They told me "Don't go walking slow--"

[angelfire]

WHO: Lucifer and People
WHERE: Miami Fl, Maurtia Falls and De Chima
WHEN: Month of June
WHAT: A catchall log for June
WARNINGS: Scheming. Probably some torture and violence and such later, always fun.

Starters to be added

Comments

Miami, FL: 6/15 [RoadNotTaken]

[shifting]

[the doors aren't locked; he could have just strolled in if he'd wanted. Normally he would have, but it's been one hell of a strange week for Sam Mickens and it's taught him... well, not caution, but a little care. So he's a tarantula when he slips under the side-door to the towering church, skittering in before shifting right into the pit bull he feels most comfortable as. He bristles immediately, sniffing at the air for signs of life.

Fuck but this place is bright. Lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, reflected off white walls and stained glass. His claws clack against the floor as he explores, taking the side path down the row of wooden pews towards the altar and whatever might lay behind it. He doesn't know anything about this church - could be Catholic or Baptist, who gives a damn - except that when he'd walked by this morning there was a line out the door, and anyone who can afford beachfront Miami property has more than little old ladies donating to their coffers.

Churches are businesses; there's bound to be an office with a safe.

Sam can't hear or smell anyone nearby, but what he does get back is... confusing, and sends a shiver down even his currently canine spine. There's the perfume of parishioners trying too hard, incense, and the distinct concoction that anyplace close to the ocean gets, sure, but the decay lying beneath isn't sea-born in nature. Decay and dog, which is really odd, and something else besides, something tickling his senses like the sparks from old bumper cars at the fairgrounds from when he was a kid, sharp as chlorine.

It isn't until he feels the whipcord of bone against his belly the Sam realizes he's tucked his tail. He snorts, forcing it out and up again. Christ, whatever, it ain't that strange. He's smelled worse by far and he's sure as hell not going to miss out on a good score because of his nerves. At the end of the day this is still just a fucking church. He'll feel better when he's out of here, but first things first - give the stage a good look-over before tracking down the office.]

[angelfire]

[ Lucifer doesn't usually bother with disturbances. The warding wold be useless if it just let him know when people came and went, because people come and go a lot around here. A lot. There's always so many, and yet because they're his flock he knows them all by name.

It's like being a father again, and not in the fun way, and how anyone, anyone does all this out of the goodness of their hearts, out of a love for a Father that they've never met, Lucifer doesn't know. It makes him hate his own just a little more, sullenly, in a kick the bucket kind of way. Where was God when all his little sheep were bowing and scraping to the actual devil? Where was he to strike down false idols? What in hell's name, quite literally, did he have to do around here to get a little bit of attention?

So here he was, chatting about an ad campaign for the Homeless Foundation, bored. to. tear. Literally. A single man tear, that was all the fucks he gave about the homeless. Or people in general. But he agreed to the campaign and waved a hand over getting some storyboards drawn up. Same old thing. Ugh. Menial. This was why he delegated--and that was when Cujo came trotting up to him, on high alert.

The archangel followed the hellhound, keeping his distance when he spotted the sneaking dog finding its way around behind the pews. His office was upstairs, and he was tempted to let the thing make its way up there first. Follow, see what it did, where it went.

Because that was no dog. No sirree. That was one of Eve's children, and therefore in some weird and twisted way one of his grandbabbies. A shapeshifter.

Okay. He'd stand back for now. He'd watch. What are you up to, little shapeshifter? ]

[shifting]

[Nothing good, that's for sure.

Sam takes the steps two at a time, galloping up to the next floor with all the confidence of someone who's played this game so many times it's down to reflex. That sharp, electric smell is stronger up here, but it may as well not be there now that he's already made the choice to ignore it. He's even wagging idly as he trots down the hall, pausing only to sniff at any doors he passes.

He doesn't expect anyone to be watching when he shifts seamlessly from dog to snake, a gold-brown copperhead slithering with serpentine grace beneath the door to Lucifer's office. He flicks his tongue to taste the air, waiting with coiled anticipation for a shout or the vibrations of startled feet (and just let some bitch try to stomp on him; they'd find fangs in their leg faster than they could blink, and good luck praying away a snakebite). When neither follows, when all seems safe, the shifter reforms himself.

Sam Mickens stretches carelessly, hands resting on his naked hips as he takes a proper look around.]

...Shit, all this time I shoulda been a preacher. [he mutters to himself in good humor, appreciating the rich layout. He stares a moment too long at the spread of angelic wings on the window behind the desk, then snorts derisively - someone sure thinks fucking highly of themselves.

The desk is where he'll start his search, careless as he shifts papers and opens drawers, sniffing and digging for anything of value. A safe would be choice, but he might turn across a false bottom or secret drawer if he's thorough - Sam's found them before. Funny how these rich fucks assume anyone coming to rob them wouldn't be smart enough to look for hiding spots.

Sam curls his lip and talks under his breath.]

Now c'mon, Father, where is it you're keepin' all that wool you've been fleecin'...

For Dooku and Anastaysa

[angelfire]

[ This? This was neutral territory. De Chima wasn't Lucifer's favorite city, although to be fair he found all of them equally unpleasant. They were teaming with people, with life, with the constant overwhelming stench of humanity, none of it ever slowing down. Of course, he could have found himself a quiet corner of the country to lay low in, somewhere far away from any kind of life, and sometimes when he couldn't stand it he went to places just like that. He didn't live anywhere, even if he did make his home in Miami, so largely he just went where he liked.

Within the United States, anyway. It just wasn't worth the energy dealing with government restrictions, otherwise.

So all in all, it was a fine reason not to be running for Ambassador himself, other than--well, who would vote for him? Much better to help position people in such roles who would further his own agendas, in the long term; people like Baelish, Dooku, and perhaps this Anastasya.

All he had to do was invest a little time, and put up with a cute cafe right in the political district of the city. Why people still drank hot coffee on a hot afternoon like this, he had no idea--not that his was hot, his very touch had chilled the liquid. It didn't make any difference to him, however, sipping it idly as he waited for company. ]

[dun_moch]

[Dooku has never been hugely fond of De Chima either, despite its comparatively civilized technology by the standards of this backwards planet. The humidity does not agree with him, or with the formal clothing the Count favours. Nonetheless, the Count of Serenno will not go about in shorts and a t-shirt like some commoner, and arrives to meet the Devil wearing his customary dark clothes and full cape despite the heat of a Virginia summer. If he is at all uncomfortable with the environment, it doesn't show anywhere on him: you can't even see him sweat. Dooku inclines his head respectfully toward Lucifer before seating himself.]

Thank you for meeting us, Lucifer. It is a pleasure to finally encounter you in person.

[So this is the supposed Prince of Lies in this planet's mythology. He really does look human to Dooku's eyes, but beyond his appearances... well, Dooku's Dark Side senses are tingling, that's for sure.]

[thegriffinofdeath]

[Ana didn't know much about this man Dooku had requested she meet, she'd been distracted enough with other things that research would have to wait. But when she stepped into the room, for a split second she stopped, frozen, watching him. Watching it, really. She hadn't seen any kind of necromancy, beyond her own, since she had arrived here. Yet there it sat in front of her...]

[The hesitation was only for a second, and then she was moving again, and offering him a faint nod of her head.]

Given how insistent Dooku was that we meet, I'm sure this will be an interesting conversation.

[There. Nicely covered.]

For Baelish

[angelfire]

[ Lucifer wondered, he really did. Baelish, Dooku, they were playing games. But that was the kind of person he employed best. Game players always had a goal in mind, a winning hand, somewhere they wanted to go, and that meant that he had something to work with. He could always reward someone who wanted something--or better yet, dangle it over their head.

In this case, it was a power trip. For both of them.

He was here because he was offering a little incentive. It was dangerous, of course - challenging Pan was, naturally - but it wasn't like he didn't incite other godly things to violence often enough. He enjoyed it, and it would be an interesting distraction, an exercise--assuming Pan ever actually found out about it. He moved on to other toys often enough as it was, never stuck with one thing for long.

And Baelish was a politician, a grown up. Pan wouldn't be able to stand that for long.

Also unlike the boy king, Lucifer knocked. ]

[baetiful]

[ And knocking earned him all of Baelish's favor in the world. While he loved the elements of chaos, he loved controlling that chaos. Not finding himself in situations with magical boys riffling through his items in his very own home without invitation. Respect went far.

He didn't keep Lucifer waiting long, arriving at the door after only half a minute to a minute and opening it for the Morningstar. There was something powerful about him in his mere presence alone, something that oozed danger and intrigue. And whether that was the stories he heard of him or something else, it commanded respect -- and Baelish was sure to bend at the waist before him. ]

Your Grace. [ Because he was something of a king, wasn't he? ] Welcome to my home. Would you like a drink? Some wine, perhaps? I have collected some of the finest.

[ He stepped to the side in invitation, looking past Lucifer briefly as though ensuring no one else was lurking in the shadows, on a manhunt for the devil himself. You never knew how foolishly brazen the imPorts could be. ]