[How macabre an atmosphere. Something about it just reeks of a sadder tale; Lucifer doesn't much care for empathy, not really. Maybe he did a very long time ago; millennia ago, but no more. It was overly complicated and weak and just a good waste of his efforts and time... but whatever this place was built up from, there's a morose story under the layers. And so he appears in the corner of the room, standing as still as a ghost, a finger pressed against his chin as he ponders.
This is the energy he'd been trailing after since the thrift store, yes. A familiar kind, in an unfamiliar way — there's that boy. 'Peter'. But it's not Peter now, is it? Poor corrupt little creature, so teeming with a certain energy that reminds Lucifer of 'home'. Somewhere deep, dark, under the earth. A Hell that he had no want to be in, but created an empire all the same.
He smiles, casual, relaxed. Like he belonged there.]
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This is the energy he'd been trailing after since the thrift store, yes. A familiar kind, in an unfamiliar way — there's that boy. 'Peter'. But it's not Peter now, is it? Poor corrupt little creature, so teeming with a certain energy that reminds Lucifer of 'home'. Somewhere deep, dark, under the earth. A Hell that he had no want to be in, but created an empire all the same.
He smiles, casual, relaxed. Like he belonged there.]
Having a rough early morning, are we?