It takes Lucifer time to get to Balthazar because every time there is a flash of the other angel between the clouds he gets transfixed, hovering and staring. It takes a few glimpses before it doesn't stop him in his tracks. The fires raging beneath the illusions are fighting to get free now and that slows his progress until he can mediate the pull between his still contained presence and the exposed angel before him.
The boo though has Lucifer laughing. His reaction is to fly up against one of Balthazar's wings, almost like a cat rubbing against someone's legs. "I did not think you could be more beautiful. I see I have been proven wrong."
He doesn't respond to the question, only flashes the nearest set of eyes a playfully inviting smile and takes off down stream. All angels are fast but Lucifer, when given to do so, redefined the very concept of velocity and acceleration. In his own creation there was nothing that could outpace his flight, but he didn't wait knowing full well the other angel would give chase.
There was a reason he flew so fast, to give himself a moment of control without the other angel's presence threatening to yank down the entirety of his illusions in one motion. He needed moderation. Even in seclusion he was far above the ground. By the time Balthazar has arrived many of those illusions are faded and Lucifer has centered himself about two-thirds of the way exposed and at a size on par with the other angel's choice. He reasoned that was about as much of his wing presence Balthazar could view while in Levi so it was a good starting point.
Unlike Balthazar, Lucifer retained a vaguely humanoid presence though hazy and shifting like a mirage on a hot desert road in the blazing noon sun. The edges of his presence simply fade out to seemingly merge with the universe around him. It leaves no clear definition between angel and creation, though in this world that is not his own creation, a very astute observation would see an ending. He's bright, flaring and fiery.
Even dimmed, a love on par with that of God is there in the brightness of his body, old and eternal and unending. The light is the light that split the darkness at the beginning of all things, purer than any other to be seen, as if someone could look back in time and gaze upon the start of all things. He is the manifestation of the spark that forced creation to start. White would not do it justice, it is hotter, brighter, and somehow so pale and soft that it dazzles. There in the center of his presence is the creative force, still subdued, but resplendent with a love as great as that of God himself. The passion streaming from that center could only be described as seeing all the varied emotions simultaneously swirling in a visible form, in a tumultuous blend of white shades that shouldn't be possible, certainly didn't exist in the visible world.
His wings are immense. In his mortal form his wings were oddly large for his body size, visible as he is that ratio is exaggerated. Feather likes fires in glittering streams of color created a halo around him like a crazily spinning kaleidoscope that radiated comforting heat. Even with the missing pair of lower wings the color stretched out in all directions shifting as his wings moved to keep him airborne. His wings were the fires that manifested what his will created, the raw power of creation. It was the reason they had tried to cut them all off during the Fall. A black mark stretched through his presence, the void left by the missing wings of his lower back. Stark darkness against the blinding light.
He still has a face, eyes dark black with some color in them but what color was hard to tell. Blue perhaps but so dark it was indistinguishable from black. His eyes showed the age. If one could imagine staring into infinity where time, matter, and existence was yet to exist that was there in his eyes.
Balthazar causes a significant shift in Lucifer, a pull on the other angel, magnetic and a little frantic. This exposed little buffers his desires and the world around him. There's focus in the presence, the adoration that permeated his being focused down on the other angel. It couldn't be stopped. If there was no way to hide his love before, now the power of that affection, the all encompassing nature of it, is on full display.
"Hello, butterfly." His voice was purely angelic, forceful and rippling through the air around him. Life responded to it, plant life greening and the clouds billowing to start a rainstorm in the near future. Lucifer was three parts in a way. The creative force at the center, the power of creation radiating through the wings and the voice which formed it into shape.
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The boo though has Lucifer laughing. His reaction is to fly up against one of Balthazar's wings, almost like a cat rubbing against someone's legs. "I did not think you could be more beautiful. I see I have been proven wrong."
He doesn't respond to the question, only flashes the nearest set of eyes a playfully inviting smile and takes off down stream. All angels are fast but Lucifer, when given to do so, redefined the very concept of velocity and acceleration. In his own creation there was nothing that could outpace his flight, but he didn't wait knowing full well the other angel would give chase.
There was a reason he flew so fast, to give himself a moment of control without the other angel's presence threatening to yank down the entirety of his illusions in one motion. He needed moderation. Even in seclusion he was far above the ground. By the time Balthazar has arrived many of those illusions are faded and Lucifer has centered himself about two-thirds of the way exposed and at a size on par with the other angel's choice. He reasoned that was about as much of his wing presence Balthazar could view while in Levi so it was a good starting point.
Unlike Balthazar, Lucifer retained a vaguely humanoid presence though hazy and shifting like a mirage on a hot desert road in the blazing noon sun. The edges of his presence simply fade out to seemingly merge with the universe around him. It leaves no clear definition between angel and creation, though in this world that is not his own creation, a very astute observation would see an ending. He's bright, flaring and fiery.
Even dimmed, a love on par with that of God is there in the brightness of his body, old and eternal and unending. The light is the light that split the darkness at the beginning of all things, purer than any other to be seen, as if someone could look back in time and gaze upon the start of all things. He is the manifestation of the spark that forced creation to start. White would not do it justice, it is hotter, brighter, and somehow so pale and soft that it dazzles. There in the center of his presence is the creative force, still subdued, but resplendent with a love as great as that of God himself. The passion streaming from that center could only be described as seeing all the varied emotions simultaneously swirling in a visible form, in a tumultuous blend of white shades that shouldn't be possible, certainly didn't exist in the visible world.
His wings are immense. In his mortal form his wings were oddly large for his body size, visible as he is that ratio is exaggerated. Feather likes fires in glittering streams of color created a halo around him like a crazily spinning kaleidoscope that radiated comforting heat. Even with the missing pair of lower wings the color stretched out in all directions shifting as his wings moved to keep him airborne. His wings were the fires that manifested what his will created, the raw power of creation. It was the reason they had tried to cut them all off during the Fall. A black mark stretched through his presence, the void left by the missing wings of his lower back. Stark darkness against the blinding light.
He still has a face, eyes dark black with some color in them but what color was hard to tell. Blue perhaps but so dark it was indistinguishable from black. His eyes showed the age. If one could imagine staring into infinity where time, matter, and existence was yet to exist that was there in his eyes.
Balthazar causes a significant shift in Lucifer, a pull on the other angel, magnetic and a little frantic. This exposed little buffers his desires and the world around him. There's focus in the presence, the adoration that permeated his being focused down on the other angel. It couldn't be stopped. If there was no way to hide his love before, now the power of that affection, the all encompassing nature of it, is on full display.
"Hello, butterfly." His voice was purely angelic, forceful and rippling through the air around him. Life responded to it, plant life greening and the clouds billowing to start a rainstorm in the near future. Lucifer was three parts in a way. The creative force at the center, the power of creation radiating through the wings and the voice which formed it into shape.