[The lap positioning is mostly practical in Vox's book. Mostly. It's impossible not to feel some sort of way about having someone's body this close to your own, convulsion and clutching and fuck knows what else. But Lucifer can collapse against Vox and try to curl in on himself if needed. That's the main goal here.
His left hand goes to the back of Lucifer's head, fingers raking through his hair in a firm downward motion, then lands on the back of his neck, right where the torso begins. His other hand settles on the small of his back.
This time, the surge isn't cut short after eight seconds. It keeps going indefinitely.]
[His back shifts, tensing and restless as those fingers rake through his hair.
Fuck.
Lucifer's entire body goes rigid, the sharp mixture of stab-like pain and the very intense kind of tingling. There's no way for him to protest how much longer this lasts, because he needs focus to use any of his powers in a nondestructive way. That thought should scare him. It should, at the very least, make him nervous.
But... in a weird way, volunteering for this removes a lot of reason to worry. Vox is getting to do something he enjoys, Lucifer is getting a slight break from those incredibly suffocating emotions... So...?
What's wrong with just sinking into it? Enjoying it? So what if he likes unhealthy levels of pain...
[The electricity courses along unhampered, and while it might be agony for Lucifer, it's the opposite for Vox. Ever since he died, he grew numb to it. It's a natural part of him now, whether he wants it to be or not. His eyes close as he feels out the currents, takes stock of all the paths they take through Lucifer's body and the damage that's left along the way. It's calming. It eases some sort of pain he refuses to acknowledge.
After a certain amount of time, he manages to rip himself away from that peace, because he knows when to stop. Still has enough discipline not to get lost in the pleasure. He brings the current to a screeching stop, so Lucifer has time to regain his breath.]
[Lucifer lets out a sound involuntarily, as his muscles gradually release. With a shudder running through him, he does wind up slumping against Vox, panting softly. Slowly, his eyes open as the haze in his mind clears a bit.]
What's... it feel like? [Having that kind of control over someone, sending that kind of deadly element through someone. Lucifer doesn't have that kind of connection with the one he used on Vox... Not anymore.] Does it at least... feel nice, for you?
[That storm of emotions did finally let up enough for him to be able to calmly talk. He almost sounds more tired than anything. Not that it'll last very long.]
[Lucifer slumps against him, and Vox lightly adjusts the position of his hands to match. It's not an embrace by any means; nothing comforting. It's a means of holding someone upright after their muscles got put through one hell of an ordeal. It's not the first time Vox has done something like this, and unless something extreme happens, it won't be the last.]
Yeah. I dunno if I can really explain it, but it's... Calming, you know? Like a hot shower.
[For the most part, Vox loves the feel and sight of electricity. The rare occasion he doesn't is during thunder storms, when lightning catches him off guard. That's something he can't control, the sudden flash of electromagnetic radiation overwhelming him. Besides, it stirs some nasty memories. Other than that, though... He's good.]
[An embrace would be too weird, so he's quietly grateful for this being the extent of it. It's going to be a bit before he can sit up on his own.]
I'm glad. [He means it - he prefers Vox getting something out of it during, rather than feeling like he's racking up some hefty fee, so to speak.] Still... I'd rather pay you back something more than a hot shower. What do you want, in return?
[Before his head gets too full again, he'd like an idea of what he's going to be paying back.]
[He doesn't need to think about it. Sure, making deals is 'kind of an Overlord's thing', but that doesn't mean everything needs that strict transactional two-way street. Sometimes, Vox wants to do something just for the sake of doing it, without having to come up with favors or tactical advantages.
He gets to electrocute the King of Hell. It's not even a challenge at this point. Lucifer just keeps on humiliating himself without Vox having to lift a finger. Where's the fun in exploiting that kind of weakness?]
[Vox can probably imagine, by now, the kind of expression he's wearing. Though it shifts from confusion to wariness. From wariness to acceptance. He takes a deep breath, flexing his hands a bit. They're still annoyingly weak. So... his weakness to electricity really is that bad, huh? It's like he really was just made into the most caricature version of himself possible when he ended up here.
Well... Vox's words wouldn't hurt so bad if they didn't carry what he felt was truth. But he was never meant to be a real King. The punishment, past all those initial layers, was to be mocked. To be disrespected, over and over. Seen as just a joke. And knowing all of that, as always, helps nothing!
But, it doesn't mean he can't at least continue trying a little... right? He considers Stolas' words, Rosie's... Husk's.]
Okay. [There's more he feel compelled to say; that's how it always starts, though, with this guy. He just keeps it to:] Thank you, Vox.
The words are like a sudden attack. Something that springs out a dark hiding place to lunge at him, going straight for the throat. Thank you, Vox? What the fuck?! He can't even fully explain why a sentiment like that stirs such intense, raw and hurtful loathing. Why it feels like an insult- a blow beneath the belt. The best he can come up with is what his mind starts screaming at him. He's not doing this out of kindness. It's not a favor to be thanked for. This is for him, not Lucifer. Fuck Lucifer!
The only warning given is a crackle of electricity that sparks along his antenna. The next second, his hold on Lucifer tightens again, pulling the man right up his torso. The current overtakes the king's body again, its voltage higher than before. Fiercer. He's not calm at all, this time.]
He did notice that spark! And it felt like a warning, but he wasn't quite to the point of being able to move. He's literally willing himself to teleport just as the electricity slams through him. It's so much worse than when he was in that weapon, and not just because of the pain. That memory still sort of hung over him, already. Of the things he finds himself wanting to do, at times, whenever he's around this particular demon.
This feels like justification for how he viewed Sinners, and for just a moment, he's genuinely wishing he could will his powers back. To kill this man in cold blood, and to make it so much worse than that first encounter. Then there's fear. So, so much fear of both Vox and- well, of himself, actually.
Everyone's going black, immediately after—like he's being sucked down into some hazy abyss.]
[The loss of consciousness isn't noted. Not until Vox brings the current to a halt again, and he's left holding a very much motionless body. A quick check tells him Lucifer is still breathing though, so no harm done. There's a split second where Vox considers the notion he got carried away, but then he remembers why Lucifer came to him in the first place. What this whole thing was even for.
Eh. Mission accomplished. And nothing hospital-worthy, as agreed.
He carries Lucifer's body over to the sofa to let him recover there, then goes back to what he was doing before he was interrupted. He's got scripts to finetune and equipment to approve, and all that stuff that comes with running a business.]
[ Surprisingly, Vox will probably hear Adam before he sees him... Despite the cameras he probably has all over both the inside and outside of the building.
Standing there, practically glowing with holy light, like some wound-up and pissed-off nuclear reactor about to pop its top. Wings flared out, and he bellowed at the top of his lungs before flying up the side of the building.
See, the funny thing about their punishment was that Adam felt everything Lucifer was going through, to the point he knew exactly where he was lying down, conscious or not. And that's exactly where he's headed. ]
HEY! Glitch Bitch! Yea, I know you fuckin heared me! What the fuck did you do!?
[Vox's plan for the rest of the day involved working until the wee hours of the next morning. At some point Lucifer would wake up and get lost. Simple. What he was not expecting is the first fucking man racing up to his home- literally. This asshole is screaming for everyone to hear and blasting his way up to the penthouse balcony.
What in the hell is going on now?
Adam is the rightful head of the Exorcist army. He can kill a sinner on a literal whim, smiting them instantly. Even then, Vox swallows down any fear, reducing it to apprehension at most. He heads over to the balcony and opens the door before Adam can smash his way through it, forcing a deadpan.]
[Adam skids onto the balcony, wings snapping out like a pair of missile launchers, flaring wide to slow his landing. He hops off the railing with that predatory swagger, slow, deliberate, all āIām about to ruin your day and look fabulous doing itā energy. His eyes lock on Vox, sharp enough to cut through metal, voice low but humming with fire, sarcasm, and a smidge of pure, unhinged menace.]
Danm right you can fuckin help me, bitch! You can start by telling me what the fuck you think you're doing? You think that you can just what? Hurt him? Fuckin hurt me, and stroll around all smug like a fucking idiot? Cute. Adorable. Wrong. Dead fuckin wrong.
[Adam steps closer, too close, personal-space? Whatās that? poking Vox hard in the shoulder with two fingers, shoving him back like heās a nuisance on a crowded sidewalk. His head tilts, scanning past the Demon for Lucifer, wings twitching like theyāre about to launch a one-man airstrike.]
What the fuck gives you the right to do that? Huh? To touch him, to mess with him, to make me feel all that fuckin thrumming pain like some kind of twisted RSVP to your sadistic little party?! Listen, maybe heād piss himself and back downābut me? Oh no, bitch. Me? I donāt back down. I donāt flinch. I donāt even consider flinching.
You got any last fuckin words before I wipe that scrawny, smug little ass of yours off the face of existence? Before I factory-reset you into a pile of regret-flavoured fuckin dust? Because trust me, bitch, Iām feeling real fuckin creative today, and your death is gonna be art.
[ Yeaaaah... Adam's not used to feeling pain? And he sure as shit doesn't like it soooo maybe he's going a little overboard... Oops. ]
[So. This sucks. Usually, when Adam and his soldiers were in town, Vox would be holed up in Vee Tower. Out of sight, out of mind. He never had to come face to face with a single Exorcist before. Lute changed that by cornering him here in Iyashikei, but even that doesn't compare to being towered over by Adam. This archangel douchebag is enormous and full of entitled privilege given to him the powers that be. It really ensures Vox is at a disadvantage, and his best move is to just let Adam shove him, since anything ranging from fighting back to trying to dodge the touch would be like giving this guy an excuse to use real force.
Also, Adam's rambling like a lunatic. That's not helping.
Vox throws both hands up in a 'wait a second' gesture, because holy shit what is going on, there's a lot being thrown at him and he can only decipher about a quarter of it with context clues.]
Okay. Can I ask you to chill? 'Cause I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm assuming it's got something to do with Lucifer...?
[Even as he poses the question, he's prepping to turn to electricity and disappear into the nearest security camera. Adam probably won't smite the entire building, seeing as Lucifer's in it and that would obliterate him as well. Unless this is an attempt to finish the job, in which case, Vox will happily hand Lucifer over if it means he gets to not be smited. Either way, Lucifer's his ticket to survival here.]
[ Adam knows who Vox is, has seen his shit-eating-grin plastered on reports in the boardroom up in Heaven, he's never seen him face to face, though, it seems that this slippery prick always managed to somehow stay out of sight out of mind during the extreminations. But now that he's actually face-to-screen with him, Adam finds there's a certain pull about him... Then again, the Firstman always has had a fondness for watching TV up in heaven...
No, don't get distracted, Adam! You're here to save Lucifer from, whatever-the-fuck this is? ]
--What? Chill?... Fuckin chill!? Bruh, I don't fuckin think so, you all but fuckin fried my brains!
[ Grabbing Vox by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him up off the ground, snarling and huffing as he loomed in, his mask phasing out, letting Vox see his bloodshot golden eyes and the way his hair looked a little more poofy than it ought to be. ]
Yes this has everything to do with Lucifer! Fuck! Where is he? What did you fuckin do?!
[Two decades of putting up with Val's aggressive mood swings have trained Vox for this moment. He's stared into that type of wild eyes many times before, and while the fury was rarely ever directed at him for more than two seconds, experience is experience. He stares right back, careful not to show an inkling of fear. Weakness only throws fuel onto the fire. He'll just... dangle from Adam's hold and hope his jacket won't rip. Yep...]
He's inside. He came to me and asked me for a favor, so I did him the favor and now he's resting. Seemed like he really needed that rest, too. He was lookin' real manic, going on and on about needing a distraction.
[He's smart enough not to say that Lucifer accused Adam of trying to kill him, even if it's very prevalent in the back of his mind. Any mention of it is liable to backfire immediately.]
[ Oh, heās resting? Adamās grip tightens for half a second, not enough to crush, just enough to remind Vox exactly who is holding who. Vox dangles there, all rigid defiance and careful posture. Cute. Like that helps. ]
You let him in. Just like that?
[ His voice is sharp, edged in steel and venom, but underneath it thereās something else. A flicker. A pulse that doesnāt quite feel like his. God, he hates that. For days now, every spike of irritation has been tangled up with something warmer. Softer. Concern that isnāt his. Protective instinct that doesnāt belong to him.
Except it does. Except it doesnāt.
The condition of their punishment hums under his skin, and with it comes the faintest echo of exhaustion. A brittle sort of unravelling. Not from himself, from Lucifer, and Adamās jaw tightens at it. ]
He came to you?
[ He repeats, incredulous. ]
Of all the greasy, morally bankrupt piles of circuitry in this damned place, he picked you
[ The anger is real. Thatās his. Territorial, bristling, prideful, because Adam doesn't know Vox enough to make that comment, it's all negative emotions Lucifer relates towards him. Whenever Adam was down in Hell with his bitches, Vox was off hiding like one.
The worry, though, the intrusive, crawling worry, that's real.
He remembers the edge in Luciferās feelings earlier. The way it frayed in the middle. The flash of pain and fear that wasnāt theatrical. That was raw. So, if heās resting, that means he crashed. Lucifer never crashes in front of people unless heās too far gone to keep standing. Adam hates that he knows that. He lifts Vox an inch higher, eye level now. Golden eyes burn into the screen. ]
What kind of manic? [ He demands. ] Rambling conspiracy manic? Pacing and fuckin laughing manic? Or the āI havenāt slept in three days, and my wings feel like theyāre made of fuckin glassā kind?
[ Thereās too much specificity in that question. He realises it. He despises it. ]
This isnātā [ He cuts himself off, scowling. ] This isnāt fuckin concern, bruh. Donāt get smug. I just donāt like... variables.
[ Yeah. That sounds better. The condition of their punishment twists again ā a faint residual impression of relief. Lucifer is relaxing somewhere nearby. Safe enough to drop. Safe because Vox helped him. Adamās stomach knots. ]
That was fuckin stupid of him... [ Adam mutters, quieter now, more to himself than Vox. ] He doesnāt get to fuckin spiral in someone elseās territory without telling me. Not because I fuckin care. I don't! Because I need to know. Because if heās unravelling, I fuckin feel it. Because every time he panics like a little bitch, it claws up my spine too.
[ Adam sets Vox down, not gently, but not violently either. A controlled drop. ]
Iām going in there. To wait it out. Just try and fuckin stop me. [ He says, voice steadier now, but still dangerous. ]
And if he wakes up more strung out than when he went in?... If I find out you made this fuckin weird? Or took advantage while he was off-balance? [ A slow, sharp smile pulls across Adams's mask. ] Then you and I are going to have a real fuckin educational conversation about what āfavourā means.
[ He pauses at the doorway, just for half a second. And under the bravado, under the venom, under the pride ā There it is again. That gnawing, unwanted pull of worry. Please let him actually be sleeping. Adam doesnāt look back at Vox as he invites himself inside. ]
[There's a whole lot being thrown Vox's way here, from insults to vague remarks that just sort of sound like nonsense to him. And the insults, he'd expect from the head of the Exorcist army. Sinners like Vox are nothing but targets to this guy. Things to destroy on sight; not even people. But Adam's on a leash here, clearly, so for now it's all barking. The vague nonsense is a whole other problem, because it's starting to sound like Lucifer's not the only one who was spiraling.
Well, at the very least he's set down again. He lands nimbly on both feet as soon as Adam's hands release him, looking like nothing at all just happened. Threats? What threats?]
Right. Okay. Come on in, I guess. [He'd grumble about how this is wasting his precious time, but he knows better than to poke a feral bear. Leashes can be broken with laughable ease.] For the record, in my eyes a favor is giving a guy exactly what he asked for. Otherwise, my word is fuckin' useless and that's not the sort of reputation a businessman can afford to have.
[He follows Adam into the penthouse and closes the balcony door behind himself. While the rest of VoxCo is distinctly solarpunk in appearance, with its more pastel colors and abundance of plantlife, Vox's private quarters are far more reminiscent of Hell. There's bright red and blue colorschemes, neon lighting along the walls, a small bar nook, an open shutter that looks out over Shok.wav's tank one floor below... There's exactly one display of plantlife here, and it's a bouquet of rainbow roses in a vase, placed on his desk. The flowers display just about every color possible, so clearly whoever gave this to Vox had some very mixed feelings.
On the crimson-with-maroon-patterns sofa there is Lucifer. Vox even took the trouble of draping a blanket over him. Not that makes too much of a difference, since Lucifer is fully dressed under there, shoes included.]
[ There really was a whole lot being thrown at Vox, and Adam internally cringed at himself for unloading like that- But fuck, that was how having all of Lucifer's emotions, pains and pleasures running around inside his head, with his own shit, was making him feel. Unhinged, unstable, and yeah, spiralling was the right word for it.
He shifts slightly, having to duck to get through the door, glancing back at Vox as he sarcastically invites him in after he'd already passed the threshold... His leash taut but not restricting his posture, a predator coiled in Angel form. ]
--Shit, Lu!?
[ Upon spotting the Fallen trouble maker, Adam skidded across the floor on his knees, skillfully pulling his hooded mask off and tossing it aside, leaving it to rock back and forth between its horns where it lay, upsidedown at Vox's feet.
Concern over his very human-looking face as he leant in, getting a good look, Lucifer seemingly just slumbering. Adam sat back on his heels, the tension melting from his shoulders as they slumped, wings falling limp and tucking neatly partly down his back, half under his arms, before he nodded and turned to look at Vox. ]
Yea, I'll take a fuckin drink, dude.
[ He doesn't say it but there's a thanks in his tone.
Once he was convinced Lucifer was just resting, not dead, not unconscious or suffering from something he couldn't wake from, Adam rose to his feet and made his way over to Vox, taking in the design and decorations of the room like they were made to personally offend him. ]
Businessman... That what you call Overlords in the pits of Hell, you come from? I've heard of you... Never fuckin seen you in person before though, bruh... Why's that?
[ Adam loomed in a little too close as he spoke, getting a real good look at Vox's face. The Archangel loved watching TV up in Heaven, so there was a brief moment then, where he stared a little too long, golden eyes glazing over a touch before he snapped out of it. ]
Gonna tell me what favour he asked you for? Because I know the pricks got a death wish, but I can't fuckin see him asking you to torture him for shits and giggles...
Edited (logged me out as I was sending D:) 2026-02-18 18:41 (UTC)
[As soon as the mask is tossed towards Vox's feet, he considers picking it up. Then he realizes that touching one of the first man's belongings without permission could escalate the situation real fast, so he leaves it where it is. He makes his way over to the bar instead, taking a few bottles down from the shelves and setting them down on the counter. By the time Adam catches up to him, a small selection is already out.]
Not every Overlord is a businessman, and most businessmen aren't Overlords. What we all have in common is we know how to survive Exterminations. [He reaches behind the bar for two glasses, and when he turns around to set them down, Adam's up in his face. Literally. Vox stares right back up until the man finally breaks away.]
Look. All I know is Lucifer wanted a distraction. A hefty one. Words like "pain" and "damage" were included. "Nothing hospital-worthy" was pretty much the only limit. Not my business what he needed distracting from, but I did give him plenty of opportunities to back out, or tone it down. 'Cause, you know, I don't need the trouble that comes with knocking Lucifer on his ass against his will.
[He'd love to have that honor (again), but he's at a disadvantage in this world where the power balance and authority is concerned. He's not rocking that boat. In fact, he's already pushed too far despite the openings to back down and despite Lucifer's consent. If the king decides to be a little baby about what happened as soon as he wakes up, Vox is gonna have to run for the hills.
For now, he waves a hand over the selection of bottles.]
[ Adamās used to people scrambling to pick up after him. Angels, demons, whoever. Just... not a Sinner Overlord. Thatās a new low. Or high. Whatever. The point is, the mask can stay on the damn floor for now. Heāll shove it back on when he feels like it. He doesnāt exactly enjoy being seen without it, brand recognition and all that, also he feels vulnerable as fuck being seen, but Lucifer being a wreck kinda overrode his usual "look untouchable" policy. ]
Yeah? Cool. Awesome. That shit sounds like a fantastic little trauma dump we can circle back to literally any other fuckinā day, my guy. Because I would absolutely loooove to hear every fuckin gritty, emotional detail. Riveting stuff. Surviving the exterminations, let's make a fuckin TV show of it...
[ Heās gotta hand it to Vox, though. The guy doesnāt rattle easily. Thatās... rare. Impressive, even. Plenty of angels have folded under Adamās glare alone. Vox? Barely blinking. Huh. Mental note taken. ]
...Fuck.
[ He squints at him, trying to decide if he even means the next part. Hard to tell when itās him talking. ]
You think you could pull that same stunt on me?
[ Is that a challenge? A joke? A genuine question? Even Adamās not totally sure. He exhales sharply through his nose and eyes the lineup of bottles like they're something he's never seen before. Wineās usually his speed, classy, ancient, very "first man on Earth" vibes, but whatever. He slumps against the bar beside Vox, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Luciferās still... there, still breathing. Still stubborn. ]
You actually gave him an out, and he didnāt take it? Man, thatāsā thatās just... that shits brutal. Damn.
[ He drags a hand back through his messy chestnut hair, then down over his face with a long groan before side-eyeing Vox like the guy just proposed something insane. ]
Whiskey. You said it first, so that means itās the best one, right? Thatās how this works.
[ In Adamās head, the logic is airtight. First man? Best man. First drink mentioned? Obviously top-tier. Duh. ]
[And at once, with a few simple remarks, Adam establishes himself as one of the most frustrating people in this world to Vox. He asked why he's never seen Vox in person before, Vox explained why in the most clinical way possible, and somehow Adam still manages to twist it around to something as pathetic as trauma dumping. Not only is that the most callous way to refer to genocide he's ever heard, it's insulting on the highest personal level. There is no trauma to dump because Vox was powerful enough and smart enough to avoid any of that. Fuck this guy.
Needless to say, he's not pulling 'the same stunt' on Adam, because he's not giving this man a single excuse to try and deliver some real trauma.]
Whiskey it is.
[He uncaps the bottle and, since the First Man here seemed a little unclear on what's even being presented to him, takes some ice cubes out of the freezer. It's not much in terms of watering it down unless Adam lets the glass stand for a while, but at least the offer's there. It raises the question of whether Heaven has any kind of hard liquor, and if not, whether Adam's ever had the chance to try anything like this. It's a hilarious thought that Vox will try not to focus on too hard, lest the amusement shows on his face.]
[For a while, he does dimly register voices. There aren't any emotions for a bit, because it's a lot like listening to a radio broadcast he feels no attachment towards.
Eventually, Lucifer's eyes open, and there's a clearly dazed look; he stares up at the ceiling for a moment...
Then his eyes shift towards Vox, expression hardening as his mind replays that moment before unconsciousness with absolute clarity. He won't be talking anytime soon, but it doesn't stop the Look he gives before he closes his eyes.
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His left hand goes to the back of Lucifer's head, fingers raking through his hair in a firm downward motion, then lands on the back of his neck, right where the torso begins. His other hand settles on the small of his back.
This time, the surge isn't cut short after eight seconds. It keeps going indefinitely.]
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Fuck.
Lucifer's entire body goes rigid, the sharp mixture of stab-like pain and the very intense kind of tingling. There's no way for him to protest how much longer this lasts, because he needs focus to use any of his powers in a nondestructive way. That thought should scare him. It should, at the very least, make him nervous.
But... in a weird way, volunteering for this removes a lot of reason to worry. Vox is getting to do something he enjoys, Lucifer is getting a slight break from those incredibly suffocating emotions... So...?
What's wrong with just sinking into it? Enjoying it? So what if he likes unhealthy levels of pain...
Could be worse... right?]
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After a certain amount of time, he manages to rip himself away from that peace, because he knows when to stop. Still has enough discipline not to get lost in the pleasure. He brings the current to a screeching stop, so Lucifer has time to regain his breath.]
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What's... it feel like? [Having that kind of control over someone, sending that kind of deadly element through someone. Lucifer doesn't have that kind of connection with the one he used on Vox... Not anymore.] Does it at least... feel nice, for you?
[That storm of emotions did finally let up enough for him to be able to calmly talk. He almost sounds more tired than anything. Not that it'll last very long.]
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Yeah. I dunno if I can really explain it, but it's... Calming, you know? Like a hot shower.
[For the most part, Vox loves the feel and sight of electricity. The rare occasion he doesn't is during thunder storms, when lightning catches him off guard. That's something he can't control, the sudden flash of electromagnetic radiation overwhelming him. Besides, it stirs some nasty memories. Other than that, though... He's good.]
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I'm glad. [He means it - he prefers Vox getting something out of it during, rather than feeling like he's racking up some hefty fee, so to speak.] Still... I'd rather pay you back something more than a hot shower. What do you want, in return?
[Before his head gets too full again, he'd like an idea of what he's going to be paying back.]
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[He doesn't need to think about it. Sure, making deals is 'kind of an Overlord's thing', but that doesn't mean everything needs that strict transactional two-way street. Sometimes, Vox wants to do something just for the sake of doing it, without having to come up with favors or tactical advantages.
He gets to electrocute the King of Hell. It's not even a challenge at this point. Lucifer just keeps on humiliating himself without Vox having to lift a finger. Where's the fun in exploiting that kind of weakness?]
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Well... Vox's words wouldn't hurt so bad if they didn't carry what he felt was truth. But he was never meant to be a real King. The punishment, past all those initial layers, was to be mocked. To be disrespected, over and over. Seen as just a joke. And knowing all of that, as always, helps nothing!
But, it doesn't mean he can't at least continue trying a little... right? He considers Stolas' words, Rosie's... Husk's.]
Okay. [There's more he feel compelled to say; that's how it always starts, though, with this guy. He just keeps it to:] Thank you, Vox.
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The words are like a sudden attack. Something that springs out a dark hiding place to lunge at him, going straight for the throat. Thank you, Vox? What the fuck?! He can't even fully explain why a sentiment like that stirs such intense, raw and hurtful loathing. Why it feels like an insult- a blow beneath the belt. The best he can come up with is what his mind starts screaming at him. He's not doing this out of kindness. It's not a favor to be thanked for. This is for him, not Lucifer. Fuck Lucifer!
The only warning given is a crackle of electricity that sparks along his antenna. The next second, his hold on Lucifer tightens again, pulling the man right up his torso. The current overtakes the king's body again, its voltage higher than before. Fiercer. He's not calm at all, this time.]
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He did notice that spark! And it felt like a warning, but he wasn't quite to the point of being able to move. He's literally willing himself to teleport just as the electricity slams through him. It's so much worse than when he was in that weapon, and not just because of the pain. That memory still sort of hung over him, already. Of the things he finds himself wanting to do, at times, whenever he's around this particular demon.
This feels like justification for how he viewed Sinners, and for just a moment, he's genuinely wishing he could will his powers back. To kill this man in cold blood, and to make it so much worse than that first encounter. Then there's fear. So, so much fear of both Vox and- well, of himself, actually.
Everyone's going black, immediately after—like he's being sucked down into some hazy abyss.]
no subject
Eh. Mission accomplished. And nothing hospital-worthy, as agreed.
He carries Lucifer's body over to the sofa to let him recover there, then goes back to what he was doing before he was interrupted. He's got scripts to finetune and equipment to approve, and all that stuff that comes with running a business.]
Action! Shortly after the bad tickle...
Standing there, practically glowing with holy light, like some wound-up and pissed-off nuclear reactor about to pop its top. Wings flared out, and he bellowed at the top of his lungs before flying up the side of the building.
See, the funny thing about their punishment was that Adam felt everything Lucifer was going through, to the point he knew exactly where he was lying down, conscious or not. And that's exactly where he's headed. ]
HEY! Glitch Bitch! Yea, I know you fuckin heared me! What the fuck did you do!?
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What in the hell is going on now?
Adam is the rightful head of the Exorcist army. He can kill a sinner on a literal whim, smiting them instantly. Even then, Vox swallows down any fear, reducing it to apprehension at most. He heads over to the balcony and opens the door before Adam can smash his way through it, forcing a deadpan.]
Can I help you?
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Danm right you can fuckin help me, bitch! You can start by telling me what the fuck you think you're doing? You think that you can just what? Hurt him? Fuckin hurt me, and stroll around all smug like a fucking idiot? Cute. Adorable. Wrong. Dead fuckin wrong.
[Adam steps closer, too close, personal-space? Whatās that? poking Vox hard in the shoulder with two fingers, shoving him back like heās a nuisance on a crowded sidewalk. His head tilts, scanning past the Demon for Lucifer, wings twitching like theyāre about to launch a one-man airstrike.]
What the fuck gives you the right to do that? Huh? To touch him, to mess with him, to make me feel all that fuckin thrumming pain like some kind of twisted RSVP to your sadistic little party?! Listen, maybe heād piss himself and back downābut me? Oh no, bitch. Me? I donāt back down. I donāt flinch. I donāt even consider flinching.
You got any last fuckin words before I wipe that scrawny, smug little ass of yours off the face of existence? Before I factory-reset you into a pile of regret-flavoured fuckin dust? Because trust me, bitch, Iām feeling real fuckin creative today, and your death is gonna be art.
[ Yeaaaah... Adam's not used to feeling pain? And he sure as shit doesn't like it soooo maybe he's going a little overboard... Oops. ]
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Also, Adam's rambling like a lunatic. That's not helping.
Vox throws both hands up in a 'wait a second' gesture, because holy shit what is going on, there's a lot being thrown at him and he can only decipher about a quarter of it with context clues.]
Okay. Can I ask you to chill? 'Cause I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm assuming it's got something to do with Lucifer...?
[Even as he poses the question, he's prepping to turn to electricity and disappear into the nearest security camera. Adam probably won't smite the entire building, seeing as Lucifer's in it and that would obliterate him as well. Unless this is an attempt to finish the job, in which case, Vox will happily hand Lucifer over if it means he gets to not be smited. Either way, Lucifer's his ticket to survival here.]
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No, don't get distracted, Adam! You're here to save Lucifer from, whatever-the-fuck this is? ]
--What? Chill?... Fuckin chill!? Bruh, I don't fuckin think so, you all but fuckin fried my brains!
[ Grabbing Vox by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him up off the ground, snarling and huffing as he loomed in, his mask phasing out, letting Vox see his bloodshot golden eyes and the way his hair looked a little more poofy than it ought to be. ]
Yes this has everything to do with Lucifer! Fuck! Where is he? What did you fuckin do?!
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He's inside. He came to me and asked me for a favor, so I did him the favor and now he's resting. Seemed like he really needed that rest, too. He was lookin' real manic, going on and on about needing a distraction.
[He's smart enough not to say that Lucifer accused Adam of trying to kill him, even if it's very prevalent in the back of his mind. Any mention of it is liable to backfire immediately.]
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[ Oh, heās resting? Adamās grip tightens for half a second, not enough to crush, just enough to remind Vox exactly who is holding who. Vox dangles there, all rigid defiance and careful posture. Cute. Like that helps. ]
You let him in. Just like that?
[ His voice is sharp, edged in steel and venom, but underneath it thereās something else. A flicker. A pulse that doesnāt quite feel like his. God, he hates that. For days now, every spike of irritation has been tangled up with something warmer. Softer. Concern that isnāt his. Protective instinct that doesnāt belong to him.
Except it does. Except it doesnāt.
The condition of their punishment hums under his skin, and with it comes the faintest echo of exhaustion. A brittle sort of unravelling. Not from himself, from Lucifer, and Adamās jaw tightens at it. ]
He came to you?
[ He repeats, incredulous. ]
Of all the greasy, morally bankrupt piles of circuitry in this damned place, he picked you
[ The anger is real. Thatās his. Territorial, bristling, prideful, because Adam doesn't know Vox enough to make that comment, it's all negative emotions Lucifer relates towards him. Whenever Adam was down in Hell with his bitches, Vox was off hiding like one.
The worry, though, the intrusive, crawling worry, that's real.
He remembers the edge in Luciferās feelings earlier. The way it frayed in the middle. The flash of pain and fear that wasnāt theatrical. That was raw. So, if heās resting, that means he crashed. Lucifer never crashes in front of people unless heās too far gone to keep standing. Adam hates that he knows that. He lifts Vox an inch higher, eye level now. Golden eyes burn into the screen. ]
What kind of manic? [ He demands. ] Rambling conspiracy manic? Pacing and fuckin laughing manic? Or the āI havenāt slept in three days, and my wings feel like theyāre made of fuckin glassā kind?
[ Thereās too much specificity in that question. He realises it. He despises it. ]
This isnātā [ He cuts himself off, scowling. ] This isnāt fuckin concern, bruh. Donāt get smug. I just donāt like... variables.
[ Yeah. That sounds better. The condition of their punishment twists again ā a faint residual impression of relief. Lucifer is relaxing somewhere nearby. Safe enough to drop. Safe because Vox helped him. Adamās stomach knots. ]
That was fuckin stupid of him... [ Adam mutters, quieter now, more to himself than Vox. ] He doesnāt get to fuckin spiral in someone elseās territory without telling me. Not because I fuckin care. I don't! Because I need to know. Because if heās unravelling, I fuckin feel it. Because every time he panics like a little bitch, it claws up my spine too.
[ Adam sets Vox down, not gently, but not violently either. A controlled drop. ]
Iām going in there. To wait it out. Just try and fuckin stop me. [ He says, voice steadier now, but still dangerous. ]
And if he wakes up more strung out than when he went in?... If I find out you made this fuckin weird? Or took advantage while he was off-balance? [ A slow, sharp smile pulls across Adams's mask. ] Then you and I are going to have a real fuckin educational conversation about what āfavourā means.
[ He pauses at the doorway, just for half a second. And under the bravado, under the venom, under the pride ā There it is again. That gnawing, unwanted pull of worry. Please let him actually be sleeping. Adam doesnāt look back at Vox as he invites himself inside. ]
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Well, at the very least he's set down again. He lands nimbly on both feet as soon as Adam's hands release him, looking like nothing at all just happened. Threats? What threats?]
Right. Okay. Come on in, I guess. [He'd grumble about how this is wasting his precious time, but he knows better than to poke a feral bear. Leashes can be broken with laughable ease.] For the record, in my eyes a favor is giving a guy exactly what he asked for. Otherwise, my word is fuckin' useless and that's not the sort of reputation a businessman can afford to have.
[He follows Adam into the penthouse and closes the balcony door behind himself. While the rest of VoxCo is distinctly solarpunk in appearance, with its more pastel colors and abundance of plantlife, Vox's private quarters are far more reminiscent of Hell. There's bright red and blue colorschemes, neon lighting along the walls, a small bar nook, an open shutter that looks out over Shok.wav's tank one floor below... There's exactly one display of plantlife here, and it's a bouquet of rainbow roses in a vase, placed on his desk. The flowers display just about every color possible, so clearly whoever gave this to Vox had some very mixed feelings.
On the crimson-with-maroon-patterns sofa there is Lucifer. Vox even took the trouble of draping a blanket over him. Not that makes too much of a difference, since Lucifer is fully dressed under there, shoes included.]
... You want a drink, or...?
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He shifts slightly, having to duck to get through the door, glancing back at Vox as he sarcastically invites him in after he'd already passed the threshold... His leash taut but not restricting his posture, a predator coiled in Angel form. ]
--Shit, Lu!?
[ Upon spotting the Fallen trouble maker, Adam skidded across the floor on his knees, skillfully pulling his hooded mask off and tossing it aside, leaving it to rock back and forth between its horns where it lay, upsidedown at Vox's feet.
Concern over his very human-looking face as he leant in, getting a good look, Lucifer seemingly just slumbering. Adam sat back on his heels, the tension melting from his shoulders as they slumped, wings falling limp and tucking neatly partly down his back, half under his arms, before he nodded and turned to look at Vox. ]
Yea, I'll take a fuckin drink, dude.
[ He doesn't say it but there's a thanks in his tone.
Once he was convinced Lucifer was just resting, not dead, not unconscious or suffering from something he couldn't wake from, Adam rose to his feet and made his way over to Vox, taking in the design and decorations of the room like they were made to personally offend him. ]
Businessman... That what you call Overlords in the pits of Hell, you come from? I've heard of you... Never fuckin seen you in person before though, bruh... Why's that?
[ Adam loomed in a little too close as he spoke, getting a real good look at Vox's face. The Archangel loved watching TV up in Heaven, so there was a brief moment then, where he stared a little too long, golden eyes glazing over a touch before he snapped out of it. ]
Gonna tell me what favour he asked you for? Because I know the pricks got a death wish, but I can't fuckin see him asking you to torture him for shits and giggles...
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Not every Overlord is a businessman, and most businessmen aren't Overlords. What we all have in common is we know how to survive Exterminations. [He reaches behind the bar for two glasses, and when he turns around to set them down, Adam's up in his face. Literally. Vox stares right back up until the man finally breaks away.]
Look. All I know is Lucifer wanted a distraction. A hefty one. Words like "pain" and "damage" were included. "Nothing hospital-worthy" was pretty much the only limit. Not my business what he needed distracting from, but I did give him plenty of opportunities to back out, or tone it down. 'Cause, you know, I don't need the trouble that comes with knocking Lucifer on his ass against his will.
[He'd love to have that honor (again), but he's at a disadvantage in this world where the power balance and authority is concerned. He's not rocking that boat. In fact, he's already pushed too far despite the openings to back down and despite Lucifer's consent. If the king decides to be a little baby about what happened as soon as he wakes up, Vox is gonna have to run for the hills.
For now, he waves a hand over the selection of bottles.]
Whiskey, bourbon, gin or rum?
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Yeah? Cool. Awesome. That shit sounds like a fantastic little trauma dump we can circle back to literally any other fuckinā day, my guy. Because I would absolutely loooove to hear every fuckin gritty, emotional detail. Riveting stuff. Surviving the exterminations, let's make a fuckin TV show of it...
[ Heās gotta hand it to Vox, though. The guy doesnāt rattle easily. Thatās... rare. Impressive, even. Plenty of angels have folded under Adamās glare alone. Vox? Barely blinking. Huh. Mental note taken. ]
...Fuck.
[ He squints at him, trying to decide if he even means the next part. Hard to tell when itās him talking. ]
You think you could pull that same stunt on me?
[ Is that a challenge? A joke? A genuine question? Even Adamās not totally sure. He exhales sharply through his nose and eyes the lineup of bottles like they're something he's never seen before. Wineās usually his speed, classy, ancient, very "first man on Earth" vibes, but whatever. He slumps against the bar beside Vox, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Luciferās still... there, still breathing. Still stubborn. ]
You actually gave him an out, and he didnāt take it? Man, thatāsā thatās just... that shits brutal. Damn.
[ He drags a hand back through his messy chestnut hair, then down over his face with a long groan before side-eyeing Vox like the guy just proposed something insane. ]
Whiskey. You said it first, so that means itās the best one, right? Thatās how this works.
[ In Adamās head, the logic is airtight. First man? Best man. First drink mentioned? Obviously top-tier. Duh. ]
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Needless to say, he's not pulling 'the same stunt' on Adam, because he's not giving this man a single excuse to try and deliver some real trauma.]
Whiskey it is.
[He uncaps the bottle and, since the First Man here seemed a little unclear on what's even being presented to him, takes some ice cubes out of the freezer. It's not much in terms of watering it down unless Adam lets the glass stand for a while, but at least the offer's there. It raises the question of whether Heaven has any kind of hard liquor, and if not, whether Adam's ever had the chance to try anything like this. It's a hilarious thought that Vox will try not to focus on too hard, lest the amusement shows on his face.]
You wanna pour it yourself?
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Eventually, Lucifer's eyes open, and there's a clearly dazed look; he stares up at the ceiling for a moment...
Then his eyes shift towards Vox, expression hardening as his mind replays that moment before unconsciousness with absolute clarity. He won't be talking anytime soon, but it doesn't stop the Look he gives before he closes his eyes.
Fucking asshole.]