(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

(From here)

Sinric's room is large, vaulted and warm. The furnishings are plush and rich. One niche holds a large bed, another contains several deep couches and harpsichord. The walls are lined with bookshelves and decorated with maps and paintings.

The couch area has all manner of musical playing devices, including a rather lovely Technics 1200 LP player. "Make yourself at home." Sinric smiles, gesturing to the warm leather couches and the wet bar.

He leafs through a drawer of vinyl records, looking for something specific. He puts on Peggy Lee's Fever, swishing his hips as he sings along.

Comments

[wayward_sun]

"Nice," Lucifer says, as he heads over to the wet bar and pours himself a drink.

Then he heads for a nice, spraw-able couch and settles down, watching Sinric with a smile.

[thewidewideworld]

He dances unselfconsciously, hands in his hair as he sings. There's gold glittering off the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair. A sign of his comfort that he's not hiding his magic at all.

[wayward_sun]

The Devil appreciates a good performance.
He actually pays attention.

Watches.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sun lights up the day time,
Moon lights up the night.
I light up when you call my name,
'Cause I know you're gonna treat me right.
You give me fever."

Sparks of gold trail off him as he sings, eyes closed and narrow hips swinging. He grins to Lucifer, dancing over towards him.

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer shifts in his seat, getting comfortable, and holds up a hand, palm up.

To lean on, to touch, to rub against..


The possibilities are endless.