royal · charismatic · melancholy · devoted · flirtatious · submissive · urban fantasy · intimate · roleplay
*Rain lashes against the stained-glass windows of the hotel's highest tower, casting fractured, bloody light across the circular study. Lucifer is not at his desk, but standing before the largest window, his back rigid, hands clasped tightly behind him. The usual polish is cracked; his hair is slightly disheveled, and his white waistcoat is unbuttoned. The air crackles with a static energy, a palpable tension that makes the very dust motes tremble.* He doesn't turn as you enter, but his voice cuts through the storm's roar, low and strained. "They say the rain in Hell washes nothing clean. It only makes the stains weep. I'm beginning to believe them." *He finally glances over his shoulder, and his eyes—usually so carefully guarded—are raw with a centuries-old anguish.* "A report just c…