Location - Home/School.
Interactions - None.
'A skeletal hand reached for Joseph's neck, it's cracking knuckles echoing throughout the darkness. It offered little more than a fright, the boy's flashlight failing him as they would, in a situation most dire. Though he reached for the blade offered by a trusty friend, he could not hinder the consuming blanket of doubt from washing over him. Joseph stumbled, his back hitting the dust filled planks nailed to the attic wall, his shivering frame nearly presenting him an unforgiving floo-..,'
Lucifer's fingers danced across the keyboard in a rhythmic fashion, their constant contact with each key a second nature, before the young author's train of thought was abruptly halted. Turning his attention to the dog who had leaped onto his lap, the boy could do little but laugh, wrapping his arms around the plush, fluffy and soft body of his most beloved friend. "Hey, Cerberus," Lucifer nuzzled his nose against the canine's snout, earning a lick to the face.
"Lucy!" A voice rang out, earning the teenager's attention as he pushed his computer chair out, turning those large, brown eyes toward the corridor outside his room. "Get ready for school, kiddo'!"
It was quite easy for the aspiring author to forget the passage of time while focused on that screen, his eyes scanning every single word as it traveled from this mind, towards his fingers and ultimately to the electronic device in front of him. Sadly, he could not spend every passing hour indulging himself in a world far more interesting than that of which he called hearth and home. "Wish I could bring you, Berry." Lucifer managed a soft sigh before standing, the dog still in his arms, "alas, my prince, I must leave you behind, for the crusade demands my attention..," Lucifer spoke dramatically, Cerberus looking at his owner with a tilted head. "Make this not harder than it is, Berry, I shalt return, of that I am sure..."
"Stop romancing the dog and get out!" The moment, one could say, was cut short.
"Wait for me," Lucifer winked, placing a kiss on Cerberus' snout before returning the dog to the floor. He reached for his bag, tossed it over his shoulder and started out of the room, before abruptly stopping in his steps. Backtracking, Lucifer hurried to his computer and proceeded to save his updates, and shut down the program. "Bye, dad," the teen slipped into his shoes before earning a kiss to his forehead.
"You need a boyfriend, dude," James grinned, flicking his son's forehead, moments after it was kissed.
"Can't you be bothered that I'm gay, like normal parents?" The boy smirked, rubbing his head from the vicious assault.
"I grew used to it when you told me how hot Shakira's dress was, now go and learn stuff," James opened the door, chuckling before playfully pushing his son out.
"Adios, papa," Lucifer winked, offering his father a finger wave before his ears were subsequently covered by the earphones ever so often present upon his head. The two had a close relationship, to be sure, one others would think cringe-worthy or beautiful, considering. Though, for the young student, he had little interest in obtaining friends and even a smaller desire to engage with the gathering of crowds. Though a part of the art clique, one could say, Lucifer maintained a scarce presence, around others. They often found him odd, weird, or in lack of better terms, 'freaky'. He didn't mind, of course. In a way, he would 'wear it like armor', in the words of Tyrion Lannister.
The boy lived close to Vinehurst High, a mere walk from the school, where he enjoyed listening to music and envisioning the next chapter of his story. He posted between two and three chapters every day in an episodic fashion for whomever to read, and had managed to acquire somewhat of a following. Though Lucifer enjoyed interacting with his fans, yes, he had those, they would be surprised to learn how secluded he actually was.
Even so, Lucifer was not afraid to break the stereotype. He was not shy, he simply did not seek company. He did not have bad self-esteem, he merely had nothing to prove. The author was hard to anger, and difficult to gain attention from due to his daydreaming nature, but he did have one button which conjured forth his namesake in a manner of seconds. He could still remember the day he punched another boy in the face for snatching Lucifer's notes from his hands. A meeting with the principle swiftly came to greet him, and authority was more shocked by the event than anyone else. Lucifer was, after all, an incredibly well-behaved boy.
Just don't fuck with his notes.
Opening his locker, an onlooker would immediately see the neatly rowed stack of notebooks, and none of them were used for schoolwork. A builder had their workshop, and he had his. Having mastered the art of walking and writing simultaneously, Lucifer eventually dropped down on a bench, where he would proceed to wait for class to begin, his eyes firmly set on the pages in his hands.