after the end

[igiko]

Ion

And then he wakes up.

Sandalphon stares at the sky above him. Belatedly, he realizes that he's lying on the ground. His limbs feel like lead as he sits up. What was he doing?

He recalls a mirror. What came after, if there was anything, eludes him.

Perhaps, he thinks as he surveys the foreign scenery of a tranquil village, he fell into the mirror. Hazy though his memories are, he remembers this identical landscape on the reflective surface mounted against the castle wall.

That's right. He touches his forehead and closes his eyes. Memories of the farcical war flood his mind. This isn't the world within the mirror; it's the world that Lucifer put him in to serve his sentence.

This innocent, peaceful village with not a soul in sight is his long-awaited punishment.

After the high of winning the game and restoring the lives of its participants, Sandalphon's shoulders sag upon the return to his rightful place. He should be feeling at ease. If he's here, then the others must have gone back to their own worlds.

Well, all except for--never mind.

The village is quiet. Lucifer doesn't speak to him or otherwise appear to outline the nature of his bizarre prison.

In fact, it's a mystery if he ever noticed Sandalphon's missing presence. No matter: His disappearance is of no significance to the Supreme Primarch.

There really isn't anyone here. He knows this in his mind, yet he walks through the village from beginning to finish. At the end of the cobblestone path, he finds himself before the entrance of one of the many empty houses with a surprisingly heavy heart.

The bed in the master bedroom is small. It's just the right size for an adult human who lives alone.

He looks out the window. After all that walking around, the sun has begun to set. Soon it'll be dark, and nothing will have changed from Pandemonium.

Sandalphon backtracks into the hallway. On his way past the open bathroom door, he stops at a small glint that he catches from the corner of his eyes. The metal of his armor had caught the faintest glimmer of the dying light and reflected against the bathroom mirror. His lips part as he studies himself.

Like this, he resembles Lucifer more than ever before. The clothes that wrap his body now are somewhat reminiscent of those of the Supreme Primarch. It's both fitting and ironic, and takes everything in Sandalphon to tear his gaze away and make his way out.

Eventually, he drifts off to a restless sleep at the living room table. He awakens in the dawn with his head resting on folded arms and a crick in his neck for the poor posture he'd assumed in his sleep. Ignoring the discomfort, he sets out while the sun prepares to rise over the mountains in the distance.

The morning's first rays have just begun to illuminate the dusky sky when he comes upon the trees. That same afternoon, he goes back to the abode of his choice with a handful of fruits from which to extract coffee beans in tow.

The aroma, the taste, the texture--all of it's the same. Yet, sitting there with the cup of coffee pressed to his lips, Sandalphon can't help but to feel that everything has changed. When was the last time that he drank coffee alone?

Not very long ago. Even with people coming and going from the kitchen, he'd often partaken of coffee by himself at the castle. Hs should stop letting his sentimentality cloud his judgment.

Instead, he wonders if Lucifer can see the goings-on of this strange world. But even if he can, why would he? With a half-hearted shrug, he takes another sip of coffee--the only constant he's known in his long life, besides that damming ache of loneliness.

They'll be his only companions now.

Jae-ha

During their final encounter, he'd told Jae-ha that he wouldn't rewrite the future. To do so would have been nothing short of hubris. Besides, he'd insisted internally, Lucifer didn't need him. So the book had gone untouched; and the ink, unused.

Kneeling somewhere in the shrine of Canaan with Lucifer's head cradled in his arms, the recollection is a slap in the face. Had he not been so prideful, he could have done something.

He could have prevented this. That's what he'd thought in the heat of the moment before his mind had gone blank in the shocking grip of grief. Now, standing aboard the Grandcypher's deck as he looks up at the sky, he realizes that he'd been arrogant to think so.

His sentimentality is a wretched thing. Upon recalling one memory, it recounts the rest without hesitation. Sandalphon's brow furrows as the conversations he'd been a part of so long ago in his darkest moments come back to him, one by one.

"Did you love him?" Jae-ha had asked. Even now, Sandalphon wonders. For a primal beast such as himself, such an emotion is taboo.

However, even Lucifer--perhaps the most exemplary primal to grace the skies--had expressed yearning. And is that not nearly the same thing, to yearn insofar that it hurts to even breathe?

Had he written even just one word into that book, could Lucifer have been saved?

Bowing his head, Sandalphon reaches up to squeeze his temples with a gloved hand. The gesture covers his eyes, and he closes them with a muted sigh.

Yes, he decides wearily in the quiet abyss of his thoughts. He'd never denied it in the castle, nor had he confirmed it--until now. He supposes that he did love Lucifer.

Did, because Lucifer is no more, and that knowledge pains him more than all the experiments he's ever endured and the weight of his terrible sins combined.

Rapunzel

Lyria reminds him of her--of Rapunzel, even though he met Lyria first.

The similarities are obvious. All three of them had been imprisoned at one point in their lives. Sandalphon aside, Lyria and Rapunzel are both stubborn about befriending and seeing the good in every living soul within sight. Rapunzel had been on his case at every turn they'd shared; now, Lyria won't leave him alone whenever they cross paths.

She never says it aloud, but Sandalphon knows that she wants to befriend him. Unfortunately for her, that's not why he joined the crew. The sooner the girl in blue understands this, the better it'll be for everyone.

Despite this, it's had to ignore the mess in the kitchen when she decides to take up baking one afternoon. He can't help himself: He hates disorganization and waste.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asks in a tone that's perhaps a touch too demanding.

Lyria jumps. "S-Sandalphon!"

"What are you making? The ingredients and equipment are all over the place. How do you concentrate like this?"

In the end, he gets roped into being Lyria's assistant. Together, they crank out a couple sheets of cookies that actually look like what they're supposed to be. Lyria turns to him, beaming.

"They smell amazing! Thanks for your help, Sandalphon. I couldn't have done it without you."

"I didn't do much of anything," replies Sandalphon. Mostly, he'd cleaned up after her.

"But you did," insists Lyria. "Where did you learn to bake? Did you and Lucifer . . . "

"Lucifer did no such thing. It was a girl. She's a lot like you."

"Huh? Like me?"

"Forget that I said anything. It's not important."

To her credit, Lyria always seems to know once Sandalphon's had his fill of prying for the day. She rushes out of the kitchen with her bowl of freshly baked cookies, leaving Sandalphon to stare off into the distance at the wall. The air around him is still sweet with the smell of baked good.

They're not friends, but that was probably the closest thing he's ever done to being one. He shouldn't do it again. Not least because the baking session had reminded him of a soft hand correcting his grasp on a whisk, accompanied by a kind voice instructing him on what to do next, which had then brought memories of death and sorrow to the front. There are others who are far more adept at providing assistance and support than he is.

Stephanie

Ladiva and Belial have one thing in common: they never stop talking about love. Just as Ladiva is, Sandalphon doesn't care to listen to either of them. After all, he is a primal beast.

That is, until he walks past a jovial gathering in which Ladiva scoops a number of their crewmates into her large arms and declares, "Oh, I just love each and every one of you so much, my sweetums!"

Sandalphon nearly walks into the table to his left. He swerves to spare the dishes and cups, and in the process walks straight into the wall for his trouble.

Everyone halts mid word to look at him. He pretends not to notice as he heads to the kitchen to grab a towel, so that he can clean the mild spillage he caused when the coffee sloshed out of its cup on impact. In the background, he hears Ladiva usher their crewmates out onto the deck before approaching him with steady steps.

"Here, let me help," she says, crouching down with another towel to wipe up the stray droplets of coffee here and there.

Sandalphon grunts. "That's unnecessary."

"It is, yes. But I want to. I can't just stand by and watch you work hard on your knees while I do nothing."

He glances up to find that Ladiva is winking at him, and he resists the reflexive urge to grimace from the affectionate gesture. Instead, with a seemingly reliable resource right there in front of him, Sandalphon can't help but to ask, "What does it mean?"

"Hm? What does what mean?"

"What you called the crew earlier." He doesn't like to lump himself with them if he can avoid it.

Ladiva taps her chin with a finger. Her eyes brighten once she catches on to his inquiry. "Could it be that our beautiful angel here doesn't know the meaning of sweetums?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I did," says Sandalphon, scowling while Ladiva laughs.

"Relax, there's no shame in not knowing. It's a very simple term of endearment. I call them my sweetums, because I love them oh-so-very much."

"Love . . . "

"Is it that you're secretly hoping someone will call you that, too?"

"Don't put words into my mouth."

Ladiva laughs again, not offended in the slightest by his terseness.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for some love when you need it. If you ever want a pick-me-up, call for me and I'll come running!"

She takes off after that, no doubt in search of another person to crush in her bear hug. Sandalphon resumes his original task of drinking what remains of his coffee in peace. Only, his mind is distracted by thoughts of a time in a mysterious forest and of Stephanie's leaning into him with a measure of trust that no one had ever confided in him before.

"Love, huh," he murmurs to himself. "What nonsense."

It was entirely make-belief. She was doing her part in selling the role and nothing more. Under normal circumstances, it would have been highly inappropriate to address an archangel as she had. More importantly, though, he needs to stop thinking about the castle, lest he stray from his path.

What happened there has no place in the present.