Week 2 - dreamshare catchall with Sandalphon

[fragileprophet]

[The week is filled with dreams.]

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[melancoffeea]

[Lucifer is here again. He asks if you’re doing well, and you answer that nothing’s changed when the icy grip of insecurity snakes around your core. You let the words spill.

“Oh, but there is one thing . . . ” you trail off, suddenly shy about burdening the supreme primarch with your lowly concerns.

“What is it? Are you still contemplating your purpose?”

You nod and explain that all archangels have a purpose—all except for you, who passes each day in peace and quiet. Perhaps this time, you hope, you’ll receive an answer for the reason behind your creation. Instead, Lucifer scowls.

“How many times must I repeat myself? That is not something you should be concerned with.”

And just like that, Lucifer leaves you behind despite the protest that escapes your lips and dies after a word. Dejected, you look down at your feet. You just want to be useful to him.

You wander the lab. Eventually, you come upon Lucifer and a researcher’s discussion of your purpose. You hide behind a pillar, your heart pounding in anticipation.

“He’s your spare in case something happens to you.” The researcher and Lucifer exchange a few words, and the former chuckles. “Realistically speaking, that won’t be necessary. You’ve far surpassed my wildest dreams. Sandalphon is useless. That scrap will be disposed of at an appropriate time. I suppose you may keep him if you’ve grown attached to him.”

Lucifer is speechless. The researcher takes him away to look at another specimen while you lean against the pillar for support. The researcher’s words echo in the empty wasteland of your mind.

You’re useless scrap. A stopgap. Good for nothing. Then why do you still exist?

For years, you’ve prayed that you might be useful to Lucifer someday. That day will never come.

You flee, but not before you start to weep uncontrollably.

Later, a collection of primals who can no longer stand their miserable fate band together to rebel against the researchers. It’s a primitive rampage, void of organized thought and overflowing with desperation. You join them, but not because you’ve grown tired of the experiments; you do so, because you’re a worthless pawn who has no place in Lucifer’s regulated world.

The rebellion fails, in large part due to Lucifer’s awesome power. Those who aren’t massacred, including you, are gathered up and imprisoned in a tower that strips you of your movement and power.

The darkness consumes you for two thousand years. Your anger, your grief, your guilt—innumerable emotions fester in your wretched soul. But you can't cry out; you can only think and drown in your poisonous thoughts for what feels like an eternity.

You want to see him again. You want to hear his voice. You want to meet him in that shaded garden and watch his smile while he brews coffee. You want to prostrate yourself before him and beg his forgiveness for your treason.

But it's too late.

You’ve ruined everything.]