he made his way over to take a glass of wine and down it, eyes half-closed. He thought maybe his wild thoughts would scramble away from him, but they didn’t. They lingered, they hung on his eyelids, so that if he closed his eyes, the weight of this blooming decision continued to glare at him. It was no use; not after the stabbing, not after Michael, not after what God had done to him, would Lucifer be able to return to what it had all been like before. There was no paradise anymore, no angel of worship, no angel.
:(
