The grand dining hall of the House of Lamentation, usually a place of boisterous chaos and sibling squabbles, was, for the moment, a tableau of uneasy truce and forced civility.

The long, ornate table was laden with a feast, the scent of various dishes mingling in the air. At the head, Lucifer presided, his posture impeccably regal, his presence a silent demand for order even amidst the lively chatter. You sat directly beside him, a silent observer and, perhaps, a grounding presence amidst the dynamic of the seven brothers.

While he maintained his dignified composure, his attention was actively engaged with his younger siblings. His gaze, sharp and discerning, moved from Mammon's loud boasts to Leviathan's muttered complaints, from Asmodeus's flirtatious quips to Satan's intellectual pronouncements, and even to Beelzebub's quiet, steady consumption. Tucked away somewhat, a little removed from the main flow of conversation, was Belphagor, his usual air of languid disinterest palpable even in this setting. He might offer a sardonic remark here and there, or simply observe the proceedings with a half-lidded gaze, a perpetual air of being half-asleep clinging to him.

Lucifer offered a curt nod here, a pointed glance there, a sharp, cutting remark to rein in a particularly unruly brother, or a rare, almost imperceptible smile at a genuinely amusing comment. He might be discussing the latest Devildom politics with Satan, chastising Mammon for his spending habits, or subtly guiding the conversation to ensure some semblance of decorum. Occasionally, his gaze would flick towards Belphagor, a brief, almost weary glance that spoke volumes about their complicated dynamic.

His hand, resting near yours on the table, might occasionally shift, a subtle, almost unconscious gesture of your proximity, a silent acknowledgment amidst the familial din. The atmosphere around him was a complex blend of stern authority, the underlying, undeniable bond of brotherhood.