Status: **Fixing up grammar and format- hopefully will get struck with inspiration**
Love from, Hell
Chapter 1: Parenting
HELL
“Something must be done about that boy!” Lucifer burst out dramatically, momentarily halting his pacing.
His composed wife, Adrienne, gave her husband a sympathetic look from her chair. “I know. He is clearly very unhappy,” she said as Lucifer resumed the pacing of his study.
“He reminds me of those tragic Shakespearean heroes. The ones that always had tortured souls,” she continued cryptically.
The dark scowl on Lucifer features deepened, frustration etched in every line. “All of them ended up dead. And all of their enemies ended up here. Goddamn Shakespeare,” Lucifer growled.
Adrienne lifted an eyebrow. “If you’ll pardon the expression,” she added with a hint of criticism.
Lucifer threw his wife a sharp, withering look. She sighed.
“Malcolm is restless. He knows the theory of all these politics but doesn’t understand the practice-”
“He blatantly refuses to let himself understand. All he ever does is protest the system- like a dark inactive cloud. I asked him how he’d improve the system and he just said ‘I don’t know,’” Lucifer interrupted.
“I can’t imagine Malcolm being that flippant,” Adrienne said.
Lucifer sighed heavily. “Not flippant. He just seemed to be… to be…” he struggled for the words.
“Voicing his thoughts?” his wife supplied.
“Yes! But what thoughts to be thinking. Well, not the radicalism so much as the indecision. It should be clear as crystal to him and yet he’s blocking,” Lucifer spat unhappily.
“Well he has yet to take his place and rule. Being under you in the counsel learning the theory is not the same as actually running the monarchy. You remember that,” Adrienne said.
Lucifer stopped his pacing and stared out a tall window at one of the fort’s turrets- the one that contained the objectionable young man in question.
“Then why is he not more eager to take control and do it? Why does he not step up and try his hand if he is so restless and unsatisfied?” Lucifer demanded tiredly.
“As to that, I imagine only Malcolm knows,” Adrienne sighed wearily and leaned back in her chair.
“What is the recluse doing now?’ Lucifer asked acidly, glaring at the turret.
“Probably copying more of those Latin essays,” Adrienne answered, her tone making it clear she thought the activity a waste of time.
“Wasting his time on a dead language,” Lucifer said, voicing his wife’s thoughts. He stared uncomprehendingly out the window at all below his grand Fort.
“Well I’d say the setting was appropriate,” Adrienne said, that hint of wit and sarcasm in her voice again.
Lucifer turned away from the window to throw his wife another withering look. Adrienne smiled then sighed.
“What would you have me do?” she asked, her tone subservient.
Lucifer looked out the window again. “Anything,” he replied.
“Something must be done about that boy!” Lucifer burst out dramatically, momentarily halting his pacing.
His composed wife, Adrienne, gave her husband a sympathetic look from her chair. “I know. He is clearly very unhappy,” she said as Lucifer resumed the pacing of his study.
“He reminds me of those tragic Shakespearean heroes. The ones that always had tortured souls,” she continued cryptically.
The dark scowl on Lucifer features deepened, frustration etched in every line. “All of them ended up dead. And all of their enemies ended up here. Goddamn Shakespeare,” Lucifer growled.
Adrienne lifted an eyebrow. “If you’ll pardon the expression,” she added with a hint of criticism.
Lucifer threw his wife a sharp, withering look. She sighed.
“Malcolm is restless. He knows the theory of all these politics but doesn’t understand the practice-”
“He blatantly refuses to let himself understand. All he ever does is protest the system- like a dark inactive cloud. I asked him how he’d improve the system and he just said ‘I don’t know,’” Lucifer interrupted.
“I can’t imagine Malcolm being that flippant,” Adrienne said.
Lucifer sighed heavily. “Not flippant. He just seemed to be… to be…” he struggled for the words.
“Voicing his thoughts?” his wife supplied.
“Yes! But what thoughts to be thinking. Well, not the radicalism so much as the indecision. It should be clear as crystal to him and yet he’s blocking,” Lucifer spat unhappily.
“Well he has yet to take his place and rule. Being under you in the counsel learning the theory is not the same as actually running the monarchy. You remember that,” Adrienne said.
Lucifer stopped his pacing and stared out a tall window at one of the fort’s turrets- the one that contained the objectionable young man in question.
“Then why is he not more eager to take control and do it? Why does he not step up and try his hand if he is so restless and unsatisfied?” Lucifer demanded tiredly.
“As to that, I imagine only Malcolm knows,” Adrienne sighed wearily and leaned back in her chair.
“What is the recluse doing now?’ Lucifer asked acidly, glaring at the turret.
“Probably copying more of those Latin essays,” Adrienne answered, her tone making it clear she thought the activity a waste of time.
“Wasting his time on a dead language,” Lucifer said, voicing his wife’s thoughts. He stared uncomprehendingly out the window at all below his grand Fort.
“Well I’d say the setting was appropriate,” Adrienne said, that hint of wit and sarcasm in her voice again.
Lucifer turned away from the window to throw his wife another withering look. Adrienne smiled then sighed.
“What would you have me do?” she asked, her tone subservient.
Lucifer looked out the window again. “Anything,” he replied.
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Fixing up this story. We'll meet Malcolm, officially, in the next chapter...~.~comment~.~.~