Owner	Pose
Sinister	It has been quite a while since the angel and his distant relative met one of his original lieutennants at the cross-roads and got more than they bargained for and less than they'd hoped to get. Lucifer by the by, does a good amount of pillow talk, to unravel experiences. This is why, for the last week or so, Doctor Essex has been working to prepare this particular adventure. In part, this has been a merry concoction of psychoactive drugs and in a greater part, it is has been a matter of him creating several things in his laboratory that are designed to help. They're all of them a particular quality of quartz crystal that have been variously treated by scientific process and set up in an array to form seven points in a device set up like a weird... light show/stage set-up in the sunken living area and couch set-up. Three crystals set in a triangle in the celing, three at the floor, one in the middle. A triangulation in three dimensional space device. He's been cooking in the kitchen, in the same way as some would consider crystal meth to be 'cooked'. This isn't fine gourmet, even if it's liable to work. "So... he hit you in the head with memories. But I suspect this is about as helpful as well... a ten thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, when you don't know what the original picture is supposed to be of, yes?"
Lucifer	"Pretty much." Lucifer answers while looking over the set up in the living room and smoking on a cigarette. He's not really sure if this is going to work - but he trusts Nathaniel as far as he can throw him. There is a brief glance back to the kitchen because Nathaniel is doing something he never does. Cooking. But this is likely not something that will be eaten by anyone (or so Lucifer suspects). "And while I am a fan of puzzles to some degree... there's no telling what sort of picture I could end up with that may or may not be the picture it's supposed to. So hopefully whatever all of this is and does... it will help." He says this much more and then looks over the crystals once more. "Am I supposed to like... sit near them? Or under them? Beside, around, between?" All sorts of directional options!
Nick Drago	And with sufficient advance notice, Nick finds himself also in the penthouse. Dressed properly, and at present- sober. To contribute to this state, Nick's drink of choice as he watches the display is a simple water. No tea. Just water. The musician listens to Lucifer's questions then looks over to Sinister curiously. Considering they both apparently got hit with them, it's possible they both have to take part. If the memories weren't such a jumble, maybe the sketchbook trick Strange showed him would work out nicely. But- Ok that might be better for figuring room layouts. Either way, Nick is here.
Sinister	"Both of you take a seat in the living area. These are a kind of psychic gestahlt array. We're going to use electricity and the natural energy conductivity of these crystals to help process the information." Sin looks over at them both and makes a single brisk pass to Nick, to whom he gives a little pill cup with a couple of pills in it. "Primers -- and before you ask, they're treated athuasca and a couple of psychoactives, with a steady release colloid and a mood stabilizer. So your mind will be wide open, but you won't be tripping complete balls..." a nod. "Have a slice of bread with them, or it will be a bit awful on your stomach afterwards. Just one though." ANd back to the kitchen to finish the 'cooking' over there, drawing something up in a syringe from a sterile beaker, loading it into a hypospray and taking some distillate from another array, to bring over to Lucifer. "You my dear, are difficult to dose. This is calibrated psychoactive that would make a blue whale trip balls. Celestial biology is too strong for anything that wouldn't kill just about anything. But I'm a cunning bastard and I know what I'm doing. This -should- work. Drink up. Goes well with whiskey as a sour." He winks. The hypospray is just handed to Lucifer to administer to himself. "I'll be there obviously. But -I- don't need anything to get me to the astral."
Lucifer	Lucifer acquires a whiskey after disposing his cigarette into ash within his hand and then pours the one into the whiskey, downs it like a shot and then administers the hypospray into his neck. Right at the juggular. Because that's going to be the quickest way to get it into his bloodstream right? Something like that. He then moves to take a seat and decides upon one of the fluffy seats for primium comfort. There's several of those to choose from in case Nick follows suit. "I suppose there is going to be a moment where I am peachy keen and the next I might just drift off into the astral world?" Lucid thinking might be something. Hah! Lucid dreaming. Luci dreaming. It was a certain ring to it. Like church bells on a white winter day. Where there's snow slowly drifting to the ground and the sonourous tones fill the air. Ding. Dong. Ting. Tong. Oooh....pretty colors....
Nick Drago	As the cup is handed to him, Nick looks to it first while Sinister explains them. The added descriptor of 'complete' to the phrase tripping balls seems notable. Not complete. But still tripping. "...Am I even going to be able to make it to my room after this?" The musician asks, reaching over to take the cup to look to them. To the mention of having a slice of bread, Nick glances around for the specified foodstuff. When he hears Lucifer's suggested item to consume with the meds is whiskey- Well... Dammit.
Sinister	"I imagine so. I mean, unless you suspect that you're liable to be slower than the average human constitution, at processing psychoactives?" Sinister replies, keeping an eye on both. And an ear. He doesn't have specific equipment to test their vitals there, but can likely hear breathing and heartbeat, with effort. He settles in on one of the chairs that's a little less fluffy comfort, stiff backed but firmly -in- the bucket of the seat. Indeed, there'll be a few minutes of the first-pass effect working its way on Nick, so about fifteen minutes from ingestion to effect; it's a mild high, followed by a lot of the beginnings of a hallucinogenic trip. And all the while, the far-quicker-acting hypospray is giving Lucifer his own trip. He doesn't get them often, so he gets to enjoy it for a quarter of an hour before the leviathan rises up from beneath the deeps of both of their minds. Powerful telepath. They're coming to -his- world now. After that disturbing feeling of the monster surfacing beneath the deeps and dragging them both along in its wake... they find themselves in a far more pleasant place. It's one of the office spaces that Sin's used in his dreams a time or two, the ones that resembled the red brick of Oxford and its turn of the century charm. But outside the window, is mist and lamps in the 'fog' similar to Olde London towne.
Lucifer	In the rare instance of the Devil himself -actually- tripping balls, he will relish in the moment for as long as it lasts. While he sits in the comfy chair. And everything around him sort of fades. There's pretty lights and some sort of distant music. Or maybe that's muzac. Just enough out of reach to not really know but close enough to actually enjoy. Then the leviathan emerges and swallows him whole. He falls and falls and falls....until he lands in the office space. He's since this place before. It's familiar to him. A glance outside the window and he smirks. "Olde London..." He offers, then coughs a bit. Then looks around again. "We might have to look for an office of Doctor Nathaniel Essex. He'll be waiting for us..." Lucifer says to no one, but also to Nick. Cause Nick is here, right? He's not just imagining the distant relative? "This is going to be ever so fun..."
Nick Drago	Nick pauses, thinking about that. Honestly he hadn't had reason to think about that, even with the sleep meds. Because sleep meds are meant to make one sleep. It's been awhile since he took the recreational type. Not counting alcohol. With a sigh and a piece of bread that has eventually been tracked down. Nick pops his head back to dump the pills in, takes a long sip of water and tilts his head forward as he swallows. Nick can be too trusting at times. Either way with things taken there's really no point to worry about it now. It's already done. Leaning back, he closes his eyes and just lets the sensation waft it's way through. It's...kind of like Phantasming honestly. Only with the usually missing senses still present. There's taste, smell... Fingertips touch fingertips. Touch too. But other than that... Like a dream. Only instead of him doing the leading, there's a sinister shadow tugging him along. Nick finds himself in the office. A bit paler than before, and after a moment, attire adjusted to something a bit more period specific. Or at least what the costuming departments he's interacted with have determined it to be. "I don't think he would have dropped us off too far from it." Nick replies, "Just around the corner I would say."
Sinister	The nephillim is probably correct. Looking at the windows though, even in a dream state, they seem very -solid-. Safe. Protecting from the fog and its distant lights. They are not the lights of a gigantic angler fish in the darkness and mists. No. Nono. Who put that thought there? It is all very Oxfordian, down to the green carpet runners in the parquette floor corridors, the high ceiling and wood panel finishing. The door is ajar. It is not A jar. The brass plaque on the door indicates Doctor N. Essex, M.D. PHD. Eng. Right door. Yes. And there's the desk, the incongruous computer sitting on it and everything else properly geared to the time period. It is in C.DOS though, with a floating cursor on the screen saying only....             RUN Nope, that's not omminous at all. "Welcome." He hits enter. "Are you ready? There ought to be a carriage arriving shortly."
Lucifer	"Well. He wouldn't. The drugs might have. If they decide to play a little mind fuckery..." Lucifer offers and then there's a corner turned. A door on the right. The brass nameplate saying it all. He doesn't hesitate before stepping inside, seeing the doctor dressed for the period. The computer screen is read, but it only manages to draw a single upturned corner of Lucifer's lips. He sits at the desk across from the doctor. "Carriage? Are we going somewhere? Is this going to be more a tour down a literal memory lane?" He asks while sitting back. Getting comfortable. "Is this real enough and tempered enough that you know who I am. Who I am to you. To him." He motions to Nick at that last point. "How deep down the rabbit hole have we ventured?"
Nick Drago	As Nick follows after Lucifer to find that the door is indeed just around the corner. The Dream traveler smiles slightly. "Dream logic." He explains. Glancing into the office to find the computer on the desk. Ah. Well... At least it's a Tandy computer. Dream logic - Close enough. "This feels more like a staging area to sort of get us grounded" Nick responds, looking over to Lucifer, "Points of change will likely be crossing through doorways of a sort. Although the definition of a doorway may be loosely defined. Or we're about to Willy Wonka down a tunnel of chaos."
Sinister	"I know who you are. I am, after all, me, myself and I at the current time." Sinister replies, smiling at Lucifer and giving a rather demure and gentlemanly blown kiss across the desk. "But I am only a fraction of me. The memories are quite vast and a bit shattered; the vast amount of me, is sifting chaff from meaning and assembling it all, as a cogent... entity. It's split between the two of you, apparently it was big enough he didn't want to put it all in one head." Nodding to Nick, he gestures at the windows and the fog. "It's not advisable to travel between the depths here, without there being a solid carriage from one state to the other. If these were near memories, there would be no travel. But this is deep and ancient -- we're talking ten thousand years and more, between then and now. So... unfortunately, you will have to deal with my victorian proclavities. I /did/ rather enjoy the arrival of the model T ford though." he checks a pocket watch. The clock in one corner is a grandfather and the hands are travelling backwards, perhaps predictably. "Remember who you are now, Lucifer. And remember what you've become." He stands though, tucking his watch in with the poke of a thumb to his waistcoat pocket, then opens the door again. Outside, it's ... outside. Not the corridor, but a carriage /does/ in fact, await. THe horses are black, with red eyes and red diamond blazes in their foreheads.
Lucifer	Well. That's a bit foreboding. To be told to remember who you are and what you've become. As if the memories being put together to shove back into the brainspace might wholly affect that in some grand way. Still. Lucifer nods and then stands and turns towards the door that Nathaniel opens. Which leads not to the corridor, but outside. Fitting. He doesn't even seem to hesitate before moving to exit the office, but he does take a moment to stroke a hand against the red eyed black haired horses. Whispering gentle tones to them before he then turns and steps into the carriage.,
Nick Drago	Nick looks over to Lucifer at Sinister's reminder. Considering the source of the memory dump that apparently needed to be split up, there was a MUCH higher chance that Lucifer would be staring in some of these than Nick. After all. Nick just met the guy. Seeing the scenery having changed, Nick nods slightly. Approaching this like he would coming across someone else's dream does help a bit with processing matters. Putting a hand upon the rail, Nick lifts himself up into the carriage, shifting over to the bench across from Lucifer to allow for him to sit next to Sinister.
Sinister	THe interior is comfortable enough. There's cushioned seats, privacy curtains and windows of course, the snort of the horses heard after their petting and subsequent abandonment to be what they are -- psychomachae of symbolism. The cobblestones beneath the wheels are a distinctive sound and they quickly change to iron on packed dirt and then, to the rough terrain of roads that have ONLY been made by the tread of feet and animals repeatedly wearing them down. Pack trails. Herding roads. The air smells fresher after not that long, memory of the sea. Of flowers in the fields. Of farms. And of nothing at all -- a whiff of perfume here and there. They travel in silence for only a few minutes, or it could be lifetimes. Time in the Dreamstate is of course, a bit questionable. The stopping of the hooves and the sound of voices outside is audible. Sin opens the door, steps outside... The smell of cooking fires wafts in. They're distant though, carried on the wind. Where are they? In a plain, somewhere in the middle-east, but there's lights not that far off, essentially on the horizon. The sky is full of stars, different than the ones now. They've moved in ten thousand years after all, but some of the constellations are obvious. No light pollution makes things astonishing. Nearby, individuals are talking. It isn't english, but the memory doesn't care. "Where are they all?" "I don't know. My head feels so empty, I can't hear any of the song." "It hurts." And that. That might be the first time there's a pang for Luci. He too, used to hear the Music of the Universe.
Lucifer	Lucifer takes in everything. From the sounds to the scents and he even peeks out through the curtains every once in a while - just to see it all change now and again. Though after that moment when the carriage stops and Nathaniel steps outside he blinks and follows. Stepping onto...sand? Maybe? He looks around, to the lights on the horizon, the miles of nothingness between here and there. Then he looks up. He's looked up a hundred thousand times. He looks up now. Sees the stars, and for the first time in a long time he realizes the emptiness that comes with looking heavenward. The silence is deafening. He's done so much to drown out the silence with so much else. Here in the dreamscape, he can't escape the whole truth. Though his ears flicker as if he's trying to discern the voices he's hearing.
Nick Drago	Dreams are mostly perception. While in the walking world dreams can be short little bursts, from within, time is different. That little bursts could be a quick limerick, or it could consist of the basic gist of World and Peace. Granted some parts will be cut out, but the brain will piece it all together like it makes all the sense in the world. For everything else, there's therapy. Nick closes his eyes during the silence, feeling the clip clop of cobble to brick to bumpy as hell. It isn't until the carriage comes to a stop and the door's opening does Nick glance up. Seeing Sin step out, Nick gets off of his bench and moves to the door, lowering himself to the ground outside once the landing space is vacated by those who exited before him. Being raised in big cities and often performing in them as well, it is a rare treat for Nick to see a non-light polluted sky. And once the opportunity presents itself, he glances up. A soft smile forms. Unspoilt night, no sounds of fighting going on to ruin the moment yet. Nick doesn't recognize the voices. How could he? But the tone that comes with the words end up doing away with the smile that had formed moments earlier.
Sinister	It isn't actually all that far from the ocean. This isn't the sand, it's packed earth, but river-plains flood land. So quite fertile. There are boats rocking in the harbour far off. Simple boats, small, made of only wood, some with a single sail, some with nothing but punts to head into the surf with. In the way of memory though, small steps in that direction, make great leagues pass between the 'road' to the ocean. There's not an impact crater, but there is basalt, where the sand was fused. There's cracks in it though, like it will soon crumble. The beach grass nearby though, are dying, not from heat, but from decay and rapid decay. There are feather /shapes/ litering here and there, but they are crumbling with the same decay. That looks like it would've been Azazel before the scars. There's a hardness in his eyes, but it doesn't match his skin. A couple of others are bewildered seeming and not entirely physical. Yet. They become more solid. They all fell. But did they fall into the same time slipstream? "You get used to it." Azazel's words, but they sound like he's hardened to it, not that he is -happy- with it. "Where are the others?" "They're in the city. Enoch went ahead." ... Wait a second.
Lucifer	"Enoch went ahead to the city. Was it Jeruselem when we fell?" Lucifer asks himself this and then shakes his head. "Likely. But I can't..." He looks up once more and then ahead to those who are talking. A glance around to the shapes of feathers here and there. The ones who fell? Or were they attacked? Likely the latter. Lucifer thinks to himself and then he takes further steps to approach. Is it safe to talk to them in the dreamscape? Surely so. It's a dream after all...and perhaps talking will help put the puzzle pieces together better. "Seems like quite the battle was won here..."
Nick Drago	Nick looks on, a little puzzled. There's talk of no longer hearing music in an area where music's not being played. The twisted ovals of withered something scattered about is of note. Not for vibrancy but of the frequency of the shape and the scattered nature of them. Did something fall off and wither, or was- Lucifer's comment causes for Nick to look over to him. Hmm. No one's talking of a battle. The conversation seems more like. Well-like being shipped off to another city with no idea what the new place will be like. Cut off. Of course, Nick COULD be projecting a little bit there. This isn't Hell's Kitchen though. He looks back over to the feathery shapes, before looking to the remaining figures talking, taking in their backsides. No. Looking further up than that, people. ... Augh. He's checking for WINGS. WINGS!
Sinister	Through all of this, the figure of Sinister says not a word. He's here, watching, listening, but he does not appear to be interfering. Possibly from the look of tense concentration on his face, the vast majority of him is concentrating. Probably to pull cohesion out of chaos. There are no wings. There are not even any horrid scars or terrible marks to show where they might have been. If the figures in the memory recognize Lucifer, they don't show it. Maybe the two of them are simply 'absorbed' into mthe interpretation? "They came after us. It isn't unexpected, given how many were sent into stardust. These ones..." one of the unnamed speakers relates. Azazel looks at Lucifer though without recognition for a moment. And then perhaps, just perhaps, it shows a glimmer for a second. A psychic echo. "There will be more though, unless we get a move on. The cities seem to be safe. We've fought off the spirits of evil in the desert night after night, I don't fancy staying out here any longer than we have to." "How do they imagine such evil?" "I don't know. Theirs was the gift to name things... but none of them seem aware of the knowledge. Maybe, the plan will help with that."
Lucifer	Lucifer sees it for that briefest of seconds. The recognition. He glances up and then towards the city. "Why do they still come after you?" He asks and then he looks back towards the concentrating Sin and the likely somewhat confused Nick. Is this one of the memories he had forgotten? The very reason why Azazel was continuously attacked? "Spirits of Evil? So they came from below or above?" Michael had the gift of naming things. Lucifer had the gift of creating. Together they could have done great things. Apart...they're husks. Michael cannot create. Lucifer cannot name. Their twinning was likely supposed to bring them closer. Have them work together. It did not. Obviously. "What plan?"
Nick Drago	It's pretty clear that Nick's understanding of Angels is a bit lacking compared to Lucifer's. It makes sense, being one has existed under the mantle of it while the other. Well, he's only a little bit related and that's a rather recent thing learned. The lack of wings momentarily seems to confirm his first thought but then the realization that they can just as easily hide their wings rules out that process of determination. No. Probably better he just listen in on the conversation. He's not going to figure stuff out on his own. Spirits of evil? The gift to name...imagining such evil. Hmm. There is power in naming things. That's apparently what contributed to the Phantasm abilities after all... When Lucifer directs his conversation to the dream forms, he looks back over to the devil, and then towards Azazel. Is this more than the equivalent of a recording?
Sinister	"If I guage this right," says a murmur from behind, from Sinister, "...this is a period of time when you are extremely preoccupied with being tossed a tad further than they were. They fell to earth. You fell to hell. You don't know any of these events. It might well be why he threw them at you." Azazel shrugs his shoulders slightly. "Enoch seems to think that they can be taught to control the dark and can make use of the gift they got given, rather more than they are. I don't know that it's such a good idea, I mean, they're creating monsters without knowing -how- to create monsters, that'll be a shitload worse if they do." The others there, draw swords, staring off in the dark of the desert. "Don't know where they come from. Not from above, unless this is... just another torment." Says one. Another casts a glance into the darkness. "Oh, it's just a goat. Look." Those eerie reddish eyes with their hourglass pupils -- As it draws near, the fearfulness recedes. "How do they not fear the desert?" Azazel asks. "They know what lies out there. They must know. Perhaps there /was/ bliss in ignorance. But there's too much ignorance..." he shakes his head "...hopefully, all that we know can help them. They won't survive otherwise." "Yes. You never did like how unfair it was to them, did you." Azazel shrugs "...The only reason I followed the arrogant arsehole against Yaweh. He wouldn't even let us teach them how to defend themselves." "They figured out bows and spears." "There's a lot more out there that spears don't help with."
Lucifer	Lucifer purses his lips a moment, as he knows Azazel is refering to him specifically. He's heard Sinister's words from behind, but a part of him wants to see this through. If Azazel gave him this memory for a reason, he wants to find out why. "What would that be? That spears and bows won't help against?" Lucifer asks this, stepping once more forward even as those around him have swords - only to find out their opponent this time was a goat. "And what of this arrogant arsehole? Where is he now when it seems you may need him to stand beside you?"
Nick Drago	Nick glances to Lucifer's expression before looking over to Azazel. "...Do you mean Enoch?" He asks, giving Lucifer another possible name to go with the comment. He pauses, "...being that's who was mentioned earlier and all..."
Sinister	"Oh, my dearling..." a soft word or two in a sad sort of tone, from Sinister behind them both. The Scape goat pays HIM no mind at all, almost like he can't see him at all. His was not a mind that the memories were gifted to, perhaps that's why. "Samael? I witnessed some of the judgement. He was cast down and fell so very far. The earth opened up and swallowed him whole, fire licked the sky and the very heavens themselves trembled. He won't help us now... not until Gehenna." Azazel's words are terse, but they have merit and memory attached. "He was like a brilliant comet, blazing down, a falling star. " No tears for that trauma. "And then the light... went out." The others of the fallen gesture toward the lights of the distant city. "We must make lives here, for we are forbidden from heaven. A'cursed. For us there will be no more Grace." One moans again, a whimper where she rubs her ear aaaaaalmost maniacally. "These humans see signs in all things. When the stars fall, they see terrible omens... and dream them into existence. They know not what they do." Azazel murmurs. "We must live, but so must they, or it will all be pointless to have punched up." A japanese term, attributed to the spirits of Kitsune. To defy injustice. "So Enoch said to find the city he built, that we would be welcome there." Says another of them. "Or at least, the Host will not spill thier blood." Human shields. Gotcha. "And we'll see if they can learn our knowledge. And stop the dreams becoming nightmares."
Lucifer	Lucifer glances back up to the sky and then looks over to the one giving a whimper and rubbing her ear. He wishes he can tell her it will be alright. That things will come to pass that will make it all easier. He cannot. This is a dream. A memory not his own. So nothing he can say now will change what has happened. "If you had anything to say to this...Samael...would you mind telling me what it would be?" Had he heard Sin's soft words spoken behind him? Perhaps. Still. Something about this. He's going to press just once more and then leave it be.
Nick Drago	Oh. So the asshole WAS Lucifer. ... Whelp. Nick tried. "Do you mean in terms of creatures, perceived threats from outsiders in general, or a mix of both?" Nick asks. If they meant the literal, it's easy to state they failed. Nightmares still exist.
Sinister	Maybe Luci can also feel the red eyes of Sinister on the back of his own head for a moment, after that question. But it soon shifts as the red eyes, so much a parallel for demonic, shift to the one who will eventually be... so much worse than he is now. The fallen holding her ear and tugging at her hair looks to Nick at the question. "Monsters. Monsters that are quite real, devour and destroy. Do you not understand the words that we speak? Dreamed into being by the minds of men, for -thiers- is the power to /name/!" The repetition gives another of them cause to look at her askew, for madness and the host isn't a thing that they /yet/ know. "What would I say?" Azazel frowns at the question, it seems an odd one to be asked, but he answers is anyway, after a deep breath. "That I will never surrender. I will -never- go down without fighting to my last." And the scene change, the memory dissolving to ... a jarring jump forward. It's a little disjointed, as Sinister frowns, tension on his face as he pulls cohesion out of it all, lifting both hands up toward the heavens, palm up -- the glow of red that often accompanies his power emminates from eyes, around his fingertips, from the ruby diamond. "Enoch, who is she?" "Nobody. Just a mortal... but she is beautiful, is she not?" "That is forbidden. HE will know." "They are so close to understanding, Azazel." The image is distorted, perhaps because the future Demon cannot bring himself to remember the woman clearly. "Not them. You mean thier children." "Yes." "And they will learn to read the future in the stars, how to build great wonders, to make themselves more. They will be truly beautiful." "Aren't they already? You have shown them the stones of the earth and how their lustre can be captured." "That's Lucifer's light... it has to persist somehow." "And they will know him, /won't/ they, Azazel?"
Lucifer	Lucifer blinks and then seems to want to ask something more but the image goes all dissolve-o-matic as another memory takes place. It's not clear who the person is being referred to. Enoch and Azazel having conversations that likely no one else were ever meant to hear. Enoch seeming to say things to Azazel that he has no place in telling the Angel. The Voice being very open about things to come. "How many years have we traveled since the city of Enoch and now? How long from this point does Azazel get put into his prison? And why is he giving me these memories...for fucks sake it's like he's giving me more questions than answers..." Lucifer mutters this and shakes his head. "Also, the hell does my light have to do with any of this. I don't get it... none of it makes sense..." And he glares at the figure that is Azazel. "MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!"
Nick Drago	As he's returned with a question of her own, Nick nods. "I understand. But sometimes something bears repeating. For clarity." As the scene changes, Nick finds himself processing another scene. Which... is - "So...basically Enoch brought up the idea of having kids, not Azazel?" He pauses, "...What was Enoch's punishment?"
Sinister	"Good question," Sin murmurs, the hellish red of his power growing, to attempt more clarity to the picture. Maybe the other's heads will start to ache a little. Maybe the drugs are wearing off? Or maybe it's that mind of Sin's digging deep and putting the puzzle pieces further together. The next is simply images of pure rage. Well, FEELINGS of pure rage. Covered in blood. Your own and other's. Your brothers came for you, of all that might, they came. "The Voice condemns you, Azazel. You are filth..." -- that is Michael's voice. "Come quietly..." Raphael? Sounds like. "You beget upon mortal women..." "THEY ALL DIED!" -- a roar. There's a scream from an Archangel, the blade that comes down overhead is an axe. An executioner's axe made of volcanic heat and an Archangel's knowledge. Two wings fall to the ground. Half another. Blood splatters. "THROW THE CHAINS ON HIM!" "You are the vessel of sin, Azazel. You brought them pride in their work, vanity in their mirrors and their jewels, capturing light that was -never theirs to have-" Michael again. "FLANK HIM!" Raph again. All you can feel is wrath. Anger. Fury. BETRAYAL!     "And you shall pour your sin upon him and he will be blinded and bound, cut and driven to the desert, forever in the dark. Give him your sins, pour them forth... and /you/ shall know Forgiveness, sons of Seth." -- The voice of the metraton. In the darkness, in the dream he doesn't make the mind bleed. Or maybe that's someone else's doing. "He will be filth. He will be depravity. He will take all that you have wrought of punishment and suffer in the stone and silence!"
Lucifer	Lucifer blinks. Stares. Blinks again. To see how it happened. To hear Enoch's condemnation. His brothers punishing Azazel AGAIN. Was the casting down not enough? And it wasn't Azazel who brought Sin into the world and Azazel sure as fuck didn't turn into an apple for Adam and Eve to eat. Each word spoken towards Azazel stings like ice. Cutting deep. Again and again and again... Until Lucifer turns away, because he cannot bear it any longer. Shifting his gaze to Nathaniel and shaking his head. "...I want to go home..."
Nick Drago	Imagery fades away leading to nothing but sound, eyes closing as he shakes his head, Nick is feeling extremely uncomfortable with the exchange. There's a story going on indeed with the words being overheard. Accusations around, voices joined to condemn one with the loudest voice doing it the very one who encouraged it. It's a setup. Pure manipulation. He has no idea what the Metatron prefers to look like but right now the visage of Stuck takes the role. Pulling the strings behind the police. Silencing those who could have said something. And not even Raphael's attempt for a calming voice is helping with the moment. Nick knows better. In what is no more than a dream. a Phantasm's more to observe. To listen. Be a friendly ear. Maybe even to guide. But this is an echo which is bouncing across other memories not the same but in a weird twisted way, subjectively parallel. And while the now known voice of Metatron / Enoch speaks of forgiveness to be given out- Well. Nick's only human- ish. "SHUT THE FUCK UP ENOCH!"
Sinister	"<<SILENCE>>" The order in the mind is a strong one. THe emotional overload is not a good thing on a memory state in the astral plane. It isn't at all. "Hold on..." It's like bungie lines got attached to the very middle of Nick and Lucifer's chests, wrapped around their spines. Their souls. Their astral essence. And like elasticated string theory, they are catapulting backwards out of the deep sub state, up and up and up and .... Really good job those seats were fluffy and comfortable. The anger might linger... but for very different reasons. So might the sadness. And the silence for a couple of measures is absolutely deafening. Sobriety? Definitely here, after that. "Everyone still breathing?" - Sin's voice is very soft. Calm. Collected.
Lucifer	Lucifer awakens. He may still be tripping. It may have all faded out. It may be a half of one and the other. It doesn't matter. He doesn't NEED to breathe. He doesn't need to think. Or to feel. And it's a cold gaze that stones Lucifer's eyes as he stands, wordlessly, and walks to the door of the balcony. Throws it open and steps out. There isn't a person or metahuman in the Penthouse that can stop the Devil. Not when he's on a mission. Wings furl and in a moment - and perhaps a flash - the Devil is gone.
Nick Drago	The rip cord effect from the Astral provides a faint similarity to the sensation of a dream world collapsing around oneself. It could be an interesting note but the general observation is lost on Nick. But the sensation does trigger years of dealing with such a sensation. Don't tense up. Let it pull you. Let it push you. But be limber. Like a drunkard who unfairly gets to be the only one who walks away from a car wreck. How fitting that when Nick is brought back to the waking, he's still technically tripping balls. Wet eyes blink, trying to encourage the building flood to dissipate into thin rivulets traveling downwards. The musician pitches forward, curling forward to have his face inches away from his lap. His arms soon follow, elbows pitching in at an angle while the fingers of both hands spread out to curl around the back of his head. From within the makeshift cavern of flesh, the sound of hitched breath escapes. Right now, Nick may just need something a bit stronger than a slice of bread.