I'm on the wrong side of Heaven

[carpevinum]

Who: Lucifer & YOU!
What: A literal demon doing objectively normal things in a possibly-haunted murder-school
Where: Around the school
When: 4/24 and 4/25
Warnings: Potential blasphemy against God



APRIL 24TH, AFTERNOON

[If one passes by the music room in the afternoon, they might be lucky enough to hear soft music spilling from the half-opened room and out into the hallway proper. The song being played is a piano arrangement of the Devil's Trill Sonata, though it's up to you to decide if your character recognizes it or not.

Lucifer is sitting at the piano and apparently playing it from memory; there's no sheet music anywhere around him. The song itself starts off slow and almost peaceful, a relaxing melody that threatens to put one to sleep, until it picks up the pace soon after. Lucifer sways in time to the music, deft hands dancing across the keys. He's not oblivious to any potential audience members he's gathered up, however, despite his eyes being closed as though he's feeling the music rather than playing it.

Without a single note being dropped or a chord being messed up, as soon as he feels the presence of another in the room, he says aloud,]

Do you know this song? It was originally written for the violin, but I was unable to get into the lockers to find one. [He shakes his head, thoroughly disappointed by this.] Allegedly, the composer of the original, Giuseppe Tartini, claimed that the Devil himself came to him in a dream and played this very song for him. Some people claim that you have to sell your soul to the Devil to be able to play it.

[He's... laughing, just a little bit. The tiniest, softest of amused chuckles. At that point, the sonata hits its third movement, returning somewhat to how the piece sounds in the beginning — deceptively somber.]

Tell me, do you play?


APRIL 24TH, NIGHTTIME

[Lucifer has taken it upon himself to investigate the school proper while most people are asleep. He can't sleep anyway; that's never been a particular talent of his. Instead of lying there being unproductive, he figures he'll wander around a bit. He's on the lookout for multiple things, but mostly, he's keeping his eyes peeled for suspicious figures.

Whether he's acting suspicious sneaking around at night is up to you, of course, should you run into him. He has his PDA at the ready for communication. To be frank, he hates it, and he'd rather have his smartphone back, but there's no better way to communicate in the darkened halls. Sadly.

If he runs into you first, he taps out a short message:]

What are you doing up so late?

[which may or may not be accusatory, depending on what you're up to when he finds you. So, what are you doing?

Alternatively, if you run into him first, you're free to interrogate him, because... honestly, what's a man who looks like he's in his forties doing up at this hour? Shouldn't old people be resting their creaky joints and all that?]


APRIL 25TH, MORNING

[Back home, Lucifer and his brothers have a rotating "chore chart" of who's doing what and when, and that includes cooking meals for everyone. Unfortunately no such chart exists here, and Lucifer is fairly certain that everyone is going to starve if there isn't some order of operations in place here. That means that chore charts are in the future, but for now?

For now, he can be found in the kitchen area of the home ec wing, and boy oh boy is something delicious cooking. The apron he's wearing is just a bit too small for a man of Lucifer's size, but he doesn't seem all that bothered by it, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and revealing some either really cool or really concerning tattoos. Should you choose to comment on them, he'll say,]

I got these done when I was a lot younger and spent most of my time at metal concerts. I much prefer classical music these days.

[Demons are all the same on the tin, aren't they?

Whether you choose to comment on them or not is of no concern to Lucifer, who is making breakfast from scratch. There's a tower of pancakes next to the stovetop, and another plate nearby has what looks to be French toast on it, though that stack is a bit smaller; Lucifer is currently cooking more French toast presently! Give him a few more minutes and he'll have eggs, bacon, and even muffins (which are presently sitting in the oven, almost ready). It seems like he intends to get food into everyone here, so... come get your food, kids and adults alike, there's plenty to go around.

He's also clearly not all too concerned with the fact that the school is going to have to restock all of the supplies he's used. Listen. He saw some of you eating vending machine candy bars for breakfast and it awakened his wine mom instincts and now he just has to do this. The staff can yell at him later. He doesn't care.]


APRIL 25TH, AFTERNOON

[Lucifer is in the library reading, unbothered by the silence, but bothered by the contents of what he's reading if the way his brow is furrowed is of any indication. At one point, he shakes his head and huffs in such a way that one might think they hear it — he's just animated like that. He's clearly talking to himself though no words can be heard; if you're adept at reading lips, you might be able to make out what he's saying: "Honestly, that's not how magic works, did the author not do their research before writing this?"

What he's reading is clearly a fantasy novel of some variety, but that doesn't stop Lucifer from being extremely miffed about the impractical applications of magic.

There's a notebook next to him with a pen sitting on top of it; he's clearly not taking notes, but rather has opened up an avenue for discussion given the forced quiet time. At the top of the page are the words "Feel free to join me" in extremely nice, curly script. He's alone at the table he's sitting at, so why not sit down? Maybe write some notes back and forth? Be angry about a fantasy novel written in the 90s with him? It's up to you. He won't turn you away.]


WILDCARD

[Surprise me! Or hit me up on plurk for plotting or what have you at wolfchan!]

Comments

4/24, Afternoon

[improbablenotimpossible]

[How unusual - he recognize the opening anywhere, just a piano is an unusual medium. He breathes out slowly, closing his eyes - for a moment he's calm and his thoughts aren't constantly racing from one bad scenario to another, it took him a moment to realize the pianist was speaking to him, his eyes slowly opening again]

Yes, and I believe he said that it paled in comparison to what he had heard in his dream.

[The ghost of a grin appears on his lips]

I do play the violin from time to time.

[carpevinum]

[Oh? Lucifer was under the impression that classical music was somewhat of a dying art amongst humans. His smile is much broader than Sherlock's own, much more amused.]

That's correct. I'm shocked to hear you know that. If only we could find the key to the cabinets. I have reason to believe that there are other instruments locked within them.

[To be frank, Lucifer wouldn't have chosen the piano arrangement either — the melody of the violin is much, much more haunting — but alas. There are plenty of other songs he could have played, but some of them are ostensibly cursed, and he's really trying not to make everything worse around here.]

Tell me, then... are you any good?

[improbablenotimpossible]

It would be good to get my hands on a violin, and the instruments could be useful...

[A violin might help him given everything he has to deal with, and might as well keep his options open if they need to make things]

Well, as to my capability I certainly had no complaints about my music, and it does help focus the mind.

APRIL 24TH, NIGHTTIME

[wolfetracks]

( what is sidney doing up so late? good question. really, it's the paranoia though. after who knows how long in that cursed manor, relying on sound and the beating of your own heart to signal when danger approached, this silence is damn near suffocating and he hates it. even though he's clearly tired, he can't bring himself to rest- not when something could happen at any given moment.

but what has lucifer done to earn such information? after a moment of staring, sidney takes out his own pda and types- but doesn't send- out. )

Couldn't sleep. You?

[carpevinum]

[He's smart enough not to send the message, which is good to see. Lucifer doesn't need the entire school waking up to mysterious texts.]

I'm in the same boat, though I rarely sleep anyway.

[He shows Sidney the screen, waits a solid thirty seconds for Sidney to finish reading, and then types another message out.]

Actually, I'm curious about this school and its properties, so I've been wandering the halls investigating. Care to join me?

[wolfetracks]

( an insomniac, maybe? if so, he hid it well. not that it's sidney's place to judge. )

Fair enough.

Sure. Anything you have so far?

( just as to the point as always, even over text. but a former detective's going to do his thing regardless. )

4/25, morning

[yourpiecenow]

[hey demons it's ya girl, mads, here to do her usual mooching because she would just straight up die if left to her own devices. she has like two points at any time.

anyway she just hops herself up onto an empty space on the counter, definitely Looking Unrespectfully.]

They're pretty sick. [y'know, in the cool way.] I'd show you mine, but I'd probably get expelled if one of those narc teachers noticed.

Now, the real question is if you got them in an actual tattoo parlor, or by some sketchy dude in a van outside the concert.

[carpevinum]

[This is the one day in his life where Lucifer won't mind mooching, because these people are going to die if they have to live off of vending machine snacks. They're all trapped here, after all; he needs to make sure there's order in the chaos.]

It was an actual parlor. I'm not daft enough to get tattoos at such a shady place.

[He shakes his head, flipping over the slice of French toast he's currently working on.]

Are you really worried about expulsion? [He quirks a brow.] Wouldn't that get you out of this place in perhaps one piece?

[yourpiecenow]

Not daft, super boring, tomato, tomato.

[just grabs a pancake with her hands like a gremlin.]

Oh, I'm pretty much assuming expulsion works the same here as it did at my last school. [draws her thumb on the scar across her throat.] I mean, I guess I can give it a try, but it's definitely a trick that would only work once.

APRIL 25TH, MORNING

[mermaidcursed]

( to be completely honest, even with the amazing smell, nene's completely taken aback by the presence of someone else in the cooking classroom- she knows other people use it, but she hadn't actually run into anyone yet. amazing, right?

she'd barely expected a person, let alone stacks of food, and admittedly nene stands in the doorway almost dumbfounded for a moment before she seems to shake herself out of it. leaving the door cracked behind her, she steps in. )

I didn't think I'd ever run into someone else here!

[carpevinum]

[That's probably because no one thought to FEED you poor kids, huh? Seriously, there's no chore chart, the Demon King knows whether anyone has died of starvation, WHERE are you people taking showers, is there even enough soap? WHO IS WASHING YOUR CLOTHES?]

I take it you spend a lot of time in here?

[He fixes her with a glance. She looks like a nice young lady.]

I figured most everyone here would starve to death or their teeth would fall out if left to their own devices for too long. If you're hungry, feel free to fix yourself a plate.

[mermaidcursed]

( look, she's doing her best, just like she always has- it's hard doing laundry in a sink with handsoap but she's!! managing!! )

Mhm. I know how to cook and sew, so I thought the best way to help everyone would be in here. I know other people also come here, I just never seem to meet anyone...

Ah- thank you! ( she's been so busy running around trying to take care of the people she's come to consider friends, she hasn't really paused for anything else. hajime is good to her, but maybe it's for the best that she hasn't really noticed that not a lot of people extend the same mothering to her.

unaware of such implications, nene happily eyes the french toast- oh but a fresh muffin would be amazing, so that's definitely on the list too. after a moment's debate, she goes to get herself a plate. )

Oh, um... I like your tattoos. They look really nice!

24-i!

[bristle]

( when he first hears the gentle whispers of an all-too familiar tune echoing down the halls, he can't help it—edgar's entire body tenses up. his eyes flicker back and forth, scanning his surroundings for something before it seems to click. and while the realization he has does seem to calm some of his immediate, bristling reaction, the art club is right next to the music room; and it doesn't take long before the continuous and unsettling chill of that particular song to push edgar to the limit of his tolerance.

and so, that's how he winds up standing in the doorway to the music room. he's about to speak up, but the other man beats him to it—instead, the painter only crosses his arms, waiting his turn. and when it is? )

I do not, and even if I did, it's an absolutely wretched piece.

( damn, edgar... who hurt you? )

[carpevinum]

[Fair, he supposes; Lucifer himself isn't the one who wrote this piece of music that appeared in the composer's dreams, so he's not all that offended. Mostly, he's surprised. Humans these days and their lack of love for classical music... it never fails to make him the least bit forlorn.

But, fine, he's not going to antagonize this poor person with music he doesn't like. Lucifer may be the Avatar of Pride, but part of that pride comes from having people enjoy what he's doing, not continuing to annoy people only because he's objectively better than them.

He switches the tune, then, to something ostensibly less "wretched" after a short pause, looking almost exasperated. It's a classical piece still, Nocturne in E flat major, Op.9 No.2 to be specific. Again, he's playing from memory. Lucifer has a lot of classical music memorized, clearly.]

Does this suit your fancy?

[bristle]

( you know what, when he came in here fully antagonistic and ready to respond to almost any response he was given by telling this man just what an awful annoyance he is, edgar didn't expect for the other to actually... like, listen? for a moment, visible surprise colours his expression—followed shortly by an almost suspicious look as he gives himself time to judge the new melody. it isn't music, inherently, that bothers him, after all. it deserves its fair chance.

lo and behold, there is a pointed absence of the tension present in the other piece, so with some apprehension, edgar concedes. )

Hmph... I suppose it's tolerable. ( a pause, and he eyes the other man up and down momentarily. ) Rather impressive, to memorize such pieces.

APRIL 24TH, AFTERNOON

[kingofscience]

It's kind of funny- you hear so many musicians speak of rumors about how they sold their souls to the Devil.

[ Heck, there were even songs about it too. The Devil Went Down to Georgia comes to mind. ]

It makes you wonder how many were true, if at all.

[ His eyes are closed as he listens to the music, arm propped up against the threshold of the door. Not many people were around, considering it was a Saturday, so thankfully he wasn't in anyone's way while blocking the door. ]

Mm, I dabbled a little bit when I was younger. I know how to play in theory, I just haven't practiced in a while.

[carpevinum]

[Haha yeah how many of those are true? It's not like Lucifer has ever eaten a soul that wanted a pact with him before or anything, ha... haha... (They weren't pacts over music; people aren't usually dumb enough to summon The Avatar of Pride himself over something so petty, but, uh... let's say Lucifer knows some demons, alright?)]

Younger? [He steals a glance over at Senku, thinks to himself, wow that is a Choice of hairstyle, and then continues,] You look rather young. They say learning is easier in your youth.

[Without taking his hands off of the keys until the third movement is finished, Lucifer nods toward Senku and then gives another half-nod toward the bench, scooting over.]

I can appreciate someone with a taste for piano music. Why don't we practice?

[kingofscience]

Makes sense.

[ No wonder he knows so much about science at such a """young""" age. He replies with a chuckle. ]

And you're not entirely wrong. I am essentially 17, but you'd be surprised.

[ Don't judge a book by its cover and all. He claps a bit as the man finishes the piece, but then a brow raises. Practicing piano? Well, he could afford to goof off a bit. He smirks a bit and shrugs, walking over. ]

Couldn't hurt to try. [ Senku takes a seat next to the man, awaiting further instructions. ]

4/24, afternoon

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[He listens attentively to the music, giving a bit of a smile - not normally a piece for the piano, but still entertaining all the same.

(Sherlock would most likely bemoan the lack of a Violin, he thinks, but then chuckles a little under his breath.)

When Lucifer speaks up, he lets the man give his monologue without speaking, waiting for a simple lull in the music before speaking.]

The Devil's trill, is it not? You play it wonderfully, despite it being a violin piece.

[It's...was that praise, or a little passive aggressive? It's hard to tell sometimes with Moriarty, as he continues.]

Regardless, yes - I do play. I'm actually more fond of the instrument you're using, though I cannot profess to be a great composer or even better than 'adequate' on it.

[carpevinum]

[Lucifer is also bemoaning the lack of a violin, truth be told; piano arrangements are all he has left. He shakes his head, smirking in that self-satisfied prick way to himself.]

Thank you. If I had a violin, I assure you, I wouldn't be playing an arrangement. The piano is, however, my preferred instrument.

[Now, his age is really about to show when he goes on to say,]

I'm glad to hear that you play. I wager many of the younger ones here have never gone near such an instrument before, or bothered to study classical music in any capacity.

[Okay, boomer.]

I'm no composer either, if it makes you feel the least bit better. I simply have too much time on my hands. [Time enough to memorize entire pieces and forgo sheet music all together, anyway.] I would be willing to move aside if you wished for a turn or even a duet. Or, I can play any requests you may have.

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[Damn, that's so boomer he could practically feel the spirit of his old music teacher coming back when he hears that, and the man's been dead for about two centuries now.

Still, Moriarty laughs at his comment, politely - and makes a soft musing sound.]

Well, I would not mind a turn upon it. As much as I admire Salieri, I cannot hope to approach the mathmatical purity and emotion in the playing...there is, instead, a composer I often find myself playing upon sitting in front of the Piano.

....If I may?

[If he's allowed to sit, then he'll begin to play a potentially familiar song - Debussy's Reverie, played with just the right amount and mixing of longing, wistfulness, contentment, bittersweetness...

The remembrance of days gone by that you can never return to - and, perhaps, days that never truly existed anywhere except the confines of your own mind.

It is a much less complex piece, of course. And yet, he has a light, deft touch as his ink-stained fingers fly across the keys, expression focused and somber as if he's pouring everything into it. It's not the playing of a maestro, but it is genuine all the same, and he doesn't miss a note.

Once the last notes fade, he gives a sigh and leans back, looking to see how his audience took it.]

4/25, morning

[sunstead]

[Clamor isn't much of a cook, but he'll at least drop by in the morning to make himself some tea before tackling anything else. It's not unusual for him to find someone else already there and making breakfast or a snack, but this... this is a bit much.

Not that he's about to complain, if it's for everyone.

He will help himself after asking, thanks, and settles on some French toast out of what's available. He is going to savour the hell out of this. But anyway, it'd be really boring to have a thread where Clamor is just eating French toast in the same room as Lucifer for x minutes, so he is also going to have the polite small talk with today's chef in between.]

What do the symbols mean? [he's gesturing at his arm, ie. the tattoos. He sees a pentagram and some sigils so maybe it's related to magic? It's pretty common for mages to tattoo spells on their arms if it's something they use often.] If you don't mind me asking, anyway. It's just a mage's curiosity.

[carpevinum]

[Lucifer genuinely does intend to feed everyone here, and that includes... whatever the fuck Clamor is. (He's never seen an elf before, okay?)

His demonic senses are a little whacked out by Clamor in particular, like he realises this person is objectively mortal but he can't quite pin what it is about him that makes him such; he's also got the sense that there's just something Weird about this guy in general, but, hm, how to explain that without coming off as more of a jackass than he usually does...

That's for later, he supposes, instead deigning to answer the question at hand. There's a glint in his eyes as he explains,]

A sorcerer? Interesting. [He turns back to Clamor to let what's currently cooking sit there and cook, you know, as one does, and points with a red-painted nail to each symbol as he explains.] This is a pentagram upside down, which is commonly associated with demons and "the Devil", as many like to put it, though historically it's actually used more in Pagan rituals. The idea that it's a demonic sign of any type is thanks to Catholic bastardization of that religion some, hmm... hundreds, almost one thousand years back? I'm a little rough on the timeline.

[Lucifer is very, very old, you see.]

This one here is the sigil of the demon Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. [And now he's smirking in that self-assured, confident jackass kind of way, but he's not trying to hide his nature and so he goes on to add,] You could say it's a bit narcissistic to have ones own sigil tattooed upon their arm, but I'm rather fond of its appearance, you see.

[Clamor is probably smart enough to figure out that Lucifer is, um, Lucifer without him having to say it outright. Look at that monocle. That monocle gives away years of intelligence. Probably.]

4/24, afternoon

[tempingforatlas]

[Ritsuka stares at Lucifer, stares at the piano, stares at Lucifer again, and sighs.]

I can guarantee you that you are not being as subtle as you think you are being, my guy.

[carpevinum]

[Without missing even a single note and simply laughing to himself, Lucifer merely shakes his head. Entertaining. She might be the first human here who has him figured out.]

I assure you, miss, that my intentions are anything but subtle.