The Unholy Mother of the Church of Ghost. She is here for you, be not afraid (Ghost OC RP blog. 18+ NSFW, run by @rileyomalley) (Askbox is open, everyone is welcome <3) var sc_project=11805043; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="9ed37c51"; var sc_remove_link=1;
A familiar song chimed within the disturbed mind of Pestilence (his true name was long forgotten, even to him). Once an angel of the Heavenly Spheres, the presence of angelic entities buzzed at him as if he were still a part of the Host, but it all was as confusing to him now as it was back then. He had spent eons trapped behind a seal with the order to wait.
Pestilence had not waited. Neither had the others, his brothers, but their stories were unknown to him, now.
Keep reading
An eternity alight with the screams of agony by those who would so much as trifle with that of the dark, that of the unholy, hearts trampled by the heavy hooves of the horse they rode. How swiftly with the cleanest cuts that these remaining holy figures or supposed men of god, fell to the very blade they held such blind faith too – now squandered with blood across the craggy plains, now a distant memory to those on horseback.
Heaven held no promise here, or at least would find the mark a heavy reminder of something that is not so easily diminished. The fury within her soul called for restitution, and though usually she was of a pacifist sort – Memoriam could only find her memories of way back when bleeding through. How her wandering spirit was by no means considered innocent, even by that of God himself.
Perhaps there was a much deeper reason for the Lord having sent some of his warriors in search of her, knowing the potential that lay dormant within her. The very aspect of being comprised of both the light as well as the dark – it could tear the world asunder just as the speculations of soulmates becoming as one entity, would uproot the very existence of life itself.
Otherwise, she may not have been considered, nor acknowledged at all. She would not have gone this far – but the Lord of the below had far bigger plans. By no means using her as a pawn, but simply setting off the deeper potential that Memoriam had deep within. The desolate forests and terrors torn asunder was but a small semblance of a much bigger anger that was to come. Not many could tear into an angel.
None should truly underestimate the fury of a woman, either.
They had arrived then, Memoriam's pale eyes gazing upon the abbey as her eternal love parted from his steed, placing Copia upon the steps before turning back to her. This place held much more familiarity to her, and in a strange sense...kindness. The dark knew more realities and bore them then that of those blinded by the holy light.
Her hands gently patted Isabella, thanking her and following suit to meet Pestilence. It wasn't hard to see how his essence wavered, thankful the Bastion gave them just that little extension of time before anything worse could have happened. Memoriam's eyes fell to the mark left by his kiss watching as the dark shapes coalesce into something of beauty, smiling gently. Her arms wrapped around him, tightly, feeling her heart beat that much louder within her chest, a faint desperation wishing she had no need to let him go.
In due time – perhaps – that would not be an issue. For now...he must rest again.
His final kiss to her lips left a hum to escape her, and silent attempted words rung clear in her mind though he could not tangibly express, she watched silently and bid her love farewell. A lasting chorus emanated from her, her bloodied tears falling all the more from her eyes. That would be the call he could always listen for, at any time, to find her again.
By the time Copia awoke, the visage before him was something to marvel. Like something out of the darkest and utmost fantastical visions, from the large horns adorning her head framing a glimmering crown, to the way her dress draped about her in dark sheer layers, a train only to follow the extensive grey tresses dancing about like smoke.
Her eyes stayed upon him for a beat, stepping closer to the Cardinal hands clasped before her, then drifting down to meet him. It was almost alarming how still she was, only until a hand reached out to caress his face, warm like a summer's heat. Faint echoes of whispers danced around her, her eyes regaining the liveliness that they usually had.
“...yes...I am lucky...as is he.” Her eyes scanned him, other hand meeting the opposite cheek, gently checking him over now.
“...we must get you out of the cold. Amore mio, come stai carentatura?”
Though words could easily speak of general inquiry, her eyes spoke leagues. Easily saying to him 'I'm so glad that you're alive.'
“Ah, psh,” the Cardinal responded humbly, embarrassed by the remark on his work. It was true - his life was work. It was all part of the job. As the senior most Cardinal in the Upper Clergy, there was no clocking in and clocking out; it was a round the clock job, especially with the Papa in such a condition. It was the price to pay for wanting to get, well, anywhere. He hadn’t even really considered a holiday until now, and the pull of nostalgia (and of course, the vision of Memoriam on a hot, sunny beach) tempted him further.
If he would do it for anyone, he would do it for her. The poor thing had been stuck in that dreary place much longer than he had. It was a wonder she even knew what sunshine looked like. Not that it was really within the realms of their, well, aesthetic, so to speak, but even spirits needed a break, it seemed. And everyone needed to see Italy at least once.
“I would go anywhere in the world with you, my dear,” he admitted, touching at the hands cupping his face serenely. “And hopefully we will have time for that in the years to come. Meanwhile, soon we will find our way to the best place for sun and beaches and cocktails. There are few other places you might find your Cardinal in a speedo. Like Michaelangelo’s David, eh? Eh?” He joked, flexing an arm a little, then thought better of it. “Best way to get a tan and it keeps the tourists away, honest.”
Memoriam simply couldn’t hold back the chuckle that bubbled in her throat, smiling ear to ear at the very thought. Not only that but how much of a theatrical sort Copia could be, with all his flair and attempts to impress - it warmed her heart. She couldn’t help but place a soft peck to his nose for it.
That and well...if he looked good in his full attire...she could only assume he’d look just as lovely in even the smallest. Hell be damned, he looked good without any from the time’s she’s seen him. Her cheeks only flushed further at the thought.
“I would certainly love it, even if it’s once. You would be an amazing tour ah, alluring tour guide.” She bit her lip, fiddling with a bit of his hair all the while. The warmth of the sun and her love at her side, even for a short whiles without the dread of worries and responsibilities...it would be considered their own personal heaven.
“You’ll certainly strut around for me in that speedo, hm? Ah...you don’t suppose I’ll look too pale in um...well...whatever would look good on me? It’s rare for me to wear much else, at least that I’m familiar with. What do you think would be best?”
Peered she above the Cardinal, lips parted slightly and an underlying chuckle echoed through the air. Eyes half lidded as she watched him more curiously now - part of her held innocent glee how badly she got under his skin in the best of ways - the other part came from something deeper inside her. Deep within the very essence of her, and what made her the Unholy Mother.
How sensitive Memoriam had become, her vision was heightened. It was clear only when the light fell upon him where everything else was blurred. The world did not mattered - only they did. She could easily see his aura and how it danced like the very flames of hell in eager cries at her touch. A hidden core of energy that resided within him she'd seen only once before, but was not sure as to what it was.
A quick slide of her palm up to his throat for a momentary grip, predatory as plush lips pressed feverishly against the skin there savoring in his rapid heartbeats. She moaned, nuzzling his face while her other hand teased at his side and pelvic bone.
"Amor...that is all I've wanted too. Every since I graced this physical form - to be connected with you always." She huffed, wriggling her hips and sliding herself down upon him finally. Any further writhing and movement, her form would give off an ethereal glow, a heated touch, and visions as though she ....
Her movements were much more passionate now, holding his hands to her hips as she rode him without abandon.
Strange yet beautifully haunting visions of a much larger crown adorned her head.
Necro Maria, a breathtaking, exquisite marble sculpture representing a classy decadent macabre reinterpretation of Our Lady of Sorrows, a collaboration between 3D illustrator & art director Billelis & Sick Mick (@sick666mick). Via The Ethereal & the Uncanny
((Hello all. Still alive, just been busy as per usual. If anyone needs links to current threads with me, lemme know and ill send me your way! Or hmu on discord if you have mine!
I'm really hoping to get more writing done for Memoriam. Starting to miss her ;v; ))
Though she could easily have interjected, Memoriam couldn't help but find a bit of joy in how her inquiry seemed to spark such liveliness in the Cardinal. However she may have been feeling seemed like a long lost memory, watching him curiously as the gears turned in his head, represented by all the twitches and ticks about his face and throughout his body.
Memoriam loved how animated he could be.
She ended up settling just a bit closer to him, reaching out and weaving her fingers within his own as his hand rested about his knee.
"I almost feel as though I was not pained at all. Surely, it's not gone but...after your attentiveness and care, it has since dulled then."
She flexed her fingers a bit, settling into herself to truly be sure. She could equate any feelings like the post effects of a long workout. Of course there were...some lingering sensations that left her a little concerned, but she figured putting her focus elsewhere is what would renew and refresh her - and Copia both.
That and a small getaway sounded positively lovely...
She sat up a bit, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek and place a soft kiss there. "Considering I have not seen or experienced much past the occasional sunny day, and mostly dreary weather...the sound of the sun and sea..." She let out a contented sigh.
"I mean...not that I haven't experienced it but...I've always wanted to explore past these grounds...anywhere else I can't recall...the way you speak it just makes me want to do so even more. Aha...that and.."
She turned to him a bit more, cupping his face in her hands with a slight furrow to her brow. "You are hard working, and if I have any say in anything - which I do - you are definitely in need of a break as well."
Every touch Copia gave her left the unholy mother to melt, feeling almost weightless and lacking of form when they were like this. She could not get enough, and if it were choice – she'd stay like this forever with him. Being an heavy empath could be troubling at times, but when you found someone like this with whom gave you nothing but comfort in their aura alone – she embraced it completely.
The echoes of giggles and moans said it enough. She watched him with hungered eyes, fingers dancing constantly about his skin or where she could even reach – until a bit of mischief in those eyes caught her. Before she knew it, Memoriam was now sitting atop him, eyes wide in surprise. Suppose even the all knowing could be caught off guard.
Her cheeks reddened, accentuating the permanent tint that resided, her eyes growing heavy lidded at his words. Where usual modesty and shyness resided, he was seeing more of her sensual and own mischievous side. Her smile matched his own, snaking her abdomen down to hover over him, hands splaying about terribly hot bare skin.
She kissed softly at his cheek, his lips giving a gentle pleased hum before sitting back up looking down upon Copia. Lifting her arms she spread them, descending behind her to remove that robe completely, now draped about his legs behind her. Her hands pulling close to her only accentuated her form further, caressing and cupping her own breasts before sliding further down. Her hips gave a teasing roll against his lap, her hands placed atop his own.
“Would it be too much to say...I want to see you squirm? For you to tell me how much you desire the unholy mother? For how long you -have-, by chance?” Her head tilted playfully, fingers dancing about his pelvis just barely caressing him with her form.
“...how much do you wish for me to be yours? I...want to hear that desire from your very lips, mia caro.”
What tears that fell from the eyes of the unfortunate dissipated as quickly as their very bodies, ravaged by the wave of disease and utmost torturous plague. Just as the Bastion had fell to the final blows of Pestilence, so did the mortals who moved in panic desperation to escape. They would not travel far before the rats and darkness that followed overwhelmed them, the echoes of screams that danced through the air.
The smaller entities, the cherubim, that may have lingered on the outskirts of this event made their escape as well skittering like the foul little tattletales they were sure to become. At least, for those who may actually escape.
Pale eyes of the unholy mother watched on from her position, chest heaving from the large wound that spilled darkened blood where the Bastion struck. Her grip tight and white knuckled at the hilt of that blade, now resonating with the glow of her eternal essence. Her gaze shifted back to those of greater importance, after the sudden noise of thunder and lightening befell the entire area.
Eyes glimmered at the sight of the familiar steed, a daring beauty if not transformed in her own right along with her master. The two revitalized in a sense as they rode on towards her direction. For the split second she even saw Copia cradled in the arms of her immortal lover – a small smile gracing bloodied lips. Memoriam went wholeheartedly into the grasp of Pestilence being lifted upon that horse and riding along.
Keep them safe.
The heavy beats of Isabella's hooves rang as loud as that thunder from whence she came, giving Memoriam a new sense of hope as the lot of them barreled through any remaining individuals. It seemed so many, yet within a matter of minutes it was as if a grand portion of power had shifted immensely, now weighing in favor of the unholy quartet, unstoppable.
There was a haze that lingered with Memoriam, the entirety of her body pulsating like a fragile heart attempting to beat. She had yet to push herself this far, and only once before she ever revealed this form. It took much out of her, as it took a great deal for Pestilence to even form. All she held in her mind was hope and hope alone – no matter the cost.
A spark shot through her the moment she felt Pestilence's hands upon her as opalescent eyes trailed down. His touch burned, It prickled at her pale skin momentarily leaving trails of odd colored veins to seep through her. Those colors faded, reforming into something lighter – where she paled her skin became lively, where her hair had grown dry and brittle now dancing in ghostly whisps about the air. Her tattered clothing weaved and danced along her form like snakes, turning into something better fitting to such an unholy queen.
Befit that of her own lineage, and that of her beloved, intricately detailed speckles of gold upon the darkest of blacks. The wound about her stomach followed suit when the dressings came – sinews, tendons and muscle regaining physical form, abdomen now laden with a newly formed scar.
Intensity. Unity. Overwhelming. Hidden power. That is what she felt.
Perhaps...they did have a chance.
An idle glance to near her where Pestilence cradled the Cardinal, her free hand caressed his face gently with elegant clawed fingers through his dirtied hair. The same hand landing upon one of Pestilence's, her gaze falling upon him now as she leaned her head against his to the best of her abilities, being that three were riding upon this horse at the moment. Her fingers weaved among his, a warm sensation of appreciation shared between the two for his offering. In her way, she felt blessed, and she was terribly thankful for getting this far. And for him. Both of them.
Eyes now forward and newly realized in her beauty, the horns twisted and a glimmering crown that hovered above them in darkened flame, her arm lifted that blade to the skies. Pale eyes now glowed with an ethereal presence, alarming scattered men of god out of their wits. Moreso when she opened her mouth to release a high pitched call, the highest of pitches like something out of the climax of operatic tones. Her arm swung with the might of that Bastion, it's energies now dancing throughout their bodies and giving her a second wind.
The large blade slashed and swung through both mortals and lingering little cherubim, the thorns in her agonizing paw now receiving their dues as holy light spattered from their distorted forms.
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