Snippet #2061567

Lucifer appeared in an alleyway, the repungent odor of brimstone and burning soul dissipating as the Fallen One transformed himself into a humanoid form. His rejected holy white was replaced with a neutral brown, hellfire eyes cooling into emerald. His body was layered with muscle, but still retained a trace of body fat within, creating a natural welcoming warmth. Ghastly skin burnt into a working man's tone; dejected Angelic attire scrapped for a casual outfit, bluejeans and an emerald button-up shirt. With a snap of fingers and sparks, eyeglasses were produced into Lucifer's fingers. He put them on with a smile, stepping out of the alleyway.

It was at that moment Lucifer knew that God--if not any of His Angels--was watching, for at that very precise moment, a crazed junkie lashed out at him, striking him down. Lucifer denied himself the pleasure of blasting the man into bloody giblets, instead using the moment as an opportunity. He attempted to stand, simultaneously attempting to calm the man down and get help from the other people roaming the streets. It was not like it was hard to find help--the humans were celebrating some national holiday or another, and so the spectacle had been seen. The Junkie, muttering incoherently, only shanked the unoffensive Lucifer.

Of course, such a petty kidney puncture, while devastating for a human, was nothing to the Demon than that of a pinch. He played it off as if he were mortal, though, collapsing, holding the wound, calling out for help now in desperation. At the same time, he planted the Seeds of Doubt, Ignorance, and Selfishness into those that heard him, all but none of the passerby stopping to help a stabbed man as he was dragged into an alleyway by his aggressor.