Fleeting Concepts, Strung Together

♤The World is Just Fine Pt2

~Lucifer TV, AU~

I have decided I don't know what's happening in this anymore so here's the unfinished rest of it, I have too many drafts that just drop off in the middle, should I post them as shitty cliffhangers?

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"It's all true."

"Detective?" He took a step towards her in concern.

She looked pale. Eyes blown wide and her hand twitched for her empty holster, she had dropped the gun after getting shot. Cain's body lay limp to his right, maybe she was shocked about that?

The body lay cold and lifeless. Lucifer watched the soul bleed out of the first murders eyes. Like Delilah's. Father Tom's...

Uriel's. Uriel with blood covering Lucifer's hands the startled grimace on his brothers stupid face. The emptiness in the church after, when he felt Uriels power flicker out like a candle. Eyes blown impossibly wide and staring up at him. Lucifer watched the light, Uriel's light, drain away into absolutely nothing...

"It's all true."

Lucifer really struggled to grasp what she meant. It was true he was a monster? It was true he caused nothing but chaos? His thoughts were muddled from the conversation with Cain, the throbbing from the demon-blade gash in his arm wasn't helping, or the general ache that was his entire back and wing span. His whole head was caught in a whirl-wind lf the last few hours. Days. Millenia.

Chloe's lips stuttered with unsaid words. Her breathing sped up and she looked rather pale.

"Detective, are you alright?" Warmth began the trickle through his jacket where the wing's trembled in the effort to stay folded against him, he struggled to keep them in the pocket dimension where they couldn't be seen or felt by anything earthly, he reached out towards the Detective, "What - "

The shake in his legs he hadn't noticed escalated into full-on tremors. A red, burning and blistering sight flashed on the edge of his vision. What should be smooth skin and pianists fingers was nothing more than stripped bare muscles covered in burns and scars. Belatedly, he realized he killed a human. His face was back.

Lucifer jerked his head back toward the Detective. She hadn't moved. A delicate hand wavered over her empty holster as if she were about to take part in a fast-draw in the Old West times. He scared her. She was afraid him. It was true, he is the Devil.

His face was back.

Quickly he scrambled back to give her room while he tried to focus on putting his glamour back up and reign in the strong aura that seemed to terrify humans - pokes their baser instincts, pure unbridled flight-or-flight reaction (mostly flight, either way it absolutely wrecks their flimsy sympathetic-nerves system).

After a few steps he noticed his skin flicker back into place, the use of power felt familiar and comforting after not using it for so long. The comfort didn't last long when he slammed into a pillar in his blind rush to get away - his back erupted into what felt like the pack of hell hounds biting down on every available spot they could reach with their vicious jaws. His glamour never left him despite the unexpected pain, he had perfected it after all. Yet the jarring fire and hurthurthurt he hadn't expected, though. The shock of it sent Lucifer pitching forward, his body's effort to get away from the wall.

Wings were supposed to be armour - weapons. It seemed Chloe affected even the pure divinity strapped to his back. In battle, angel's feathers harden the same way his primaries are permanently blade-like. Wings are sensitive. Lucifer could feel the slightest change in the air while standing perfectly still. The swipe of someone's hand batting at a fly rustled the soft down from several feet away. Yet, it took a considerable amount of power or celestial force even to bruise or cut his skin, let alone get past the deceivingly fragile feathers armed with primaries sharper than a diamond's edge.