exsiliumlogs | [CLOSED] YOUR TONGUE PLOTS DESTRUCTION;

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[CLOSED] YOUR TONGUE PLOTS DESTRUCTION;

Date & Time: Evening today.
Location: A Bar.
Characters: Lucifer & Sam.
Summary: Discussing Exsilum, not being Nefarious oH NO SIREE INNOCENT OF ALL CHARGES
Warnings: Nefariousness.

[Lucifer knew the place pretty well, so he took his time and decided to walk there, meandering through the streets. If Sam didn't know who Gabriel was, there was a pretty strong chance the kid didn't know who he was either. And there were opportunities for that, especially given that Castiel and Dean had been left out of the picture. Of course, anyone else could have said something - he wouldn't have put it past Gabe, or one of the other hundred inhabitants here. But there were at least options and an opening, and he could more than do with that.

He sits at the bar and idly orders a drink. He's wearing jeans, a green shirt, a gray jacket, and has a sheathed bastard sword leaning next to his chair. The scabbard is simple, but the hilt is ornate, set with a diamond shot through with black streaks.]

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[This is probably the dumbest thing he's ever done in his life; he's been warned about him, but he doesn't if he can trust the person warning him, either. He should ask Dean, but he doubts his brother would give him a straight answer right now.

This might be his only chance to find out what his brother's keeping from him.

So it's off to meet the devil.

He dresses in what he's got; a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket, and walks into the bar, encouraged for having survived his earlier meeting with a stranger. He easily spots the - whoever or whatever he is - based on his clothing, and takes a seat next to him, quietly ordering a beer.]

[Lucifer senses him before he enters the bar - he'd know that feeling, the way Sam feels, quirking at the back of his head like a sixth sense. It's curious to him that he ended up in this vessel and not the one in which he truly deserves; part of him thinks he should work to get it back, but if lil ol' Nick is melting, why bother? But that - Sam's skin, sitting next to him - is strangely like home to him. He covets it dearly. So he takes a drink of his whiskey and grins at Sam.]

Glad we could meet. Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Abaddon.

[He offers a hand to shake.]

[He stops himself from that sharp intake of breath his body's yearning to take in. Abaddon. So it's true. Doom.

He has literally come to meet his doom.

Maybe Dean had a point on him getting killed. No. No, he can't think that way. After a moment's deliberation he takes his hand for a quick shake; hoping that's not some kind of pact sealing for the devil. He'd rather not get in a fight just yet, he's got nothing on him but a gun that seems rusty even though he scrubbed it down and found no rust, and a pocket knife.]

I can get why you didn't. [His voice is cold, reserved. He's terrified, but trying not to let it show.]

[That makes him quirk an eyebrow. Likely the cat's out of the bag, which is upsetting but hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to him in his life. Still, Sam did manage to shake his hand, which seems to be a plus. He goes with it.]

Well, you never asked.

That's my bad.

[He was too eager for information, trusted his brother to warn him of true danger too much. That's not going to happen again, from now on, he's going to trust himself.

What does he even say, why did he come here. It stands to reason that whichever side the devil takes is the bad side, because it will just create the most misery. But how does he even begin to figure it out - and the extent of his powers - can he read minds? Oh fuck if he can read minds he's screwed -]

Are you here because you're stuck, or because you wanna be here? [He's not expecting the truth, not really. But he's here. He should say something. Or maybe he shouldn't - this is the goddamn devil one wrong move and...no he doesn't want to think about it.]

Well, we all make bad decisions, and then we learn from them in the future. That's how life is.

[Besides God, of course. God never learns. God is flawless and perfect in everything, besides making these wretches. He shoves the thought aside and takes a drink of his whiskey. Personally, whiskey was a good decision.]

Things are entertaining here. New possibilities and chances and options. It's like starting over.

[And that's not an answer, but he doesn't know what he expected from the devil. This was an awful idea, he needs to figure out a way out of here.

For now, he takes a swig of his beer. Hardly the best he's had but it'll do; he needs his gameface on, on his drunk face.]

More worlds, more souls, right?

[Screw the Initiative. His job here should be to make sure he doesn't get his hands on whatever's connecting all these worlds together.]

[This actually causes Lucifer to look at him, studying him up and down, once. If that's not proof, he doesn't know what is - but it just solidifies his confidence that there's oh-so-much Sam doesn't know about them, about what they are. No idea that Sam's skin actually belongs to him, and has since before that skin even existed. Was made for him.

But that will all have to wait. It's a lot of work, convincing a young hunter to come around like that. But he's patient above all things. He has time.

Though the smile at the corner of his lip is hardly an aggressive one.]

I don't think you know what you're talking about. Not really. But I don't really care, to be honest. You can view me however you want. I'm not going to strike you down where you sit or reach out this very instant and drag you Below, or something absurd.

But I was going to tell you more stuff about this place, if you still want to hear it.

[He can't trust a thing he says, and he knows it. It's the devil. Then again, he can't really trust anyone in this place. The more information he has, the more he has to cross-reference. The truth has to be hiding somewhere under it all.]

I'm listening.

[Stiffly; for now. If things turn sour, he'll go down fighting.]

[Sam's fear - he can sense it without even thinking - gives him a rush. He doesn't much care for anything here, but Sam is a whole different story. Here is his other half. The mortal mirror. Part of him wants to reach out and promise Sam that he's safe, and nothing will hurt him here, to promise his protection (not counting extenuating circumstances, of course) - but he resists. It's too early for that. For now, it'll have to be unsaid.

Instead, he takes another drink.

"From what I know, the part about the United Earth is true. I've been there. Fascinated, crazy government, one beautiful city with no secrets - the whole nine yards of absolute dictatorship. So that part's true, at least. And while I can't promise the missions are changing things, that would be an effective but roundabout way to take down a political machine with the type power we're talking about."

[Reassurance from the devil. He's not sure if it should reassure him to trust or mistrust what the Initiative is claiming, so he just takes another swig of his beer as he tries to contemplate a response.

This would be easy with anyone else; he'd question them about every detail of what they saw, he'd ask if they knew about how the missions were selected - it's the first rule of every time-travel movie or book in existence - don't mess with the past because you won't be able to foresee the consequences. So how are they foreseeing them? How are they deciding what to change, what would cause a chain reaction that would bring down what is supposedly a dictatorship, and not make it stronger or worse?

But this isn't anyone else. This is the devil. And if demons lie, what the hell does it say about their king?]

It could also be an effective way to make it worse.

[Which would explain the devil's interest in it.]

Well, they are trying to overthrow the United Earth. Making it worse is the goal. But I guess if what you're saying is the Initiative is just a secret hand of United Earth looking to tighten their grip - that could be it. Not only, but framing it as a resistance organization would be brilliant."

Sherlock brought up the possibility. Lucifer rather liked to consider it, really. It was an admirable way to destroy oneself. Humanity, always one-upping each previous attempt at self-extinction.

[He pauses for a moment, and touches his glass. It's refilled and frosted. He takes another gulp and stares thoughtfully into the glass behind the bar.]

But either way, this is still an organization totally fine with mass kidnapping. Even if they're looking to overthrow the dictatorship, who knows what they'll consider acceptable leadership once they've OK'd kidnapping?

[This is what makes this conversation such a terrible idea; Lucifer is echoing his thoughts. What if they're replacing one evil with another? What if the Initiative means to enslave all those worlds once it takes over this one? Even if they don't, how can they be sure one wrong move won't send the world into a worse situation still? Into complete annihilation?]

Shouldn't they be exactly your kind of people, then?

[At this, he quirks an eyebrow at Sam, expression vaguely disbelieving but mostly unimpressed. He lets that sink for a while.]

No people are my kind of people. And people who do this....

[He gestures to outside.]

.... are definitely not my kind of people. People who kill each other over pointless things like territory and religion are not my type of people. That probably covers most governments. I don't have a faction of humanity. Quite frankly, I hope they all destroy each other.

[He takes in a shaking breath, and lets it out slowly. He doesn't know how to control his temper, doesn't know how to deal with the fucking devil. His training never covered this.]

Is this where you go on a homicidal rampage?

[That makes him chuckle. He shakes his head and offers Sam another unimpressed look.]

Well, killing all of you would put a pretty serious kibosh on the enjoyment I'd get out of watching you all destroy each other, wouldn't it?

Right, can't have that.

[If he makes it out of this, he really needs to look over his life choices. How the hell did he end up bitchfacing at the devil?

Hid dad always said he was stubborn. Seems like neither of them realized how much.]

[The bitchface just makes him laugh again. Oh, Sammy. You really are something else. His something else, even, but you don't know it yet. That's a story for some other time, he thinks.]

Well, glad to clear that up. Though I don't think their time machine method of bringing people here in this matter is a good idea, as I'm sure you'll agree. I'm sure people are here who might be interested in expressly in their downfall.

It's dangerous to play with anything you can't control.

[You end up with the devil in your house. God help him how the hell is he getting out of here?]

That's a very smart thing to say, Sammy. I wholeheartedly agree.

[Does he hate that nickname, especially coming from him. It's something sweet his family used when he was little. It's something his brother uses absentmindedly now out of affection or maybe on purpose to drive him a little crazy. It's not something anyone else should be using.]

Why are you here, why are you meeting me? With a time machine and passage between worlds - you'd have bigger fish to fry.

[It's not like he's hunter extraordinaire or anything even close to that. Sure, he's smart, but that hardly seems cause enough.]

First of all, Sam, I don't need a machine to travel time or hop between dimensions. That's something I can do fairly easily on my own. Angel powers and all that. And while I do have some other things on my to-do list, I don't think they're going anywhere. For now, this place and all it's dramas and entertainment is good enough for me.

[He studies Sam for a moment, considering his next words.]

I came for the reason I told you - to tell you about this place. I guess we've gotten sidetracked talking about me. We can go back to talking about Exsilium, if you want.

Why do you want to tell me about Exsilium? Where's your entertainment value here?

[He just doesn't get it; yes he's a hunter, yes he's a freaky as hell one. But as far as candidates to go down go, he's pretty sure he shouldn't be too high on that list. He hasn't done anything to merit special attention, not that he knows, and yet the devil's taking time out of his day to sit and have drinks and explain the world to him?

No, that doesn't add up. There's a hidden motive here, he's just not seeing it yet.]

Because likely, given enough information, you and/or your brother will run off into trouble somewhere and maybe actually get something done one way or another. You're a pretty productive duo when you want to be, I bet. Not to mention, it is a little funny watching you presume things about me every which-way.

[He smiles, a little unfriendly this time.]

[And that confirms all his suspicions.

He's fucked isn't he? He's actually completely and utterly screwed.]

You know us?

One of the perks of being the devil is you get to know basically everything. Plus, you know, running around murdering nonhuman creatures is one of the best ways to draw attention to yourself.

But don't worry, I don't have any intentions to hurt you.

{Oh no Sam, you're much too special for that.]

[Trust the devil, is that what he's being asked to do here? Yeah, he'll put a lot of faith in a lot of creatures, give second chances wherever he'll see an opening for them.

But the devil? That's where he draws the line.]

You have intentions to what then?

Lots of things. I'd like to know more about this place, and their technology, and how the planet came to be such a wreck.

[He takes another drink.]

But if I wanted you dead, Sam, you would have never even gotten here.

[He can't argue with that, he has no doubt that it's true. That leaves the question of why the hell he's still alive unanswered though.

Whatever it is, it can't be good.]

So I suppose I can just walk out any time, no consequences?

[Yeah right. There are always consequences.]

Leave? Sure. It's only a bar. A perfectly regular type of place. And you've got as much free will as any other human being, of course.

[He gestures to the entrance.]

[But he's not sitting next to just any other human being, now is he? He fiddles with his beer.

He should take this chance.

He's not going to get anything trustworthy out of the devil.

Don't be an idiot, he berates himself. He should go home and talk to Dean. And possibly kick his ass to next week if he knew Lucifer was here and kept it from him.

So he stands up and leaves the money for his drink on the bar. He's uncertain about any of this, something tells him that he was at the verge of discovering something, but he forces that part of him to just shut the hell up. Now what does he even say?]

Nice talkin' to you.

[Not really, but it gave him a lot to think about. And he's in enough trouble without completely antagonizing the devil.

That door? He's doing his best to walk to it and not burst into a run.]

Always is.

[He smiles and tips an imaginary cap. Then, he slips the money back into Sam's pocket and covers the beer himself. The least he can do, after all. It's likely that Sam will feel the devil's eyes on him out the door and a long way up the road. For a while, Lucifer just sits there, contemplating the feeling of Sam, of the concept of having Sam's skin back, of everything the two of them are.]

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[CLOSED] YOUR TONGUE PLOTS DESTRUCTION;

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