Lucifer had already walked over to the shuttle, gazing at it with something like nostalgia in his eyes. Slowly the pale hand traced the intricate pattern on the shuttle, caressing the flowers on it. Such beautiful worksmanship. He admired the woman that had created it. She was one of those that had withheld themselves from the war and she had only escaped execution by the vampyres for this because Lucifer had interfered, asking for her to ornament some of their arsenal in return for being left alone. He felt the petals of metal that almost seemed alive with nature's power. It was so beautiful. But that wasn't the only reason he was stroking the artwork. Feeling the touch of it's master, the shuttle started up, humming slightly. It would take some time to analyze it's own status but apparently Sennelith had decided to keep Lucifer company for that time of waiting. Not that that was positive in any way but that one.
Slowly the vampyre turned on the spot. The mist returned, twisting around his body in intricate swirls, gently stroking him as if to calm him with it's touch like a worried lover. But there was no calmness remaining in the vampyre. He had been provoked and the one foolish enough to do such a thing would be punished. Though he was at ease, leaning slightly to the side against an invisible wall, there was incredible tension. Not visible, but rather feelable. It was not in his body, but in the very air he breathed. Slowly his thin lips parted, revealing his fangs to glisten in the moonlight. They almost seemed to be made of silver as they reflected the light that shone upon them. Strands of saliva hung between those devices of death, not without threat itself. For it was a poison, deadly to lesser creatures and causing strong paralysis to those that stood above that unimportant cannon fodder. Taking a step forward, Lucifer's foot could not be heard as it stepped upon the asphalt, seeming silent and soft like a feather in comparison to Sennelith's lumbering gait.
As he took another step, weaving it into the first movement in a way that made it all seem like a delicate dance, a gust of wind could be felt. It made his coat billow and the ponytail freed itself, letting the open hair fly in the air. It gave the vampyre a very different appearance. Instead of the calm and gathered Divine General that had stood upon that same ground only a few seconds ago, now there walked a figure that more resembled the nobles of the vampires, of which Lucifer was, after all, one of the most powerful before his change in heart. His white hair now hanging into his face wildly, he snarled: "You'll regret disturbing my grieving process with your arrogant, selfaggrandising behaviour." Lucifer's eyes shifted. From rather normal crimson eyes, they changed, something spreading from his pupils. It was pure black, covering the eyes completely within a second. Then it lit up, burning with a bloodred light.
Another step forward, this time not that of a dancer though, more casual, less selfaware. But where those black boots touched the ground, an incredible cold, that of death, spread out along with a thick mist. It was a form adopted by vampires when they were ready to fight without their usual elegance, too angry to care about such a trivial thing as beauty while in combat. Lucifer wasn't baring his fangs anymore, but somehow they still seemed painfully close and threatening, hovering over the dragon-like man's throat like a sword of Damocles. As with many other things about the vampire, it wasn't seen by the eyes, but rather felt through the skin. If his enemy were a vampire or vampyre, they would have noticed a more subtle change in Lucifer's behaviour. While before, he had clearly only wanted to be left alone, he was growing more and more agitated by the second. This was becoming less a fight to preserve his peace, which had been lost anyway, rather than to teach the intruder about respecting those that wished to be left by themselves. Levelling his pistol, Lucifer spoke quietly, the silence currently filling the street they stood upon allowing the sound, both sad and furious, to travel to Sennelith's ears without anything distorting it's condemning message: "Never before have I met a sentient creature so entangled in it's own emotions that it became oblivious to the feelings of those around it. Such lack of empathy is a disgusting stain upon all there is."