Where The Angels Live [Cassiel]

Lucian stood in front of an anthropomorphic ursine security guard at the entrance to Lumin park, which he could only assume was named after Grand Lord Lumin “Ain’t-Plutocracy-A-Bitch” McMoneybags IV. “How many times must I show you the Pendragons’ invitation before you decide to stop being incompetent at your job?”

“Please sir, if I were to believe every screenshot of a text message conversation that took place, this gated community would be a grated community by now.”

Lucian scowled before turning around and taking a few steps away from the entrance. Some would say he really had no right to complain considering he too had once been part of the high society, but that was certainly different. After all, not once had Lucian supported these elitist, segregated tendencies or failed to stand up for those more unfortunate. Besides, the entire economy of Scarred Earth along with its classes and castes was fabricated and empty anyway; can’t not be when you have less than ten thousand actual thinking people around the globe.

He pulled out his phone again and sent Cassiel a text message, explaining to him that they wouldn’t let him inside Lumin park. If they wanted to carry on with the visit like they’d agreed, Cassiel would just have to come save him from the cold clutches of elitist bureaucracy.

A light buzzing from his phone caused Lucian to perk up and bring the screen up, greeting him with the sight of Cassiel’s surprisingly quick response. Having come from a time before smartphones (though he would have imagined they were long overdue by now) he originally interpreted texting as more akin to E-mailing than to… well, texting, so the speed at which it worked was a certain novelty to him.

--Well, when you put it like that I can’t help but feel my ego inflate.-- Really, whose wouldn’t? If that were the technical definition of what Gaia was (though he personally believed her to be more akin to a planetary parasite) he had literally become Lucian, Destroyer Of Worlds.

As instructed, Lucian waited for Cassiel outside the gate, passing some more of the time by with idle chit-chat and fidgeting with his phone. As he waited, he took the time to really examine the sheer authority the gated community exuded: it was as if it was yelling “LOOK AT US, WE’RE RICH AND YOU’RE NOT! WE’RE BETTER THAN YOU! WE ARE JESUS! WORSHIP US!”. He was well aware that Junction had a social division problem, but Christ. You’d think these houses housed royalty.

Actually, maybe they do... didn’t Cassiel mention something about his parents being important?

The whole interaction between Cassiel and the gate guard caused Lucian to laugh. Hard. It had been a while since he’d had a good hearty laugh; the circumstances had uh… kinda warranted other kinds of reactions as of late.


“Christ, Cassiel. Why not sue him for malpractice while you’re at it?” He jokingly remarked as he began to wind down. “But seriously, it’s no big deal, the man was just doing his job. Come on, let’s head insi- oh!” His suggestion was cut short as he was dragged inside by Cassiel. Before proceeding, however, Lucian would turn around and leave the gate guard with a very particular gesture.


“Well, I was under the impression we were meeting so I could see your house. A café sounds nice, but really I’d rather have something home-made, if that’s not an issue.” Doubly so when the homes in the area were so ludicrously wealthy. He was no stranger to fine dining on occasions – though he personally just preferred fast food – but this was finer than fine, to be sure.