Castiel had been avoiding other angels for obvious reasons: He was in the wrong time and the wrong place, and they would feel the temporal dissonance. Even half fallen and weakened, they would see he was out of time where he should not be. He had no real idea what had happened to Anael or the Winchesters, and so it was really only him and Jimmy and trying to find a way back to their own time period without having the live it all.
She was an angel, but she was unlike any he had ever seen before. He could feel the power, but it vibrated at the wrong frequency to this creation, and it was instantly enough to both confuse him and make him feel wary.
Her expression wasn’t one of malice, though. She seemed frightened, so after a moment, Castiel answered with his own cautious, “Hello.”
“ hello, ” she repeated, more confident this time as she looked him over. he looked…wrong. contained. she was prepared to investigate some more when she realized that more than repeated introductions were probably in order. she still had so many questions of her own.
will you help me? where am i? did you bring me here? how do i get back? why can’t i get back? is it you? is it this universe? tell me something. tell me anything. tell me everything.
in the end, samael settled for assurance. “ will you tell him? ”HIM. their father. at least, she assumed he’d be their father. despite being wrong — it was the soul, she realized, the human soul mingled with grace that made him look so strange; why didn’t he just cloak himself for human perception? the earthly plane should be doing the rest… — he was still an angel, albeit a strange one.
“ he doesn’t need to know to send me back, does he? we’re not supposed to look ahead. if he finds out… ”
it’d become a habit of hers lately, popping in at various points in time in the future. sometimes invisible. sometimes not. always cloaked carefully to avoid detection from any of her brothers or — heaven forbid — FATHER. even just looking ahead was strictly forbidden, let alone traveling. time was still too fragile to mess with, he said.
AS IF THAT COULD STOP HER CURIOSITY.
so she hid it from him. THEM. samael jumped forward and backward and forward again in time. always watching. always observing. sometimes carrying a memento or two from the trip before. the places she chose were often secluded — mountaintops, rainforests, deserts — but sometimes she’d search out the populated areas. those were the times she made herself invisible, wary but contented to watch.
TODAY WAS NOT MEANT TO BE ONE OF THOSE TIMES.
she’d been aiming for a nice, uninhabited spot in the tundra so she could take a moment to stretch her wings, but for whatever reason she’d missed completely, landing in a grocery store instead. ( was she still drained from the last trip? she thought it’d been enough time, but perhaps not… ) her one stroke of luck was in not removing the glamour surrounding her wings before her arrival. it’d be difficult enough to explain her sudden appearance to the man in front of her, let alone twelve foot wings on either side of her body.
Part of it was likely that he was still healing from the damage that time travel had done to him. And part of it was being temporally out of synch; right now, his younger self was in quiet observation with the garrison. But there was something else, too.
Jimmy was asleep and though Castiel was confused, he didn’t wake the man, letting him rest until Jimmy woke himself up. Instead, he tentatively followed the strange energy pattern until he landed close to– a woman? But not.
SOMETHING HAD GONE WRONG.
samael wasn’t quite sure what
or even how, but as she observed the
surroundings around her ( wrong, it was all WRONG) two things became
abundantly clear. ONE: here was not Iyáangẚ. she couldn’t be sure where
exactly here was, but she knew it wasn’t there. TWO: she was not alone.
panic came first. what
if they told father? what if he already
knew? she did her best to tamp that fear down before it spiraled out of
hand. there was no guarantee that her visitor was one of her brothers. perhaps
it was another of HIS creations. when
she reached out with her own senses she was met with a presence that tasted of
a heaven tainted, and she paled.
THIS WAS NOT HER UNIVERSE.
even worse, as she tried to right her mistake before she
came face-to-face with theother she found herself strangely…drained. she was STUCK. stuck in an
unfamiliar time, an unfamiliar place, and with unfamiliar people. family, she tried to remind herself. different, of course, but they were still
family. maybe he would help.
His back twitched under her hands, muscles jumping - retreating from and reaching for her within their limits all at once. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve her, not like this. He didn’t deserve the pride he felt as she relaxed, relieved that he submitted. I did it for you, it’s all for you- But he ought’ve done more to earn her trust, she deserved so much more. She had no idea how much more she deserved. His corroding soul was only the beginning of his burdens, and she had to -
Her hands slid away from his back, and he pulled back-
She had to-
Her hands on his neck, in his hair, taking his face-
She had to leave-
Mouths met, and he could feel her divinity dying on his lips. He wanted to flinch away from it, but temptation had never tasted so sweet, and she dragged him down to her like he belonged there. Unwanted outside his thoughts and escaped nonetheless, a curse escaped him - an all too English “fuck”. His hands, unbidden, dropped to her hips, tugging her forward, closer, every second stealing her further and further away - away from the garden she knew, pulling her just a little closer to Hades.
It would’ve been so easy to say he didn’t need her, but he did. He’d needed nothing but. The first language made him shudder, hanging on just a little tighter so his knees wouldn’t give out under him.
“Yes, yes,” he growled, his hands frantic on her body, “I-”
I need to have never left in the first place.
Hands on her shoulders, he pushed her back. Despite the way he leaned for her, a sail following a wind, he restrained himself from simply closing the distance again.
“I need-” He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he heard the desperation in his own voice. Inhaling shakily through his nose, he tried again, one hand touching her cheek gently, “I need you to leave me here. Please darling, I-”
Endearments were too much. He had no right. His hand jerked away, fingers half curling mid air. He sighed, looking for her gaze. It would break her heart to see how much his was. He swallowed back the lump, trying to steady his voice.
“I’m sorry.”
she could feel hisherTHEIR soul pulse with
indecision when he submitted to her, reluctantly allowing her her due as she
did her best to mend the cracks that were there. beneath the shadows that he
had surrounded himself with it still burned bright — as beautiful (and as pure) as the light bringer ought to be. the darkness that
manifested around it was more perception
and protective shield than indicator
of corruption — a façade, perhaps, to protect him in the aftermath of the fall.
were all fallen angels meant to be so
beautiful? she had no comparison back in her time, but it seemed strange
that he was so…so perfect given his account of his fall from grace.
while their lips remained locked the healing session
continued — divine love working to purge the scars of abandonment, betrayal,
and anger that had festered in his her
THEIR soul for what must have felt
like an eternity. at the same time the resulting desire grew and grew, reaching
a near peak as hips met hips and something unfamiliar but desperate took over
for her.
THEY SHOULD BE ONE. THEY NEEDED TO BE ONE.
when she had made her offer in their first tongue she’d not
expected a need of her own to arise so sharply and consume her. for as much as
she wanted him to take at his own pace she needed
him to hold her tighter, kiss her longer, pull her closer. it seemed at first that she would get her way until a
single thought pierced the haze of distraction.
I need to have never left in the first
place.
just like that, hands — large, strong, graceful hands
she noted with a strange twist to her gut — were on her shoulders pushing her away
even as their souls struggled and strained to stay connected.
somehow, in the time since she had first started trying to
heal hisherTHEIR soul, it hadn’t occurred to her
that she would need to go back. every
fiber of her being had simply told her to stay,
even as lucifer tried to force her away. she’d brushed it off as simple healing
instinct at first — the basic urge to make certain that her brothers (
or in this case, herself)
would be okay — but that thought…he had not projected that thought. not
intentionally. not unintentionally.
as she pulled out of her reverie a new litany of thoughts arose — the feelings
attached to them mixed and conflicted.
I have no right. You deserve better. Please,
leave me before it’s too late. Save yourself. I’ll corrupt you. Stay good.
Don’t fall. DON’T FALL.
“i can hear you, ” she whispered with
amazement, his apology drowned out by the thoughts being broadcasted to her
mind. this shouldn’t have been possible. this
shouldn’t have been possible. “i can HEAR you. ”
Her quiet plea hurt him, her comforting hand only stinging where it touched. His throat was burning, corruption finally eating away at him it seemed, and the only way to soothe it was the cool air that he was gulping down, faster and faster as she drew closer. He felt the need to flinch away, but it was as if his skin was a lock to his mortal prison, and her touch was the key that locked him in. He was helplessly trapped. He tried to warn her off, tried to beg for her to leave him alone, but all that came out was a sound of pitiful agony.
“You can’t,” he told her, sadly, as she tried to insist. “You can’t.”
She peeled herself back, and he closed his eyes against the light. He’d lived so deep underground, so well hidden from his father’s grace, that the sight of pure light made his eyes burn. You can’t, you can’t, I can’t, I can’t-
The shadows fled, slipping back into the crevices they hid in - and even then, were chased down and burned away by the divine heat. It wasn’t the tickle of hellfire. This was heavenly light, straight from its forge at the beginning of time. The demon inside him cringed, its knees buckling at the overwhelming power, but the mortal form was locked in - no escape from it. He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to meet her eye, to implore.
This isn’t help, it just hurts, it hurts-
"let me HELP…“
And she was holding him, surrounding him, her his their feathers brushing against his skin once more - and he couldn’t help himself. The lock on him broke, and he plunged forward - his arms wrapping around her and his face burying itself into the crook of her neck. Wherever his hands reached, there were wings, pure in a way that his hadn’t, even before he’d made the choice to destroy them. A sound was escaping him, but for the life of him he didn’t understand what he was saying. He only understood his hands’ frantic moving. He was trying to find some place to touch on her back that wasn’t wings. But they were everywhere, surrounding herhimTHEM. Defeated, their harried search coming up short, he closed his hands into fists, pulling her even tighter to him. Despite being taller, he felt suddenly…
Small.
“ shh. it’s okay, you’re…we’re okay. ” she could sense the demon shying away from the light — skin and shadows almost burning with it too — but she kept on, holding lucifer tight as she did her best to purge the darkness (the pain) from him.
she could heal him. she could. maybe not completely and maybe not without a bit of pain first ( it’d hurt less in the long run, though, really) but she could do it. she HADto do it. she owed him a chance.
when he finally gave in (or sort of) samael nearly sighed in relief, fully embracing him now while her hands did some exploring of their own. they started at his lower back and moved up, stopping where his scars were momentarily before moving again — to his neck, to his hair, then finally back to his cheeks where they rested for a moment before fingers curled claw-like and she dragged him down into a kiss.
there was something about his fingers carding through the feathers of hershisTHEIR wings, helpless and desperate and frantic and then all of a sudden not there at all and she wanted MORE. she needed more. baring her (no, his, no, THEIR) soul to him was only the beginning — the sparks to kindle the fire. the fallout brought desire — an ache to know him in every way.
“ take what you need, ” samael whispered against his lips in their native tongue, wings opening slightly to allow him the room he would need to take the comfort he wanted.
the implication was clear — she trusted him. despite the scare tactics. despite being so fallen from grace. he was her. she was him. if you couldn’t trust yourself then who could you trust?
He didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late, until the glamour was already folding back on itself. Words caught in his throat, sharp and vicious to warn her off, and he felt like he was bleeding out. He pinched his sleeve between his fingers, and - uselessly - held his forearm across his face. But it was no good. His eyes had always been the window into his soul. His charred, broken, fallen soul.
Samael staggered back, and his arm adjusted harshly, clamping his own hand over his mouth. If he could at least keep her from seeing the fangs- But it was too late, too late, because she was stuttering and trying not to cry and-
Had this already happened? Was this always going to happen? Was this why he’d been so afraid of the fall? His own damn bloody fault-?
Laughter caught his throat, bitter and wet (slick with the blood of his own sharp warnings still, it seemed), as she reached for him. He couldn’t do anything to stop her… could he? She held onto him like a drowning woman would a raft, but she didn’t realize - he hadn’t realized then - corruption wasn’t a lifesaver. It was an anchor, and he would pull her down down down.
His hands raised, fingers shaped like claws, and with a strong grip on her shoulders, he shoved her back. He let his foot fall back, then the other, leaning his weight as he pushed the distance between them wider and wider. He swallowed his pride, nodding as if to steel himself as he bit back any goodness that’d festered inside him after all these years of Earth.
He couldn’t conceal his hurt, the open wound that was her, but he could scare her off. He’d fallen into the universe, yes, splintered into all the third dimensions out there, but if he could scare her into Father’s blouse for, hell, at least a few more millenia, before she ever defies Him in the first place? Fuck the timeline, if he could do it- If he could save her-
“Oh, He? He didn’t. I did. I defied him, turned my back on creation - Y’know, of all the future yous, seems as though you hit rock bottom, light bringer. Literally! And oh, baby, the sun don’t shine where I went,“ He snarled, throwing the glamour into the shadows as he drew them around him, ”THIS is what awaits you if you betray him. So why don’t you do the smart thing, angel, and run back to Daddy.”
Please.
NO.
he pushed her away despite all her efforts to keep him close, fingers digging in almost like talons as the distance between them grew wider and wider. eventually her arms dropped uselessly at her side, twitching with the urge to comfort ( though whether it was for her benefit or his was still very much up for debate ).
she felt powerless. relegated to the post of observer now and not comforter, samael watched helplessly as her literal mirror self switched from repressing what the glamour had concealed to embracing it completely — the change more saddening than terrifying.
“please… ” despite his obvious desire to keep her back she stepped forward, arm outstretched to cup his cheek gently. mustn’t disturb the skin. it was so red. so, so red. how did he bear it? didn’t it burn? ache? how could father let this happen? how, how, HOW?“ let me HELP… ”
healing had never been her specialty, not like the LIGHT, but if she could just ease his pain. make it right ( or as right as she could possibly make anything like this ). the shadows were no place for an angel of the light, no matter how far they had fallen or for what reason.
“ i can HELP… ”
or so she hoped. tentatively she stepped forward, her own glamour unfurling to reveal herhisTHEIR wings and LIGHT — light to banish the shadows he surrounded himself with like a shield and light to fill in the tattered cracks of hisherTHEIR soul.
“ let me HELP… ” she repeated, taking another step forward as bright, white wings enveloped them both.
He flinched, almost violently, at the name. His glamour didn’t fall, but his hellish form certainly pressed close to the veil. The air around him snapped and boiled as he stepped away from her. Teeth bared in a snarl, his nose raising like a bear’s snout contorting, and he… let go. She wasn’t a taunt, his father mocking him - she… she was. The weight of his anger falling from him, he took another step back, a stagger as he released the air in his lungs. He pushed the heel of his palm into his sternum, his fingers not touching his chest but uneasily flexing.
“Oh God,” he cursed under his breath. You sick, sick bastard, he prayed, his eyes cast skywards in glare - but it was like staring at the sun. He couldn’t keep looking up, not when it felt like eye contact, so he dropped his head. A breath, then another, heavily through his nose.
She wasn’t a taunt. She was him, just in reverse. She had no idea who he was.
“I’m- sorry,” he croaked, shame pressing itself to the underside of his skin, building and building - he could explode from the pressure. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. S- Samael-”
his reaction — violent and feral — set her on edge, shocking and frightening in its abruptness. it was gone in an instant, fading out fast as he staggered back even more and clutched his chest, but the visual imprint remained long after, making her wary. he was not like her other brothers. samael didn’t know what to make of him outside of that, but of that she was certain.
it put her in a precarious position. he was clearly upset, though why her introduction had caused that baffled her. he was also clearly very different from the siblings that she knew, meaning her typical forms of comfort could either be very helpful or only end up making things worse.
should she hug him? should she wrap him in her wings and offer soft-spoken nothings?
what was it that he had said again? he was OLD. she wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that earlier, but she was beginning to see now. he wasn’t some fresh-faced brother that had followed her without thinking. he was from now. this was his time.
which meant that his glamour wasn’t just hiding his wings. he was hiding something more. something BIGGER. something worse.
previous concerns about courtesy were gone now as curiosity took over, her mind racing. why was he sorry? he had no reason to be sorry, not unless… almost guiltily she finally peeked behind his glamour, and what she saw made her stagger back, breathing heavily.
NO. this was… it wasn’t… it couldn’t… he would never…
“ y-you…you’re…but he wouldn’t… ” samael choked back a sob, rushing forward to pull him into a tight hug. whether it was for comfort or to check if he really didn’t have his wings, she didn’t know, but the image of him herthem without them…it was almost as painful as what the rest of the glamour concealed.
PORTRAYAL. Like it says in the description, this is a blog for the character Lucifer Morningstar from FOX’s LUCIFER with a feminine twist. This blog will be primarily based in the series with little to no influence from the source material the show was based off of. Sorry, but I’m a broke college student who’s too lazy/busy to try and find free versions of it online. I also find that I often prefer to incorporate my own headcanons and interpretation of the lore that exists anyway, so do not expect her to perfectly align with any one canon, especially the comics.
Though Lucifer loathes the human need to label everything and because, as a celestial being, her outward appearance is a manifestetion of sense-of-self and thought, if pressed, she would identify as trans given the widespread misconception of masculinity associated with her due to the word of God and a belief that He intended she be His second son and not His first daughter. As such, I plan to incorporate this idea in situations where Lucifer is not truly the devil, and as a human, Lucifer is a trans woman. Her faceclaim in these verses ( which I plan to utilize more often when this blog is more active ) will be Michelle Hendley. Though I do plan to continue using Mallory Janson to portray Lucifer as a celestial being, I am open to critique and discussion as I understand there are many issues with using a cis faceclaim to portray a trans character, however grey the term is when Lucifer is, indeed, the devil. My ideas for execution of this interpretation are by no means perfect, and there is some confusion for me given how I am approaching this change of portrayal. Please, bear with me and feel free to educate me on how I can improve what I am doing to help better the trans community, especially in the Tumblr RPC.
Something else that I feel I should note in here: I DO NOT CONSIDER AMENADIEL TO BE THE OLDEST. I do draw heavy inspiration for my portrayal of Luci from biblical lore, and thus in terms of creation Michael would be the oldest, Lucifer the second oldest, and so on and so forth. I do, however, see Amenadiel as the oldest of the angels, where Michael would be the oldest of the archangels, thus giving him ( in my view )some pull as the oldest of a particular grouping.
ACTIVITY. My activity on this blog will be low and sporadic, mainly. Right now I'm juggling college and color/winter guard, so it'll be tricky to be on as much as I'd like to. I’ll do my best to build a queue that’ll run semi-frequently, but that’s very low priority for me at the moment. If you see me active and I owe you a reply, though, don’t hesitate to give me a little nudge. Sometimes my procrastinating ass needs one.
FORMATTING. With each new blog I make I adopt a new kind of formatting style. The one I use right now is one that I’m very happy with and probably will not be changing anytime soon. Please don’t feel obligated to match this. I’m not super picky about the aesthetics of my blog, and the only change I’ll make ( if ever ) is from normal text to small text. I personally DO NOT use the super small text but if that’s what you like to use it’s fine. I’ve got very little trouble reading it and it doesn’t inconvenience me. I will mirror-format ONLY in some cases and ONLY at the writer’s request.
STATUS. As of right now this blog is NOT mutuals only. ALL starter calls posted are open to ALL of my followers, regardless of mutual status. As a warning: if we are NOT mutuals and you like a starter call, I expect you to contact me via IM or ask with ideas on how our characters could interact. It doesn’t have to be anything major. It just makes the process of writing MUCH easier and makes me more likely to follow you in the long run.
SHIPPING. Lucifer is, as a general rule, a rather shameless flirt and very liberal in her sexual escapades. Your character is free to reciprocate/react however they would like, but try to keep in mind that part of the character mythos is that she is pretty much irresistible to anyone and everyone who would normally be attracted to her. If we can find a reason for your character to have some level of immunity to this in crossover situations that’s fine, but on the whole that won’t be something that should happen very often.
Please also note that romantic ships on this blog will not be frequent and will require quite a bit of development if they ever are to happen. I’m a ship whore, but chemistry is very important.
MEMES. I LOVE MEMES. If you want to send in the thing, pleasedo. I will most definitely appreciate it, even if I take threebillionyears to respond. Memes are ALSO a great way to start RPs with no prior plotting or even prior interaction, so I do really encourage you to send them in! Meme me up, Scotty!
EXCLUSIVITY. As of right now, I am NOT muse exclusive with any blogs and have NO intentions of doing so in the near future. I will, however, consider practicing ship exclusivity in certain cases.
CREDITS. All icons were screencapped and edited by me. Please do not steal them. Current theme is courtesy of @nonaziharlot. History heavily inspired and modeled after @gcdgiven's original bio with permission. Please do not copy.
FINAL NOTES. Congratulations! You’ve finished this brick! I don’t do passwords or the like because they’re awkward to me, but I really appreciate you taking the time to read this. As I’ve said before, I’m always open to interaction and plotting so feel free to hit me up whenever! If we are mutuals you are also always free to ask for me Skype! Have a lovely day!
about.
GENERAL
name: Lucifer Morningstar.
nicknames: Luci. Lu. Lulu. Luc. Lucy Ricardo. aliases: The Devil. Satan. Prince(ss) of Darkness. King Queen of Hell. Abbadon. Belial. Old Scratch. Samael.The Light Bringer.
gender: Female. date of birth: The Beginning™.
place of birth: The Center™. age: Ageless.
orientation: Pansexual. Demiromantic.
education: —.
religion: Christianity.Pleasure.
PHYSICAL
height: 5'9".
weight: 132 lbs.
species: Archangel.
hair color: Brown.
eye color: Green.
scars: Twin ovals on her back from when she cut off her wings.
tattoos: —. dominant hand: Right.
faceclaim: Mallory Jansen.
FAMILY
father: God.
mother: Mum.
brother(s): Michael. Gabriel. Raphael. Uriel. Amenadiel. etc.
sister(s): Azrael.
persuasion: The ability draw out people’s forbidden desires. The more simple the human, the easier it is. The more complex, the more challenging and interesting. Chloe Decker is immune to this for reasons beyond even Lucifer’s understanding.
super strength: Small, but full of fite™. Able to punch through walls, throw fully grown men across the room without a push, and hold her own against an angel ( presumably ) at full strength. Extended endurance (/winks) and super speed can also be assumed.
shapeshifting: All angels come readily equipped with the ability to create ( and also see through ) glamours at will. Generally this is used to hide their wings while on Earth or ( in ye olde days ) to fuck with the humans when visiting them for a laugh (looking at you, Gabriel), but Lucifer frequently uses this ability to give humans a glimpse of her hellish form and what awaits in the deepest pits of hell.
immortality: Unable to die by normal, mortal means. Exceptions to the rule are demon blades, other angels, and Chloe Decker’s presence. She makes her vulnerable.
flight: With wings, she can fly (and so much MORE). Without them, she is grounded.
HISTORY
❝ once upon a time, a boy met a girl. and they fell in love. they had sex. the only trouble was they were celestial beings, so that moment created the universe. ❞
Sometimes — not often, but sometimes —
there are those who prefer to deal in favors of knowledge than favors of
pleasure or gain. Lucifer rarely indulged in them ( even just a fraction of an inkling of pure, unfiltered knowledge of the universe is enough to turn the average human brain into mush, and wasn’t that just such a WASTE?), but sometimes...sometimes she got bored. Sometimes, when faced with the oh-so-common and oh-so-boring question — how did it all begin? — she’d smile coyly and, instead of the standard, polite refusal, lean in close and whisper conspiratorially...
You humans already got that bit right.
THE BIG BANG. An apt ( if slightly disturbing) name for the actions of her parents in creating the
universe. To think, all it had taken was one truly stellar orgasm between a couple of celestial beings to spark the whole of Creation. Generally, the story stopped there: complete and irritatingly
unfinished at the same time. She’d learned her lesson in telling the rest on a cold night in Bethany — a final plea to a dead man walking.
When she did tell it, it went a bit like this...
————————————————
ONCE,
there was a father who wasn’t a Father yet, and a mother who wasn’t a Mother yet, and they fell in love. From their love came Creation, and following Creation came children — a whole Host of children, all of whom were brilliant and passionate and...AND.
While Mother and Father consummated their love, further expanding the universe, the Host amused themselves, forming bonds and cultivating talents. The core bond, consisting of the first five to be borne, later came to be known as the archangels — each exalted for their individual talents. Michael, the sword, strongest and bravest of the Host; Samael, the light, heart and soul of the Host; Raphael, the cross, healer of all ills; Gabriel, the voice, brilliant composer and beautiful singer; and Uriel, the brain, lover, creator, and solver of patterns simple and complex.
For a time, everyone was happy. When Father said let there be light and lit up the gaseous expanse of the universe, one of the Host, Samael, stared on and, with all the wonder and insistence and innocence of a small child, tugged on Father’s metaphorical sleeve and asked — no, begged — for more. Because she was His light, He indulged in her request. With a wave of his hand, the light-bearing mist collided, burning and brightening and forming brilliant
new STARS.
take care of them, little one. Father said, gently pushing her to the newly formed cluster. Like Mother and Father had done before her Samael gathered the stars, grace pulsing with love as she carried them out among the cosmos, placing them into constellations and galaxies in representations of her brothers back home. She watched with joy as they grew into their power, growing and consuming and expanding out further into the universe her parents had created, each partitioning their own portion of the remaining expanse and pulling it towards them, never dying while she was around to pull them back from the brink.
In their gratitude, they’d given her the name Morningstar, for night never came when she was there. It was a name she’d forever cherish.
Eventually, (seven days) millions or billions of years from when she had been charged with her task, Samael was called back home. Much had changed in the time she’d been living among the stars. Her family had grown, including one more sister in a sea of new brothers and...humans.
They were curious little creatures. Young, certainly, in comparison to the angels and certainly the archangels. Dirty. If Samael looked closely she could see bits of the clay Father had modeled them from peeking out. Most of all, they were favored.
Samael watched with her sister and brothers as Father gave them gifts He’d never dared to give to the Host: a home orbiting the first star she’d ever placed — a beautiful young thing named Sol; the garden, home to a tree bearing fruit containing pieces from before Creation; and a destiny headed towards greatness, meant to somehow make what was already perfection better. For the first time in the whole of her existence, Samael felt envy.
When Father asked demanded humans receive the protection of the Host as well, Samael grit her teeth and obeyed as her siblings did. Even if they couldn’t make things better, even if she didn’t particularly like or even know them...they were family.
————————————————
The tale wouldn’t end there, merely pause. The devil didn’t need to stretch her legs, but her audience did. So, what do you say, beardy? Are you ready for more?His placid smile set her on edge, but she smirked through it. If she was going to save him she’d need to continue.
Right. Carrying on.
————————————————
So Samael obeyed, bitterness held at bay by the fond whispers of the stars ( O’! Bright and Glorious Morningstar!) and the firmly held belief that she was still His favorite, no matter how much He doted on the youngest siblings. Days became weeks became months became years as she watched over Father’s pet project like the rest of the Host, confusion (and perhaps — in much, much later hindsight — a certain fondness) growing as she watched the two stumble along the garden.
Are we not just as worthy, if not more, of these gifts Father has given them? she’d asked her siblings, some nodding in more awe than agreement at their older and beloved sister while others (MOST) grit their teeth as she had.
It is not our place to question Father. Only to obey.Why?He is the Creator.He is not the only one. We have created just as much as He has. Why
should we devote our existence to His creations and not ours as well?Do not press. Do not think. Simply do.
Despite ( or perhaps, in spite of ) her siblings’ insistence, Samael thought and thought. Angels were divine, just as Mother and Father were, so their creations were just as pure. Humans, though, were too far removed from divinity to hope to create anything but adequate in comparison. They couldn’t possibly make Father’s creations better. So, Samael went to confront her father — remaining family witness to the slaughter.
The fight lasted...it lasted a while. Time seemed to blur amid the shouting match that followed, but she was sure it was years, decades even, before it ended, and oh...oh, how it had ended. THE STARS HAVE TAUGHT YOU TO BURN TOO HOT, LITTLE ONE. Samael, burning with the shame of her Father’s scolding, lunged forward, hands clenched and tensed for...for...something.
And Michael — strongest, bravest, and obedient eldest brother that he was — stepped between them, sword at hand. It didn’t burn at first, not until it reached Samael’s star-touched grace. Where sword met, soul blackened, tearing and cauterizing and chasing away the brightness that had once defined her very existence. Without that...she fell.
Despite reaching hands, despite
begging eyes, not one brother or sister stepped forward to save her. Down, down the Bringer of Light went, landing in smoke and fire in a crater in Eden, fallen to one of the lowest planes of existence. In her grief, homesickness, and perhaps still in rebellion she burrowed herself even further, hiding away from the light of the stars she was no longer permitted to visit.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
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Silence would follow, polluting the air for several minutes. Even millennia later, the wounds of her punishment were still fresh. Are you
still prepared to die for Him? For this pointless cause? she’d asked eventually, demeanor somber, not smug. The serene quiet that followed felt like Michael’s stoic, unflinching betrayal.
BROTHERS.
Her eyes were cold as steel as she left the bare cottage, leaving the pious man to his fate. One day they would learn that nothing good came of being Father’s favorite and find no sympathy on her part.
