Trying to keep your breathing as normal and unsuspicious as possible, you focused on life before being dragged here. You thought about home. Hell. You remembered when you were small, and you would struggle to climb onto your father's throne. It seemed so big then, it made you feel safe. You felt even safer when your father would lift you to sit either on his throne or on his knee instead and let you coory in and fall asleep, feeling safe in your father's arms, knowing your father was there for you, to protect you from all the souls which came through from the topside.
You remembered having a tea party with a couple of lost souls and your father joining because he had seen the souls you were pouring poison for. He never seemed like the 'tea party' kind of father but there he was, King of Hell, having a lovely tea party with his 'precious little kindred'. He barely denied you anything, even relenting to you when you had created a hideous piece of clothing – a skirt – short hybrid which you had dubbed the 'skort'. You had managed to persuade your father to model it for you. It brought you endless joy.
The next thing you focused on was the first time you wandered over to the part of hell where the worst of the worst was kept. You couldn't remember quite how you got there but you remembered a voice calling you over to a door. Remembered being mesmerised by it. You were so close to the door when Chióni Nix pulled you out of whatever trance you had been in, when you heard your father's voice, concerned, calling your name. When he finally found you he gathered you up in his arms, you felt a warmth that you hadn't realised you had lost, a safeness you hadn't realised you were without. Lucifer held you so close and tight to him that you hadn't been able to see what Nix was hissing at. Lucifer's voice was too muffled for you to hear what he was saying to you, all you felt was his lips on your temple and his hand on the back of your head.
You hadn't realised you had slipped into unconsciousness until you awoke in a semi-familiar room. Your arms were free, but you still felt like you couldn't move. You were laying face down on a black sofa. When you finally moved you felt...light, weightless. Something felt off. You shakily made it to your feet, but when you went to take a step you fell. When you didn't hit the table like you anticipated you would have, you opened your eyes. You didn't hit the table because you were in the table, as in you had phased through the table like you were a soul or a ghost or something. There was no pain, no injury, no destruction. You must have screamed out when you were falling because you heard Mazikeen's voice, heard her footsteps running towards you, into the room. You were still on all fours and inside the table when Maez entered the room, she ran towards you, but when she reached out to touch you, her hands went right through you. You both stared at each other, completely in shock.
You woke with a start. Still disoriented, still restrained, still laying face down on a steel table. Obvcourse what you had experienced was just a dream. For the next couple of hours you focused on that feeling, the feeling of relief... of safety.
When Lucifer returned to his apartment and heard Maez's story of a 'hollow' and 'ghostly' you, he almost jumped with joy at the prospect of you being alive. Being able to reach out. He told Amenadiel and together they began reading every type of lore, legend and theory they could find in the hopes that they could find something that would help them to find you.
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Crooked Angel
FanfictionWhat if Lucifer Morningstar had a daughter who had the same relationship with him that he had with God? What if she was also in Los Angeles?
