the other one
Feb. 1st, 2019 06:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mercuryhatter[just for fun, here's the other doc saved as "implications of apocalypse." they're very clearly not the same story and this one is also clearly unfinished, but while I'm out here with my doomed lesbian michael/lucifer conspiracy theories.]
“You can’t keep doing this,” Michael said, hating the pleading note that crept into her rough human voice. Lucifer looked oddly mundane, sitting across from her in the coffee shop, dressed in a dingy white dress, all the blood and mess she normally maintained in her human form gone. She even wore flip-flops instead of her usual bare feet, a concession to rules so that she could get the coffee she sipped on now, towering with whipped cream but plain black underneath. She’d even bothered to put pupils and irises in her usually blank eyes, though they were an odd color-- plausibly brown, but with a nauseating dried-blood tint.
“And yet I do,” Lucifer hummed. Her tongue flashed out to lick at the whipped cream and she grinned. “I haven’t seen you do anything about it yet. Or anyone else, for that matter.” When she drank, the slurp was loud and obnoxious, and she wiggled her pale eyebrows at Michael over the cup.
“This is pointless. I’m not going to fight you over a tantrum,” Michael snapped, drawing a pout from Lucifer, made comical by the whipped cream clinging to her lip. “You’ll get tired of it eventually, and everything will be right.”
“Very convincing,” Lucifer agreed earnestly. She put the mug down and suddenly lunged across the table, grabbing for Michael’s gloved hand. “Come on, Michael. Let me--” Michael snatched her hand back before the sentence could complete and brought it quickly across Lucifer’s face.
A slow grin unfurled in the wake up the slap as Lucifer deliberately allowed the redness to spread over her cheek, thickening unnaturally fast to an ugly bruise. Michael had been gloved, and aside from divine intervention Lucifer had complete control over what injuries touched her human skin. She was doing this for drama alone.
Maybe she was doing everything else for drama alone, too. Leaving her realm to the squabbling of demons, when she’d been gleefully stirring dissent in them for eons and knew exactly what would happen if she left. Packing her influence on the universe down into this one human form, like pulling a rug out from under the celestial structure. She wasn’t acting like herself, and for beings of cosmic balance like Michael and Lucifer, that wasn’t only cause for simple concern. It carried the rumblings of an early end.
Lucifer licked the remaining whipped cream from her drink and stood, her form tall and lanky and vaguely disproportionate. Michael gazed up at her, still unwilling to admit that she might need to take more drastic measures to stop her. As she watched, Lucifer smiled, and with slow, deliberate motions, upturned her mug to pour the steaming coffee into Michael’s lap. The liquid rolled harmlessly off Michael’s black suit and pooled around her boots, not daring to touch the black leather.
Michael opened her mouth to say something chiding, but before she could, Lucifer moved so quickly, battle-quick, that Michael forgot to react before her chin was being crushed in Lucifer’s grip. She heard Lucifer hiss at the skin to skin contact, felt Lucifer’s flesh pucker and burn, this time not by her own design, but Lucifer didn’t care. She crushed her lips to Michael’s for the briefest moment, and then she was gone, and the chatter that had been frozen in the coffeeshop by their combined presence started up again as if no time had passed. Michael touched her lips and her fingers came away red.
#
“This has been going on for years,” Michael said, sounding desperate even to herself. Well, she was desperate, and being here instead of on Earth only made her more so. It was almost painful to be in her pure form now, rays of celestial power strung across a crumbling universe. Were she biological, it would seem that the atmosphere itself was wrong for her, by turns too thin and heavy with toxins.
“You have to do something about it,” Gabriel said. “You know you do. Stop waiting for her to get over herself. You should know by now that she only listens to your sword.”
“You can’t keep doing this,” Michael said, hating the pleading note that crept into her rough human voice. Lucifer looked oddly mundane, sitting across from her in the coffee shop, dressed in a dingy white dress, all the blood and mess she normally maintained in her human form gone. She even wore flip-flops instead of her usual bare feet, a concession to rules so that she could get the coffee she sipped on now, towering with whipped cream but plain black underneath. She’d even bothered to put pupils and irises in her usually blank eyes, though they were an odd color-- plausibly brown, but with a nauseating dried-blood tint.
“And yet I do,” Lucifer hummed. Her tongue flashed out to lick at the whipped cream and she grinned. “I haven’t seen you do anything about it yet. Or anyone else, for that matter.” When she drank, the slurp was loud and obnoxious, and she wiggled her pale eyebrows at Michael over the cup.
“This is pointless. I’m not going to fight you over a tantrum,” Michael snapped, drawing a pout from Lucifer, made comical by the whipped cream clinging to her lip. “You’ll get tired of it eventually, and everything will be right.”
“Very convincing,” Lucifer agreed earnestly. She put the mug down and suddenly lunged across the table, grabbing for Michael’s gloved hand. “Come on, Michael. Let me--” Michael snatched her hand back before the sentence could complete and brought it quickly across Lucifer’s face.
A slow grin unfurled in the wake up the slap as Lucifer deliberately allowed the redness to spread over her cheek, thickening unnaturally fast to an ugly bruise. Michael had been gloved, and aside from divine intervention Lucifer had complete control over what injuries touched her human skin. She was doing this for drama alone.
Maybe she was doing everything else for drama alone, too. Leaving her realm to the squabbling of demons, when she’d been gleefully stirring dissent in them for eons and knew exactly what would happen if she left. Packing her influence on the universe down into this one human form, like pulling a rug out from under the celestial structure. She wasn’t acting like herself, and for beings of cosmic balance like Michael and Lucifer, that wasn’t only cause for simple concern. It carried the rumblings of an early end.
Lucifer licked the remaining whipped cream from her drink and stood, her form tall and lanky and vaguely disproportionate. Michael gazed up at her, still unwilling to admit that she might need to take more drastic measures to stop her. As she watched, Lucifer smiled, and with slow, deliberate motions, upturned her mug to pour the steaming coffee into Michael’s lap. The liquid rolled harmlessly off Michael’s black suit and pooled around her boots, not daring to touch the black leather.
Michael opened her mouth to say something chiding, but before she could, Lucifer moved so quickly, battle-quick, that Michael forgot to react before her chin was being crushed in Lucifer’s grip. She heard Lucifer hiss at the skin to skin contact, felt Lucifer’s flesh pucker and burn, this time not by her own design, but Lucifer didn’t care. She crushed her lips to Michael’s for the briefest moment, and then she was gone, and the chatter that had been frozen in the coffeeshop by their combined presence started up again as if no time had passed. Michael touched her lips and her fingers came away red.
#
“This has been going on for years,” Michael said, sounding desperate even to herself. Well, she was desperate, and being here instead of on Earth only made her more so. It was almost painful to be in her pure form now, rays of celestial power strung across a crumbling universe. Were she biological, it would seem that the atmosphere itself was wrong for her, by turns too thin and heavy with toxins.
“You have to do something about it,” Gabriel said. “You know you do. Stop waiting for her to get over herself. You should know by now that she only listens to your sword.”
