#lanottedellastrega

[a-wandering-ghoulette]

Sketch for the amazing @lanottedellastrega ! ♥

[quod-quartus]

Cont. from here

@lanottedellastrega

Strega managed to avoid obviously preening in front of the Cardinal, though having him recognize her for being punctual gave her a warm glow. “I am newly come to the Church, Your Eminence,” she admitted, “but the Faith is indeed strong…it’s what I came here hoping to find, along with a place where my gift can shine.” She gestured with the hymnal she carried in one hand, only to curse inwardly at herself. Fool of a witch! This is an audience with the Cardinal, not an audition!

Catching herself before her words can get further away from her, she does her best to redirect the conversation to where the Cardinal seemed to want it to go. “I believe it will only grow stronger under your direction, Your Eminence.”

      It was too late. The Cardinal was undoubtedly a curious man and easily distracted by things that caught his interest. It happened a lot within the home of the Church, for many wonderful, dark beings roamed the halls as guests of the Clergy or even the Dark Father Himself. Eyes briefly flitting to the hymnal the lady had gestured to, he thought he caught a sense of the nature of her gift, but it was necessary to be sure. After all, he sought talent among the Church because their relatively small collective had a long, long way to go before their dark purpose was achieved. 

      Approaching the woman, he reached forwards and touched a gloved finger against the front of the hymnal momentarily in an expression of his curiosity. 

      “Words can take you so far, dear Sister,” he said, knowing eyes fixed upon hers. “It is not I alone who will strengthen the Faith of our people! Oh, no, no. It is you yourselves and all you give to our cause. So, if there is something you want to show me, now is a better time than any, eh? I am interested to see what you can do.”

[danccmacabrc-blog]

@lanottedellastrega || cont. 

   To say the cardinal was self-satisfied would have been an understatement. Perhaps bearing a grin then, similar to one of a cat who just ate the canary by ripping it piece by piece, he felt a pride swell in his chest. Now, having the effect on other’s that he always longed for, taking in the other’s sight before him, was incredibly rewarding. Of course, he feared to start a mess, but devoted followers deserved the appreciation, no? 

    Yes, even as it all went, Copia feared repercussions. But that didn’t matter now. He softened his smile, this time not to show the odd teeth of his. 

   ❝Is that all you would ask of me, or should I stay longer?❞ His tone-- steady. Completely and utterly lacking the weakness and fear. The flight response didn’t matter now, even if somewhere deep down in the back of his brain, it still seemed that he felt fear about what he has just done. 

[a-wandering-ghoulette]

Pretty sure I have them all figured out - but I already got goodies from you, so I'm sharing the wealth. (And the rats. 🐀) --Strega

@lanottedellastrega​ I‘m sure you did, and splendid fair-play move~ ♥Thanks a lot!!! ♥♥

[quod-quartus]

Strega looked at him almost shyly one afternoon. "What did you do with the neck ribbon I gave you that first night? I've always wondered..."

      “Neck ribbon?” The Cardinal asked innocently, though there was a playful edge to his tone. Looking up from his studies in his lap, he pretended to think a moment before raising a finger in realisation. “Ah! Oh, perhaps you mean this one?” Like a magician pulling a string of handerchiefs from his sleeve, Copia produced said ribbon apparently out of nowhere - whether it had actually been in his sleeve or brought into being via other means was largely unclear. He brushed the silk against his cheek and wound it through gloved fingers. “It stays with me, of course, mia cara.”

[ironghoul]

🐙 - does Iron float? (Strega’s muse has been drinking, sorry for the horrible joke)

🐙 - They are crossing the ocean. What are the circumstances and how did they get there?

Iron stares.

“Uhhh...I....maybe?” The ghoul is clearly searching it on her phone. “Google says...if it’s a ship made of iron, it can....uh, anyways.”

“The only way I could imagine myself crossing the ocean right now is, well, if I took a trip to somewhere by plane, but I think that’s cheating the question. I don’t ride cruises or boat travel long distances, but if I were, at this point in my life....I suppose I’d have to be fleeing from something. I don’t know what. I don’t think I’m stupid enough to do anything here requiring fleeing.”

[quod-quartus]

@lanottedellastrega​

      The tension within the room was near enough tangible.

      Copia had just finished briefing the upper Clergy - a role usually reserved for the Papa, who was too unwell to get out of bed. Neither did he have Sister Imperator’s protection due to her tending to the elder. The silence within the meeting room was stifling as multiple pairs of eyes remained fixed upon him, judging him, waiting for him to react to the almost mocking quiet. He had the support of just under half of them, but even those on his side did nothing to help ease his discomfort, so he stared back at them a moment longer, anxiously fiddling with the grucifix at his chest.

      “Uh - so, that’s that. Any questions?”

      One of the other cardinals raised his hand. He was one of the eldest in the room, and known to be envious of the prestigious position bestowed upon his supposed rival.

      “Yes, actually. The Sister’s scheme? I’m wondering why she seems to think you, of all people, are such an integral part of it. I’m sure others will agree that I don’t see a man able to lead a hostile takeover of the world. I mean …” The man snorted and gestured in Copia’s general direction. “Really? The twitchy little rat who couldn’t say boo to a goose?”

      A few muffled sniggers sounded from the group. Copia’s jaw tensed, and he straightened his back slightly, mismatched eyes fixing upon the man who had spoken.

      “Maybe you should try a massage, eh? It is very good for the stress,” he responded, a forced lightheartedness to his tone, but there was a clear, vaguely threatening undercurrent to the way he spoke. “If you had been paying any attention, you would have realised that the takeover is well underway.”

      “Yes, your plague. Hardly the most ambitious and admirable way to take over cities, is it?” The elder man barked back, standing from his seat at the table. “Where did it even come from? What’s stopping us from getting sick with it? Why does the Sister believe you are the key to all this when there are many capable people sat right here with us?”

      “The intent is not to be admirable,” Copia explained, fingers squeezing at his grucifix. “If even every Papa that has come before us has failed, then what hope do any of you have?” He awkwardly regarded the rest of the group a moment, somewhat regretting his words. “No offence.”

      The other man laughed in disbelief and threw his hands up into the air, shaking his head.

      “Oh! Then tell us what makes you different to everybody else in this room! Seriously.” Face straightening, the other Cardinal moved out from his space and walked the small distance over to Copia, giving him a callous once over as if to try and find something out of the ordinary. His behaviour was more like that of a school bully, using his taller stature and hard stare to intimidate. Copia didn’t move an inch, gazing pleasantly at the Cardinal, silently daring him to make a move. The man seemed reluctant, however - because there had always been that fear of him, too,  whether it was justified or not. “Talking to rats. Bringing a plague out of nowhere. Tell us what you are, and then we might be more inclined to trust you.”

      “Where’s the fun in that? No need to be so intense, friend.”

      Copia took a step back when the other Cardinal seized the front of his cassock, but only found himself being aggressively pulled closer. He could handle verbal insults aimed at himself quite well, but drew the line at physical contact. His face emptied of emotion as he stared up at his opponent, his usual awkward, carefree temperament shifting entirely, the very depths of his eyes the very pits of Hell that they seemed to promise.

      “You are quite blind to the real problems, here,” he said flatly, his hands balled at his waist. “The problem isn’t that you can’t trust me. It’s that I can’t trust you. Any of you.”

      With a sudden bang and tremble of the table, the other Cardinal found himself flat on his back on the wood, thrown down by a quick, strong movement on Copia’s part. Stunned, he remained perfectly still, unnerved by the tenacity and suddenness of his foe’s retaliation.

      “The faith in this room is weak,” Copia continued, disgust in his tone as he surveyed the others. “You refuse to see our success just so you can focus on something to hate. How very human. You behave like the very people we are tasked with removing from the surface of the Earth. You doubt the will of our Papa and the Sister, and even that of the Dark Father Himself, whose very mark I bear. It is good you fear me; you should.”

      There came a shift within the very atmosphere of the room itself. Something chilling, racing down the spines of those present, hairs standing up on end. There was a sudden influx of demonic energies, and there was an increased presence of rats, the creatures clambering up bookshelves, their eyes flashing in the candlelight. The very air felt was pervaded by an unholiness usually reserved for the oldest, most cursed places within the church or crypts.

      The Cardinal that had been thrown down to the table scrambled off of it and glared at Copia from a small distance, rocking back and forth on his feet as if debating whether to attack. Mismatched eyes bore into him, daring him to retaliate.

      So, he did, but only because everyone was watching.

      All hell broke loose within the meeting room. It was a common occurrence, admittedly, but it was the first time in many years Copia had been on the receiving end of another man’s fist, and never before had he actually instigated something. Many of the Clergy rose to pull the two scuffling men off of each other, but after a series of missed thrown fists and spilt glasses of wine, the men were soon fighting among themselves, made aggressive by their pent up frustrations and their fear. Finding himself buried within the sudden brawl, Copia crawled his way out from between many pairs of legs, navigating thrown chairs and wine puddles until the women (who had wisely decided to hang back) were able to pull him up and out of the room.

      The Cardinal stormed away without a word, followed by a small horde of rats that were as agitated as he. They split off down various corridors to resume their watch over the place until he was left with only a few, trailing behind him with a loyalty unheard of within humans, or so it seemed. It was difficult to see past the red heat of rage boiling in his veins, but he found his way to the entrance of the place, shoving open the doors to find that the land was shrouded in a thunderstorm. Venturing out onto the steps, the cool, heavy rain splashed down onto his heated face, serving to help calm him somewhat and set him back into reality. Blood was washed away from a now slightly swollen lip, but he could taste it on his tongue, the bitterness of it a wretched reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

      The three rats were gathered underneath a stone ledge on the stairs to keep themselves dry. Their offer of company was welcomed as the Cardinal sat down and silently panicked. No doubt the blame for the violence would be shafted onto him, and he dreaded to think what Nihil was going to do when he found out.

      Hearing a squeak, he looked down to find a rat with a tiny furled scroll clambering up onto the wet material of his lap. Knowing immediately who had sent it, Copia gently dislodged the parchment and unrolled it, finding a welcome message inside. Black drops of running paint splashed down onto the neat script. Rolling it again, he tucked the message into his pocket and reached back to place the rat onto the top step, sending it back inside with a silent command.

      When the rat found Strega, as ordered, it shook a spray of moisture off its little body before peering up at the woman, nose sniffling curiously. It scampered back to the door and looked back at her in a manner of invitation.

[quod-quartus]

Cont. from here @lanottedellastrega

“No apologies needed, Your Eminence,” Strega smiled, trying not to giggle at the Cardinal’s use of an expression so at odds with his native language. “I wonder if you can get defenestration added to the list of Papal indulgences after your investiture.”

Mindful of the fact that they were in public, for all not another soul was in the graveyard, she leaned against the tombstone, standing as closely to him as she dared. “Do you ever wonder,” she mused, gesturing at the skies above, “whether Galileo would have been better served as a member of our Church than his own?”

      “Defenestration,” the Cardinal repeated suddenly, having just learnt from her the term in English. “I like this word. I will, uh, defenestrate many prelates before I’m content.”

      Noting the small distance Strega was careful to leave between them, he watched her turn her gaze to the clear skies above. Her question gave him small pause for thought - a welcome distraction from the nonsense that had been occurring down in the tension-wrought chambers of the crypts. Shifting close enough to close the gap, he too looked at the stars ahead. 

      “Most geniuses would have been better served by us, I am sure of it,” he agreed. “Little do most know the amount of influence our Church has had in such things. The history books like to leave that little detail out, of course.” With a slightly awkward movement, Copia brought an arm gingerly about Strega’s waist and glanced at her to determine her levels of comfort. “Is this okay?”