#and reference blood+ while twisting details to clown on the goetia

[the-devil-less-known]

“…Yeah. A waste, that’s for certain.” It sounds reductive, phrased like that, as if he hadn’t been greatly affected, or his efforts to try and revive the Hell That Used To Be being reduced to ruins and viscera didn’t crush him for a final time. No more exceptions made after, to avoid the targets it would simply paint on the sinner’s hide. It isn’t the time, and Alastor made for good company to keep him from sinking back into old pensive thoughts he could not change in any way meaningful.

He laughed, habitually plucking the strings to check their tuning, “Ah, but you’ve always struck me as a sort of masochist, at least I might give you some forewarning for what’s to come!” Funnily enough, knowing that a request would come his way after, and perhaps another after that, excites him. Perhaps his violin could sing for once instead of merely scream and wail. “Well, my dear student, let us start at the beginning.”

The first few notes carry between them, the music room itself now presenting in real time why the ceiling had been built high and arches in the ceiling proving to not be merely decorative. There were some similarities, initially, that might have hinted at this piece being inspired by Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, dreamy and longing for something just out of reach. Lucifer’s voice is soft, lilting, though he is not expressly singing, even as his words take the place of the antagonist where her aria was missing between the instumental of his violin.

“The Goetia were once minor angels that lived in Heaven, created for the duty of divination and spell crafting. They could not sing like the other angels, voice not carrying the same power or weilding magic. Instead, their eyes were blessed beyond measure, gazing ever starward and picking out the secrets tucked away in there, recording enchantments and prophecy unseen to any other but them and the One that created them for that purpose. And after certain social changes were made in Heaven, they willingly fell down with six young seraphs, to join me in Hell. And, over time, they became like nobility over the sinners.”

The tone of the music shifts, then, something dark and weighty slithering into the strings, coloring the atmosphere after the gentle swell was cut short and brief pause given, like an intake of breath. “Hellborn, contrary to popular belief, were not created by me; though there are plenty that may like to claim that the story of how had been lost… This opera is a heavily romanticized retelling of the how, but in not so many explicit words.”

Red eyes remain focused on the strings, the voice of Goetia playing in his mind and lyrics readily coming forth, slipping into his playing. “When it takes place, it references a Hell entirely unlike what you see now, a Hell where there were no other rings, no separation between the sinners and all that Hell could offer. And then, they had been seen as a novelty, something…. dangerous. Thrilling. Other.”

Like someone he knew, perhaps?

Lucifer sighed, resisting the urge to shake his head, instead picking up the pace of his playing, creating the feeling of someone falling or being swept up in a wind. “Astraea, in this particular piece, is a Goetia that had fallen for a sinner that remains unnamed, and is consumed by grief to find him with another, seeing it as a betrayal to be spurned, after she had sacrificed station and reputation for someone so lowly. For someone that would discard her as soon as have her. That all she could offer him, without the power of her station and gifts, would not be enough to keep him near... not that he ever asked for such things.” He goes quiet, letting the song speak for him, swelling and crescendoing, warbling as if on the verge of tears and spiralling downdowndown —

But Astraea’s song is not finished yet, the Lament never meant to end in a whimper.

His violin plays, as if it might be one half of an arguement, one half of a conversation, terse and hot and not screaming but accusing, cursing, his words returnng once more, hardened, “And her grief fuels into her rage, swearing it to not be in vain, and to take something precious from the pair, like her blessed sight had been striped from her along with her station, irrecoverable. She swears then to ruin them, both, for if she could not have what she wanted… neither of them could either or she would die trying. As while this was ‘a love that could not live, it was also one that could never—’”

The song ends, abrupt and cut off, leaving the devil standing there, breath steady, as he lowered his bow, “‘— die’. Which, spoilers, she indeed does. Rather fruitlessly at the end. It was a bit controversal when it first came out, but I found it poetic that it was an illegitimate Goetia that played the part. LuLu World’s one of the few places that still plays it, and it’s a favorite, if one’s into these sorts of things. Otherwise, some of Shakespeare’s hellish hits make up the rest. Point is, Hellborn are simply descents of some rebelious Goetia and sinners from the early days. Very scandalous.”

Wiggling his violin and bow with a chuckle, Lucifer’s tail brings up the glass so he can polish off the remenants of his drink and clear his throat. “I do have a vinyl recording the first showing somewhere, if you want to listen to it all in its entirety at a later time. Though, live showings are the best if you get splashzone seats. The fight scenes are particularly spirited. And bloodthirsty.”

At some point, Alastor placed himself into one of the nearby seats, fixated on his drink while Lucifer seemed to contemplate which instrument to select to showcase his ability. Surely with as much time as the other seemed to spend on his lonesome - even before being requested to assist at his daughter's behest - he would have quite the repertoire of familiarity with any number of instruments. But if he were being honest, Alastor was rather pleased that he decided on the violin which, at first, had not looked like the same one that he remembered.

But the sudden golden finish which decorated it brought about the memory of their little musical duel - and Alastor nodded. Yes, that is what he recalled, watching as the gold made way for the red once again. And honestly, Alastor preferred it that way - red was his signature, after all. And to hear that the maker had presumably been exterminated...

"That's a shame," he said honestly. Hell had quite the shortage of true artists now - they did not fall in the same way that they used to. Even in his era, there had been any number of Sinners that had come down with talent and finesse - but as time marched on... Well. Things were lost. There were reasons why Alastor tried to steep himself in the music - the arts - of the past. Nostalgia and the efforts to maintain those things that he recalled with fondness; both driving forces to keep himself firmly rooted in the era of his life.

Thwarted by the creeping impulsiveness of the Vees and their new age. The thought made him sour, brushing it aside as he turned his attention back to Lucifer. His head tilted slightly -

"If I had complaints about said 'gabbing', I wouldn't be here." Another honest conclusion to make. Lucifer talking meant that he would not be sulking or looking for ways to antagonize. It was an obvious preference over the latter.

"Go on then. I am here to be played to and taught."

Alastor leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other with drink in his grasp and the other arm resting over the back of the chair he found himself in. Eyeing Lucifer with expectations to be educated and impressed.

"I'll request something afterwards."

To sate his curiosity as to how quickly Lucifer could pick up a tune.