(no subject)
[OOC: Contains potential spoilers as it takes place shortly after the end of I, Lucifer. Please read this slated entry first before commenting.]
It was horribly unpleasant trying to sleep the night after I had organized Lucifer's papers, added my notes and gone on my not-so-merry way to nowhere in particular. I had done this to myself, but I still felt condemned to serve out the rest of Theo Mandros' life and to somehow find a way to see Lucifer again.
(You cannot even begin to imagine how relieved I was that it soon came to pass that I wouldn't have to do anything horrid or vulgar in order to do so.)
Sleep eluded me and I spent many unpleasant hours clutching at my pillow as I considered the mess I'd made of things and the small options available to me. The lonely isolation involved in my unique situation gnawed at me. God seemed far away and so too did my angelic companions.
What a waste, I kept repeating to myself. In Latin. In Greek. In German. In French. In English. What a waste. The aching in my chest eventually forced me to stop and with a shaky sigh, I moved onto counting ceiling tiles, keeping the words bottled up inside of me as I thought of what could have been if only there had been enough time. What a waste.
The morning came and found me sleeping on a floor. I say a floor because it was certainly not mine. The carpet was gone and I could feel a pebble digging into my back. One of my eyes opened blearily and the other soon followed as I blinked away sleep and frowned in consternation for not only was the floor not mine but the rows of pews and the cracks of sunlight pouring in through the thatched roof overhead were not mine either.
In fact, absolutely nothing in this new room seemed to belong to Theo Mandros, the man I had temporarily become. Even my physical form appeared to have changed. I felt different. Younger. Weighed down in a way that I hadn't been before. The sensation was not unpleasant so much as curious and new.
I examined myself, pleased by the crisp, off-white linen shirt someone had seen fit to give me. There was no explanation for this change and nothing to be found in the pockets of my trousers, but by then I was already staring at my new hands.
I remained in this state of perplexed and weary fascination until someone else finally interrupted me by entering the small building. The door creaked open and I made an effort to get to my feet, offering up a feeble if bewildered smile.
"Hello."
It was horribly unpleasant trying to sleep the night after I had organized Lucifer's papers, added my notes and gone on my not-so-merry way to nowhere in particular. I had done this to myself, but I still felt condemned to serve out the rest of Theo Mandros' life and to somehow find a way to see Lucifer again.
(You cannot even begin to imagine how relieved I was that it soon came to pass that I wouldn't have to do anything horrid or vulgar in order to do so.)
Sleep eluded me and I spent many unpleasant hours clutching at my pillow as I considered the mess I'd made of things and the small options available to me. The lonely isolation involved in my unique situation gnawed at me. God seemed far away and so too did my angelic companions.
What a waste, I kept repeating to myself. In Latin. In Greek. In German. In French. In English. What a waste. The aching in my chest eventually forced me to stop and with a shaky sigh, I moved onto counting ceiling tiles, keeping the words bottled up inside of me as I thought of what could have been if only there had been enough time. What a waste.
The morning came and found me sleeping on a floor. I say a floor because it was certainly not mine. The carpet was gone and I could feel a pebble digging into my back. One of my eyes opened blearily and the other soon followed as I blinked away sleep and frowned in consternation for not only was the floor not mine but the rows of pews and the cracks of sunlight pouring in through the thatched roof overhead were not mine either.
In fact, absolutely nothing in this new room seemed to belong to Theo Mandros, the man I had temporarily become. Even my physical form appeared to have changed. I felt different. Younger. Weighed down in a way that I hadn't been before. The sensation was not unpleasant so much as curious and new.
I examined myself, pleased by the crisp, off-white linen shirt someone had seen fit to give me. There was no explanation for this change and nothing to be found in the pockets of my trousers, but by then I was already staring at my new hands.
I remained in this state of perplexed and weary fascination until someone else finally interrupted me by entering the small building. The door creaked open and I made an effort to get to my feet, offering up a feeble if bewildered smile.
"Hello."