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history.
For someone who was destined to never live a normal life, Lukavi got pretty close. Lukavi was born March 30th, 1932, to a mother who was scared to death to give birth to him, horrified to even care for him, and an absent father who had skipped out the moment he knew Lukavi's mother, Lucy, was pregnant. It wasn't that his mother didn't want to have a child, far from it. Having a child wasn't the scary part; what frightened her was that the child would only be slightly human. Lukavi's father, Maalik, was a Behemah, a half-human, half-beast creature descended from the biblical monter, Behemoth. To regular humans, he looked like nothing more than a handsome man. Lucy, being only a simple girl from Boston, never stood a chance against Maalik's charm and good looks.
Lucy cared for her son as well as she could, the guilt of not really wanting him eating away at her. Finally, when she knew he would have a chance to survive without her, when the stress and guilt became too much, Lucy brought a year-old Lukavi to the local church and begged the priest to take her baby. In her hysterics, Lucy told the priest everything; that her son wasn't human, that his father wasn't either. Fearing for the child in an obviously disturbed woman's care, the priest, Father Michael, took the baby from her. Lucy was never heard from after that. Maalik never showed up to claim Lukavi.
Michael and his wife Mary took the young Lukavi into their home and gave him a life he would have never had with his biological parents. They raised him like any other little boy, and even gave him a new name: Luke. They taught him scripture and had him attend church until he was old enough to make the decision if he wanted to go anymore. He continued to attend, awed by the grander than life stories found in the Bible. Lukavi lived quietly and simply with Michael and Mary until January 1942. The world was at war, Pearl Harbor had just suffered a decisive attack from the Japanese and Michael had spent more time between December and January giving funeral services than sermons. Michael, being 30 at the time and perfectly healthy, was drafted into the war. He became a battlefield chaplain, giving dying or dead soldiers their last rights. Lukavi and Mary were left to fend for themselves, Lukavi barely 10 at the time. With Michael away and the two of them living in worry and fear every day for the news they never wanted, they found ways to make ends meet. They sold the house and moved into the church, Mary doing her best to guide those who still came and needed encouraging words.
While it wasn't an ideal life, Lukavi still gained so much more than he would have with his biological parents. Lukavi didn't know about his real parents and considered Michael and Mary his father and mother. It might have stayed this way were puberty never to hit.
When Lukavi turned 12, he began to notice not only his normal puberty growth, but an intense pain just above his eyebrows. With everything else in his life going on, Lukavi simply ignored the intense headaches that would make him swoon. Finally, in 1945, the war ended, leaving Lukavi exhilarated to finally be reunited with the only father he had ever known. Mary and Lukavi waited for the letter from Michael telling them he would be home, but as the months dragged on, they received no news. Finally, as the soldiers of the war began settling back into their lives in the states, Mary and Lukavi opened the last letter they would ever get from Michael. The official document that arrived with Michael's letter stated he had died in battle a year before, during the invasion of Normandy. So many soldiers had been slaughtered in the attack that it had taken them a whole year to finally send Michael's family news. After a period of drawn-out grief, life began to move on for the two, even though there was now a hole in both of them they would never fill. Despite his small amount of time spent with Michael, Lukavi would always consider the man his father.
Later that same year, Lukavi finally admitted to his adoptive mother that his headaches were no longer just headaches. His head pounded with pain almost every hour, every day, and it was driving him up a wall. The doctor could do little except prescribe him aspirin and pain medication, baffled as to what could be causing the pain. Lukavi continued his life, picking up the odd job here and there to help his mother, working around the church to keep it in shape, popping pill after pill. It wasn't until a year later that Lukavi discovered why his head had been hurting. It's a little hard to miss two, bony points poking out of the skin of your forehead. Sure that his mind was imbalanced from all the medicine he had been taking over the year, Lukavi immediately chucked whatever he had left and never went back to the doctor. The pain subsided the slightest bit, although he found his forehead sensitive and bruised. He kept the revelation from Mary, trying to carry on as if nothing was wrong.
But weeks went by, then months, then a whole year had passed since the points had showed up. Since then, they had grown another inch away from his head. Lukavi was 15 when he brought the situation to Mary again, asking her if she had noticed anything odd about him. When she had assured him that, no, nothing was wrong with him, except he was growing faster than she could get clothes for him, Lukavi had told her that he was growing horns. Suffice to say, it didn't go over well. At first, Mary thought her imaginative, adoptive son was joking, playing a prank. Lukavi had insisted, almost to the point of yelling. Frustrated with the pain and the horns that, for some reason, only he could see, he pleaded that Mary believe him and help him. His adoptive mother, disturbed by the things he said, surprisingly kept it together if only because she feared losing the only family she had left. In tears, she had told Lukavi that couldn't see anything and that she had no idea what to do. Mary had instructed them both to pray, to hope to God that nothing bad was happening to him. That this whole horn thing was just a delusion of all the stress in Lukavi's life.
The horns continued to grow and so did the divide between Lukavi and Mary. Eventually, Mary moved into her own house and Lukavi stayed in a room by himself at the church. He was 16 and it was 1948. Lukavi supported himself, had a plan to move on when he finally turned 18 and was old enough to work somewhere decent. Lukavi and Mary held civil conversation, but it was obvious it was nothing like before. On January 1st, 1950, Lukavi left the church and his adoptive mother behind, picking up the first construction job he could find. He never attended another church and slowly buried the faith he had grown up with. Lukavi never faulted Mary for her behavior, only wishing it could have been different.
From there, he traveled and hitch-hiked across America, taking whatever job he could. He never stayed in one place and never made lasting relationships. The horns on his head continued to grow and he never mentioned them to another soul. It was 1960 and he was settled down temporarily in Chicago, Illinois when his world was turned on its head by a singular woman. The morning he had met Jackelyn, the only woman he would ever love, was cold, rainy, and busy. Mondays were always a little more rushed, everyone getting into the motions of their week, and if Lukavi hadn't been at the corner of Adams and Michigan just as Jackelyn was stepping out to cross the street, only to pull her suddenly back as a car flew by, they would have never met.
Jackelyn, or Jackie as she liked to be called, was not only beautiful with an optimistic, joyful sense of humor, kinder than any person he had ever bothered to know, and passionate about everything she did, but she could see his horns. She had been able to see strange things her entire life, she had revealed over dinner, and had been treated like a freak by everyone around her. She had been resolute to never tell another person after a particularly harsh argument between her and her parents, not wanting to end up like others in insane asylums, dribbling onto the floor. When she had asked Lukavi what he was, he had no answer. He didn't know what he was or who his parents were or why he was growing horns. Jackie had simply shrugged and let the subject drop.
Lukavi was 30 when he married her. He had a normal, stable job, a normal homelife, and a wife who loved him. The night after their honeymoon, he had prayed for the first time in more than 15 years, thanking whoever had brought him someone to live the rest of his life with. Two years later, on August 5th, 1964, they had their first child, Eli. As the years passed, Lukavi also discovered that he wasn't aging the same way his wife was. Jackelyn, who was two years younger than him, was already beginning to get the slightest wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, her perpetual sunny attitude catching up. When they had talked about, Jackelyn had simply waved it off, joking that she was jealous of her young husband. She knew that he wasn't like her, like everyone else, when they had met. She wasn't about to be surprised now.
Eli was nearing his 10th birthday, in 1974, and was slowly winning the battle against asthma attacks that he had since he was a baby. Lukavi braced himself for when Eli would also grow horns, if it even happened. He finally thought that this would be the rest of his life. He would grow old in Chicago, with his wife, watching his son grow up and move on to bigger, better things. Unfortunately, Lukavi seemed destined to have everything snatched out from under him. The morning that his perfect house of cards would tumble had been sunny and non-ominous. Lukavi drove his son to school, dropped him off, and headed off to work from there. Three hours later, he was answering a call from a doctor at the local ER regretfully informing him that his son had died from a violent asthma attack. Lukavi's world was put on pause from that moment on, the weight of what happened slowly crushing the life out of him. Lukavi and Jackelyn buried their son on July 10th, 1974; a month before his birthday. Lukavi drank himself into a stupor for a week straight, barely lucid when a strange woman with brown hair, a pitying smile, and strong arms had found him passed out beside the bar door. She took him home and had stayed through the night, after finding out what was happening. The next morning, she sat the grieving couple down and proceeded to knock down their shaky foundations of the rest of their lives.
Her name was Azzaiel, although she called herself Ali in public. She had lived all around the world, she knew a bit about everything, and she was 500 years old. Azzaiel claimed she was a nephilim, the product of an angel and a human, and had gone on to solve the greatest mystery of Lukavi's life. Lukavi was a Behemah, or a Beast, as they were called behind their backs, and he was one of the very few, very rare Behemah to have successfully merged into human society. Behemah tended to be pack-minded creatures and usually lived amongst one another in a big society. This was why Lukavi had grown horns (something all Behemah do at ages 10-12) and why he didn't age properly. This had meant Eli had inherited some of his Behemah blood, as well, which meant Eli had inherited the natural weakness all Behemah had.
Because Behemah were such a mixed race, their bloodline continuously diluted since their creation, the outside aged at a slower pace, but their insides aged just as fast as a human's did. Most Behemah never lived to be old because their organs would fail them. Azzaiel went on to explain that this is what mostly likely happened to Eli. Eli was born with a weak system as it was, his asthma always looking like it would get the best of him, which meant his 'attack' had been his lungs simply giving up. She also explained that soon, Lukavi would start to feel his body giving out on him, as well. When all of Lukavi and Jackelyn's answers had been answered, Azzaiel took her leave of the couple, wishing them the best with the rest of their lives.
Instead of their marriage getting better, it only got worse. Jackelyn, distressed from her son's death, living in fear of getting older and dying alone while her husband continued on without her, and suddenly scared of what her husband was, argued and cried and let their relationship degrade. Lukavi pleaded with her, telling her that he needed her help to get past the death of their son. Without her, he'd have nothing. Unfortunately, the stress of it all was too much for her. A year after their son's death, Jackelyn demanded a divorce. Lukavi, still so much in love with his wife and tired of arguing, tired of her hating him and blaming him for Eli's death, had complied. As soon as the papers were signed, Lukavi left Chicago and never looked back.
For years, Lukavi drifted around the states again, even managing to leave the country for a while before he was tired of that, as well. He met creatures that called themselves Behemah, creatures that called themselves nephilim, things that went bump in the night, and things that would hunt in the light of day. He encountered a demon possession once or twice, heard rumors of angels living on Earth, met people with the extraordinary ability (or curse) to see all these things and to know about them. Lukavi discovered how strong he was compared to other creatures, how his bones wouldn't break, how his skin was almost impossible to cut, how hard it was for him to get sick, how fast his body could mend itself. His heart started to beat in strange rhythms some days, started to give him problems close to his 50th year. In 1982, on a Wednesday morning in the cold of October, he had a heart attack and was almost glad that he was going to die. He awoke 12 hours later, confused, hurting, but alive in an apartment that reeked of old books. Lukavi's savior introduced himself as Ryan, with his Texan drawl, and he worked as a linguist and archivist when ends didn't quite meet. Ryan had said he had found Lukavi on his way to work, laid flat-out. This was strange, considering Lukavi had been in a pretty remote area of the city, almost on the bank of a river, but how could he accuse the man who had saved his life of anything? When asked what the Lukavi had been doing out there, all by himself, the Behemah had spilled his story. The two of them sat for hours, talking, Lukavi ever more grateful for this stranger when the Texan just sat and listened.
With nowhere else to go and recovering from his brush with death, Ryan invited Lukavi to stay with him until he was better. The lax, 28-year-old, country boy, with his lanky frame and only one inch shorter than Lukavi, did not take no for an answer. The initial week turned into a month, a month turned into two, and a their relationship as strangers blossomed quickly into friendship. Ryan was everything Lukavi was not (intelligent, wise, and laid back), but everything the Beast could appreciate. Months had gone by, Lukavi working whatever he could, before Ryan had finally sat him down and gave him a real job offer.
Ryan was not who he seemed. The friend Lukavi had come to know as Ryan, with his perpetual beard and lazy drawl, reintroduced himself as Naberius, a nephilim, who was getting close to his 40th year. He had born in Texas, to his human mother, who had complications in birth, which lead to his angelic father sacrificing himself for Ryan to be born. The usual nephilim affair, of course. The rest of his life had pretty much been boring, until a special policing squad had sought him out for his ability to pick up languages quicker than anyone they had employed. The place he worked for had deemed themselves the Supernatural Registration and Policing Department, and apparently, they had known about supernatural beings all the way back since the 1950's. Go figure. They were huge and employed every type of being under the sun. Well except, surprise, surprise, Behemah. Now that they had found one that wasn't so volatile and territorial, they were willing to take a chance. Lukavi didn't even need to think twice before he said 'yes.'
Over the course of two years, Lukavi was trained and taught everything he would ever need to know. While in training, he met once more with a familiar face that he thought he would never see again. The prestigious title of Commander, the one in charge of the whole operation at The Department, belonged to none other than Azzaiel, the nephilim who had revealed to him his heritage all those years ago. He became her under-study, being trained to be a leader, someone she could be proud to hand her title over when the time came. The two of them became almost family and, for once in his life, Azzaiel became the only woman who could perfectly slot herself in the role of mother for Lukavi.
Five years elapsed, Lukavi settling himself tentatively into a life that made him extremely happy. He and Ryan, as Lukavi continued to call him, were closer than most people could be without being a couple. Of course, this was mostly due Lukavi being completely oblivious, while everyone else around him knew how much Ryan was head-over-heels. Their future together became cemented on the night of June 2nd, 1989, when Lukavi and his team raided a demon-worshiping cult's location. The reports had said that it was full of adults, mostly males. No children. When Lukavi was confronted with a little girl, only five and confused why her parents had been acting so strange lately, there was little he could do to deny her a night in the house he shared with Ryan. Unsure of what to do in the situation, Commander Azzaiel had asked Lukavi to look after Alice, the child, until they could line up a home for her. A couple of days turned into a week, Ryan and Lukavi quickly becoming accustomed to her presence. Ryan even more so, never having had a child, and falling in love with Alice's rambunctious charm.
So it came to be that Lukavi adopted Alice and raised her as his own. Almost that same night that Lukavi had declared Alice his, Ryan came out to his friend and admitted the full extent of his feelings. The only thing that had saved the Beast from freaking out was that the two of them had known each other almost six years at that point and now were in the charge of a young girl. Unable to reciprocate Ryan's affections, Lukavi tried to simply carry on with the life he had been leading. Unfortunately, thoughts of Ryan and their relationship constantly filled his head. It took Lukavi over a year to rationalize that he did love Ryan, despite his mostly heterosexual ways. Ryan filled the hole that his ex-wife had left, and Alice just completed their little family. In 1990, Lukavi and Ryan became committed to each other, Ryan becoming Alice's godfather on all official documents.
Life continued on for the small family: Alice went to school, Lukavi become a fine agent, and Ryan became renowned throughout most countries for his linguistic knowledge. In 2010, Azzaiel finally retired from The Department, handing the title of Commander over to Lukavi. It was a whirlwind of a year after that, Lukavi getting used to the busy, demanding life the title granted him. Now, in 2012, he is completely at ease in his position, taking life day-by-day with the help of his boyfriend-almost-husband Ryan and his college-going daughter.
Lucy cared for her son as well as she could, the guilt of not really wanting him eating away at her. Finally, when she knew he would have a chance to survive without her, when the stress and guilt became too much, Lucy brought a year-old Lukavi to the local church and begged the priest to take her baby. In her hysterics, Lucy told the priest everything; that her son wasn't human, that his father wasn't either. Fearing for the child in an obviously disturbed woman's care, the priest, Father Michael, took the baby from her. Lucy was never heard from after that. Maalik never showed up to claim Lukavi.
Michael and his wife Mary took the young Lukavi into their home and gave him a life he would have never had with his biological parents. They raised him like any other little boy, and even gave him a new name: Luke. They taught him scripture and had him attend church until he was old enough to make the decision if he wanted to go anymore. He continued to attend, awed by the grander than life stories found in the Bible. Lukavi lived quietly and simply with Michael and Mary until January 1942. The world was at war, Pearl Harbor had just suffered a decisive attack from the Japanese and Michael had spent more time between December and January giving funeral services than sermons. Michael, being 30 at the time and perfectly healthy, was drafted into the war. He became a battlefield chaplain, giving dying or dead soldiers their last rights. Lukavi and Mary were left to fend for themselves, Lukavi barely 10 at the time. With Michael away and the two of them living in worry and fear every day for the news they never wanted, they found ways to make ends meet. They sold the house and moved into the church, Mary doing her best to guide those who still came and needed encouraging words.
While it wasn't an ideal life, Lukavi still gained so much more than he would have with his biological parents. Lukavi didn't know about his real parents and considered Michael and Mary his father and mother. It might have stayed this way were puberty never to hit.
When Lukavi turned 12, he began to notice not only his normal puberty growth, but an intense pain just above his eyebrows. With everything else in his life going on, Lukavi simply ignored the intense headaches that would make him swoon. Finally, in 1945, the war ended, leaving Lukavi exhilarated to finally be reunited with the only father he had ever known. Mary and Lukavi waited for the letter from Michael telling them he would be home, but as the months dragged on, they received no news. Finally, as the soldiers of the war began settling back into their lives in the states, Mary and Lukavi opened the last letter they would ever get from Michael. The official document that arrived with Michael's letter stated he had died in battle a year before, during the invasion of Normandy. So many soldiers had been slaughtered in the attack that it had taken them a whole year to finally send Michael's family news. After a period of drawn-out grief, life began to move on for the two, even though there was now a hole in both of them they would never fill. Despite his small amount of time spent with Michael, Lukavi would always consider the man his father.
Later that same year, Lukavi finally admitted to his adoptive mother that his headaches were no longer just headaches. His head pounded with pain almost every hour, every day, and it was driving him up a wall. The doctor could do little except prescribe him aspirin and pain medication, baffled as to what could be causing the pain. Lukavi continued his life, picking up the odd job here and there to help his mother, working around the church to keep it in shape, popping pill after pill. It wasn't until a year later that Lukavi discovered why his head had been hurting. It's a little hard to miss two, bony points poking out of the skin of your forehead. Sure that his mind was imbalanced from all the medicine he had been taking over the year, Lukavi immediately chucked whatever he had left and never went back to the doctor. The pain subsided the slightest bit, although he found his forehead sensitive and bruised. He kept the revelation from Mary, trying to carry on as if nothing was wrong.
But weeks went by, then months, then a whole year had passed since the points had showed up. Since then, they had grown another inch away from his head. Lukavi was 15 when he brought the situation to Mary again, asking her if she had noticed anything odd about him. When she had assured him that, no, nothing was wrong with him, except he was growing faster than she could get clothes for him, Lukavi had told her that he was growing horns. Suffice to say, it didn't go over well. At first, Mary thought her imaginative, adoptive son was joking, playing a prank. Lukavi had insisted, almost to the point of yelling. Frustrated with the pain and the horns that, for some reason, only he could see, he pleaded that Mary believe him and help him. His adoptive mother, disturbed by the things he said, surprisingly kept it together if only because she feared losing the only family she had left. In tears, she had told Lukavi that couldn't see anything and that she had no idea what to do. Mary had instructed them both to pray, to hope to God that nothing bad was happening to him. That this whole horn thing was just a delusion of all the stress in Lukavi's life.
The horns continued to grow and so did the divide between Lukavi and Mary. Eventually, Mary moved into her own house and Lukavi stayed in a room by himself at the church. He was 16 and it was 1948. Lukavi supported himself, had a plan to move on when he finally turned 18 and was old enough to work somewhere decent. Lukavi and Mary held civil conversation, but it was obvious it was nothing like before. On January 1st, 1950, Lukavi left the church and his adoptive mother behind, picking up the first construction job he could find. He never attended another church and slowly buried the faith he had grown up with. Lukavi never faulted Mary for her behavior, only wishing it could have been different.
From there, he traveled and hitch-hiked across America, taking whatever job he could. He never stayed in one place and never made lasting relationships. The horns on his head continued to grow and he never mentioned them to another soul. It was 1960 and he was settled down temporarily in Chicago, Illinois when his world was turned on its head by a singular woman. The morning he had met Jackelyn, the only woman he would ever love, was cold, rainy, and busy. Mondays were always a little more rushed, everyone getting into the motions of their week, and if Lukavi hadn't been at the corner of Adams and Michigan just as Jackelyn was stepping out to cross the street, only to pull her suddenly back as a car flew by, they would have never met.
Jackelyn, or Jackie as she liked to be called, was not only beautiful with an optimistic, joyful sense of humor, kinder than any person he had ever bothered to know, and passionate about everything she did, but she could see his horns. She had been able to see strange things her entire life, she had revealed over dinner, and had been treated like a freak by everyone around her. She had been resolute to never tell another person after a particularly harsh argument between her and her parents, not wanting to end up like others in insane asylums, dribbling onto the floor. When she had asked Lukavi what he was, he had no answer. He didn't know what he was or who his parents were or why he was growing horns. Jackie had simply shrugged and let the subject drop.
Lukavi was 30 when he married her. He had a normal, stable job, a normal homelife, and a wife who loved him. The night after their honeymoon, he had prayed for the first time in more than 15 years, thanking whoever had brought him someone to live the rest of his life with. Two years later, on August 5th, 1964, they had their first child, Eli. As the years passed, Lukavi also discovered that he wasn't aging the same way his wife was. Jackelyn, who was two years younger than him, was already beginning to get the slightest wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, her perpetual sunny attitude catching up. When they had talked about, Jackelyn had simply waved it off, joking that she was jealous of her young husband. She knew that he wasn't like her, like everyone else, when they had met. She wasn't about to be surprised now.
Eli was nearing his 10th birthday, in 1974, and was slowly winning the battle against asthma attacks that he had since he was a baby. Lukavi braced himself for when Eli would also grow horns, if it even happened. He finally thought that this would be the rest of his life. He would grow old in Chicago, with his wife, watching his son grow up and move on to bigger, better things. Unfortunately, Lukavi seemed destined to have everything snatched out from under him. The morning that his perfect house of cards would tumble had been sunny and non-ominous. Lukavi drove his son to school, dropped him off, and headed off to work from there. Three hours later, he was answering a call from a doctor at the local ER regretfully informing him that his son had died from a violent asthma attack. Lukavi's world was put on pause from that moment on, the weight of what happened slowly crushing the life out of him. Lukavi and Jackelyn buried their son on July 10th, 1974; a month before his birthday. Lukavi drank himself into a stupor for a week straight, barely lucid when a strange woman with brown hair, a pitying smile, and strong arms had found him passed out beside the bar door. She took him home and had stayed through the night, after finding out what was happening. The next morning, she sat the grieving couple down and proceeded to knock down their shaky foundations of the rest of their lives.
Her name was Azzaiel, although she called herself Ali in public. She had lived all around the world, she knew a bit about everything, and she was 500 years old. Azzaiel claimed she was a nephilim, the product of an angel and a human, and had gone on to solve the greatest mystery of Lukavi's life. Lukavi was a Behemah, or a Beast, as they were called behind their backs, and he was one of the very few, very rare Behemah to have successfully merged into human society. Behemah tended to be pack-minded creatures and usually lived amongst one another in a big society. This was why Lukavi had grown horns (something all Behemah do at ages 10-12) and why he didn't age properly. This had meant Eli had inherited some of his Behemah blood, as well, which meant Eli had inherited the natural weakness all Behemah had.
Because Behemah were such a mixed race, their bloodline continuously diluted since their creation, the outside aged at a slower pace, but their insides aged just as fast as a human's did. Most Behemah never lived to be old because their organs would fail them. Azzaiel went on to explain that this is what mostly likely happened to Eli. Eli was born with a weak system as it was, his asthma always looking like it would get the best of him, which meant his 'attack' had been his lungs simply giving up. She also explained that soon, Lukavi would start to feel his body giving out on him, as well. When all of Lukavi and Jackelyn's answers had been answered, Azzaiel took her leave of the couple, wishing them the best with the rest of their lives.
Instead of their marriage getting better, it only got worse. Jackelyn, distressed from her son's death, living in fear of getting older and dying alone while her husband continued on without her, and suddenly scared of what her husband was, argued and cried and let their relationship degrade. Lukavi pleaded with her, telling her that he needed her help to get past the death of their son. Without her, he'd have nothing. Unfortunately, the stress of it all was too much for her. A year after their son's death, Jackelyn demanded a divorce. Lukavi, still so much in love with his wife and tired of arguing, tired of her hating him and blaming him for Eli's death, had complied. As soon as the papers were signed, Lukavi left Chicago and never looked back.
For years, Lukavi drifted around the states again, even managing to leave the country for a while before he was tired of that, as well. He met creatures that called themselves Behemah, creatures that called themselves nephilim, things that went bump in the night, and things that would hunt in the light of day. He encountered a demon possession once or twice, heard rumors of angels living on Earth, met people with the extraordinary ability (or curse) to see all these things and to know about them. Lukavi discovered how strong he was compared to other creatures, how his bones wouldn't break, how his skin was almost impossible to cut, how hard it was for him to get sick, how fast his body could mend itself. His heart started to beat in strange rhythms some days, started to give him problems close to his 50th year. In 1982, on a Wednesday morning in the cold of October, he had a heart attack and was almost glad that he was going to die. He awoke 12 hours later, confused, hurting, but alive in an apartment that reeked of old books. Lukavi's savior introduced himself as Ryan, with his Texan drawl, and he worked as a linguist and archivist when ends didn't quite meet. Ryan had said he had found Lukavi on his way to work, laid flat-out. This was strange, considering Lukavi had been in a pretty remote area of the city, almost on the bank of a river, but how could he accuse the man who had saved his life of anything? When asked what the Lukavi had been doing out there, all by himself, the Behemah had spilled his story. The two of them sat for hours, talking, Lukavi ever more grateful for this stranger when the Texan just sat and listened.
With nowhere else to go and recovering from his brush with death, Ryan invited Lukavi to stay with him until he was better. The lax, 28-year-old, country boy, with his lanky frame and only one inch shorter than Lukavi, did not take no for an answer. The initial week turned into a month, a month turned into two, and a their relationship as strangers blossomed quickly into friendship. Ryan was everything Lukavi was not (intelligent, wise, and laid back), but everything the Beast could appreciate. Months had gone by, Lukavi working whatever he could, before Ryan had finally sat him down and gave him a real job offer.
Ryan was not who he seemed. The friend Lukavi had come to know as Ryan, with his perpetual beard and lazy drawl, reintroduced himself as Naberius, a nephilim, who was getting close to his 40th year. He had born in Texas, to his human mother, who had complications in birth, which lead to his angelic father sacrificing himself for Ryan to be born. The usual nephilim affair, of course. The rest of his life had pretty much been boring, until a special policing squad had sought him out for his ability to pick up languages quicker than anyone they had employed. The place he worked for had deemed themselves the Supernatural Registration and Policing Department, and apparently, they had known about supernatural beings all the way back since the 1950's. Go figure. They were huge and employed every type of being under the sun. Well except, surprise, surprise, Behemah. Now that they had found one that wasn't so volatile and territorial, they were willing to take a chance. Lukavi didn't even need to think twice before he said 'yes.'
Over the course of two years, Lukavi was trained and taught everything he would ever need to know. While in training, he met once more with a familiar face that he thought he would never see again. The prestigious title of Commander, the one in charge of the whole operation at The Department, belonged to none other than Azzaiel, the nephilim who had revealed to him his heritage all those years ago. He became her under-study, being trained to be a leader, someone she could be proud to hand her title over when the time came. The two of them became almost family and, for once in his life, Azzaiel became the only woman who could perfectly slot herself in the role of mother for Lukavi.
Five years elapsed, Lukavi settling himself tentatively into a life that made him extremely happy. He and Ryan, as Lukavi continued to call him, were closer than most people could be without being a couple. Of course, this was mostly due Lukavi being completely oblivious, while everyone else around him knew how much Ryan was head-over-heels. Their future together became cemented on the night of June 2nd, 1989, when Lukavi and his team raided a demon-worshiping cult's location. The reports had said that it was full of adults, mostly males. No children. When Lukavi was confronted with a little girl, only five and confused why her parents had been acting so strange lately, there was little he could do to deny her a night in the house he shared with Ryan. Unsure of what to do in the situation, Commander Azzaiel had asked Lukavi to look after Alice, the child, until they could line up a home for her. A couple of days turned into a week, Ryan and Lukavi quickly becoming accustomed to her presence. Ryan even more so, never having had a child, and falling in love with Alice's rambunctious charm.
So it came to be that Lukavi adopted Alice and raised her as his own. Almost that same night that Lukavi had declared Alice his, Ryan came out to his friend and admitted the full extent of his feelings. The only thing that had saved the Beast from freaking out was that the two of them had known each other almost six years at that point and now were in the charge of a young girl. Unable to reciprocate Ryan's affections, Lukavi tried to simply carry on with the life he had been leading. Unfortunately, thoughts of Ryan and their relationship constantly filled his head. It took Lukavi over a year to rationalize that he did love Ryan, despite his mostly heterosexual ways. Ryan filled the hole that his ex-wife had left, and Alice just completed their little family. In 1990, Lukavi and Ryan became committed to each other, Ryan becoming Alice's godfather on all official documents.
Life continued on for the small family: Alice went to school, Lukavi become a fine agent, and Ryan became renowned throughout most countries for his linguistic knowledge. In 2010, Azzaiel finally retired from The Department, handing the title of Commander over to Lukavi. It was a whirlwind of a year after that, Lukavi getting used to the busy, demanding life the title granted him. Now, in 2012, he is completely at ease in his position, taking life day-by-day with the help of his boyfriend-almost-husband Ryan and his college-going daughter.