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Lucifer felt his entire body screaming in pain with every movement he made, but the pain was nothing compared to the darkness that was creeping into the corners of his vision with every step and the deep depression that had once again taken root in his crushed heart. As soon as he had crawled out of the ruined pit of the weapon that Vox had captured him in like a helpless beast, he had plastered the smile onto his face to mask the agony. The wide expression didn't do anything to hide the bruises or the blood, but it kept everyone from looking too closely and seeing the emptiness in his eyes. If Lucifer had been in one of his manic phases he would have blanched at how Alastor-like his smile was, but instead he forced his smile wider.
Pentagram city was a state, dozens of buildings were destroyed and scorch marks scarred hundreds more. Hidden behind the smile, Lucifer scanned the scene with cold emotionless eyes as he forced himself to follow after Charlie and her friends, one painful step at a time. None of the gang ahead were paying him attention as they stepped around rubble and concrete, not noticing when he stumbled or when the dizziness hit. Charlie was radiating so much energy that Lucifer wondered if she had absorbed some of his, whilst Vaggie countered his daughters chaos with the calmness that threatened to add a droplet of envy into Lucifer's darkened mood. The bartender and the Aussie girl were harbouring their own melancholy just in front of him, whilst the radio demon hummed along next to them as if he was just out for a stroll on the town. He wished he could make a hasty escape but he didn't have any power remaining in his body to snap himself back into his rooms at the hotel, and he certainly couldn't fly ahead of the group; Lucifer could feel the breaks in his wings even if they were currently out of view.
The walk back to the hotel on a normal day would have take about 40 minutes, but the destruction had forced them off the more direct route, leaving them to detour down into the industrial district, before heading past the crumbled base of the heaven embassy before they could head back uptown. The pain had become so bad that Lucifer had started to accept it as his new normal, even when he started to feel the pooling of fresh blood squelching in his boots. He didn't know which injury the blood was coming from, or whether it was a new one as this humanoid shell of a body continued to break around him. A few times he had tried to look subtly behind him as he shuffled to see if he was leaving a trail of gold blood, but after he nearlly fell for the third time, he stopped trying. Let them know he was broken, he wouldn't be able to stop any of the sinners if they decided to come after him. If they did, nothing they could do would cause him more pain than he was already in.
Lucifer sighed deeply when he finally closed the door to his private quarters, throwing his hat off as soon as the door was closed, he leaned backwards against the wood as the last of his strength started to escape him. He had been running on residual adrenaline and sheer pride for the long walk back to the hotel, and now in the privacy of his own space he could allow his walls to collapse down around him. His skin felt simultaneously scratchy from the caked on dry blood, and sticky from sweat and the fresh blood from some of the injuries that were still refusing to clot. With a half-hearted flare of his wrist to lock the door behind him with his powers, Lucifer bit his lip to muffle the cry that threatened to escape as he pushed his coat from his shoulders. The expanse of his back screamed in protest, spikes of white agony crashed through his entire body as his retracted wings flashed in and out of perception. Lucifer gasped, the weight of his coat hitting the floor, but the throbbing in his shoulders continued to increase. Leaning his body backwards against the door once more, his head falling back as his breath gasped out uncontrollably, his vision blurring at the edges. He could feel his shirt sticking to sections of his back in that tacky way he had started to link to being the feeling of fresh blood soaking through the fabric.
It took more willpower and his own pride than he wanted to admit to force himself to move away from his slump against his door, and slowly walk towards the bathroom. He argued that it would hurt more to crawl like he so desperately wanted, but in reality he also knew that if he got on the floor he would just stay there and sob. At least in the shower he could sob on the floor whilst the water rained down over him, wiping away the evidence of the destruction that the machine did to his own body. Lucifer didn't bother to remove his clothes as he stepped into the shower, instead he stepped in fully dressed embracing the heat that enveloped him as he immediately sank to the floor. The water underneath him ran gold, and the blood-stained water even fell into his eyes, as he ducked his head down underneath the spray. He raised a shaking hand up to his head, fingers navigating through his hair in search for the source of the first of many injuries he hadn't realised were scattered amongst the injuries he was aware off. It didn't take him to long to find it, a slice about an inch long just hiding beneath his hairline; it would have been hidden by his hat previously, and the resulting stain would have been further hidden behind the apple that adorned his top-hat.
The loud sob escaped him before he could stop it, ripping from his throat as tears finally started to fall down his cheeks masked beneath the spray of the shower. His fingers shook as they fumbled over shirt buttons, the simple task taking two or three attempts per button. Lucifer's bottom lip quivered, but his entire body screamed as he pulled the water-heavy fabric off his shoulders letting it fall in a heap. Freed from fabric constraints, his wings erupted from his back sending a spray of golden blood splatters across the tiles and the glass door. Some of the droplets immediately began running down the walls in glowing waterfalls, whilst others lingered untouched by the shower spray and likely to stay staining the tiles until Lucifer had the strength to vanish them from sight. Lucifer ducked his head, angling himself so that his wings were directly underneath the shower head; the sensation of the water landing forcefully on his back, and his broken feathers was enough for him to want to shrink away from the water but he forced himself to endure the throbbing pain. Fluttering his wings, he closed his eyes to try and distinguish the locations where the most pain was radiating from. With his eyes closed, he mentally explored the spines of his wings, trying to isolate the areas that didn't seem normal compared to the blurring memory of what they should have been like. It was a difficult task, the body still felt so wrong to Lucifer, like it was a ill-fitted suit that was too small in areas, but too big in others; even after so many years it still didn't feel like his body fit him.
Finally finding the last fractured line if the main spines of his wings, Lucifer let out a small whoop, but the sound was empty of real delight. He had managed to push some of his powers through the main six spines of his wings, but the individual feathers that were bent or broken would need to be hand-preened and plucked to allow them to heal or regenerate. Blinking the water from his eyes, he sighed at the still pale glow of fluid that was still mixing in with the water as it fell from his body. Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, he finally shut-off the shower bracing himself momentarily against the tiles before he tried to move again. With the fly undone, he let his trousers slip from his hips, the weight of the fabric falling down to his ankles to join his shirt in a sodden pile. Lucifer grabbed at an oversized towel adorned with little duck motifs, wrapped it around his shoulders and frame like a blanket as he gingerly moved towards the sink and the fogged mirror. Grasping both ends of the towel in one hand, he swiped his palm across the mirror once removing a trail of condensation to get the smallest glimpse of his face to assess the damage. He could ignore the lifeless expression that greeted him in the reflection, it was just a slight variant of the same expression he had witnessed every day since Lilith had left him. One of his eyes was slightly swollen, but other than a hint of a bruise on his jaw, his face seemed to have suffered the least damage from the machine.
With a final look at his reflection, Lucifer turned away from the mirror, and turned his back on the blood splattered chaos he had left in the bathroom. In his bedroom, he pulled on his pink pyjamas, relishing in the comfort of the soft fabric against his bruised and battered skin. The little plush ducks that adorned the jumper brought him the small joy that finally perked the corners of his lips into a small resemblance of a smile as he sat crossed-legged in the middle of his bed, swapping the emblazoned towel for a blanket which he twisted around his lap. With a wince and an accompanying whimper, Lucifer forced his broken body to extract his wings back into reality. Curling each wing around himself like a cocoon, he slowly started sifting through the individual feathers, running his fingers across each one searching for the slightest imperfection. He used to pride himself in his wings, and the way they glittered underneath heavenly light, to look at them now when so many were bent out of shape or missing whole sections of barbs made him long for the days where they were perfect as they shone and shimmered behind him.
Admitting the feather beneath his fingers wasn't going to recover to his ideal view, Lucifer pinched the quill of the feather and pulled. "Well, isn't this a sight for all hell to see." The static-rich tone filled the air. Lucifer ripped his wings away from his face, abruptly ending the comforting cocoon he had encapsulated himself in for the private act of preening. The ever grinning face of the radio demon staring down at him from across the room, the smile seemed teetering on the edge of malicious that left all of Lucifers undamaged feathers standing on edge. His eyes flashed to the closed door to his quarters, and he wondered if he'd had enough power earlier on to lock it like he thought he had. The more unnerving thought flashed across his thoughts; maybe he had locked it, but this demon sinner was now able to navigate through with his newly strengthened powers.
"What do you want fucker," Lucifer snarked, splaying his wings out behind him in a posturing display.
"Maybe I want to see how weak the supposed king of hell really is," Alastor began, twisting his staff in his hand as if he was bored with the discussion, unperturbed as Lucifer snarled 'well you've seen, now why don't you fu-', before continuing as if Lucifer had never opened his mouth, "or maybe, I came to offer a hand darlin"
Lucifer frowned, the static of the radio demons voice seemed to change tone, giving way to a a subtle southern twang that seemed like it belonged to someone else entirely. The static stylisation was still there, but it was softer somehow. His wings dropped lightly, "A hand from you? Yh, no thanks." Lucifer brushed the offer aside with the same tone that he'd used before when they were tossing barbs over cups of coffee and blood. The atmosphere was unsettled, the animosity that had been like a raging storm between them was wavering into something else that he couldn't put his finger on. He watched as the radio dinner shrugged nonchalantly, tapped the base of his staff against a stray rubber duck that had at some point been abandoned to the floor.
"You sure about that, well if you insist. Have fun trying to get to those broken feathers all by yourself." The demon tipped his head to the side with a shrug, as if it was no bother to him whether Lucifer accepted his help or not. The ever present smile remaining on the demon's face, and this time Lucifer was certain it was genuine albeit still malicious.
Alastor made to turn around, his shadow smiling wickedly on the wall behind him, when Lucifer swallowed his pride with a grimace, "Alastor...wait."
"Yesss," the radio-demon practically sung as he turned his head impossibly far to look over his shoulder. That smile was wider, practically stretching the width of his face. It was so wide that Lucifer had to fight himself not to turn away from the horrific expression. Maybe it was a moment of weakness or maybe it was the ever present loneliness that manifested from the repeated abandonment that he suffered from his family that made him reach out for the offer of support even though it came from someone he had no trust in.
"What do you want, a favour? a deal?" Lucifer spat as the radio-demon disappeared into the shadows before reappearing only a step away from the edge of the bed.
"No. not this time. Call it a freebie angel."
"Thank you," Lucifer whispered, his eyes downcast as he looked at the small pile of feathers that he had plucked from his wings. Alastor had sat behind him, and the fear that had initially pitted in his stomach faded after a few moments as the demon had begun to inspect and prune the feathers that were out of Lucifers view and reach. His back still burned, but now he couldn't identify the reason why; whether it was from his injuries from the machine, whether it was from the dull ache of feathers being repeatedly pulled, or frightening whether it was from the heat of Alastor's touch. Behind him, Alastor hummed loudly, both of his hands still trailing across his wings, whilst his shadowed hand reached into the pile of bloody ripped feathers by Lucifers hip. Lucifer continued to stare at the discarded feathers that littered his lap, failing to notice the shadows twisting behind his body.