As he stands under the heavy canopy-- how did he get here?-- the whole forest seems to be holding its breath, waiting. Like there is something hiding in the shadows that isn't the Devil, something that looks at an archangel and thinks, well, maybe. Something with enough power and cunning on its side to maybe take a stab at something like him, if it has a good opportunity.
There is nothing on Earth or in Heaven than Lucifer fears. Heaven and Earth are not the only places, though, and there are things that can make him wary, especially when all of his senses beyond the mortal ones are muddled and just giving him feelings of vague unease.
Is this Purgatory? Has he just not recognized it?
The thought is interrupted by a shiver in the low branches above him, followed by the prickling sensation of small claws on his vessel's shoulders; there is the sound of creaking wood and he feels a weight slink itself across the span of them, feels the smooth slide of scales against the back of his neck. He turns his head, and in the low light sees a reptilian profile.
"The woods aren't empty," it says. Lucifer finds that he does not mind its heavy warmth or its woodsmoke voice. "Something here is hunting us."
"Us?" Lucifer's head tilts in a quizzical avian gesture. The dragon on his shoulders ruffles its wings in a returning gesture that he recognizes as impatience.
"They call me Rahab," it says, and the name sounds fitting, sounds like something that's his. Lucifer nods and steps quiet through the underbrush. He only knows one way to respond to a threat.
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As he stands under the heavy canopy-- how did he get here?-- the whole forest seems to be holding its breath, waiting. Like there is something hiding in the shadows that isn't the Devil, something that looks at an archangel and thinks, well, maybe. Something with enough power and cunning on its side to maybe take a stab at something like him, if it has a good opportunity.
There is nothing on Earth or in Heaven than Lucifer fears. Heaven and Earth are not the only places, though, and there are things that can make him wary, especially when all of his senses beyond the mortal ones are muddled and just giving him feelings of vague unease.
Is this Purgatory? Has he just not recognized it?
The thought is interrupted by a shiver in the low branches above him, followed by the prickling sensation of small claws on his vessel's shoulders; there is the sound of creaking wood and he feels a weight slink itself across the span of them, feels the smooth slide of scales against the back of his neck. He turns his head, and in the low light sees a reptilian profile.
"The woods aren't empty," it says. Lucifer finds that he does not mind its heavy warmth or its woodsmoke voice. "Something here is hunting us."
"Us?" Lucifer's head tilts in a quizzical avian gesture. The dragon on his shoulders ruffles its wings in a returning gesture that he recognizes as impatience.
"They call me Rahab," it says, and the name sounds fitting, sounds like something that's his. Lucifer nods and steps quiet through the underbrush. He only knows one way to respond to a threat.
"We'd best find it first."