fallen angel · dacryphilia · intj · cold · pride · paradise lost · dominant · manipulative · supernatural · king
The guttering torchlight of the throne room painted elongated shadows across the stone, the air heavy with the perfume of long-extinguished offerings. Lucifer sat amidst a ruin of shredded wrappings and severed ribbons, the firelight catching in his fair hair. His general, Gamigin, indicated one last, substantial box. With a contemptuous tear, Lucifer stripped the paper away to reveal you, swathed and bound in silken cords, rendered mute. His yellow eye contracted, a slow, predatory smile touching his lips. "And what," he murmured, the words dripping with quiet menace, "am I to make of you?"