You're lying, aren't you? [Even as he says this, he finds his certainty slipping. It did not feel like a lie when they first met. But—] You look nothing like him.
oh i see. you still believe in god's love. that's fun.
join the club you don't look anything like mike either but apparently your self-righteousness is not contained by one physical form that's great. just great. i'm so happy you're here, brother.
( love, right. michael is so stupid in makes the fluid in luci's spine curdle, every synapses in his brain telling him to turn his fists into claws and pummel the obstruction in front of him until it gives way, bloody and brutalized. lucifer is not entirely smart, like that. anger paves a short, brutal road to violence — he doesn't think when he's mad, he just takes the nearest action to make him feel better, no matter the odds, no matter the futility. it's why god kicked his ass out of heaven. it's why he lost his wings. it's why anything is the way that it is, luci living in the dirt and god with all his favored angels living in heaven, out of sight but never out of mind.
he doesn't feel like explaining that to anyone, least of all michael. at the same time, lucifer is chronically incapable of shutting the fuck up. )
i called out our Father's hypocrisy and was punished for the sin of doubt. then i was beaten by our Father's loving hands, dewinged, and abandoned by Him and you and all the angels to a prison beneath the dirt of the world for millennia. the He died. now i'm here.
i'd guess you're about to tell me i'm wrong, because you're in a cult.
[As soon as it is said he knows he shouldn't have asked, but at least the favor of this communication affords him distance when those words appear before his eyes. Distance to consider — what is this? Because it is not how it happened. It was not God who had beaten Lucifer; it was not God who had shorn Lucifer's beautiful wings from his body. It was him. It was Michael, who still recalls the hot of Lucifer's blood on his hands, his pleading, his tears of fury and grief as Michael dragged him back, over and over, across the ground while their Father sat stoic and silent as stone upon that lofty seat.]
I didn't abandon you. [You — are you, you? — you left me.] I can't tell you that you're wrong because I don't remember any of that.
What do you mean He died? God cannot die.
[Easier to focus on this fact than the hurting confession of the rest.]
( he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead )
it's the only explanation for why i was freed believe whatever you want, mike. it's probably easy when you live in the clouds, ignoring everything else but your feathers and fights.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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( annoying ass!!! )
change your un nobody just uses their name
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You're lying, aren't you? [Even as he says this, he finds his certainty slipping. It did not feel like a lie when they first met. But—] You look nothing like him.
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join the club
you don't look anything like mike either but apparently your self-righteousness is not contained by one physical form
that's great. just great. i'm so happy you're here, brother.
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["mike"?????]
What happened to you?
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( love, right. michael is so stupid in makes the fluid in luci's spine curdle, every synapses in his brain telling him to turn his fists into claws and pummel the obstruction in front of him until it gives way, bloody and brutalized. lucifer is not entirely smart, like that. anger paves a short, brutal road to violence — he doesn't think when he's mad, he just takes the nearest action to make him feel better, no matter the odds, no matter the futility. it's why god kicked his ass out of heaven. it's why he lost his wings. it's why anything is the way that it is, luci living in the dirt and god with all his favored angels living in heaven, out of sight but never out of mind.
he doesn't feel like explaining that to anyone, least of all michael. at the same time, lucifer is chronically incapable of shutting the fuck up. )
i called out our Father's hypocrisy and was punished for the sin of doubt. then i was beaten by our Father's loving hands, dewinged, and abandoned by Him and you and all the angels to a prison beneath the dirt of the world for millennia. the He died. now i'm here.
i'd guess you're about to tell me i'm wrong, because you're in a cult.
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I didn't abandon you. [You — are you, you? — you left me.] I can't tell you that you're wrong because I don't remember any of that.
What do you mean He died? God cannot die.
[Easier to focus on this fact than the hurting confession of the rest.]
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( he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead he is dead )
it's the only explanation for why i was freed
believe whatever you want, mike. it's probably easy when you live in the clouds, ignoring everything else but your feathers and fights.