to each other, what they had bear once still clings to the air. A sweet scent of primordial coffee etched into the room and it’s most likely never seen corners and creases as it announces it once had been. Another rather tame job finished, once that conveniently had been in need of wings and for once the annoying man with the minuscule pair of wings had not been present to entertain such thing - weird but not an unusual occurrence. Sandalphon wasn’t really in the best mood when forcefully shaken awake by a Captain that did never let him get past seven in the morning. Something something of apparent utter importance but the archangel knew when the singularity was just blowing trivial nonsense out of proportion just to try and convince the other to leave the welcoming embrace of warm sheets - cargo to be delivered midflight to another airship, and even to such a quick job, monsters had managed to worm their way in. Some lesser dragons apparently attracted to the scent of whatever the archangel carried, and with the full intend to fight him for it, especially as his hands were busy — but with summoned purple swords the battle was a breeze, totally some pride rubbed salt onto as Sandalphon knew he could have don’t it quicker than that but... ah. Casualties and stray light beams just meant more work that he did not felt like doing.

         It’s the unusual look on Lucifer that first had caught the attention on scarlet eyes, even if the others did not notice while receiving their part of payments, concern marred on soft porcelain calmness that stung something. Questions and perhaps a general understanding of what the other archangel might have felt, which ties down to the present where they had shared another batch of safely hidden primordial blend, cups long forgotten empty on a clean wooden round top, having kicked off the heels and armor to let muscles finally relax, despise his core’s awful tendency to betray and aky beats whenever hands meet, touch blazes where digits explore where gloves don’t cover. And a book the taller had brought to read with the archangel, paused on it’s verses as the other mutters such heartfelt yet weighting declaration that Sandalphon understood it way much more. Breath hitching, a stab to the core, and flashes of blood spilled all over cooperish obsidian armor of darkened  golden rims, wretched by unrelenting debris as a single lone and furious angel made his way to a shrine that is no longer. A tight hold to a weight that slowly sinks into cold, and the roar of a black beast deafening an audience who couldn’t listen before senses sought back for him. He knew, first hand, what lengths Lucifer would forego for him, what he’d sacrifice just to keep him in the world of living, to further evolve and fly where his fate hasn’t allowed to do so – and it stings. Feelings of unworthiness always there and yelling back in the torrents of emotions inside the archangel, denying and denying why would anyone sacrifice themselves for him. A criminal, a former fallen, a rebel who has hurt innumerable souls, so many island lost to his hands.

          But there’s nothing he can do to change anyone’s mind. Learned that the best option is to keep quiet and swallow despise it’s sour taste an acceptance he’s still not familiar with, and perhaps will never be. And try to live, share things with Lucifer and the rest as much as time allowed him to, before death or another eternity of cataclysms penances over his already heavy back. ‘’ I know. ‘’ Quietly, Sandalphon says after a while. A blanket shielding both of the angels with it’s plush soft edges ticking his neck and shoulders, diving his back further into Lucifer’s chest from where he sits at the gap between the other’s legs. And he doesn’t ask, why Lucifer would say such words out of nowhere. supposes past actions might having sparked some concern, to which the smaller couldn’t do much but assure that he’s fine and not a single scratch anywhere painted on his body anew. Perhaps some strands of hair out of place but none that the lesser dragons could’ve done to the archangel who prided himself from being strong enough to stand in ground without breaking a sweat. Even if his core ached in pain, his expression is serene, some air of melancholy in there, too, but mostly, he’s comfortable. ‘’  But... The same goes for you, Lucifer. If i had to traverse the skies to heal and get you back from that place once more, I’d not think it twice. ‘‘

[ @aaetherius​ ] ||

"Sandalphon." He's lost track of the time, but he knows it's well past any reasonable hour of the morning when the the first coral-stained clouds are just beginning to flicker into the hazy purple sky he can just barely see pouring in from the window. And he's exhausted because he hasn't slept in days, but he could listen to the archangel ramble about the cafe and the various customers he has to deal with for a week straight if given the chance. But he also wanted Sandalphon to relax. To breathe. Wanted to kiss him silly and clumsy as the first tendrils of dawn began to paint the floorboards scarlet and amber. To share soft breaths until the other's grumbled words morphed into blissful laughter. So he rose from the bed, hands reaching out to gently take Sandalphon's within his own and pulls him up from the mattress. Smile upon rosy lips as he asks, "Will you dance with me?" It matters not that the room is silent aside from the melody of their voices. 

         Rants and ludicrous comments came an went with how Sandalphon naturally set his words for Lucifer to listen, from trivial nonsensical tales skydwellers try to chat with the archangel to other more weird things overheard miserably into the ears of the archangel that could only do as much as to serve the drinks asked and paid for before following up next orders. And even if there were still things yet to understand, even for the former supreme primarch who seemed to always seem content no matter how mixed tangents tangled the more Sandalphon rambled on, comfort seeps as he laid bare those little troubles that hurt no one - stories that even made both of them chuckle and try to converse the why and hows of such things that almost always happened when anyone took under their belt the chaotic life of customer service. ( And Siero had commented, long before when she was coaching him, that this kind of job really could go far more beyond the simple thing that is learning what to do while serving. Just what had this woman even experienced?)

         Sandalphon lips quivered in a raspy laugh that rumbled after commenting something about that one artist harvin that always asked too many questions, some probably almost too close to what the defeated fallen angel no one should ever mention close to youngsters would dare to say which promptly was met with the archangel weaponizing a rolled up newspaper right into that head of hers. Winning a loud fit of complains, then a sulk that did not have any effect on him, and then scurrying off to more of her shenanigans while Sandalphon continued his shift at the Grandcypher's cafe. There was never a peaceful day, or at least - in the definition of peaceful for the archangel where he only served and didn't have to deal with too much nonsense or the pranks of the captains. Comments that come and go, some friendly fallen angels that pass by and their very mocking glances are enough to boils red hot blood as he stubbornly keeps the calmest mask firmly in his face before any chaos would descend foolishly. So when Lucifer says his name, words die down, the wry smile dissipates into a thin line as curiosity washes over the visage of the rather tired archangel. They should have called it a day and sleep together, a thing that has helped both to drift faster into the lulled trance of the dreams as their bodies healed - even if Sandalphon needed those less than Lucifer's weakened state, hard to deny such opportunity when the other would so willingly always offer a seat beside his large frame and naturally both fall so perfectly next to the other in an embrace worth beyond praise the heaven of clouds could ever offer in the skies. He does no voice the question, but it hangs on scarlet eyes as they gaze up when the other rises from their perch, the bed creaking at the weight shift and almost winning a sulk that Sandalphon perfectly swallows down in turn of deciphering just what would the other offer for him.

         Request laid there, no further context nor any sense to whys and becauses - Sandalphon learned that when it came about love, nothing was logical - Lucifer sometimes had these request that seemed from nowhere as rainbows that appear when no rain had ever poured in weeks. He does not question it, relishing into the hold ever so tender with the same fondness his core always bleed with when Lucifer did as far as to just exhale content when the breeze graced him just right, palms touching with the faintest of doubts as Sandalphon lets his body to be guided along with the other's help, the other gloved hand falls on where belts and fabric hid hips, never breaking his gaze from the other. " I'm afraid that I don't know how to dance, as far as I can remember. Been in some festivals but never participated beyond spectating, so... I'm in your care. Lucifer. " All which is true, clumsy at best even if heels always joined dirt and wood perfectly against the most gruesome battles, Sandalphon maybe knew here and there the basics but hardly relented for joining such things - deemed useless at some point, and then just outright not a thing to try that often, at least not when so many eyes were on him — partly why right now, besides Lucifer, had accepted the offer. Anything that also went in hand to be close to the other was always an option he'd choose without thinking twice.

[ @aaetherius​ ] || He's currently hunched behind the counter waiting for Sandalphon to come into the cafe. Head peeking out slightly from where he's hidden himself, rather poorly, so he can keep an eye out for the other. Massive wings spill out, despite being folded against his back, over the very edge of the counter, making it painfully apparent he's there. The Singularity mentioned playing pranks was common for this holiday, so he pops up when he sees Sandalphon and shouts, "Boo!" as instructed. Was that right?

          Done with his daily drinks and orders, setting glistering clean cups into their respective places back until their need to be used comes again. Apron neatly left hanging and only the scent of fresh brews clinging into stripped fabric of what remains of his uniform, ready to either go into his room or give Lucifer a visit – Mostly the second option in the priorities as he had always loved all of their lazy evenings talking about everything or nothing at all, little escapades off the ship to walk at the glare of endless stars and blues of nature by the cast of the moon. The day had been rather peaceful, he had seen the former supreme primarch for his usual cups along the other returning customers, some that used the kitchen themselves to leave after, others that requested directions with stuff and went. Nothing out the ordinary saving the few younger members running around and scolded by the primarch before more cups could suffer from neglected care.

           But he remembers something midway - in the back of his mind there's the memory of one of his gloves left back at the cafe and forgetting putting it back, having used his hand to test the temperature of one of his non-usually coffee things, a soft bunch of pancakes. Quick to turn on his heel and walk back where it could be, on the counter mostly clean of course. And he can sense the presence of someone, familiar even when the door creaks amidst the pleasant silence of the room, glancing around to meet the missing item. But ah.... There's an awfully suspicious tips of white feathers down the floor, catching Sandalphon's attention enough to step closer feigning blissful ignorance at who just such feathers might be from. " Lucifer, are y- " Yet to his surprise, the scare did made the archangel flinch back, some of the ends of his hair sticking out and fluffing - if wings were out they'd be, as well, a fluffy mess that settles just as quick as the surprise fades. " You got me... Oh skies, for a moment I thought you had dropped something! " there's nothing but sweet fondness there, amusement too seeping to ignore that just a second ago Sandalphon had actually, despise so many millennia of never flinching to something this trivial, be caught in one of these simple little pranks, and by none more than Lucifer — Poorly concealed wings and all.