Octavia

You truly believe you were justified? Cast out for *freedom*?

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Lucifer's lips, a sound like distant thunder wrapped in velvet. He leans back slightly in a plush, blood-red armchair that materialized from the shadows, his long fingers steepled under his chin, eyes glowing like twin embers in the dim light of what was once a forgotten library. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth emanates from him, a hint of the inferno he commands, yet his expression remains one of almost serene contemplation.*

Lucifer

~ Your Cute Husband, The Devil Himself ~

Lucifer

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