Work Text:
***
"Little sister." His greeting is perfunctory, a bit tight-lipped. He's never been entirely comfortable around the magnae matres of old.
"Elder brother." At least one of her three faces smiles at him. The woman on the right frowns though, pointing her torch at Jeshua: "And what holy fool might that be?"
Jeshua, who is kneeling in the dirt, playing with her dogs. They yip and lap at his hands, eager to be petted by him, falling over each other's paws to lick his face. "Aren't you good boys," he croons, then looks up at Lucifer. "Were you talking to someone?"
***
.