Lucifer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carpevinum) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
yogen2021-04-24 05:34 pm
carpevinum) wrote in yogen2021-04-24 05:34 pm
I'm on the wrong side of Heaven
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
wolfchan!]
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
4/24, afternoon
(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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]