Granted, one doesn't have much room to believe, living in hell--even if you had the power to force the truth out of legions. So yes, this desert arrangement was more for him than the man being tempted, or for the "fate of man," as his Old Man would say. Yes, so far, his guest was passing his trials as well as he should. At this point, Job would've at least looked slightly peeved, Moses would've done more than smash a stick against rocks, and Elijah would've needed an earthquake to shake off the despair. But this one? There was no hint of doubt in this one's eyes. No disappointment on his tongue. The man was sad, certainly. But it wasn't a human sadness. It was something else. Something familiar.
He looked the part. But Lucy needed assurance.
"Well, come up here now. Do be quick, there's only so much sunlight left," he said. He was lying, of course. That was clear from the glints of light streaming down the human's forehead as he climbed up, and the afternoon sun up in the sky. Plenty of time left. Too much waiting, if you asked Lucy.
The human climbed the last rock, dusting the dirt off his knees. He turned to Lucy. "Why did you bring me here?"
But Lucy wasn't looking at the human. He was looking at everything beneath the Sun, glinmering clay and stone cities, built on vice and virtue alike. Women bathing on rooftops, men building new walls, children racing the streets that only elongate into their adulthoods. Civilizations. People.
"I could give you all of this, you know," Lucy said. "I mean, technically I don't own any of it. But practically, I'm a sort of landlord 'round these parts. I have a lot of power over these cities. Immense power."
The human fell silent.
Lucy almost smiled. "Not impressed, huh?" He sat down on the cliff, letting his legs hang low. "Well, I guess the catch where I need you to worship me won't, either."
The human glared at him.
There was a silence between the two. Lucy played with the sleeves of his robes. "Well, that's all the trials. Not sure why the Spirit had you here in the first place. You're a spitting image of Pops' anyway," Lucy said, "Sit down. The angels won't come around until a few more hours."
The human...
Lucy paused. He looked over his shoulders, staring at the Son of Man, standing like a defiant child. "Aw, jeez, Pops," he said, "You literally know everything. You think I'm going to pull a fast one on you now?"
The Son stared. "I'll stand." He said. "If it pleases you."
Lucy rolled his eyes. He turned back to the cities of the world, watching. Absorbing. Studying.
He heard the scratch of sandals against rock, the Son moving to sit a distance away from him.
Lucy didn't need to ask what changed His mind. It was a guess, but he figured there could only be one reason why He'd even think of doing something Lucy suggested. Something Lucy wasn't very proud of knowing.
"You have a question," the Son said.
Ding-ding--give the Devil a prize. "Right. Yes, right." He thought about it. "Long shot; but would I like the answer to that question?"
"It is not in my place to say."
"Yeah, figured you'd say that."
He thought about it a little more. When did Job die again? It felt like centuries ago, considering that was the last time he met the Old Man. The last time they left on good terms felt much, much longer. Lucy hadn't even got the chance to pack his things. Say his farewells.
Ask why.
"So," he said, "I'm going on a whim here and thinking you aren't here for a regular walk in the garden or anything."
The Son flinched slightly, though Lucy didn't bother to notice. "I've walked the circumference of this place, what, a hundred, two hundred times? I know the earth like the back of my hand. And I know you wouldn't have recognized it, even after you flooded the nations." Lucy continued. "It's a wreck. It's a hot wreck, even by my standards. And knowing the maniac you are, I know you're going to try to fix it. Save your children, or whatever."
"Yes," the Son finally piped up.
Lucy smirked at the confirmation, but he quickly retracted it. "Now, I'm not going to ask how you're gonna do it. A second Elijah, another seven plagues, maybe even Balaam's donkey, the hell if I know--you've already topped yourself with the virgin birth thing, I can only see it getting more nuts from here on out," Lucy started. "But I've been thinking. Ever since I left, I've been thinking."
There was silence.
"If I'm going to save my children," the Son suggested, already hinting at the following question.
"Does that include--"
Lucy stopped himself. He wanted to say it. God knows, he probably needed to. But he couldn't. His throat dried and his pulse quickened, and he had crushed the stone in his palms into gravel, but he couldn't. It was only one word. Only one.
The Son waited.
Lucy stared at him. "My turn to be tested, huh?" He chuckled. His eyes burned, for some reason. "Heh. I ain't holding up under your scrutiny."
He thought he saw the Son smile, morosely. Though Lucy was most likely thinking of the last time he saw his father.
"You remind me a bit of myself," He pulled Himself up off the cliff, "Once you learn to get over your pride, you'll get the answer to your question. And you will, perhaps, come close to being like me."
'I need to know,' Lucy wanted to say. 'I need to come home. I need to see you again. I need to know if you'll take me back.'
But he didn't want to know.
The shuffling of sandals against rocks. Lucy fingered the sleeves of his robes.
"I hope you'll know what you need, one of these days," the Son said, with his back turned away from Lucy. "It'll make both our jobs easi--"
"If you came here," Lucy croaked.
Quiet. The Son waited.
"If you came here, to save your children," Lucy looked over his shoulder. "Does that include me?"
He didn't know if the silence was pleasant surprise or pondering of words, or both. It didn't matter. The Son opened his mouth. The Son had his say.
But Lucy wasn't sure if he believed Him.
ns 172.70.126.182da2
and then Add to home screen.