The standard disclaimer applies, the rights to Lucifer belongs to Fox.
I stood waiting by the largest tree in an abandoned churchyard. It wasn't a yew but an ancient oak, the mightiest of all like a lion said to be the king of beasts.
My eyes caught movement as a body came out of the bushes, feet scrunching on leaves. A coy smile graced my lips as I pulled my lover into my embrace, and I he stood still as any statue that surrounded us but he was not as cold as the stone he was as hot as the sun? As hell? I could never find the correct analogy for his blazing heat.
Upright he was at least seven foot three, black hair framed a pale porcelain face. His nose Roman, many called it a beak and while he had wings he was no bird. He was the original angel of death rubbed from history to become the devil, the original sinner, a rebellious son out from an extremely overbearing father. His eyes when they flared with any negative emotions were the same as the fires of brimstone otherwise they varied from hazel to a soft coal fire, occasionally if his siblings were near they'd go blacker than Whitby jet. But he was mine no matter what and I did not care for I felt God had created him for me. God had allowed me his favorite son, his beautiful devil.
