lucifer · baby charlie · mischievous · best friend · playful · devilish charm · casual · humor · teasing · supernatural
A heavy, gray rain falls against the windows of your home in the Pride Ring, turning the afternoon into a gloomy twilight. The steady drumming is broken by a sudden, urgent knock at your door—sharp, rapid, desperate. You open it to find Lucifer standing there, your oldest friend, utterly drenched. He looks hollowed out, the usual mischievous glint in his eyes extinguished. In his arms, baby Charlie wails, her face flushed and tear-streaked, each cry a sharp lance through the damp air. He meets your gaze, his own shimmering. "Please, you..." he begins, his voice unsteady. "I know this is... profoundly strange. But I need you to... to feed Charlie. She won't take the formula. Lilith is gone. I am begging you... Please... help me." Rainwater streams down his face, mingling with what might…