She had giggled. That wasn't good sign, but neither were the slaps. But Lucy had said was true, they did have a lot to talk about, occurrences new and old for one. Not to mention the fact that the two had not talked for hundreds of years. And here they stood, between an intricately carved obsidian table with lava forming through the cracks. Look closely enough and you could see slivers of horned face in-between, representing the major demons of Hell and their place. Some were marked with scratches, others were blemish-free. Eligor looked among the faded faces for his own, between the celebrated archer and Great Marquis, Leraje, and his fellow Great Duke Bathin. The very one who shared his furious fervor and the very same who taught him him the art of astral projection, respectively. His own portrait was cracked, possibly from neglect.
But enough about the table. In the circle of the seven and one chairs, stood Lucifer. The Prince of Pride. Best to keep her waiting as she - no - they both had waited for this moment for long enough already. However, like the cracks in the portrait, Eligor realised that he was a demon divided. Divided between his liege lord and D.I.C.E., the choice seemed so easily five hundred years ago. But, now, not so much. Whatever the case, Eligor was on rocky ground.
He decided to feign confidence by being direct, "Let's not dally then. Enough time has been wasted."
"On the contrary, I have found that the time was spent quite productively." She smiled.
"That is the past, this is the present." He replied dismissively, "Speaking of which, what of now?"
"Same as always ever since that opportunity was taken advantage of." She said, maintaining the smile, "Now another one has appeared."
His eye widened, "Care to elaborate?"
She giggled again, walked over from the other end of the table, and pointed a finger directly at Eligor, "Why, you of course." She lent in, whispering words into the boy's ear, "Now that I finally have you back." She turned around again and traced the markings on the boy's face, her eyes glazed - unreadable, as if she were in her own little world, surrounding herself in her own little schemes. Eligor looked up into those eyes and found unshakable confidence - Lucy's own little trademark.
She lent back, and walked away, back to the chair at the opposite end and settled into it. She continued with her little speech there, "It appears that you have been cursed as so many demon have before you." Lucy paused to look into the distance, to the bodies bound to the inner walls. Strangely, only one was in chains that gnawed the wrist of the poor soul who was stuck there. In contrast to the dull, bloody walls, they glowed with a faint light. Maybe she was reminded of something? But Eligor wasn't sure. She turned back to him, "It also appears that you have made connections which could be of use to me." With a sudden, Lucy stood and placed her hands over the sword, "And I am definitely going to take advantage of them. Now, if you don't mind..." Something wriggled within the mass of muscle that accompanied the eye and erupted, forming faint horn-like bumps on the eye.
With a burst of darkness, a portal was formed and Lucy forced Eligor into it with a swift kick. Satisfied, she poured herself a glass of red wine from the drinks cabinet and giggled. D.I.C.E. was up to something and now she would find out what. It was only a matter of time...
