Re: Down: Lucifer / Misha
Time moved differently Below, especially when its ruler wills it. It meant that wherever Misha came from would barely notice his absence. Even if he were with another person, the time he spent Below would be not even the space of a blink, and anyone human wouldn't be able to perceive it.
The Lord of Lies had more than one place he could call his own within the realm he'd been shouldered with. There was a throne - somewhere - with an expanse before it for him to hold court. There was his own room within the doors, where he'd spent an untold amount of time confused and mourning the assumed loss of those he considered his. And there were other places scattered about where no demons could enter if he refused it - places that he'd created before he began spending time on Earth. They were often beautiful, if a little twisted by their greater environment.
Misha arrived just outside one of those places: a twisted little grove of trees up the hill from the Wood. Lucifer stood outside the grove in one of his surprisingly simple outfits, looking softer than most people would expect, his feet bare even though the ground around them crackled with heat. There were still traces of exhaustion that lingered around his eyes, nothing that most would notice (he had a reputation, after all, especially Below), but he smiled as the colors of Misha's clothing came into view. There was rarely anything similar to those colors Below, and at their appearance, some of the more curious demons (twisted and small, those who will never travel farther than the boundaries of this area) began to sidle their way up the hill.
Their first steps were stopped by the sound that came from their king, a hissing that was accompanied by a scowl, a sound not at all human or even a demonic word. It was simply sound, with malice and warning in every discordant moment of it. The demons skittered back, away, and he returned his attention to Misha. His son.
"Come inside?" The invitation included a tip of his head toward the grove, as he turned to enter. If Misha followed, things were different once past the trees. The center of it was lush and green, a cooler and cleaner oasis from the heat outside. The limbs grew together above them, screening from the fiery sky, and greenery hung down, creating a curtain to block out the land. Lucifer paused with a sigh and then moved toward one of several entirely incongruous armchairs (surrounded by cushions and carpets and soft things of comfort), sinking into it. Misha was left to sit or stand where he pleased.