maskormenacelogs | I want so much more than they've got planned

Entry tags:

I want so much more than they've got planned

WHO: Lucifer, open
WHERE: various places in North America, Heropa
WHEN: from now to the 26/27th
WHAT: A catch-all post for Lucifer while he is out and about the big wide world. Options for fighting or talking within.
WARNINGS: Lucifer being himself. Definitely: Murder, death, abused Disney song lyrics. NOW SPOILERS FOR MURDER, MUTILATION, GROSSNESS, CREEPY RITUALS. Potentially: bad language, fighting, manipulating, extreme truth-telling, religious talk, threatening talk, threatening religious talk, feels, more death and murder.

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere-

Recordings of Lucifer going about his murder business are getting more common- and it's no longer limited to individuals. He's moved on to pairs and threes now, and the shaky news feed shows that he's taking his time in various gruesome ways.

Anyone tuned in to live news will be able to catch the reports of his whereabouts, and anyone fast enough will be able to catch up with him before he's finished his work. Lucifer is really in no rush. He's composed, calm- as though that weren't someone's spine he just snapped in two.

Being interrupted in his work won't make him angry, just a little sad that people keep wanting to talk or fight him while he's busy. He's surprised that so many people continue to object to him.

It's only humans he's killing.

I want it more than I can tell-

There are still various things keeping Lucifer in and around Heropa. He'll be most often seen in the company of his brother, but there will be occasion when he'll be found in alone the local cathedral, in the public square with the half-blind old men playing chess, and one morning he can even be found down at the beach studying the sun as it rises on a particularly beautiful day. He's open to conversation, confrontation, even a game of chess if there's a set nearby.

Since the initial museum incident there have been no displays of arsonistic tendencies. There is a warrant out for his arrest, however, so if and when a call comes in the police or any willing heroes will be dispatched to try to apprehend him. Lucifer is more frustrated by this.

He hadn't been doing anything at all and you want to interrupt his relaxing morning on the beach? Who's the dick now?

[ooc: basically, if you want your character to talk/fight/etc Lucifer sometime this month, this is the place! Feel free to ping me here or on plurk to set up anything more specific than the general prompts given above. Once again here's a link to Lucifer's permissions post.

Re: fighting. I'd rather not have Lucifer taken down just yet - but he needs to find out that he's not as powerful as he thinks he is, especially around Heropa! So stick it to him! Alternately, Lucifer can main/kill your character as much as you like, so if that's something you're after definitely let me know!]

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Hans had taken to eating his lunch in the public square. The weather was nice, it had more space than the office, and Hans could people watch. Unfortunately, today during people watching, he spotted Lucifer standing near a chess set.

Wasn't that the man who tried to burn down the museum? What was he doing here?

Frowning slightly, Hans temporarily put away his lunch and walked over towards the chess set. Moving over to one side, he moved a pawn forward. Looking up at Lucifer, Hans smiled slightly, trying to seem disconcerting.

"Care for a game?"

Potentially playing chess with a psychopath. Well, he had made worse decisions. He couldn't think of any at the moment, but he was sure he had made worse. Besides, the man was interesting and Hans wanted to learn more about him.

He had been keeping a keen eye on the news, of course. The murders, gruesome and intricate and savage, attracted Chilton's attention -- the warrant for his morning star patient (as Chilton considered him) cut deeper each passing day. Chilton, professionally speaking, hoped dearly that Lucifer would find himself in chains; the psychopathy was so theatrical in its display, so craven and infuriatingly nonchalant, and Chilton was craving to discuss it.

He already had the title of his paper picked out, for after he could analyze Lucifer properly.

After work on that Friday afternoon, Chilton went for a bit of a drive, to a seaside cove, where the ocean licked sunburnt sand. It was an odd impulse, one contrary to his usual schedule. But he felt nearly compelled.

It hadn't been difficult to find him. He left a very messy trail of sorcerous excavations and a map of instructive voodoo. Needless to say, Loki had his ways of reading all sorts of new and archaic arts. Once you got the hang of one of them, the rest just sort of poof! simple. All runes, all magic words, no matter where they came from, had a few common threads: they were there to tell a very pretty lie. How well that lie was woven in word and thought was what made it convincing.

"Can't stay away, can you? You're quite popular, you know. They put your face all over the news." Just like you likely wanted, he added to himself. "It's quite the statement that you're making."

There's no fear, no hesitance, just curious confidence. For a trickster good, it was never power that was in the question, but everything else he used at his disposal.

"But we could make small talk about a stroll on the beach, if you'd like."

It was a nice day to be out in Heropa and Lucifer was spending it considering how to find out more about the space program and what exactly the porter wanted with them all. The people going about their business were hardly on his radar, until one approached and suggested chess as a way to pass the time.

Lucifer returned the suggestion with an appraising look.

"It's been a while since I've played."

There were still some places on Earth where an angel could find that humanity hadn't yet ruined. This cove was such a place. It was far enough away from the surrounding cities that one could, if one was inclined, pretend that Creation was still all just as beautiful as it had been when it was new. Lucifer is not inclined to such lies, unfortunately.

Lucifer has had a busy few days, but even he needs some time off from his work . Not to relax; but simply to focus and consider whether there are other actions he could be taking to further his goals.

And if a certain psychologist could be nudged into joining him, so much the better. Though the smugness and pride of the doctor is nauseating, Lucifer never breaks an arrangement he's made.

When the doctor arrives he will find Lucifer standing ankle deep in the surprisingly warm water, looking out at the ocean.

The godling approaches without fear or caution, and if he'd been an angel Lucifer would have reprimanded him harshly for the audacity. But Loki is no angel, and Lucifer doubts that he will have anything to fear from a pagan deity who paints his nails black.

"Only humans could make such a spectacle out of the deaths of their own kind." Like flies buzzing over a corpse, the media flock to the scenes of the deaths- while thousands more died without fanfare every day in far more gruesome ways.

"I'd assumed you would be older." Lucifer will start strolling down the beach, if Loki wants to join him.

"Then I promise to go easy on you," Hans remarked, with a little smile. He gestured to the chess board with a gloved hand--the gloves being a force of habit from back home that he couldn't bring himself to get rid of.

"Not too easy, of course. I wouldn't want to give the game away."

Truth be told, Hans didn't plan on going easy at all. If this was truly Lucifer, he had a feeling that the man would be much better at chess than Hans was expecting. He was going to play his best, if Lucifer agreed.

Of course not, nothing to fear here.

Just a curious bystander.

But that's what he always was, a curious bystander. A catalyst. Every Loki, no matter how good of intention, had always been a catalyst for chaos; powers, no powers. These of these new religions liked to flaunt the size of their packages. Gabriel had well announced it—and Lucifer? Well, the media was proof enough.

He strolls beside him.

"Many say that," he says easily, holding up one of his hands. He's very animated. His gestures, his expressions. It's almost like he's playing a part in a play. "I could say that I assumed you'd have a halo—or perhaps horns and hooves! All depending on which ancient scribe was trying to scare which group into submission."

Edited 2014-04-12 23:38 (UTC)

His car, a rental, was parked safely away enough from the sinking sand of the cove's beach. Chilton's illustrious appointments, his numerous sessions with imPorts, had required him to invest (even momentarily) in some personal transportation.

But now it served a higher purpose.

He stepped through the sand, making it midway through the beach before he removed his shoes and socks and followed Lucifer into the warmed waters that lapped against the earth.

"Did you invoke me here?"

It was the first sentence on his tongue.

Lucifer assented, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs. Naturally he chose white and moved first.

"Do you often challenge strangers to chess during your lunch break?"

"I thought you'd prefer not having SWAT jump through your hospital windows." More or less.

Lucifer couldn't have cared less about Chilton's windows, but he'd been finding that his powers weren't as strong around Heropa, and dealing with whatever do-gooders showed up to confront him would mean even more time putting up with this little man and his self-important questions.

Lucifer made a face at the mention of the popular images that accompanied his name. Interesting that throughout all of human history no one had managed an accurate likeness. Heaven's hand was in that, no doubt, spinning the propaganda machine to deter other angels from questioning orders.

"Funny what lengths people will go to when they need a villain for their story."

Karkat was tired of Florida. Tired of the humidity, tired of the sun, tired of the ocean. Tired of Earth, tired of humanity, tired of conforming to the laws and expectations of a planet and a society that never belonged to him.

Louisiana was no better in terms of climate, but there was a certain nostalgia in wading out into the swamp -- not the one Khisanth had settled them in, but he wasn't about to go combing the entire state for a particular swamp that might not even exist in this world -- and, more importantly, he was alone. Underneath the dappled shade of the cypress trees, far away from the influence and frustration of anyone else, maybe he could relax -- just for a while.

Maybe Hell would freeze over, too.

The empathic input, weak though it is, on the outer edges of his range, is enough of a shock to his system to have his knees buckling with a splash, breath catching in his throat. It isn't the dynamic, fluid, living input he's used to-- rather, it's like an echo. One of pain and fear and the overpowering desire not to die. Please, please, please, he doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die, not here, not now. He's afraid. He'll do anything, anything at all, just let him go, just leave him alone, let him live, please, please stop--

"It's not me," he gasps, and his voice sounds too loud, to his own ears. "That's not me."

But it is someone. Was someone. He looks up, peering through the trees, for the source. Even from this far away, the pain is enough to make him recoil, and a large part of him wants to turn around, walk away. He doesn't want to see what lies at the end of this empathic trail. He should have known a moment's peace was asking too much. He struggles back to his feet.

"This may be the least genre savvy thing I've ever done," he sighs, to no one in particular, as he begins to follow the echoes of the stranger's last moments, footsteps audible splashes.

The two teenagers had been camping.

Well, what they had been doing is fairly irrelevant to Lucifer. The important thing was that they're the right age for what he needed today. Not quite children, not quite adults- one foot firmly on either side of that mysterious human divide.

Behind him the teenage boy is sobbing, pleading with him to let him go. Not that he'll go far on two broken legs. Lucifer tunes the boy out, focusing on the delicate work needed to remove the organs in the correct manner. Rituals need to be followed properly, and Lucifer's skipping enough steps already doing this in the middle of a swamp.

The girl is dead already, her sightless eyes staring up at the clear Virginia sky. He'd done this in the rain last week. That had been a mess he was not going to repeat.

He's up to his elbows in blood, in the middle of cutting the last of the arteries surrounding her heart when he notices something approaching. It's not his brother, so he pays it no mind. Lucifer has nothing to fear in this world, after all.

The closer he gets, the more it becomes apparent that it isn't just one stranger he's dealing with. Three separate hearts, one dead, one injured and terrified, and one... one like no one Karkat's ever encountered before.

What approaches is not Lucifer's brother, but nor is it human. Around the same age as the two unfortunate teenagers, as it gets closer, the boy notices its arrival, too-- and he feels hope. It can be read on his face, in the pathetic struggle to drag himself toward the newcomer, in the empathic output rolling off of him in waves of agony and barely processed grief for his dead companion. It doesn't matter that the newcomer isn't human. All that matters is that someone has found him. Someone has come to save him.

"Help me! Help me, help, please!"

Karkat is no hero. The scene is not the worst he's ever witnessed, and the pain is not the worst he's ever felt. But it's enough that he can barely keep from succumbing to the nausea, bile rising in the back of his throat, and enough for tears to prick at the corners of his eyes. Enough that he has to remind himself it isn't his pain. The boy's frantic plea for assistance has him freezing in place, sickle clutched tight in his hand, taking in the carnage, and he wonders if he can.

"Fuck me," he whispers, before he lunges forward, to hook his arms up under the boy's, to try and drag him away. He is not gentle -- there is no time for gentle. The pair's scream of shared pain echoes through the trees.

Right, that's frankly enough screaming for one day. Lucifer drops the girl's heart into the wooden bowl next to him and sighs. The screaming from the teenage boy stops immediately, replaced by a wet gurgle that is significantly quieter. Hard to scream without a larynx.

He inspects the bloody cavity before him, not bothering to turn and see exactly what it is trying to make off with his second human. It doesn't feel human, but neither does it seem to be able to move fast while carrying someone.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Now that the screaming has stopped (from one source, at least.) Lucifer's voice can be heard across the open ground. It's unhurried, a little distracted- and promises that the interloper would be wise to listen.

After the heart was the liver, right? Livers were much easier than hearts. Lucifer set to it.

"Fuck my entire life in every available orifice with a poisonous cactus, I can't believe I keep strolling into these things like I don't see this shit coming," is the shaking reply. "Fortunately enough for everyone here, you're not me, and I was just leaving. Oh, man. Oh, god. Oh my god, stop moving, you idiot--"

The boy isn't making himself easy to carry, what with his convulsing in agony and attempts to grasp Karkat with as tight a grip as possible. For a wild moment, Karkat considers knocking him out, before another, less violent mercy he could give jumps to mind. It's been a long time since he's done this to anyone deliberately, but after a moment, the boy's struggles cease-- his body goes limp, and there's a sigh from him that is unmistakably of blissful relief, as the soothing nature of Karkat's power takes effect. Like emotional morphine, it draws out all negativity -- pain, fear, grief. All gone.

Their pace quickens.

That is not acceptable, given that the victim's fear is half the ritual. Lucifer finishes with the liver, drops it into the wooden bowl beside the heart, and appears in front of the interloper.

There are very few creatures Lucifer cannot identify, but right now Lucifer has no idea what in Creation he is looking at. To be honest, he doesn't care, because the clock is ticking and he really needs to finish this within the next two hours.

He folds his blood-covered arms across his chest and frowns down at the grey horned creature. His expression is calm, but inching towards pissed off.

"I understand you're incapable of taking suggestion, so I'll make this easy: either he joins his girlfriend over there, or you do." Not that the creature was getting out of this in one piece.

That's where being lenient got you. Creatures who thought they could do whatever they wanted without consequence. Well, Lucifer was sick of that.

Karkat does halt, then, but he doesn't drop the boy -- he pulls him closer, supporting his weight with one arm, while the other withdraws his sickle again-- seemingly from thin air.

Karkat is terrified, and it shows in the tremble of his shoulders, and too-bright shine to his eyes, but there's nowhere to run, or hide.

"Yeah, uh, let me think about that. Okay. Consider this: go choke on a bouquet of slimy, severed musclebeast phalluses," his voice is high with fear, and hitches for something close to a sob, but he stands up straighter as he says it. "I don't have to do shit."

What did his file say about his blood? Hemokinesis...? The sickle is useless against his adversary as long as he has the boy in a protective hold, but against himself...

"Only those that seem like they'd offer a good game," Hans responded, as he moved one of his pieces forward.

"A villain gives the heroes definition. A sort of "war against this" or "war against that" kind of mentality. I bet loads of people have created some interesting essays on the subject. It's much more difficult when you have nothing to compare yourself to, hm?"

Loki pays close attention to the subtleties in expression and tone as they walk, meanwhile looking a bit whimsical and flippant all the same. He was a god of mischief, of course, why take anything seriously?

"Even if your acts are just clearly ones of defiance. I think the hurty part comes in a little harsh, regardless."

"I would be greatly surprised if you were indeed sincerely thinking of me," he said, his tongue artfully poised behind a smile.

Chilton might think he can glide along Lucifer's angles; his usual narcissism aside, Chilton wouldn't consider himself key to any of Lucifer's plans. He isn't even on the chessboard, that's how removed he is.

It's the same line of thinking he commits with Hannibal.

He might think that, but he isn't naive to Lucifer's demonstrated personality. There was no invested concern involved, those were just the worded equivalent of a sleight of hand.

"Calling in your favor so soon, is that it? Well that would imply a sudden necessity. And how curious I find it, that we're meeting outside Heropa's city limits." After all, Chilton didn't get to Chief of Staff for being unobservant.

Edited 2014-04-13 18:42 (UTC)

Lucifer had found himself a slow learner, clearly that was the only explanation. Look at at poor creature, standing up as though it had any hope left of leaving the area alive.

He held out a hand and snapped his fingers. His previous sacrifice exploded with a wet sound, coating the surrounding few feet in a layer of warm, rather sticky goo. It wasn't the cleanest or most painless death to give someone, but Lucifer really didn't have the time right now.

"I guess you'll be the one taking part today." He does not sound impressed.

Karkat has seen more people die than he cares to relive, more gruesome ends than he was ever mentally equipped to handle, but it's the first time he's seen someone obliterated like that, and so effortlessly. What remains of the nameless stranger he'd just failed so miserably to help is smeared across his face, in his hair, everywhere. He can taste blood, and it isn't his.

He has to fight the urge to be sick. He can't fight the way his knees buckle underneath him. His weapon is held limp and forgotten at his side.

He jerks his head from side to side in the gesture for no.

When Roy first heard about the killings, he didn't pay as much attention as he should have. Crimes happened every day in cities as large as these, and the sudden disappearance of one or two people, while troubling, was surely something that the local police were already taking care of. It was only when the broadcasts became more frequent, and the amount of victims began to grow, that Roy began to take notes.

It was the way the most recent scenes were arranged that caught his attention the most. While gruesome, they seemed precise--thought out enough that he couldn't help but be reminded of the rules of alchemy. If that were the case, then it meant that the killer had some motive other than senseless murder. Were they human sacrifices that were being used to create something like the philosopher's stones?

From what he could tell, the murders weren't in any locations on the map that would indicate a large transmutation circle like the one underground back home. But that didn't mean that there wasn't some sort of pattern. While most seemed to be in barren or isolated locations, there were a few where he thought he could see the snippet of a cross, or some statue in the background. It may have been nothing, but it was certainly worth looking in to.

Roy was not a religious man. Being an alchemist had extinguished those thoughts long ago. So when he entered the cathedral, it was with less grace or care than would be acceptable for those who normally visited a place of worship. As the heavy doors closed behind him, he stuck his gloved hands into his pockets, and began to walk around the edge of the pews. His pace was slow as he scanned the area, looking for some clue that would tell him what Lucifer was up to.

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I want so much more than they've got planned

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(april 11th)

April 9th.

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13th of april; let me know if you want anything changed.

it's fantastic :3

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April 16th; let me know if anything needs to be changed!