#thequietgod

[q84ws]

@thequietgod

First of all, Charlotte was confused and rather taken aback from seeing ... This person in front of them. It wasn’t that bad, often they’d seen Charles using this vessel; but right now, Charlotte feels that this isn’t even Charles using that meatsuit. But ╴a completely new person with this soft atmosphere drifting with a touch of quiet ringing mystery. A completely and whole individual himself. A different person from their father. " Do I know you ? "

[farewellcarolus]

@thequietgod liked for a starter

The day was quiet, and rather boring if Carolus had anything to say about it. The House was rather still, as the Tenants were busy off on other floors gathering intel or material and the like. Instead, the white haired boy sat in the expansive library of the House, passing the time with books.

A warm cup of tea rested on a table, as well as the teapot and another empty cup; a precaution in case someone dropped by to check on Carolus. He was nose deep into a book, completely immersed in the world written out in ink, but snapped into perspective once hearing a small shuffle and noticing someone else in the room.

“ C? Oh, wait, you aren’t C. You very much look like him, but you don’t seem to have the same prescence as him. ”

[felixflytrap-blog]

@thequietgod liked for a starter

    “Maggot, I thought I told you to stay out of my lab, especially when I’m not here.”

    The alien let out a huff as he entered the room to find the human boy inside; was he possibly peeking around? He could’ve been & Felix wouldn’t have guessed. The alien quickly went over to his desk--just in case anything was out of place or out of order. Finding that everything was where it should be, Felix turned his attention back to Vincent with an almost bored expression on his face.  “Did you need something from me? If not, leave the lab, I can’t have you wandering around in here.”

[falseumbrella]

{ @thequietgod | Vincent }

There was something missing in this world.

That wasn’t to say that this world wasn’t interesting, indeed it was one of the more entertaining worlds he’s been to. Anything would be better really after centuries of being in that same dull story of his creator, the same timelines and events unfolding over and over. It became quite dull, and so, he had become quite dull too.

A terrible fate for an entertainer.

The constant confliction and struggle enriching this world was a delight to his eyes. Characters fighting for their very lives, forced to create. Forced to create their own struggle, their own development, an uncaring god turned away from their fates. Death truly was rather entertaining.

Now this God knew how to craft a story fitting for a audience.

Still, still, still, still, that missing element was the only thing stopping this world from truly shining. A beautiful story was nothing without someone watching it unfold.

Ever since he left that old world, he was unable to hear from his darling puppeteer anymore. An unfortunate consequence he had  not predicted , only able to assume it was courtesy of his dear Charles. A shame. A terrible shame.

And yet, even without darling Seth to keep him company, he followed the Tiny God. World after world passed by them without a puppeteer in sight. It wasn’t as much a shame anymore, as it was a outright tragedy. Even arriving at their final destination nothing could be found. The tiny God was done traveling, settling down with the one he had long searched for, and the Imposter was left to explore on his own. This world was a enlightening change, a welcome one, but he was afraid he just could not settle down himself until he too found that long searched for being.

Luckily he knew just who to ask.

It was quite amusing before how Charles would always keep him away, shooing him as though a cat attacking an bowl of food. He could only chuckle at the stupid boy, thinking he had any control on where he came and went, around his little boyfriend or otherwise. Like either of them would actually be pleased if he disappeared for good. Amusing, but now that he had important business he did not have time for such childish antics.

The Quiet God was an interesting one, the Imposter having noted his own interest in speaking with him despite Charles’ interference. But of course the God would be interested in him, knowing full well that Charles would never speak up about what he was, his mind was instead left to wonder. How utterly fun.

He was very aware of his own predisposition, the curse left on him by his creator. Or rather the curse that made up him to begin with. Though, perhaps it was only his creator himself who thought of it as a curse, while he was happy enough to revel in his own parasitic existence. It’s what the stupid boy wanted after all, despite all his protests. His continuing presence even after the boy finally acknowledged his existence only proved that, didn’t it?

As long as that tiny bit remained, as long as those unsurfaced dark feelings persisted, he would have his fun.

He could find it funny, just how easily it took from a single meeting to get Vincent interested in him, the other God able to acknowledge him right away as compared to his own creator. There was a certain irony in that, one that only grew his fondness for the other little God. Having observed this new world had been enlightening, as well as the memories he was gaining from dear Charles about him. Tiny bouts of knowledge about a empty vessel grew and grew, and he knew, he knew, the real thing would be much more entertaining. His question alone will not dry up this particular one’s usefulness.

But first he had to make sure the Tiny God would not interrupt them this time around.

Thus the perfect time was granted, slipping in with his usual grand entrance of appearing suddenly in the shadows. He leaned forward, both hands wrapped around the handle of his umbrella, a slight smile on his lips as he pulled the God’s attention towards himself. At last, they could have a proper conversation.

“Good evening, dear Vincent. I have a question for you, might I have some time of your day?”

[notsoincontrol-blog]

@thequietgod Liked for a starter with Aiden

It was supposedly a day like any other- well that was how he felt upon waking, though their was another sudden feeling that followed, memories that settled like a light dust, as if they where always there. The shape shifter tried to focus on his duties instead but each thought brought him back to the ‘stranger’. By no means was Charlotte Wiltshire a stranger- but it was as if her life was a stead for his current master. 

And worst of all, he couldn’t wrap his head around why he had treated her so. She wasn’t a good child- his senses told him that, but their was never an instance where he would act upon it towards her, no instead he treated her kindly. Lovingly. It was hard to stomach.

Fingers lightly trailed objects in thought over the revelation, he had hardly heard the door open, focusing on the piano.

[regretfulgod-blog]

@thequietgod

Charles didn't think he would ever get used to this.

The waves licked at his body, swaying and reclining as he washed ashore. He couldn't move, couldn't speak as his bones ached and the burning sensation at the back of his throat only spread. The sand was rough underneath his fingers, as he was only able to stare into the sky for several seconds, minutes, hours. Curling on his side was the only movement he could afford, coughing up the sand and water and burning burning burning insides of his mouth and stomach. He supposed he should be glad he was so used to vomiting all the time by now.

Even as the sensation of pain slowly eased out of his body, Charles knew the memory of death, of drowning, the first, second, third, forth, fifth time would never leave. It was only natural that this would be his punishment for wandering to other worlds, that he would have to experience the pain of death over and over again to gain his redemption.

He didn't know what time he arrived here, not remembering even if it was light or dark out when his body washed up on the shore. But it wouldn't really matter. Time as a concept wasn't one he really thought of much anymore, having grown used to the constant state of morning mourning that his world occupied. All he knew as his eyes slowly started to adjust once more was the light surrounding him.

A bright sun welcomed him, shinning into his eyes as he squinted up at the sky of this new world. Too bright, much too bright. With a groan he ducked his head, his eyes still feeling tired and sore from the salt water. Only for him to face another light, this one slightly dimmer then the rest, beckoning him off from the distance. Despite it all, he couldn't look away from this one, as though drawn to it.

What was this world?

The beach changed into thick forest as he walked, and darkness cloaked the bright sky. Only the dimmed light remained, as though creating a path just for him. A path to a  forest clearing, a pitch black castle sitting in the middle. Tall and imposing, it was surrounded by darkness, the light a bright lifeline shooting straight through its heart. Looking at it, Charles felt as though it was piercing his own as well.

And right outside of it, sat a familiar dark-haired boy.

Charles stopped short. And the boy stepped forward, a smile on his face mirroring his own.

He was seemingly too happy with his presence, and Charles didn't really understand why. The boy asked too many questions, about his own world, about himself, about anything and everything. The corners of his mouth crinkled upward as he talked. Charles couldn't help but stare. Why was he here? Why was he here? A centerfold in the middle of someone's world, someone's life. Why?

The boy mentioned Vincent's name, casually, passing over it in a instant and the God thought he might collapse.

It was...overwhelming.

He...He didn't wish to be rude. He really didn't. But he had to ask. He has to confirm, he had to know. He has searched far too long not to. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to run. Run to his side. Right now, he needed to right now. In this dark, dark world, there was only one person who could have created this boy. Only one person who could answer his questions. Only one person who was the center of it all.

“Where is Vincent?”

The words were blurted out, suddenly, interrupting whatever the other was about to say. Charles felt regret. Charles felt elated. Charles felt like vomiting.

But the boy agreed to take him there all the same.

To follow the life-line light to its conclusion. The end of the path, to where a boy lied in sheets of darkness. Revealed only by the boy who shared his face, the one who watched over him for so so long where Charles could not. The one who could protect him, the one who could comfort him, the one who could put him to sleep.

Charles couldn't do any of those things.

He swallowed hard, not sure if he wished to disturb the sleeping prince. If he had a right to wake him. Even after all this time searching, after dying time and time again just for him. He hardly knows Vincent. He hardly knows him. He didn't have a right to know him. He doesn't have a right to his life, nor his death. He didn't have a right to anything after all that has been done. He had let him go, he should have never have come here. But...

He couldn't stand not seeing him, not now, not after so long. He didn't have a right to feeling like that either. But he couldn't help it, he needed it. It was selfish.

He needed to see him. He needed to understand him. He needed him in his life, and he needs him now in his death.

Charles reaches out, his gloved hand wrapping lightly around the shoulder of the sleeping boy. His skin was warm beneath him. Soft. It made him shiver.

He stopped, settling into the feeling for a minute. As though the boy will disappear as soon as he moved. After several lifetimes of looking only into the eyes of the soulless vessels of his world, who knew if this one was even real? Who knew if this one wouldn't just do what they did, spout meaningless words only to jump off a cliff a second later.

Charles smiled sadly. How ironic it was. To have admired this boy for so long, only to remember him for his death, and his death alone.

If this one was real... no he was real. He was real. He had to convince himself of that, just like he had to convince himself time and time again that the others in his own world weren't the same of those he knew... He was real. He was real, and he was here with him. Sleeping, peaceful, soft, warm, gentle, next to him. He wanted to look at this sight forever, his eyes lingering, trying to commit every single little detail to memory.

Him. Him. Him. Him. His world. His soul. Him. This was him. It wasn't what he thought it would be, what he imagined, but it was him. He would understand this world, just as he would understand this boy. He would. This was him. This was real. He wanted to know, he wanted to realize.

Vincent was real.

Charles gently shook him awake.