Paint and Ink

Lucifer revels in the way she can make a world from the nib of her pen. Curliques, some as broad as a hand, others as detailed as a needle, twirl around the canvas. She dances with the details, the intricacies, of the world she makes.

The bloody wars of the yellow and red; the cool symphony of the blue and green. Colours the human eyes would not dream of perceiving. Rough bristles softened as she dips her brush into the water, then beaten back into slavery as she parries with her brush. The canvas is stabbed, caressed, stroked as she continues the creation of her world. She does not notice the paint smeared on her arm. She ignores the globs of purple in her chestnut hair. She pays little heed to the array of paint splashed all over her studio. 

Finally, she is done. The paintbrush slips from her hand; Lucifer is exhausted. Before her stands a world completely different from the one of the humans. Trees of pink, a sky of purple, a grass of blue, a lake of green. 

Light filters in through the window of the studio and the canvas comes alive. The darkest of shadows reside with the brightest of supernovas. It is the most beautiful work she has ever made.

She reaches forward, and her fingertips brush against a small figure in the eden. A dragon, with spines protruding from its spine. Every scale shines with a different colour in the light. A small scar trails across its snout. 

It looks alive. It looks like smoke could come billowing from that scarred snout at any second, like those paper-thin wings would beat the air, creating the largest of winds, as it came for her.

For her. 

I miss you, she thinks. You were my guardian. You protected me with your life. You were by my side when no one else was. You had my back when all everyone else had was a knife.

And now you're gone. 

Your last words were for me to live. Your last words were for me to create a world everyone else could only dream of. Your last words were for me to create a sanctuary. 

For me to be the morning sun to the dying light of Earth.

I have created a haven. Would you join me in this painful, endless journey?

Lucifer slips her fingers through the canvas into a world without pain, a world for her and the life pure enough to live in. 

She could be the devil. She could be villain in every other story. But she didn't care what the humans wanted to say about her. Only the ones with uncontaminated, unadulterated light in their souls would be able to reach this place of safety, of peace. 

They could call her the Devil.

She knew she was the Star.