Burned Edges (closed)

[Evander]

(( this is a continuation of a written word/cbox roleplay. )) Not long after Lucifer pulled Van's corpse from Don's trap (and Evander pulled them both from the flames), the three made their way to the medic Sylar's workplace for help with their wounds.

Evander couldn't help but smile slightly at the tones of the brothers' voices as they eagerly agreed about their less-than-perfect relationship. The smile turned momentarily sour, almost a grimace, however, as his thoughts turned a bit more personal. Why did these two get to remember each other? He himself had no ties to the human world.. nothing to remember at all and nobody to be able to connect with in that close, familial way. Even now, the ones he HAD found that counted as a family were gone forever. It was enough to make one rather jealous. He didn't allow the begrudging feeling or his opinion mar his outside appearance, and he remained settled in a casual position, the two forelimbs of his spider body folded over each other.

"Yet you two seem to have some sort of agreement going on. Tell me, why do you help your brother if you don't like him?"

It was mostly simple curiosity at this point; it was odd to see two family members, who seemed to hate each other so much, to go to one another for solutions to their problems.

[Lucifer [1984]]

Lucifer

The immense coalstain of Lucifer's optics hardened on his brother's shape like chips of black ice when he ignored his comment about Van altogether. It was easy to assume why Sylar would be so quick to assume that Van was dead - he hadn't maintained the best relationship with Lucifer's partner - but it still irked Lucifer, deep down. He felt his mood sink deep into his dark soul, his mind conjuring up the image of his hand around his brother's neck and the other on his scalp, slowly wrenching his brother's head from his shoulders - watching his optics bulge, and oil pour from the gaping lips of an expression of shock. Delicious shock.
Didn't his brother know he and Van were more powerful than death?

Evander's comment stirred Lucifer from his morbid thoughts, and he swept his attention to the grey-and-brown medic who was currently mending the body of Lucifer's most precious possession. His lips curled up into a twisted smile - it wasn't so much an agreement as it was Sylar serving him and being unable to stop. He was fully aware of why Sylar chose to help him despite their obvious feud, and it empowered him. He had his brother on a string, and he need only give it a violent jerk every now and them to force him to do his bidding.

"He's a pushover, that's why." A deep chuckle rose from Lucifer's throat, his optics greedily raking the nearby air for any trace of Van's spirit. "He cannot say no."

[Van [108]]

Oh, he was there. Though his gaze was drawn to the body Sylar was working on - his body - like a moth to a flame, something… he turned his eyes onto Lucifer, as if aware that the other was staring at the empty air in vain for him.

It felt weird, to be dead. Van wasn't the type to think on things this deep, this meditative, but being dead did wonders for the mind. All of his memories, from the last time he'd died, his first, real death, were in plain view. He could look them over, watch them again, even more plainly than he had when Lucifer and he had binded. Van wasn't stupid, but nor was he a genius. He idly knew what would happen if he allowed himself, in this state, to review his memories, those events. But there was nothing he could do to avoid it, at the same time.

Some things arose. Some things that would change a lot. Realizations, facts, and even acceptances.

Assuming, anyway, he ever got back to the land of the living.

Van focused on Lucifer at the end of the medical table and felt nothing but a deep pit of sadness.