HE CLOSES THE BOOK he’s reading, placing his hand solemnly over the cover. He’s ruminating for a short moment --- taking it all in like a bite of aged cheddar; First you know what it is; What you’re in for. Then you’re confused. And finally, you’re not even sure if you enjoyed the damn thing or not.
❛ Tell me something topolina. If I were a vampire . . . Would that boost my airs of eroticism or have I already peaked. Because let me tell you a thing or two, I’m getting IDEAS and I’m liking them a lot. ❜ He slams the copy of Twilight on the small table adjacent to his armchair, springing from his seat in the throes of excitement. ❛ Fangs. That’s what I need. Yey or nay?! ❜
@stregasbookofshadows : I'm trying to think of a properly improper starter for you, but nothing's coming to mind. Perhaps I should just sit in your lap and talk to you about the first thing that comes up? --Love, kisses, and crack, Strega
❛ Like I’m a . . . funky kinda Santa? ❜ Sure, he could get on board with that notion, even if it wasn’t exactly on his agenda for the afternoon. But his little mice need feeding, too. ❛ Hm. Father Christmas . . . Father Satan. Heh. Except don’t call me ‘father’ --- ❜ There’s a creeping smirk on his face, ❛ Call me daddy. ❜ Yeah. He’s proud of that one.
It was times like these where she was grateful for the sweet solitude the library offered. No patients, no paperwork. Just books, and those who sought the words held in their pages. A heavy sigh escaped the doctor, as she looked over the row before her once more. No, what she was looking for wasn’t here... Maybe the row above?
She was right in her guess, and reached up to grab a rather large, leather bound book, only for it to slip from her fingers and tumble to the ground with a loud ‘thud’. Wincing at the sound, she knelt to pick it up, catching the glimpse of someone’s feet as she did so. No doubt they’d come to discover what all the ruckus had been about.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, tone apologetic. “It just slipped from my hands. Right heavy thing it is.”
The full moon hung high in the sky that clear night. It’s pale glow shone through the windows of the dining hall that the denizens of the abbey had been called into for a celebratory meal marking the trajectory of success the church’s leaders had overseen since the new phase had begun. Ghouls, siblings of sin, and various other guests and eldritch creatures feasted at the long tables, and one table in particular was reserved for the Anti-pope and his regular entourage of hawk-eyed cardinals and high ranking sisters. At Papa Nihil’s right sat Copia, more interested in the feasting crowd than his own food, gazing out in search of somebody as his leg jiggled restlessly under the table.
Business had kept his presence scarce as of late. It seemed Imperator was hiding behind every corner, ready to jump out (sometimes quite literally) with a new task for him in hand. It felt as though he had travelled all over Europe within the past couple of weeks, shmoozing with supposedly important members of their ranks at the Sister’s request, but he felt there was an underlying motive to her constant presence. First the initiation rituals, and now this?
The Cardinal bore a heavy weight on his shoulders, and it was integral that he saw Strega sooner rather than later. Eventually finding her among the sisters, he stared until her eyes met his, and he tilted his head slightly in the suggestion that he wanted to meet her outside of the hall.
A black velvet box was left upon his desk; it contained a pair of silver cufflinks with cabochon-cut garnets mounted in gold bezels. There was a grucifix etched in the stones. "Buon Anno a te, mio tesoro," the card enclosed read. "Here's to all the days that lie before us. Ti amo, Strega."
Opening the small box, the Cardinal gazed down in rapt admiration of the beautiful cuff links. Gently touching one of the garnets in slight disbelief, the vision of them became blurred as his eyes suddenly moistened with surprise and a sincere gratitude. Since being made part of the Ghost project, he had been inundated with gifts from Siblings and fans alike, but it had been a long, long time since he had been sent something so special by a close loved one. Steeped in days of endless criticisms and concerns, Strega’s gift was a stark reminder that there was somebody close by who thought highly of him.
He slipped the links on quickly and admired how they glinted in the candlelight of his office. Red was a colour of passion and power, and a reminder to others of his rank. More importantly, he would think of Strega whenever the glint of the jewels caught his eye.
Reaching into a drawer of the desk, he retrieved a small, purple box and slowly opened it, revealing the silver ring inside. It was old, but only more beautiful because of it: the moonstone in the centre was flanked by two small crystal roses, which reflected whichever colour thrummed and glowed prettily within the heart of the moonstone. As of that moment, a deep, blue light glowed from the stone, turning the roses blue along with it.
The ring had been pried from the cold hands of another.
Perhaps it was the lugubriousness of his office or the melancholy that infested his heart in the dark chill of winter, or perhaps it was the ring itself and all the cold distress that came with it, but something within him felt heavy, a weight to his very soul. Turning the ring forwards a little, he read the words ‘vita eterna’ inscribed on the inner band. As if sensing his mood, the light of the magical moonstone turned black and seemed to drain the candlelight that should have reflected off its surface.
The piles of work on his desk remained there.
By the time he reached the Rose Suite that evening and knocked on the door, the black around his eyes was streaked. It might have looked intimidating were his eyes not reddened, reluctantly so, but he retained composure, anxiously waiting there with the small box in his hand. When the door opened, he barely looked at Strega, focusing hard on the candlelight behind her head instead as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“It felt wrong for us to be apart today,” he explained of his sudden appearance. Raising the box, he opened it to nervously show her the ring inside. His voice was somewhat shaky as he continued. “I want you to have this, but so much love needs to be put back into it.” His eyes met hers, briefly. “Will you help me?”
Quiet was wobbling around on her feet as she crossed the kitchen, very wine-drunk on very, very cheap, sweet white wine. Not the good stuff, she would have gotten into trouble if she emptied an entire bottle of that herself. It probably wasn’t smart to have so much while on her new medicine, but it seems like it only made it easier and faster to get pished.
“Hm he heh heeee, who says drinkin ‘lone ish no fun?! Weee~eeee..eee.. eeeeee..” She sloppily dance-walked as she moved around with seemingly no direction. And no music playing. So she started humming a tune. It wasn’t any of the released music, or any of the church’s satanic hymns, something kinda made up on the spot. It wandered a bit, but it kept with a beat, even if occasionally interrupted by a hiccup.
"So what was _your_ dedication to the Church like?" Strega asked him. "I imagine it was significantly more...ornate than the rite for an ordinary Sibling of Sin."
The Cardinal had appeared bored as he glanced over an enormous, old book, his reading glasses a little crooked on the end of his nose. With the book balanced over his stomach as he rested on the couch, he perked up and bent his legs so that Strega could join him on the other side.
“It is different for Clergy,” he said, bending a bit of the page to mark it and closing the heavy book. His legs moved to rest in Strega’s lap when she sat down. “They started putting me to work when I was thirteen. A postulant, I suppose, only for a different order to the Monastary. It was dirty work. Though the Sister kept me close and made sure that I was taught in other things, too. I was finally ordained as a Priest at eighteen, before any of the others. My dedication that night was, uh …” He paused and smirked a little. “Less ornate than you might think. A low ranking Priest doesn’t get all the bells and whistles. Young virginal Copia was led blindfolded into a room full of Sisters.” His cheeks pinked a little at that, and he fiddled with the tattered edge of the book. “Now, my promotion to cardinal, that was was more in-line with what you might have expected. A Clergyman’s dedication involves the people, but when one reaches cardinal … Hell itself brings you into the upper echelons of it all. All sorts of creatures invite themselves to your side, bringing gifts of welcoming. I remember gold and dancing and, uh … a lot of wine.”
The Cardinal took a little time to wind down following the rehearsal, having been energised by it, pleased with the direction in which the new set was heading. While his ghouls packed up their instruments, he made his way over to the dressing room Strega and Matiiya had vanished into - not bothering to change back into his cassock beforehand, believing that it would no doubt make him appear somewhat more intimidating, so entered in his more casual wear of a black button up shirt and the usual form-fitting trousers.
Struck by the human appearance of Matiiya, Copia regarded her with a degree of curiosity a moment, then stepped forth to take Strega’s outstretched hand into his to kiss it in greeting. Attentions turning back to the half-breed, he inclined his head towards her slightly, making a small, elegant gesture of welcoming with his gloved hand.
“Matiiya,” the Cardinal said in his usual musical lilt, one that seemed to border on both good will and mischief at any given time, though the truth was that he was finding himself somewhat nervous. There was no presence of his rats, and indeed, he was far from being one to easily extend his trust to others. To finally meet one that he did trust aroused both a certain intrigue and a touch of anxiety; this person was still new to him, after all. Any concerns of his were not made manifest, and he simply smiled slightly at Strega’s friend, his hands loosely clasped at his front. “So, I believe thanks are in order before we move on to anything else. Grazie, Matiiya.” The man’s head bowed a little yet again, though his mismatched gaze remained focused on her. “For looking out for Strega in the dangerous world that is the abbey. Hm. It is a comfort to know that little stone will safeguard her from the threats that linger, and it is a comfort to know that she has a friend such as you.”
