Chapter Text
ACT 1: A CHAPTER OPENS
CHAPTER 1- STARTING ANEW
[September 2nd, 1923]
•~🦌📻~•
The process to get out of America was a nightmare.
Yes, Rosie did make the move possible, but it didn't make it any easier. Especially because all of his applications for housing were either denied, or ignored. Thankfully, Rosie had a friend who was willing to let him stay at their house for a while.
Yet after all the effort, Alastor couldn't help but feel lost as he stood in the middle of the port looking through the walking crowd of people.
But he couldn't turn back now.
Whether his home was in Louisiana or not, London was now where he lived.
So, with a deep breath and a smile on his face, Alastor walked forth.
•~🦌📻~•
The 'friend' Alastor was going to be staying with was a woman named Mimzy.
She was short, full-figured, and had damaged, blonde hair. Personality wise, though, Alastor would have described her as talkative, exuberant, and daft.
After his initial meeting with her, (After his almost jumped out of his skin when a random woman had suddenly pulled his arm -quite vigorously- saying "Mr Mouton? Are you Alastor Mouton?"), he wanted to dislike the woman but he not long after found that she was quite endearing.
He didn't mind her.
Except for her persistent touching. He would have shoved her into the River Thames if only to not feel a thousand needles pecking under his skin every time she laid a hand on him.
He could tell why Rosie and her got along.
He met Rosie a few months ago back at home. He went out to the local jazz bar as he always did after a day of working at his beloved Maman’s bakery. Whilst drinking rye whiskey and sinking into the melodies of the soothing jazz, a woman sat next to him and started a conversation.
She was tall, white haired, and was sweet but also intimidating in appearance. And the English accent in her voice was unmistakable.
She gave him an introduction; said she had come to Louisiana with her boyfriend, who was a journalist, and described herself as an ‘Artist manager’.To which Alastor introduced himself and started to talk plenty about jazz, performing, and music as a whole.
“You're quite passionate, aren't you?” She said, following the ramblings.
“I'd say so. It's hard not to be when you grow up around it.” Alastor replied as he glanced at the band near the back of the building.
“Do you play any instruments yourself, Mr Mouton? Have a spark of talent?” She questioned.
“I've played many, many instruments, however, I'm most familiar with the piano,” he confessed. “Although, give me any instrument now and I guarantee I could play it well, I'd say i certainly know my way around music.”
“My my, quite impressive! Have you ever performed?”
“Hmm. I've done things on occasion. Although performing music full time seems quite an intriguing endeavour to take on,” he answered.
And intriguing it was. Alastor had wanted to be a musician since he was a child, seizing every opportunity he got to perform and play. However, it never really got him anywhere. Was it bad luck? Or was he simply not trying hard enough?
“I'm surprised a charmer such as you hasn't been picked up! How about I help you out?” Rosie suggested.
Alastor accepted Rosie's help, and during the following months, they conversed in letters regarding his possible music career. Until eventually, Rosie proposed that he come to England where it'd be easier for her to find opportunities for him herself.
The decision whether to move or not was very difficult.
Alastor spent many nights awake just considering the whole ordeal. He knew this was his dream and that if he didn’t get anywhere anytime soon, this could be his one and only opportunity; but he also knew that he didn't want to leave Louisiana behind, moreover his dear Maman.
However, when he voiced his concerns to her, she replied enthusiastically -too much to not be good for anyone- and encouraged him to take this next step no matter the risks.
This all went not without a stern talking of how he needs to start doing his own thing -along with how he will need to visit and send letters often.
That last thing, Alastor was very sure he could do. For her.
So after only a little more consideration on his part, he made his decision.
With that, the following events, and a bittersweet goodbye to his Maman and the life he knew before, he found himself in a motor car with some eccentric woman he had only met a few minutes ago, and a hope that he could achieve a silly dream of his.
•~🦌📻~•
At last, they had arrived at an apartment on Aylesford Street -Mimzy's home.
It was rather close to The Thames and she noted the close proximity to amenities such as retail stores and restaurants, which inspired her to go on a tangent that Alastor was only half listening to. He was sure that she could talk her own tongue to bits by the sheer speed at which she babbled. On and on she went.
In the meantime, Alastor had entered with his suitcase and began to make himself familiar with the living area.
Beige wallpaper depicting a pink floral design, cut off by a dark wood wainscoting, and a mahogany floor parallel to the tall ceiling. Below the window, sat a velvety, pink settee next to a small, rounded table adorned with a glass jar containing cyclamen flowers.
[Unfinished]
•~🍎🐍~•
Lucifer stood in front of a large, cracked window as he picked out and eyed every and all imperfections.
The bags under his eyes, the creases in his tan button up shirt, the tears in his brown coat, his blond hair which strands sporadically flew away no matter how much he tried to flatten them down.
So unfit for an interview, he thought to himself. If it seems I disregard my own appearance, how can they assume I can take care of and teach kids?
He sighed. No matter- if I don't get this job, I'll just have to try again somewhere else.
And with that, Lucifer smoothed over his shirt and set off again.
•~🍎🐍~•
He stood in front of the final obstacle. The door to the room where his fate for the next -however long- will be sealed.
Before he could even second guess, he pulled down on the handle and swung it open gently, but not without attempting to smooth his hair down one final time.
A high creak sound echoed within the room, and his eyes landed on the face of a woman.
With an unwavering gaze, she looked upon him.
“Mr Morningstar?” She inquired.
Lucifer nodded before quickly responding, “Yes- yes. Miss Smyth?”
“Correct, I believe you are here for an interview?” She continued to stare at him with narrow eyes.
He was surprised by the nerves such a gaze could put within a person.
He felt watched. All over. A million eyes, each locked onto every part that made up his being right now. Glued onto things wrong with him that he wasn't even aware of.
Slowly, being hyper-aware of every movement he made, he sat down at the desk, across from her.
And so the interview commenced.
•~🍎🐍~•
Honestly, the woman -Sera- wasn't as terrifying as she seemed to be at first. It did seem like she could possibly shatter a glass if she looked at it too long, but throughout the interview her face softened and she started to present herself more openly, which did wonders for Lucifer's nerves. Intimidation and his unkept appearance aside, he was fairly certain he could get this job. Besides, he didn't get his teaching license a few years ago for not being qualified.
He wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't surprised when he found out that a woman would be interviewing him a few days prior. Afterall, it was fairly uncommon for ladies to be working (although the numbers had been steadily growing). He wasn't bothered though, not at all. He knew how capable they were, as evidenced by his wife Lilith who worked in the finance sector of her father's business. He was just honestly surprised it hasn't become a more prominent thing sooner.
Talking about Lilith, he did have to go home to her -about which he wasn't quite as happy as he should have been. As much as he loved her, she could be a little much sometimes, or would pick at things about him that he wasn't particularly favourable of, or would fail to understand how he could feel about things. Such as earlier that day: Lilith had made a comment on how Lucifer was trying to get work as a teacher, in her words it was "quite low-level? And certainly not for a guy to dabble in nowadays."
In all honesty, the statement hit a pretty sore spot for him.
He knew he wasn't particularly the manliest man out there. With being exempt from fighting in the war because of his qualifications for teaching (and taking up an assisting job last minute), and seeming typically feminine outwardly compared to the other men he knew, it was fair to say he was looked down upon.
He thought about this often. On occasions even keeping him from sleeping; wondering about how to better himself to be the man he -everyone- aspired him to be. Despite this, no changes had ever been made. The truth is, he never truly had enough motivation to. Yet another trait that deemed him as unmasculine. He did feel mentally compelled to act. There was a pull that tugged and tugged on his mind to get him to do something. Unfortunately, the pull didn't have a physical form to forcefully drag him through a door to meet his new self, new body, new mind.
And so, what could have been promised was never given. He remained in the skin he was born with, with the same brain he learned his first words, and remained truly and utterly himself. Lucifer Morningstar.
All of this to say, simple statements such as his wife's just reminded him of his many failures. And as pathetic it may be to say, the comments enforced a sort of melancholy within him.
Well, let's stop this train of thought and keep it going later, he thought because he was now standing in front of the door to his house. Besides, he had to be in the right headspace for Charlie as she had a knack for identifying whenever Lucifer wasn't feeling quite at peace with his mind. And lilith- well, she wouldn't have noticed.
Immediately upon entry, his daughter, as giddy as ever, essentially spawned by his side holding a precious drawing while she pointed at yapped about it. Something to do with a world of peace and friendship and rainbows or whatever.
Oh, how he adored her.
She was quite well spoken for being eight years old, however quite naive. Although he supposed that trait could stay for a few more years. The world sadly isn't all shiny smiles and fluffy clouds.
•~🍎🐍~•
His earlier point was basically proven true when no smile was seen on Lilith's face for the whole day. At least not directed at him anyway. She looked as shiny and bright as ever when facing Charlie. All he got? A cold look full of utter nothingness.
A stranger would've likely pointed and accused her of having no love at all for him. Which obviously wouldn't be true because they were married and so, obviously, love was present. People wouldn't get married without love. The notion of doing so seemed ridiculous. Anyhow, the stranger would be wrong.
He and his wife live together, have a child, and have had countless intimate moments with one another - although now that he thought about it, they had been lesser and lesser throughout recent years, but that's another thing to dwell on later - so their relationship seemed quite okay.
And so was the rest of his day, honestly.
[Unfinished]