mythopoeics

[Lucifer is appalled (disgusted-sickened-slave to too, too many emotions).

He hates loss of control

he hates his human skin, more than ever,

and - above all else - he is entirely disgusted that he believed he was human.

He believed he had a twin sister
and an elder sister
and that he was man-man-man,
that he was flesh-and-blood and nothing more.

More than this, he had forgotten who he was. He had forgotten that he was the
Adversary.

His skin tingles. There needs to be death.]


Why?
Who?
Die.

[Filter: Elaine]
Elaine? I thought you were getting married.

I've made something for Baldric.

[Filter: Public]
I heard some ladies talking. What happened in Ilium?

I made it back to Camlann in one piece, though not for others lack of trying. It's funny, you'd think with my little caravan in such need of repair it wouldn't attract the attention of highwaymen, but you'd be wrong. Thankfully, there aren't many places one could sell instruments, so more often than not anyone looking to get anything from me walks away mostly disappointed. At least none of them found where I hid my coins and Hermione's gift.

I've seen and heard many things in my travels, most of which were eye-opening. All I can say is I'm pleased to be home and to find my sister safe.

[filter; freyja]

Camlann is quiet without her. I do not like it. It's not even that she's a rowdy creature; she is as delicate and silent as becomes any princess.

Go on. Tell me that it is my fault. Tell me that you can kiss it better.

[filter; public]

I pricked myself today. I never prick myself. But it wouldn't stop bleeding, and I nearly smeared it upon my work. I sucked it clean, and now I can't wash the taste of blood from my tongue.

Sister, when are you returning to Camlann?