entrancelogs | OTA ; Don't Stop, Make it Pop, DJ Blow My Speakers Up

Entry tags:

OTA ; Don't Stop, Make it Pop, DJ Blow My Speakers Up

Who: Lucifer Morningstar and OTA
Where: Deux Lux, Floor 6, Room 66
When: Anytime in March
Rating: TBD, probably PG-13 or so
Summary: Lucifer does what he does almost every other night - he has a party. Shenanigans and conversation ensue. This is essentially a catch-all for March for him. Let me know if you want something specific.
The Story:

[Once the drama of New Years dies down and he's drunk the entirely of his bar two or more times, Lucifer finally reopens his club to the public, seemingly no worse for the wear. He's chatted with a few specific people, reflected (marginally) on himself a bit, and has come to several conclusions.

All of which he'll be keeping to himself for the most part.

That said, he seems a bit brighter than even when he first arrived, as if there's a bit of weight off his shoulders, and he's almost less of a businessman and more of a guest in his own place as the nights continue on. He drinks along with everyone else, dances when he pleases, and plays the piano often, lending his singing voice more than occasionally.

Still, a few things weight on his mind that he'll need to take care of, but on the whole, he's quite chipper and easily approaching....or as approachable as the Devil can be.

That said, he's not seen a whole lot outside of his nightclub or his penthouse up the stairs, which means he might be a little more reclusive still than he first appears...]

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[ klaus is never one to turn down an invitation.

no matter how he's both unsettled and relieved to receive it. on one hand, if lucifer has a miraculous change of heart and plans to finish what he started in full view of a potential public (considering the club is open; he had noted) he's hardly excited about what will result. on the other, at least he knows where they stand.

he shows up not a few hours later, somewhat into the club's usual festivities, seeing no reason to dilly dally. klaus enters the club with purpose and only pauses to spot lucifer; then he strides over, ignoring the clench in his gut.

(he is not afraid of what violence he doubts will befall him. he doesn't fear lucifer's judgements or rejection, nor his own sense of remorse he feels for this unintended slight and betrayal. he fears the hurt that will accompany both. that does.) klaus stops beside the bar lucifer is occupying. ] You rang? [ he greets lucifer, and perhaps a bit sardonically, resting a hand on the back of an empty stool. he might be a little on guard js. ]

[Lucifer is dressed in what could be considered his usual attire, sitting at one of the stools himself, drinking an amber liquid out of a rocks glass. He turns as Klaus approaches, as if hearing the familiar sound of his footsteps, a somewhat forced smile on his face as the other man leans against the stool near him.]

Technically, I wrote, but close enough. [He takes a drink out of his glass as he observed the hybrid over the rim before he continues.] Glad you could make it. Why don't you pick out a bottle of whatever you'd like to drink tonight and we can take it upstairs.

[He points with one finger upward without looking away from him. This is a conversation that requires privacy.]

[ the unnecessary correction doesn't escape klaus' notice, nor does the forced nature of lucifer's smile. he own also is: a cautious and barely conceived turn of his lips, eyes steeled and watchful. (just because lucifer has expressed his lack of intention to torture him for an eternity does not mean he isn't a foe, let alone a friend.) it takes him a moment to consider lucifer's suggestion, but calculation and pride win out over concern. with a lift of his brow he turns to the bar and takes an unhurried moment to examine the collection of bottles.

he chooses an aged, top-shelf bourbon and collects a tumbler in the same hand. ] Shall we?

[He approves of the bottle choice, at least, and he rises from his seat before he gestures for Klaus to follow him.]

Right this way.

[He heads toward the staircase on the side of the room, ascending them silently. He seems pensive, not at all cautious himself, but more deep in thought. It isn't as if he hasn't gone over how he believed it might go, but he seems to be pondering it even still as he makes his way up to the landing and across the walkway above the rest of the club below.

Near the back of the room is a door to his actual study and bedroom. It lacks the elevator of his LA penthouse, considering no such thing is required here, and as he opens it, he leads Klaus into a large room with a high ceiling. A tall bookshelf is built along the entire side wall, accompanied by a desk and chair, two recliners, and a long leather couch. He has a seat on one end, placing his own glass on the coffee table in front of it before crossing one leg over the other and waiting for Klaus to do the same.]

[ it's a bit ostentatious for his taste—but it is comfortable; familiar in the way lucifer has always been, since wonderland pushed them together as friends and brothers. klaus pauses only momentarily to take in the modern, classic styling and architecture of lucifer's privates rooms. then he follows, taking a seat in the recliner across from the devil himself. (it's a nomer he must remember. because he is wary.)

contemplative though lucifer is, klaus is as well. he's as contemplative as he is cautious, laying out the tumbler and opening the bottle. he cannot help but wonder what exactly he is here for though he might guess, but almost more importantly he cannot help but wonder what exactly lucifer wants extending the invitation. klaus pours himself a few fingers and wordlessly offers to fill the dregs of lucifer's glass. ]

[Lucifer quickly knocks back what's left in his glass before taking the silent offer, sliding his glass across the table for Klaus to fill.]

How generous of you.

[If he's being cheeky, it's out of genuine humor at least, his voice lacking any tone of sarcasm or taunt. Once the glass has been filled, he leans over to retake it in his hand before he gestures toward the other man, finally sating his no doubt intense curiosity.]

I've spoken to several of those closest to you, as you might have heard, and I've come to the conclusion that perhaps I was...pre-emptive on my judgment of you. [He doesn't sound like he believes that entirely, but he's willing to stay his own strangely emotional reaction.] I'd like to hear your story, if you'll tell it. I am under the impression that perhaps it is even more remarkable than mine, and that is saying something.

As generous as your own bar, [ is klaus' equally as cheeky, if tentative good humor.

he places the bottle between them and settles himself in his seat, arms rested at the armrests, glass in hand. he listens and he watches, his gaze as collected as it is discerning: he had heard. it was entirely the reason he hadn't come knocking himself, because he heard. lucifer has spoken to camille, to freya, and he'll assume to elena. clearly all of whom have vouched if not compelled lucifer to tolerate him. (the last of those three lingers in his mind. no doubt elena lingers in both of theirs.

for klaus it's a volatile and foreign mix of practical understanding and something else: something more feeling. something that ties them together, that has tied him to her and vice versa, with or without their permission. that's tied them all, despite themselves.)

he doesn't believe lucifer. how could he, when it's clear the man hardly believes himself? his head tilts at the version of this conversation lucifer sets for them to fulfill, for him to fulfill. he looks into the crystal glass and through the amber liquid, tipping it to the side. ] Is this the part where I tell all my traumas, explain all my sins, plead my case? [ the questions are hardly argumentative, despite their challenge. he's no fool. he will do all that and more, more or less minus the pleading. what he won't do is pretend.

he's quiet for a few moments, his eyes leveled at lucifer. ] I want to know why, before we begin. Why give me the chance? [ why, when instincts compel him otherwise? ]

I'm no jury that needs convincing, luckily for you. Regardless of what I want to do at the end of this conversation, I've already agreed to leave you alone. This is about...more than that.

[Which immediately leads into Klaus' next question, something that he's struggled with for a very long time.

He doesn't want to feel alone. He thinks that, perhaps, Klaus does not want to feel that either. And considering making connections is something the Devil isn't very experienced at, he finds that he desires to keep ahold of the ones he has if at all possible.]

Because there are other people important to me that believe that I should. [A beat.] And because I want to. You were my friend. I'd like to see if that's still the case.

[ all klaus has ever feared is to be alone. lucifer would be right. it's haunted him more than his father, his mother, all his sins and fears, and the icy breath of death itself. (he knows who that person is, who could be so convincing: lucifer need not be direct about elena's influence, no doubt given on the wings of sentimental advice. he loves his sister, and his sister loves him, but she is not the word between them.) klaus' jaw tightens; he blinks at the reason, so plainly given. it worms its way into his chest and regardless of its effect, because of its effect, he weighs his secrets and weaknesses against his hopes and pride. his fingers tighten around his glass. he longs for a drink, but he does not bring it to his lips.

instead, he looks away, to the side. it takes him a moment, but he begins. ] My father hated me. [ a pause and the none-so casual lift of a sardonic brow, he explains. ] I assume he hated me because I wasn't his son, but he hated me even before anyone, even I, knew that.

We were born at the turn of the first millennium: Freya, Rebekah, my brothers and I, though we didn't know of Freya's survival at the time. Our mother's treachery held deep roots. She gave Freya away to a monster before she ever made us ones.

[ his voice, soft and composed, trembling just so on certain words and phrases, drops. his eyes fill, the wet in them reflected by the yellow light. ] I wonder if things could have been simpler. Even with an abusive father and a manipulative mother, perhaps we would have been all right. I'll not bore you with the details of their violences and betrayals, but know that I suffered the brunt of them, as their bastard. [ only then does klaus' eyes lift to lucifer's. only then, for a moment, before he glances away, but the contact is easier—it continues. ]

When mother turned us into vampires, she meant to make us immortal. She meant to prevent the grief she felt losing her youngest son to the werewolves. [ a lump forms in his throat at the thought of henrik, at the part he played in his brother's death. he doesn't elaborate. there is his story and then there is his heart; he will not share both so indiscriminately. ] But it only made us creatures far worse than those she sought in her twisted mind to shield us from, and when I made that first kill, driven by the bloodlust of our kind...

There was no hiding what I was. Half-vampire, half-wolf, as my true father had beget me. Mikael held me down. He had my brother help. And he cursed me. He convinced my mother to curse me to be half of what I was using the blood of a woman I had once held dear.

[ klaus pauses. he swallows thickly, because despite the murders he had made before this, this was his first true sin. the sin he chose. and like the sins he chooses, he allows no remorse for it. (none he will admit.) ] So I killed her. I killed her and we fled from our father. We fled for centuries, and I wish that were the worst of the terrors I have inflicted, but it is not. Only the most formative.

I punished those I love. I sought to control their every impulse, their every desire to leave me. I maimed, killed, tortured, sired, and abandoned countless thousands in my quest to escape our father. To defeat him. To comfort myself on blood and power. [ he head bows. ] Or at least to have it, in the absence of anything else.

And I did, eventually. Break that curse forced upon me. I sacrificed Elena. I murdered her loved ones, threatened them... [ he licks his lips and worries them between his teeth. ] I killed my father.

And then I learned I was to have a daughter. [ only then does the darkness lift from his voice. ] A little girl, and everything changed. [ everything, from that moment on. he had something to fight for. something to lose. something to believe in.

klaus takes a moment to collect himself and then lifts his eyes to lucifer. ] We weren't friends, [ he declares, as statement of fact. ] Friends know each other. [ he brings his tumbler over his lap. with a vulnerable tick of his head, he confesses, ] Perhaps I wanted to know you.

Edited 2017-03-05 23:33 (UTC)

[Lucifer listens with drink in hand, watching Klaus with an odd look, one of fascination and almost sympathy as he speaks, taking sips of his liquor at periodic intervals.

He wonders what he would have done in that situation. Lucifer considered himself a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them. That said, if it had been required of him for survival, if his very identity were stripped from him by those he thought should care for him, if getting it back had been as simple as taking life?

He doesn't know what he would have done. Those he tortured were already dead when he got his hands on them. In some ways, what he did to those souls was so much worse, and he placated himself by being convinced that they deserved it for their crimes.

He can tell, just by looking at him, that Klaus carries the things he's done. Despite the coldness with which he presented them originally, he doesn't carry any of that now. It had been a mask, so much like the ones Lucifer himself wore so often that they started to become real. He knows precisely how living like that feels.

It feels like Hell.

It appears as if Camille was correct.]

You were punishing yourself. [It's not a question. But he will not call Klaus a victim. He's no more one of those than Lucifer is himself. They've made the beds they lie in.] I know a bit about what that is like.

[Understatement.

He tilts his head, clearly calmer than even when he first settled into his spot.]

You could ask me anything you wish. I would tell you.

[ you were punishing yourself. it's not a question nor is it a false conclusion. klaus still feels the darkness and dread that compels him to deny it, that impulse that rises within him: he is not a victim, and guilt and remorse are the weaknesses of victims. the protest dies in his throat, a passing, wasted vestige of what was, but neither can he admit lucifer is right. (he did confess. he said those things, if not wanting to be punished, then knowing he would be. he confessed knowing he would be punished if not for his sins, then for his cowardice. for his betrayal of the man in front of him; for the betrayal of himself. and that is his selfish reason, but it is reason all the same.)

what use would it be to deny this to one who does know intimately? who can? klaus' eyes flicker down in his mild discomfort and comfort both, but his lips lift in not quite yet a smile at lucifer's offer. ] I suppose turnabout's fair play, [ he says, and downs most of his glass. he'll savor the second, reaching forward to pour himself more. ] I know the bible, but I assume it's a biased account.

Edited 2017-03-08 19:26 (UTC)

It's a rather long story, so I won't bore you with specifics.

[Klaus' is no doubt filled with twists and turns, and he's only been around a thousand years. Lucifer was given enough and has enough creativity to fill in some of the blanks.]

I was born like any other creature, I suppose. My mother and my father got together and created a family. Considering they were all-powerful celestial beings, they simply happened to make the rest of the universe as well.

[The, ahem, big bang. Y u p.]

Life was quite pleasant for a while, until Dad decided he wanted to create something he called 'humanity.' While he focused all his attention on that, my mother grew cold, as ignored partners tend to do. They both neglected my siblings and I quite obviously, but I was the one that acted out because of it. I got booted from the house and sentenced to a life of punishment and servitude in the form of ruling Hell, and my mother stood there and watched it all happen. A few thousand years later, Dad kicked her out too, except he locked her up. I, of course, did nothing for her. She'd done nothing for me and I saw no reason to act differently.

[He'd been bitter and angry for so long that any other course of action seemed ridiculous.]

I ruled Hell, but she was any other prisoner, there to be tortured for her crimes. [He shrugs his shoulders.] Regardless, about five years ago, I decided I was done being my father's pawn. I escaped Hell, took my favorite demon along with me, and opened up a nightclub in Los Angeles.

[ klaus has never given much thought to the sacrament of religion, let alone the creation of all things. surely he's heard the debates and the discussions; the discourse of centuries. he's seen the wars fought over god and creation, the empires that have risen and fallen in the name of such things. as a child he was taught of nine worlds and powerful gods, but in the end nothing had seemed quite as powerful as his mother and his father.

after he and his family were created again, such things seemed below them: the cries and uncertainties of mortal clinging to bedtime stories, in need of guidance through the darkness. they were the darkness. they were the gods. lucifer's in another world and the same story. parts of it intrigue him for different reasons: that there was a mother, that celestial beings have tiffs over so normalized an argument, and that not only was lucifer condemned to be the blackened, twisted, monstrous son, but that he was expected to be that to his mother, and he accepted, klaus would assume, with pain and anger both.

klaus traced the lip of his glass and smiles at the last of lucifer's story. ] A regular prodigal son, [ he comments blithely, and then sobers. ] It seems we were both punished, [ he intones, and pulls in a short breath, ] and then created in that image.

[He's left out the worst bits of the story, because the devil is in the details, after all. That said, he's quite sure that just as he can fill in the blanks, so can Klaus.

After all, they're very similar, are they not? That's becoming more and more clear the longer they speak.]

Quite. [Lucifer manages a smile as well, lifting his glass toward Klaus in a quiet toast.] It seems we've both done what we can to break free from the burdens we've been forced to bear.

[ they are similar. what klaus can't or doesn't fill in now, he will assume he might learn in time. klaus has rarely seen himself in others and even rarer felt kinship for it. he feels it now. however bleak those similarities and understandings are, they are all the more meaningful for it.

klaus tips his glass to that notion; that reclaiming lucifer speaks of. that piece of none-too impossible redemption. ] To gloomy millennia. [ a fitting addition to that note.

klaus thinks of his daughter. he thinks of camille and his family, and says, ] And hope, for something after.

[Time is something Lucifer has plenty of. He can't know for sure how long he'll be in Wonderland itself, considering its tendency to whisk people to and from at a whim, but he's here for the time being.]

I'll gladly drink to that.

[He tilts his drink ever so slightly as well before taking a long sip out of it.]

Well, now that's done, we can stop with all this dreary talk, yes?

[ klaus follows lucifer in the drink and then follows him again in spirit. klaus leans forward to take the bottle and top himself off. ] I couldn't agree more. What does the devil do for fun?

Sex, drugs, rock and roll are a few of my favorites.

[He grins.]

I do like to toss around the wicked from time to time, but this place seems to be lacking in those at the moment.

[ he's had his fair share of each but considers the line to be half about the cliche; not that he'd disapprove. a grin forms on his lips as well. whether it's a nod to him or otherwise... ] Oh, I'm sure, if we really wanted to find one... [ truth be told klaus has his suspicions about quite a few of wonderland's citizens. ]

Replace 'drugs' with drink—or blood—and 'rock and roll' with jazz. You have a night for me.

It would create quite the story to make its way through Wonderland gossip, wouldn't it?

[He seems amused by the idea, though he doesn't seem inclined to act on it.]

That sounds like a satisfactory evening to me. I'll have to plan a jazz night in the future. I'll be sure to personally invite you.

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OTA ; Don't Stop, Make it Pop, DJ Blow My Speakers Up

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