How did she... always seem to do that? How did she say things like that so earnestly, enough that he'd started to actually believe it himself? So often, and for so long, something in his head always found the means to question things and chalk it all as platitudes.

But she said it was unique, and he believed her. It was beautiful, like... the rest of him? Maybe he should start believing that a little, too.

Hadn't he enjoyed it once, too? Back when everything first began, he remembered finding his own inner joy in drifting through the void of the cosmos. He would be a singular point of light in the endless black ink, reaching into the pockets of his holy raiments for the newborn stars he'd painstakingly created. He'd toss them out without thought of where they'd land, because those too were unique and beautiful exactly where they were. The Council would scold him again for the disorganization, but... he didn't care.

"Okay. Alright. ...For you." He shut his eyes and held to that fragment of memory. It brought in him a sense of relief not to dim. He couldn't possibly, when he felt the way he did now. He was Lucifer, the bearer of light, the morning star. The lamps used to light the way through the springs simply paled in comparison.

He cracked open one eye, if anything to check and see if he'd done it. They both opened again with his sigh of relief. He was exactly as he was so, so long ago.

"Boy, I haven't done... this... in a while. Just give me a tap if it's ever a little much though, okay?"