Re: Down: Lucifer / Misha
"I don't think I'd make a real good Simba. I ain't got no interest in being king," Misha admitted, and he wasn't lying 'bout it none. Never in his longings had being heir to anything factored. "You ain't got a brother somewhere coming to kill you, do you?" he asked, but it was real tongue-in-cheek, seeing as everyone knew 'bout Lucifer's issues with kin. "I liked Scar," he admitted 'fore sitting himself down. And, truth was, Misha was looking for answers. More than that, he was young and looking for something he hadn't never possessed. He'd tried to drum it out of Damian's daddy, but that man had been more broke than both boys put together.
He looked 'round at the trees when his daddy said they wouldn't grow fruit. He had a real childish desire to show off, to prove he could make fruit grow. But he knew, too, that it wouldn't really be his own doing. It would be his Grace that made anything bud down here, and chances are it would die just as fast. So he stayed where he was, sitting cross-legged and with his chin tipped up, like this was a library and there was storytime coming. In living terms, on his papers, Misha was 21-years-old, but that didn't account for a whole lot, and he knew that plenty. Just like he knew this man sitting on the chair was endless in a way he, Misha, couldn't even suss none.
Misha's return sigh, a moment later, was a mirror copy. "I don't recall saying it on the forums, but if you got a fake name you best say what it is, so I know to use it. Though," he added and after a moment thoughtful, "there are folks named Jesus all over, and no one thinks anything of that." There was a bit of twinkling to pale blue eyes in that moment, indicating he was teasing plain as day.