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Also FEATURING our in-house collaborated works and TV series
Between The Lines*
(*BTL AU)
Episodes, bonuses, and shorts!
As long as the lights are paid, our show writer [AZ] drops something for us about once a week!
(A Lost Episode From the Curse of the Bloodstone Arc)
Between The Lines: Of Meetings and Partings Part 2
(Also known as one of the lost episodes of Season 2, though it was first aired in Season 3, in the "Jimmy Come Home" montage in Season 3... hmm... I wonder why this memory would be so important...) -[AZ]
Written by [AZ]
Hosted by Zombocomme
Music Provided by Ghrizkit Radio
🫲🙂↕️🫱
Enjoy
Jim watched as the tall pines both seemed to pass like church steeples running along the hill, and tombstones on a churchyard slope. The drive from the lonely airstrip in the remote landscape was always so long, and he couldn't help but feel like he was running in place, somehow standing still, while leaving the heft of a heavier life behind…
“Ya think a man'a feel easier coming home than leavin the road.” Jim murmured to himself, remembering what it was like to be ten, watching the raindrops race on the foggy car windows the way they did now.
“Mm- home is where you wanna be son- but hey, what do I know, I'm just the chauffeur tryin' to take you there.” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, passing back a thermos.
Jim leaned forward and reached for the metal cylinder, pulled momentarily from his reverie- unscrewing the top he caught a whiff of the warm steam and felt something in him melt away. A smile he'd forgotten to dawn in some time caressed his neatly combed whiskers.
It was like medicine to the soul as he took that first warm sip, the taste of a rich chocolate flavor, spiced with cinnamon and Chile de Arbol peppers. The man could hold his own in a mid grade hot wing contest, and while the heat packed behind the chocolate flavor wasn't something to laugh at, the hot drink carried in it something sweet that only one person, he knew, could make it taste so good-
“Mm-mm!” Mr. Psaltarian hummed, “now that is one tasty cocoa! Woman can make a good cup of anythang!” He slurped his own helping, one hand on the wheel as he drove, pursing his lips as he smiled.
Jim chuckled, a sound that felt warm and familiar to his own ears, “That Woman, can make a man want a cuppa anythang if'n *shes the one that makes it.”, he chuckled as he slugged back the thermos and felt the tingle run down to his toes. Closing his eyes, The Preacherman sat back against the luxury leather, not even remembering that's what it was. The road curved ahead and a giddy feeling sank deep into his soles.
“I reckon she made this ‘specially for the pick up?” Jim asked, though he knew the answer.
“You mean for the ‘pick-me-up’!” Mr. Psaltarian said brightly, leaning into the curve, tires splashing a spray against an old guardrail, like the whoosh of a water slide throwing a fresh sheet of wetness, cool and clear against the metal with a melodic tine.
“Bless that woman.” Jim smiled, raising his thermos as Psaltarian did likewise, smirks passing between as they looked at one another in the reirview mirror. Jim held the half downed drink in his lap letting his fingers and thighs hum in the warmth. It was always cold 'round here, but soon the road would dip and dive, and the cold would drop away as the geothermal valley opened up. And the excitement he felt before began to feel something more along the lines of, rejuvenated.
Jim's thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of the thermos, nail sliding against the ridge of the matte covering as his thoughts moved beyond the forest of trees in his view. Even as the soft patter of a summer rain gently thumped against the car's window pain, droplets racing faster than before, the slow roll of the grey clouds above gave way to a translucent light beyond. But it wasn't the clouds he was seeing. It was *her*...
*That silvery bell that tinkled in her laugh, and the gentle soul that loved him from behind it. He really had missed her. Her constance, her warmth, her moods and smiles, she was something that could be thoughtful one minute, and game the next. And suddenly Jim realized he'd been smiling to himself, nearly missing the point where the land changed, and it's beauty sank deeper than the old man mountain, around which the road was turning, to a sight hed been longing to see...
Jim leaned forward and unbuckled, feeling a rush in his chest like it always did when he saw the way the valley opened up to his eyes beyond the mountain pass.
"He do paint a beautiful picture, don't he " Jim mumbled, blinking at the light comming through, admiring how streams of it were shot through thr clouds like in the paintings of angels and heavens looking down to earth.
*Far away, illuminated by such a stream of light, was the Emeritus estate, where Jim Defroque 's youth had taken him so often to walk amongst the pillars and old architecture of marble and long standing stone by choral.musoc and candleight. But that wasn't what he was returning to today. No, it was to where *she was*, which felt blessedly so much closer in their journey, higher up the mountain road than down it, tucked queitly away, shying in the shade of far off trees*
*Jim had left Copia and his jockey roads and concerts, he had left the heartache and the loneliness, the hurt and guilt, the mess between them and the messes he'd been thrown at to clean up… and now, Jim was coming to another place that had somehow always felt like home, even when his own sat in the Defroque manor far away in Alabama somewheres…
Getting a chance to breathe, to just be, and feel like the work of his hands meant something.
"A hand in service is worth two on the pew", Jim's Father James pften said. But it wasnt his father Jim was thinking of as the car swayed down the wet roads in its lazy descent, Ministry Valley, where painted todays picture by a creator Jim figured lived somewhere, was lovingly cast in rainy clouds and scattered sunshine.*
A Jim smiled softly to himself,
*lucky to be here. To have made it this far. To get to see this place again...*
“Oh shit I forgot my umbrella.” Jim said to Mr. Psaltarian, suddenly blinking, realizing the rain had not stopped but had run through the pass with them into the valley, not unheard of, but a little unusual for this time of year.
“You know how it is- wait a while and the sky will change its colors.” Mr. Psaltarian said, waving his hand in front of his face as he gave an annoyed ‘pshaw’.
“Oh uh, right.” Jim muttered. He sort of plopped backwards into his seat, feet scuffing together like he'd just been reminded he'd been a silly boy and told not to worry so much…
*It's just, he'd worn his new vest to go with his new slacks today. He wanted to look good, make an impression. He knew she loved it when he dressied-up to see her after not seeing eachother for a while... He'd been gone only a few months this time, but they were so long when he remembered that the view he would be comming home to was going to be different than ever before, when he had left it…*
The rain scattered along the path, and The preacherman wondered, if even something...anything... god even... when a prayer so simple in his heart muttered silently across his lips, "God...if there is a god... maybe you could help a little... Ide really like, a family..."
*The abandoned abbey to where Jim was headed, had been a run down forgotten thing that he and Copia used to escape to when they were boys. The Emeritus estate had decided to place prominence on their grandeur, and moved from those humbler quarters to a a
Sprawl of flatland outside the woods, sometime in the middle ages, and since then, "The Ministey" had several facelifts through the years before settling into the sprawling cathedral like manor, and added on church headquarters... Stern, strong. And beautiful in its designs... nothing like the old forgotten abbey that sat alone miles off, forgotten save by those who even knew to look for it, tucked into the dark woods where no one goes... where ghosts and secrets lived in the deathly silence... but it was unrecognizable now!
Now, it was a bustling communal space, currently occupied with the Lycans who'd relocated there over the summer. It was just turning August, and preparations for the rest of the year were in full swing, and the activity in the valley had shifted from the Emeritus estate that Copia had been so absent from lately, to the Abbey a ways away, cleaned up, repair works in progress, and peopled once more. Even the forrest that had once sought to hide it awa h had been pusjed back to allow a vein of travel that roped through the woods from the Estate to the sister commune, and the campgroind at the Laketown shore even farther away... It seemed odd that the campgrounds there were so quiet now, and it felt sad to look at im a way, while The Preacherman and The Minister, his chauffeur, passed the brief scenic view of its entrance and trails along the road, only to watch the ghost town dissapear behind a wall of trees that widened the view away from the roads. Again, Jim felt like he was in one place, while the world seemed to moce and pull around him...*
*Usually this time of year, the Lakeside Cabin Land had life in it brought by tourists and reservation parties, but the woods had grown *strange…and dark*, and the waterfront had become dangerous in ways too mysterious and sudden for The Ministry to authorize the public vessel, open, and later, to allow the Lycan commune that had arrived to those shores to remain encamped there. News of the happenings there over the summer had reached Copia and Jim's ears while they had been on the road for tour, and it had indeed been cause to worry… But thankfully, Milagro, the woman they both loved and held deep connection with, had been kept secret and safe, thanks to the Lycans, Alpha Emmanuel Mendez his omega and partner Johan Olson, and Teddy (Thaddius) Wolfe, of course…*
There, when Copia and Jim couldn't have been... shouldn't... wouldn't... whatever... they'd been her white knights whisking her away from danger and visiting her in tall towering places, and Jim felt a tug in his chest, knowing, he could have joined them, left Copia sooner, maybe avoided his current heartache altogether...
The Lycans, and The Vampires, sharing a Valley, for the sake of that gentle woman...
*all the kings horses and all the kings men*
“I heard the backway through the wood got shut down, Loups and shit making it worser ‘an the silk road” Jim said a bit absentmindedly, fingers strapped over his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Mr Psaltarian sighed, "You'd think The Ministry would care about how shit like Loups and Wendigos, strangers and all that, keeps getting into this valley” Mr. Pslatarian spat.
As he continued to drive, Jim frowned.
“Cardi has his hands full, and I ain't surprised that Nihil and Sister Imperator got they hands fulla ‘nuff with cleaning up after last year's hiccups. If'n it doesnt affect the Ministry, it aint big enough to worry 'bout” Jim said almost automatically, both in defense of and in betterment of Copia, and that family he belonged to.
“Don't remind me.” Psaltarian shuddered.
“But I agree, ‘least they could do is set some eyes on the grounds that do bring ‘em business. Laketown cabins closed, how the hell they making the money to upkeep -”
“Cardi's tours are raking it in faster than ever.” Psaltarian said, a nerve clearly flared pver the matter, “Im not surprised the current campaign for his ‘Ascension’ is taking a more global prescedent, than the valley-”
“Yeah, and fuck who's at home in it huh!” Jim spat. Thinking of all the people, the ghoul, Clergy, siblings of sin, and most of all, the neglected partner of the trio between them- their woman, Milagro Montoya, and the precious cargo she carried…
The car was silent a moment, both men stewing, though Jim more so. The road swerved and swayed, the Car bouncing gently along as the landscape whoosh past.
“So why did you come back?”
Mr Psaltarian asked quietly, the car bumping up and down in long rhythms as of holding a space and breath for whatever Jim might say.
“I…” Jim hesitated.
He could see how he looked from deep within. Like he was begging for a way out of the rooms of hurt and the chambers of heartbreak... a life that held a little too much loss, and not enough guiding lights along the nowhere roads...
*I am running away....'Running to' …I wonder, what does it matter?...* Jim thought.
The preacherman mused, remembering the highlights of the dark and light that had painted over his life. Thoughts racing over one another, like raindrops running past eachother on a rainy car window... the shape of something he couldn't quite see a silent companion beside him...
After a long pause, the rain patter softened to a gentle shimmer against the glass, the hum of the car lulling as a few old mile markers grazed over the fields of clearing left from logging operations too far old to remember much history about, irrelevant as it seemed now, yet so part of the landscape that, had they not appeared in the view, would have left anyone traveling this road lost…
Clarity spoke for Jim,
“I came back because… I know where I'm needed… and I ain't losing time thinking on it.” Jim said, a grave resoluteness to his voice. As if he was trying to fit somone else's shoes...
*funny, it almost sounded like sulking*
“So, you're running from things again?” Mr Psaltarian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I ain't 'running from'- not this time…” Jim said, an earnest color to his words a hot flame in his temperament that put a heat in his chest, a feeling that seemed to rise from the meanderings of his imagination in the midst of the feild beyond where he envisioned himself planting his foot in the sand, so to speak.
“Well,” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, rapidly changing gears as he whipped the car into a section of clearing, off-roading through a lesser known or recognized dirt path into the wooded area beyond the clearing on the side of the road, Jim holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar above his head.
Once the momentum tossled into a stop, the car parked at the tree-line, and Mr. Psaltarian pulled the keys from the ignition. The Minister exited the vehicle and marched towards the trunk, opening it as Jim caught his breath at the fun, and perhaps slightly scary whiplash, and unbuckled himself from the backseat. The preacherman capped his thermos and slung it into a duffle bag, that had ridden shotgun during the trip.
“Take it from me-” Psaltarian said, snapping the trunk shut and handing a heavy designer suitcase to Jim's hand nearly making the preacherman drop down with it. Jim clutched the duffle against his chest like precious cargo, and rolled his eyes, popping the handle up from the other suitcase.
“Take my advice- when ya run, make sure you run-”
“Ta somethin’, not ‘way-from” Jim recited back.
“And-” Psaltarian halted, holding the suitcase handle back, making Jim sort of yoink back before he could stubbornly walk off intonthe woods with his ‘yeah-yeah attitude’,
“Nothin happens here, that doesn't happen *there.”
Psaltarian added, before adjusting Jim's tie with expertised hands, movements practiced from all the assisting done for the Head families and leaders of The Ministey over the years. He pat Jim's whiskered cheek boyishly, and produced a small handful of daffodils wrapped in a bit of butcher paper and string, a modest bouquet, not to be forgotten, as they almost had been, from the floor of the front seat.
“and always return, with the end in mind.”
Jim stared down at the flowers a moment. Almost as if, he had realized he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come home in the first place.
*He'd sacrificed so much in silence, just to bring a little soul from the others side, he felt had been waiting for him, for a family... a Vampire's Life Eternal, exchanged for bringing the soul of what would be his firstborn, to this side of the veiled world... he had to be there... Like a wise man to a nativity, he knew, he had to come back, and leave the rest behind... and that he shoulda made this pilgrimage back to.his woman sooner...*
*A man puts away childish things*
Jim thought, his mind briefly thinking of the tie, the chain, wrapped around his heart that had been tethering him into Copia’s company, a bond forged when they had been young, that had long since twisted out of shape, and purpose. Jim then thought of the call to let it go, for the sake of the family The Preacherman had truly wanted to love and be loved by... beginning with somone who loved him so sincerely , she had fundementally changed him, and brought out the very best.*
Pursing a determined lip, he nodded and took the flowers into his own hand. The men nodded in farewell to.one another, and Jim turned. He looked out of place. So nciely dressed, standing in a field at the edge of a wood, like a man journeying to the crossroadsnof.his life... a duffle slung over his shoulder and tightened to his chest, flowers in one hand, dragging a designer suitcase with the other. Ahead, he'd walk over a wobbly footpath he knew would take a bit of time to get him to where he was trying to go to.
And for once, he was glad he was wearing his own shoes, instead of the stuffy ones his father often insisted on, or the ones that had been gifted from Copia and his family to match their tastes... no, these were his own. He had made sure of it. He wanted to bring himself to Milagro, not somone trying to be something else.
*She loved him most that way. Him as himself. Even in the darker times Jim had endured through his addictions and vices, she had loved him, and he'd found strength in her hand to crawl out of the mires he kept falling into. This time thoguh, he wanted to show, he would be here, for her...*
As Jim entered the dark shade of the woods, and looked back, watching Mr. Psaltarian whip a donut in the field and speed away, kicking up dirt and grass towards the road down to the Emeritus estate, Jim watched how the sunshine seemed to filter out, the misty rain having stopped altogether now. He dusted off the dewy velvet drops from his hair and shirt, even though he knew it would dry soon enough to not matter much. But he wanted to look just so.
*He didnt want to walk in to Milagros' sights and look like the pitiful stray he felt like now. Moving from one owner to the next all sad a pathetic like…*
Jim knelt down and opened the duffle a tad, checking on his bag of goodies and gifts he knew might give him grace in saving from his own absence during Milagro's time without him or Copia. But even as he zipped it back up, trying not to jostle the contents too much and look on the bright side of things, he unhooked the thermos and drank the rest of Milagro's famous homemade hot chocolate, as if it were a potion of courage... instead, a wave of something like guilt flooded him. Momentarily, he looked back to where he had come from. The scattered field silent and empty now… Then ahead to where he was going, stuffed full of trees and shadows.
He was scared.
*Not that he couldn't do it, but that in the doing, he'd ultimately let someone down…*
Then Jim eyed the daffodils tied with a string. He picked them up and gently stroked the petals and circled the ridges centering the flower face.
*"Daffodills!”
he could hear her saying in his head, a memory, bright beyond the clouds like sunshine above the rain. The delight of her voice, the way she so sweetly clasped her hands together in awe at the simple wonder of something so, ordinary… it had always moved The Preacherman to think of it.*
*Jim had enjoyed the simple pleasures of wildflowers, sure, even preached about God's flowers of the field a time or two when he used to do that sorta thing… but Father Defroque had not truly appreciated them before... the Esteemed Preacherman had grown an affinity for the blood red roses and their rainbow of hues amongst the ministry gardens where Copia's memory to him seemed to seep deeper over time… nothing like the seemingly plain, though pleasant peach trees back home at his manor, or rather, his Father's, or... his Father's father's... His father's, beautiful southern mansion in Alabama.
*never despise the small things*
Jim remembered, wiping a hand down his face a moment before clutching the flowers closer. They caressed his lips and cheeks, so cool and soothing...
Warm memories rising... where the simple moments in life, seemed more beautiful than all them yellow flowers in gods earthy feilds...
He sighed. Jim, quietly scolded himself for his cynical habits, and bowed his head a moment to thank god for the pretty pictures painted for him in the orchards that ran along the Defroque Manor. There had been many. And he needed to hold onto that.
Remmebering that even though that place, his home supposedly, felt more like a prison of the past than for memories made anew, it was still a place where love had been felt. Where sanctuary had been granted, and where those trees in the peach orchards rolled beyond the gentle slopes of Jim's horizon view from those big house windows... such beautiful trees, they carried a nostalgia and sense of accomplishment in their air, but were like apples to oranges in comparison to the verdant arrangements from every southern socialite party and bubliette and debutante. They were humble things, productive things, not like the displays of exotic floral arangements and peacockery that had come in every shape and size that seemed to don every church-going-woman's big hat… what James, Jim's Father thought was lady like and respectable, and what Jim should want, as his son and heir to the family business... but Milagro, the flowers that reminded Jim of her, were different… after knowing her, every time he thought of how he would change things if he could, he thought of her dancing through the peach trees beyond his window, and he knew he wanted that for his view from the back porch. To plant a feild of wildflowers beside the orchards.
'For the polinators to come on down, benefit both sides' he would say to himself, when dreaming big about that future he wanted so much.*
*Jim imagined how Milagro and he would walk together under the shade of those trees, earth so soft she could be barefoot on the wall, he'd a taken care of that place so good, shed always walk on somethin soft, or on a carpet of petals... and when the fruit hung ripe and sweet, how they'd pluck them, lay them together in their baskets lined with a nest of wildflowers and mixed Honeys to share it. She loved all the flowers, but she took particular affinity to the ones that people didnt think much of. She was like that in many ways. And that was a beautiful thing...*
Jim smiled softly at the bright flower faces staring up at him, remembering that day he had seen the sweetest, purest joy spread over that pretty woman's face, and the genuine happiness that that word, ‘daffodils' was always said with… no matter the occasion. Coulda been a wriggle of a weedy thing that popped up on the wrong side of a Crack house, or a field of them strung up in a flower show in pasedena… always the same*...
“Daffodills” Jim murmured in time with her echo, a warmth settling in him as he sighed.
“How did you get so many?” He recited, a moment from a scene in a movie he barely remembered taking her to once.
But when he had looked over at her in the picture of those theater lights, seeing her crinkled eyes and cheerful grin, lost in the projector lights beyond,
“They're your favorite flower…” he had realized as soon as the movie said it when reciting the movie line to her…
That look on her face, was one he knew was waiting for him on that road ahead in life. It was then he knew, there was more waiting for him in his version of heaven, than he had ever known...*
And before he knew it, Jim Defroque was marching through the woods, hauling his things, already in that moment when he would walk through those doors and see *her again*.
And as the vision to him grew stronger with each step, he clutched the bouquet tighter, remembering why he was ‘coming home in the first place’
*I know where I'm needed… and I aint wasting time in getting there...
time to run to, not away from*
Jimmy Defroque thought.
As Jim stepped through his vision into the present, barely noticing the clearing of space between him from the abbey doors, the sight gave way through the passing entrance of The Abbey, to the lazy stairway that ascended towards the landing, where already waited a pretty Blonde, round with child, eyes warm as the stream of sun lluminating the window behind her.
At the sight of Jim, standing there at the bottom of the stairs, arms and hands full of things, that pretty woman clasped her hands together in delight, hair streaming behind her, her steps excitedly running to him, and right through , into his arms, opened so all at once for her, longing to be filled with her… on god, it was a beautiful picture… the rest of the world swept away from the velvet kisses exchanged in giddy reunion, through the dusting dew of happy tears, and hands that would never really let go...
Jim's shoulders fell away from his ears, and his arms strengthened with Milagro in them as she nuzzled against his chest. He kissed her hair and her neck and face like he'd missed her more than anything in the world than he realized, and as he knelt down, kissing the round of her stomach where the precious things he should have been here sooner for, were growing inside her, Milagro lovingly slipped one hand into his, running her fingers up his arm to his hair, her other hand dropping to the other parcel between them.
“Daffodils!” She smiled, a soft squeal of delight in her voice as her laughter landed like the mist of warm sweet summer rain to Jim's ears. She smelled like blossoms, her rosy cheeks round and soft as peaches with that pretty glow that comes from someone wearing their motherhood on their sleeve.
Jim closed his eyes, cheek against Milagro's stomach and realizing he was indeed, home, not only where he was needed, but where he belonged,
“Daffodills-” he repeated,
a warm sigh carrying down the gentle rumble of his voice.
Repeated, almost as if to Milagro and to the little ones she carried...
*what he'd given up so much for, for the life of the unknown that was opening up to him like a bit of sunshine in the dark*
Perhaps even repeated aloud,
as if to himself,
*to remind him to remember where he'd come to, what end in mind he cared the most to run after...*
Jim inhaled the familiar scent of the boquet in hand, sighed, and recited
“they're you're favorite flower”.
Milagro smiled warmly. A light in her gaze as she watched her heart grow with the sight before her.
She rested her hand with the flowers on Jim's shoulder, and let the other caress over his head, bringing him closer against her body.
“How did you get so many”
she recited, continuing the line, basking in the light of a memory growing then, and now.
*nothing happens here that doesn't happen there, was more than meant for the ones who run off from their circumstances, trying to get to a grass thats greener… no, they're also for the prodigals, that run back to where home is- where the love is in the very air they breathe*
Jim sighed once more and hugged Milagro at the waist, nuzzling into her as he leaned into her embrace.
“Baby I missed you” Jim said. Then kissing Milagro's belly once more, he added happily, thinking of that end he wanted, the way every man that dreams his own heaven, saying
“and I missed my babies too”.
He stood once more and this time, his lips went to hers. And there they stayed letting the sun shine on the close of a long, long, day...
Weeee! Come catch the wave with us at Ministry📺TV for the Part two of
Between The Lines: Of Meetings And Partings
dropping soon!
A part of the episode where we get to see a fan fave, one we have particularly sympathized with since our popular Wafflehause episode...
See the Rerun Here🧇🏠: https://www.tumblr.com/zombocomme/782233944704892928/between-the-lines-btl-au?source=share
(Curious? You should be.... how else do you think DeCopia became a hashtag!... )- [AZ]
So Jim Defroque,
(Yes he has a playlist, newly updated , link to come ;) -Ghrizkit Radio
We wondered when he would clean up his act and get real with himself in the timeline from the part 1 (released previously) Here:
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
So now that Jimmy has left Copia's Touring Entourage... where, and more importantly, who , is home now?
(Don't you wonder what the strings of events was that lead from that wafflehause angst, to a sweet sight like this?) -[AZ]
[Photo credit 🧡 @puuuders , go comish!]
(Dig a little deeper... the rabit hole is gonna grow, much bigger, than you think ;) [AZ]
Keep your notofs on, we will go live again soon, and the part 2 in this little ramp up will help us set the stage... for the next big events to turn, in our,
(A Lost Episode From the Curse of the Bloodstone Arc)
Between The Lines: Of Meetings and Partings Part 2
(Also known as one of the lost episodes of Season 2, though it was first aired in Season 3, in the "Jimmy Come Home" montage in Season 3... hmm... I wonder why this memory would be so important...) -[AZ]
Written by [AZ]
Hosted by Zombocomme
Music Provided by Ghrizkit Radio
🫲🙂↕️🫱
Enjoy
Jim watched as the tall pines both seemed to pass like church steeples running along the hill, and tombstones on a churchyard slope. The drive from the lonely airstrip in the remote landscape was always so long, and he couldn't help but feel like he was running in place, somehow standing still, while leaving the heft of a heavier life behind…
“Ya think a man'a feel easier coming home than leavin the road.” Jim murmured to himself, remembering what it was like to be ten, watching the raindrops race on the foggy car windows the way they did now.
“Mm- home is where you wanna be son- but hey, what do I know, I'm just the chauffeur tryin' to take you there.” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, passing back a thermos.
Jim leaned forward and reached for the metal cylinder, pulled momentarily from his reverie- unscrewing the top he caught a whiff of the warm steam and felt something in him melt away. A smile he'd forgotten to dawn in some time caressed his neatly combed whiskers.
It was like medicine to the soul as he took that first warm sip, the taste of a rich chocolate flavor, spiced with cinnamon and Chile de Arbol peppers. The man could hold his own in a mid grade hot wing contest, and while the heat packed behind the chocolate flavor wasn't something to laugh at, the hot drink carried in it something sweet that only one person, he knew, could make it taste so good-
“Mm-mm!” Mr. Psaltarian hummed, “now that is one tasty cocoa! Woman can make a good cup of anythang!” He slurped his own helping, one hand on the wheel as he drove, pursing his lips as he smiled.
Jim chuckled, a sound that felt warm and familiar to his own ears, “That Woman, can make a man want a cuppa anythang if'n *shes the one that makes it.”, he chuckled as he slugged back the thermos and felt the tingle run down to his toes. Closing his eyes, The Preacherman sat back against the luxury leather, not even remembering that's what it was. The road curved ahead and a giddy feeling sank deep into his soles.
“I reckon she made this ‘specially for the pick up?” Jim asked, though he knew the answer.
“You mean for the ‘pick-me-up’!” Mr. Psaltarian said brightly, leaning into the curve, tires splashing a spray against an old guardrail, like the whoosh of a water slide throwing a fresh sheet of wetness, cool and clear against the metal with a melodic tine.
“Bless that woman.” Jim smiled, raising his thermos as Psaltarian did likewise, smirks passing between as they looked at one another in the reirview mirror. Jim held the half downed drink in his lap letting his fingers and thighs hum in the warmth. It was always cold 'round here, but soon the road would dip and dive, and the cold would drop away as the geothermal valley opened up. And the excitement he felt before began to feel something more along the lines of, rejuvenated.
Jim's thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of the thermos, nail sliding against the ridge of the matte covering as his thoughts moved beyond the forest of trees in his view. Even as the soft patter of a summer rain gently thumped against the car's window pain, droplets racing faster than before, the slow roll of the grey clouds above gave way to a translucent light beyond. But it wasn't the clouds he was seeing. It was *her*...
*That silvery bell that tinkled in her laugh, and the gentle soul that loved him from behind it. He really had missed her. Her constance, her warmth, her moods and smiles, she was something that could be thoughtful one minute, and game the next. And suddenly Jim realized he'd been smiling to himself, nearly missing the point where the land changed, and it's beauty sank deeper than the old man mountain, around which the road was turning, to a sight hed been longing to see...
Jim leaned forward and unbuckled, feeling a rush in his chest like it always did when he saw the way the valley opened up to his eyes beyond the mountain pass.
"He do paint a beautiful picture, don't he " Jim mumbled, blinking at the light comming through, admiring how streams of it were shot through thr clouds like in the paintings of angels and heavens looking down to earth.
*Far away, illuminated by such a stream of light, was the Emeritus estate, where Jim Defroque 's youth had taken him so often to walk amongst the pillars and old architecture of marble and long standing stone by choral.musoc and candleight. But that wasn't what he was returning to today. No, it was to where *she was*, which felt blessedly so much closer in their journey, higher up the mountain road than down it, tucked queitly away, shying in the shade of far off trees*
*Jim had left Copia and his jockey roads and concerts, he had left the heartache and the loneliness, the hurt and guilt, the mess between them and the messes he'd been thrown at to clean up… and now, Jim was coming to another place that had somehow always felt like home, even when his own sat in the Defroque manor far away in Alabama somewheres…
Getting a chance to breathe, to just be, and feel like the work of his hands meant something.
"A hand in service is worth two on the pew", Jim's Father James pften said. But it wasnt his father Jim was thinking of as the car swayed down the wet roads in its lazy descent, Ministry Valley, where painted todays picture by a creator Jim figured lived somewhere, was lovingly cast in rainy clouds and scattered sunshine.*
A Jim smiled softly to himself,
*lucky to be here. To have made it this far. To get to see this place again...*
“Oh shit I forgot my umbrella.” Jim said to Mr. Psaltarian, suddenly blinking, realizing the rain had not stopped but had run through the pass with them into the valley, not unheard of, but a little unusual for this time of year.
“You know how it is- wait a while and the sky will change its colors.” Mr. Psaltarian said, waving his hand in front of his face as he gave an annoyed ‘pshaw’.
“Oh uh, right.” Jim muttered. He sort of plopped backwards into his seat, feet scuffing together like he'd just been reminded he'd been a silly boy and told not to worry so much…
*It's just, he'd worn his new vest to go with his new slacks today. He wanted to look good, make an impression. He knew she loved it when he dressied-up to see her after not seeing eachother for a while... He'd been gone only a few months this time, but they were so long when he remembered that the view he would be comming home to was going to be different than ever before, when he had left it…*
The rain scattered along the path, and The preacherman wondered, if even something...anything... god even... when a prayer so simple in his heart muttered silently across his lips, "God...if there is a god... maybe you could help a little... Ide really like, a family..."
*The abandoned abbey to where Jim was headed, had been a run down forgotten thing that he and Copia used to escape to when they were boys. The Emeritus estate had decided to place prominence on their grandeur, and moved from those humbler quarters to a a
Sprawl of flatland outside the woods, sometime in the middle ages, and since then, "The Ministey" had several facelifts through the years before settling into the sprawling cathedral like manor, and added on church headquarters... Stern, strong. And beautiful in its designs... nothing like the old forgotten abbey that sat alone miles off, forgotten save by those who even knew to look for it, tucked into the dark woods where no one goes... where ghosts and secrets lived in the deathly silence... but it was unrecognizable now!
Now, it was a bustling communal space, currently occupied with the Lycans who'd relocated there over the summer. It was just turning August, and preparations for the rest of the year were in full swing, and the activity in the valley had shifted from the Emeritus estate that Copia had been so absent from lately, to the Abbey a ways away, cleaned up, repair works in progress, and peopled once more. Even the forrest that had once sought to hide it awa h had been pusjed back to allow a vein of travel that roped through the woods from the Estate to the sister commune, and the campgroind at the Laketown shore even farther away... It seemed odd that the campgrounds there were so quiet now, and it felt sad to look at im a way, while The Preacherman and The Minister, his chauffeur, passed the brief scenic view of its entrance and trails along the road, only to watch the ghost town dissapear behind a wall of trees that widened the view away from the roads. Again, Jim felt like he was in one place, while the world seemed to moce and pull around him...*
*Usually this time of year, the Lakeside Cabin Land had life in it brought by tourists and reservation parties, but the woods had grown *strange…and dark*, and the waterfront had become dangerous in ways too mysterious and sudden for The Ministry to authorize the public vessel, open, and later, to allow the Lycan commune that had arrived to those shores to remain encamped there. News of the happenings there over the summer had reached Copia and Jim's ears while they had been on the road for tour, and it had indeed been cause to worry… But thankfully, Milagro, the woman they both loved and held deep connection with, had been kept secret and safe, thanks to the Lycans, Alpha Emmanuel Mendez his omega and partner Johan Olson, and Teddy (Thaddius) Wolfe, of course…*
There, when Copia and Jim couldn't have been... shouldn't... wouldn't... whatever... they'd been her white knights whisking her away from danger and visiting her in tall towering places, and Jim felt a tug in his chest, knowing, he could have joined them, left Copia sooner, maybe avoided his current heartache altogether...
The Lycans, and The Vampires, sharing a Valley, for the sake of that gentle woman...
*all the kings horses and all the kings men*
“I heard the backway through the wood got shut down, Loups and shit making it worser ‘an the silk road” Jim said a bit absentmindedly, fingers strapped over his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Mr Psaltarian sighed, "You'd think The Ministry would care about how shit like Loups and Wendigos, strangers and all that, keeps getting into this valley” Mr. Pslatarian spat.
As he continued to drive, Jim frowned.
“Cardi has his hands full, and I ain't surprised that Nihil and Sister Imperator got they hands fulla ‘nuff with cleaning up after last year's hiccups. If'n it doesnt affect the Ministry, it aint big enough to worry 'bout” Jim said almost automatically, both in defense of and in betterment of Copia, and that family he belonged to.
“Don't remind me.” Psaltarian shuddered.
“But I agree, ‘least they could do is set some eyes on the grounds that do bring ‘em business. Laketown cabins closed, how the hell they making the money to upkeep -”
“Cardi's tours are raking it in faster than ever.” Psaltarian said, a nerve clearly flared pver the matter, “Im not surprised the current campaign for his ‘Ascension’ is taking a more global prescedent, than the valley-”
“Yeah, and fuck who's at home in it huh!” Jim spat. Thinking of all the people, the ghoul, Clergy, siblings of sin, and most of all, the neglected partner of the trio between them- their woman, Milagro Montoya, and the precious cargo she carried…
The car was silent a moment, both men stewing, though Jim more so. The road swerved and swayed, the Car bouncing gently along as the landscape whoosh past.
“So why did you come back?”
Mr Psaltarian asked quietly, the car bumping up and down in long rhythms as of holding a space and breath for whatever Jim might say.
“I…” Jim hesitated.
He could see how he looked from deep within. Like he was begging for a way out of the rooms of hurt and the chambers of heartbreak... a life that held a little too much loss, and not enough guiding lights along the nowhere roads...
*I am running away....'Running to' …I wonder, what does it matter?...* Jim thought.
The preacherman mused, remembering the highlights of the dark and light that had painted over his life. Thoughts racing over one another, like raindrops running past eachother on a rainy car window... the shape of something he couldn't quite see a silent companion beside him...
After a long pause, the rain patter softened to a gentle shimmer against the glass, the hum of the car lulling as a few old mile markers grazed over the fields of clearing left from logging operations too far old to remember much history about, irrelevant as it seemed now, yet so part of the landscape that, had they not appeared in the view, would have left anyone traveling this road lost…
Clarity spoke for Jim,
“I came back because… I know where I'm needed… and I ain't losing time thinking on it.” Jim said, a grave resoluteness to his voice. As if he was trying to fit somone else's shoes...
*funny, it almost sounded like sulking*
“So, you're running from things again?” Mr Psaltarian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I ain't 'running from'- not this time…” Jim said, an earnest color to his words a hot flame in his temperament that put a heat in his chest, a feeling that seemed to rise from the meanderings of his imagination in the midst of the feild beyond where he envisioned himself planting his foot in the sand, so to speak.
“Well,” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, rapidly changing gears as he whipped the car into a section of clearing, off-roading through a lesser known or recognized dirt path into the wooded area beyond the clearing on the side of the road, Jim holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar above his head.
Once the momentum tossled into a stop, the car parked at the tree-line, and Mr. Psaltarian pulled the keys from the ignition. The Minister exited the vehicle and marched towards the trunk, opening it as Jim caught his breath at the fun, and perhaps slightly scary whiplash, and unbuckled himself from the backseat. The preacherman capped his thermos and slung it into a duffle bag, that had ridden shotgun during the trip.
“Take it from me-” Psaltarian said, snapping the trunk shut and handing a heavy designer suitcase to Jim's hand nearly making the preacherman drop down with it. Jim clutched the duffle against his chest like precious cargo, and rolled his eyes, popping the handle up from the other suitcase.
“Take my advice- when ya run, make sure you run-”
“Ta somethin’, not ‘way-from” Jim recited back.
“And-” Psaltarian halted, holding the suitcase handle back, making Jim sort of yoink back before he could stubbornly walk off intonthe woods with his ‘yeah-yeah attitude’,
“Nothin happens here, that doesn't happen *there.”
Psaltarian added, before adjusting Jim's tie with expertised hands, movements practiced from all the assisting done for the Head families and leaders of The Ministey over the years. He pat Jim's whiskered cheek boyishly, and produced a small handful of daffodils wrapped in a bit of butcher paper and string, a modest bouquet, not to be forgotten, as they almost had been, from the floor of the front seat.
“and always return, with the end in mind.”
Jim stared down at the flowers a moment. Almost as if, he had realized he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come home in the first place.
*He'd sacrificed so much in silence, just to bring a little soul from the others side, he felt had been waiting for him, for a family... a Vampire's Life Eternal, exchanged for bringing the soul of what would be his firstborn, to this side of the veiled world... he had to be there... Like a wise man to a nativity, he knew, he had to come back, and leave the rest behind... and that he shoulda made this pilgrimage back to.his woman sooner...*
*A man puts away childish things*
Jim thought, his mind briefly thinking of the tie, the chain, wrapped around his heart that had been tethering him into Copia’s company, a bond forged when they had been young, that had long since twisted out of shape, and purpose. Jim then thought of the call to let it go, for the sake of the family The Preacherman had truly wanted to love and be loved by... beginning with somone who loved him so sincerely , she had fundementally changed him, and brought out the very best.*
Pursing a determined lip, he nodded and took the flowers into his own hand. The men nodded in farewell to.one another, and Jim turned. He looked out of place. So nciely dressed, standing in a field at the edge of a wood, like a man journeying to the crossroadsnof.his life... a duffle slung over his shoulder and tightened to his chest, flowers in one hand, dragging a designer suitcase with the other. Ahead, he'd walk over a wobbly footpath he knew would take a bit of time to get him to where he was trying to go to.
And for once, he was glad he was wearing his own shoes, instead of the stuffy ones his father often insisted on, or the ones that had been gifted from Copia and his family to match their tastes... no, these were his own. He had made sure of it. He wanted to bring himself to Milagro, not somone trying to be something else.
*She loved him most that way. Him as himself. Even in the darker times Jim had endured through his addictions and vices, she had loved him, and he'd found strength in her hand to crawl out of the mires he kept falling into. This time thoguh, he wanted to show, he would be here, for her...*
As Jim entered the dark shade of the woods, and looked back, watching Mr. Psaltarian whip a donut in the field and speed away, kicking up dirt and grass towards the road down to the Emeritus estate, Jim watched how the sunshine seemed to filter out, the misty rain having stopped altogether now. He dusted off the dewy velvet drops from his hair and shirt, even though he knew it would dry soon enough to not matter much. But he wanted to look just so.
*He didnt want to walk in to Milagros' sights and look like the pitiful stray he felt like now. Moving from one owner to the next all sad a pathetic like…*
Jim knelt down and opened the duffle a tad, checking on his bag of goodies and gifts he knew might give him grace in saving from his own absence during Milagro's time without him or Copia. But even as he zipped it back up, trying not to jostle the contents too much and look on the bright side of things, he unhooked the thermos and drank the rest of Milagro's famous homemade hot chocolate, as if it were a potion of courage... instead, a wave of something like guilt flooded him. Momentarily, he looked back to where he had come from. The scattered field silent and empty now… Then ahead to where he was going, stuffed full of trees and shadows.
He was scared.
*Not that he couldn't do it, but that in the doing, he'd ultimately let someone down…*
Then Jim eyed the daffodils tied with a string. He picked them up and gently stroked the petals and circled the ridges centering the flower face.
*"Daffodills!”
he could hear her saying in his head, a memory, bright beyond the clouds like sunshine above the rain. The delight of her voice, the way she so sweetly clasped her hands together in awe at the simple wonder of something so, ordinary… it had always moved The Preacherman to think of it.*
*Jim had enjoyed the simple pleasures of wildflowers, sure, even preached about God's flowers of the field a time or two when he used to do that sorta thing… but Father Defroque had not truly appreciated them before... the Esteemed Preacherman had grown an affinity for the blood red roses and their rainbow of hues amongst the ministry gardens where Copia's memory to him seemed to seep deeper over time… nothing like the seemingly plain, though pleasant peach trees back home at his manor, or rather, his Father's, or... his Father's father's... His father's, beautiful southern mansion in Alabama.
*never despise the small things*
Jim remembered, wiping a hand down his face a moment before clutching the flowers closer. They caressed his lips and cheeks, so cool and soothing...
Warm memories rising... where the simple moments in life, seemed more beautiful than all them yellow flowers in gods earthy feilds...
He sighed. Jim, quietly scolded himself for his cynical habits, and bowed his head a moment to thank god for the pretty pictures painted for him in the orchards that ran along the Defroque Manor. There had been many. And he needed to hold onto that.
Remmebering that even though that place, his home supposedly, felt more like a prison of the past than for memories made anew, it was still a place where love had been felt. Where sanctuary had been granted, and where those trees in the peach orchards rolled beyond the gentle slopes of Jim's horizon view from those big house windows... such beautiful trees, they carried a nostalgia and sense of accomplishment in their air, but were like apples to oranges in comparison to the verdant arrangements from every southern socialite party and bubliette and debutante. They were humble things, productive things, not like the displays of exotic floral arangements and peacockery that had come in every shape and size that seemed to don every church-going-woman's big hat… what James, Jim's Father thought was lady like and respectable, and what Jim should want, as his son and heir to the family business... but Milagro, the flowers that reminded Jim of her, were different… after knowing her, every time he thought of how he would change things if he could, he thought of her dancing through the peach trees beyond his window, and he knew he wanted that for his view from the back porch. To plant a feild of wildflowers beside the orchards.
'For the polinators to come on down, benefit both sides' he would say to himself, when dreaming big about that future he wanted so much.*
*Jim imagined how Milagro and he would walk together under the shade of those trees, earth so soft she could be barefoot on the wall, he'd a taken care of that place so good, shed always walk on somethin soft, or on a carpet of petals... and when the fruit hung ripe and sweet, how they'd pluck them, lay them together in their baskets lined with a nest of wildflowers and mixed Honeys to share it. She loved all the flowers, but she took particular affinity to the ones that people didnt think much of. She was like that in many ways. And that was a beautiful thing...*
Jim smiled softly at the bright flower faces staring up at him, remembering that day he had seen the sweetest, purest joy spread over that pretty woman's face, and the genuine happiness that that word, ‘daffodils' was always said with… no matter the occasion. Coulda been a wriggle of a weedy thing that popped up on the wrong side of a Crack house, or a field of them strung up in a flower show in pasedena… always the same*...
“Daffodills” Jim murmured in time with her echo, a warmth settling in him as he sighed.
“How did you get so many?” He recited, a moment from a scene in a movie he barely remembered taking her to once.
But when he had looked over at her in the picture of those theater lights, seeing her crinkled eyes and cheerful grin, lost in the projector lights beyond,
“They're your favorite flower…” he had realized as soon as the movie said it when reciting the movie line to her…
That look on her face, was one he knew was waiting for him on that road ahead in life. It was then he knew, there was more waiting for him in his version of heaven, than he had ever known...*
And before he knew it, Jim Defroque was marching through the woods, hauling his things, already in that moment when he would walk through those doors and see *her again*.
And as the vision to him grew stronger with each step, he clutched the bouquet tighter, remembering why he was ‘coming home in the first place’
*I know where I'm needed… and I aint wasting time in getting there...
time to run to, not away from*
Jimmy Defroque thought.
As Jim stepped through his vision into the present, barely noticing the clearing of space between him from the abbey doors, the sight gave way through the passing entrance of The Abbey, to the lazy stairway that ascended towards the landing, where already waited a pretty Blonde, round with child, eyes warm as the stream of sun lluminating the window behind her.
At the sight of Jim, standing there at the bottom of the stairs, arms and hands full of things, that pretty woman clasped her hands together in delight, hair streaming behind her, her steps excitedly running to him, and right through , into his arms, opened so all at once for her, longing to be filled with her… on god, it was a beautiful picture… the rest of the world swept away from the velvet kisses exchanged in giddy reunion, through the dusting dew of happy tears, and hands that would never really let go...
Jim's shoulders fell away from his ears, and his arms strengthened with Milagro in them as she nuzzled against his chest. He kissed her hair and her neck and face like he'd missed her more than anything in the world than he realized, and as he knelt down, kissing the round of her stomach where the precious things he should have been here sooner for, were growing inside her, Milagro lovingly slipped one hand into his, running her fingers up his arm to his hair, her other hand dropping to the other parcel between them.
“Daffodils!” She smiled, a soft squeal of delight in her voice as her laughter landed like the mist of warm sweet summer rain to Jim's ears. She smelled like blossoms, her rosy cheeks round and soft as peaches with that pretty glow that comes from someone wearing their motherhood on their sleeve.
Jim closed his eyes, cheek against Milagro's stomach and realizing he was indeed, home, not only where he was needed, but where he belonged,
“Daffodills-” he repeated,
a warm sigh carrying down the gentle rumble of his voice.
Repeated, almost as if to Milagro and to the little ones she carried...
*what he'd given up so much for, for the life of the unknown that was opening up to him like a bit of sunshine in the dark*
Perhaps even repeated aloud,
as if to himself,
*to remind him to remember where he'd come to, what end in mind he cared the most to run after...*
Jim inhaled the familiar scent of the boquet in hand, sighed, and recited
“they're you're favorite flower”.
Milagro smiled warmly. A light in her gaze as she watched her heart grow with the sight before her.
She rested her hand with the flowers on Jim's shoulder, and let the other caress over his head, bringing him closer against her body.
“How did you get so many”
she recited, continuing the line, basking in the light of a memory growing then, and now.
*nothing happens here that doesn't happen there, was more than meant for the ones who run off from their circumstances, trying to get to a grass thats greener… no, they're also for the prodigals, that run back to where home is- where the love is in the very air they breathe*
Jim sighed once more and hugged Milagro at the waist, nuzzling into her as he leaned into her embrace.
“Baby I missed you” Jim said. Then kissing Milagro's belly once more, he added happily, thinking of that end he wanted, the way every man that dreams his own heaven, saying
“and I missed my babies too”.
He stood once more and this time, his lips went to hers. And there they stayed letting the sun shine on the close of a long, long, day...
Weeee! Come catch the wave with us at Ministry📺TV for the Part two of
Between The Lines: Of Meetings And Partings
dropping soon!
A part of the episode where we get to see a fan fave, one we have particularly sympathized with since our popular Wafflehause episode...
See the Rerun Here🧇🏠: https://www.tumblr.com/zombocomme/782233944704892928/between-the-lines-btl-au?source=share
(Curious? You should be.... how else do you think DeCopia became a hashtag!... )- [AZ]
So Jim Defroque,
(Yes he has a playlist, newly updated , link to come ;) -Ghrizkit Radio
We wondered when he would clean up his act and get real with himself in the timeline from the part 1 (released previously) Here:
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
So now that Jimmy has left Copia's Touring Entourage... where, and more importantly, who , is home now?
(Don't you wonder what the strings of events was that lead from that wafflehause angst, to a sweet sight like this?) -[AZ]
[Photo credit 🧡 @puuuders , go comish!]
(Dig a little deeper... the rabit hole is gonna grow, much bigger, than you think ;) [AZ]
Keep your notofs on, we will go live again soon, and the part 2 in this little ramp up will help us set the stage... for the next big events to turn, in our,
Diving back into the swing of things, Ministry TV has some episode scraps from The Vault for the Between The Lines AU followers that have just landed in our laps for lineup!
In preparation for rolling into our summer marathon, we announce we are preparing this special episodic showcase, to tie into an anticipated lost episode, that connects our funny little time-lines together in a quarter quell finale!
(Didn't you ever wonder what happened on the dad trip everyone took? How even everyone got there?)- [AZ]
( @puuuders commissioned phot credit)
Mark your calendars kids, the BTL AU is expanding starting tomorrow, and following a planned hiatus for our show writer [AZ]-
bless them, they are putting down roots at last-
we will see how the Christmas episode aired at the end of the 2025 year will show how this 2026 year's ending, really is only, The Beginning.
See you soon dears, an episode excerpt will be airing very soon!
(Keep your notifs on, when we go Live, we'll leave the light on!)- [AZ]
Copia smiled into the glass in his hand. Rolling the ice with a satisfyingly soft clink. The condensation sliding down the glass pebbled around his gloved fingertips and the younger man across the bar slid a napkin towards him, the number on it written in a script that seemed a little more sophisticated than one would expect.
*A triple 6 calling card*
*That's a Bingo*
Copia thought, a giddy knott tightening below his stomach.
The Cardinal let his other hand hover a moment before his gloved fingers gently walked the napkin paper under his palm.
“You know, you can just ask for my autograph right here, right now?” Copia smiled. A sultry silk ribbon tied alluringly around his words, invitingly gripping, and impossible to ignore. This was his gift, this charm. It didn't take much to tempt an admirer to his bed, or his fangs, and the bartender in the hotel and he, had been sending glances, measuring, behind knowing smirks to confirm they were indeed ‘in the know’, or rather ‘in the club’.
The man smiled, his piercing blue eyes like sapphires, bleach blonde hair almost glowing in the electric blue bar lights, he was so beautiful and radiant, Copia’s eyes almost hurt.
“So, when are you off,” said Copia, knocking back the glass, flicking out the Ministry Black Card from his fingers, both impatient and eager, “the night is young, many places to see before the sun comes up…”
The man behind the counter smiled, biting his lip before glancing up at the clock. “Depends I guess- my room is a nice perk from the hotel as long as I work here on shoet notice. Time, unfortunately, is money, missing the next shift costs me a shiny penny every time I do it-”
*Ah. He's expensive* Copia thought. He wondered, despite the obvious beauty of the selection in front of him, what made this man think himself so satisfying to take from?…this *bleeder…*
“I may have some room in my schedule-”
“Oh because you're so busy, tending all your clients at the bar?” Copia teased, motioning to the nearly empty room, pocketing the numbered napkin, mentally filing away the visual image of this contact in this city. Hotels made good meetup places for those in The Donor Network. But for the sake of anonymity, donors rarely if ever, gave out any personal information… except the crazy ones...
*The “Cranks” as they were called, those fiending addicts who were available at the drop of a hat to bleed for damn near anyone. They had a look to them. Sunken, pale, slinking around, agressive... willing to do just about anything to be a feeder for a Vampire.
And if a Vampire was known to have a particularly euphoric or strong kickback in their venom, best believe the “Cranks” were throwing themselves at the blood suckers, vying for attention, begging to be drained, more than they should ever let anyone take from them. More than a respectable, clean billed, donor would, anyway...
Those ones, the clean ones, had price tags for their services, schedules to keep themselves in optimal health, routines of food and exercise to keep their bodies in model shape, some even went so far as to undergo routine dialysis to make their blood rich and soft, like purifying wine of the finest quality- the more extreme routined were often catered for more Elite affordability, often posing as escorts or night companions, even long term affairs, offering more than just their blood services, offering more than just their time; the status of being someone's beautiful personal blood purse for company, without the strings and formalities required of a master to a Familiar, came not only with the perks of the venom and the vitality granted by the Vampire that fed from them, but granted their unique effects, a powerhouse rushing through the spillways, there was notoriety involved between who had fed from who, and who was being kept on as an elite's private feeder. It takes all kinds to rule the world. And the occult was only a branch of it, traded sometimes by dollars worth the millions*
*And while Copia was a nearly insatiable man in terms of feeding, and had been, minus some rare circumstances that could be considered deathly desperate, he did have wealth, and expensive taste. Even his modest transactions were more than decent. And his venom, potent. He was more than worth the pain of the bleeding... and shopping around...*
*To be fair, the haughty nature's of the more renowned and unscrupulous donors, the one's who he did know, some personally and unfoetunately by name, did not appeal to him. Their blood parties and habitual, more despicable dining practices, were not of interest to The Cardinal from the Emeritus house... In fact, aside from big spending and some partying, Copia had never been much of a socialite anyway, the circles rarely if ever mixed...
That was more Jim's thing, though Jim was wilder than he was, mixing street drugs, pills, and spirits to enhance his feedings and encounters. Performance enhancers to intensify the feedings... well, used to, anyway, he'd been sober nearly 2 years... but the result of the reputation often attracted a heavier handed crowd, and a little too much risk for eposé. Copia preferred lower profile donors, so remained, a lower profile attitude about his feedings. It made shopping for quality a challenge, often underestimated like a Pretty Woman in a designer store. But tonight, the man across the bar looked like a wet dream, and his scent was alluring like something that might be worth, not only the money, but the risk…*
“Clear your schedule-” Copia smirked, tapping the card edge on the table. “I know a place you might enjoy the night off- and there is more than one tourist with fancies and fanciers that I think would be worth occupying your time.”
The man took the card and rang up the overpriced drinks at the register. Not even looking up, deft hands skimming gracefully over the buttons, its was such a flirt… showing off his handsome hands, roped with smooth cords of blue veins under supple skin. The kind that would be as satisfying to sink ones fangs into as sinking into the flavor of a plush, prime, rare, marbled steak.
And he knew Copia was staring.
“Mm- so you like to entertain your guests. That's generous of you- little partying on the vengabus?” the man chuckled, flashing a sly smile.
Copia smirked, “I've been told I put on a good show, who knows, I do like to throw in little passes for my fans-”
“Oh I know” the man smiled, handing the card back, almost smugly, “I heard the tour was coming through here. Why do you think I'm just a temp- not being strapped down, well, in the conventional sense-” he said, voice dripping saucily over Copia's ears in a way that made The Cardinal's pants tighten pleasantly, "makes it easier to keep up on any tag alongs thrown ny way".
“So you're a fan of mine or you're a groupie guy in general?” Copia teased, taking the card back and leaning forward over the bar, turning his wrist over in a smooth flick, a hot hundo in cash as a tip between two fingers.
*He liked this game.*
“More of, a tour guide.”
“A tour guide?” Copia chuckled, the cash snatched from his hand with a little pizzaz that confirmed oh yes, this donor wasn't just a model expense wannabe. He had something to offer up his sleeve. An *experience*...
The Satanic cardinal wondered what temptations this young man had to offer him...
“I take it you enjoy your encounters with a little fine dining?” The man said, slipping the neck of his apron off, untyinging the back knot around his trim waist quickly.
It looked like the deal might go through.
“I can guarantee my bus has good catering. Privacy, and good security, party your little heart out!” Copia laughed, stepping up from the stool. This was it. Either it was on or off. He hoped it was on.
“Much as I would love to check out , your groupie van-” the man said, tossing his apron shamelessly over the register, “I prefer to take you there myself.”
“There? And where is there?” Copia said, raising an eyebrow.
“Somewhere where a man of your talents would be appreciated.”
Copia frowned slightly.
*Sometimes donors could be pushy, escorts services could land one in a situation… sometimes meaning donors were trying to get themselves and their little friends together for their own experience, it wasn't unusual, but it was often a little scammy. Sort of taking advantage of a situation where a Vampire in need is pressured to satisfy the rest- a power imbalance Copia's kind were not so fond of…*
*And while a little light blood orgy was nothing The Cardinal hadn't snubbed his nose at before, he wondered if the ridiculously beautiful specimen here, so blond and blue eyed, and yoked like a young stag, was like a catphisher for less savory, other, more desperate friends. This city wasn't really known to have Cranks in it, but, one couldn't be too careful. Picking people up in bars had its risks, afterall…*
“I keep company with my troupe- if a party is too much for you, my bus is still comfortable enough for two-” Copia snuffed, shrugging slightly.
The man looked at Copia puzzled. Then, as if putting the peices together, threw his head back and laughed.
The Cardinal was taken back by the sound. It didn't sound scornful, teasing, or even funny, per-se. No, the sound warbling from the young mans throat was, genuine! And even more surprising, it was, captivating. Enchanting almost. And he found himself beginning to laugh along.
“Im *inviting* you to come to a club with me!” the man said after a moment, a smile on his face and a slight twinkle in those sapphire blue eyes, “Im not worried about keeping you all to myself, Im not entirely selfish, but Im not going to force feed you to a bunch of freaks- well, at least not the ones you're thinking of.” he winked.
“And how do you know what I'm thinking of?” Copia said, raising a brow and letting the laughter die down.
“Call it a hunch…” the man thought a moment before shrugging it off, “I have my ways, and in any case, I think you'll find me interesting enough to *want* to follow around this town. I think you'll have a good time! And that's my thing. I like to find the thrill seekers, the adventurers, the ones who might be a bit like me-”
Something about the way the man said that phrase, "*like me*" sent a shiver up Copia's spine, but he let the moment slip away...
The man sounded, almost, happy. Carefree. A sense of some sort of innocence or purity blinked almost kindly from his expressive face… Something was unusual about this donor...
After a quiet moment, the man could feel the strange gaze, guaging his every move, his every pulse, and the confident demeanor he was exuding faltered slightly.
*like a vulnerable little white mouse, caught in the gaze of something that enjoyed eying its prey quiver under its claws*
“Ahem..uh…Care for a smoke?” The man said, nodding towards the exit behind the bar, almost dancing backwards into the pushbar through it. Trying to put a little distance from the awkward silence. Surprisingly, Copia found himself following him.
*The skittish ones always were his favorite to corrupt. Easing them into their pain and pleasure. The control was deeply satisfying, and the little spark of fear in the blood gave it a little tang that made Copia's blood run hot, and his desire throb deliciously*
In a well lit, though sort of dingy back alley, where the dumpster kept company with the spare crates of goods and supplies, the man pulled out a joint, and handed it fresh, to Copia first, the door behind them swinging shut.
Not one to turn down a free first puff and pass, Copia smiled and tweezed the rolled paper at his nose.
It smelled good, relatively fresh. Something homemade about it that felt fun to want to try.
“So, a club?” Copia asked, snapping a lighter from his own pocket and lighting the joint.
“Yeah- kind of a specialty club. Bit vampy. But has a backroom drift." the man said, pulling out a cigarette as well.
“That so,” Copia said, holding the smoke in his lungs and passing the joint back. The man took it gracefully and inhaled. Talking through the tight chested hold he continued, “The O' is a nice place. I think you'll like it.” The man released, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips, then lighting a cigarette like a breath chaser, he continued “I could have them play a song or two from your set list, and all the boys can dance-”
Copia coughed, laughing a little, feeling the smoke waft from his breath, “Haha! What a name for a club- ‘The O’ where boys can dance, let me guess, very gay, probably have ‘pickledick’ chasers and 'cum shots' for their creatively themed drinks?”.
The man blew out his own smoke but shook his head good naturedly. “Hey, it's a neat little place,” he said in mock defensiveness, “that's just the front of the shop… the real party happens in the back.”
“The back?” Copia scoffed playfully, “You make it sound like you got a sex dungeon waiting for me there!”
“Something like that…”
The man took the joint back from Copia.
The alley air seemd to have froze with anticipation.
Trading the cigarette for the joint and back.
“I see… I've never heard of this place on The Network-” Copia said at last.
“Come see it for yourself then, leave a review.” The man said nonchalantly, those jewel blue eyes flashing something inviting, wanting…
“Then what,” Copia roused, a low sound that traveld down the man's spine and sat thick inside his stomach, “Take me to a private room for a bit of fun before the feast?”
“You'd could say that. If you want to come, that is.” The man flicked his hair, the shine flashing slightly under the lamplight.
At this, Copia was already pushing against him in the alley, a hand sliding up the hard planes of the man's torso, thumb drawing down a line where the heat of the vena cava twisted along his insides, and then higher along the arterial branches that plumed upwards toward his neck, where hot breath and the soft gliding trickle of fangs grazed the man's pale, perfect skin.
“I like the sound of that.” Copia hissed, a soft clip in his syllables that made hardened flesh dribble and the senses crawl with anticipation- he had him by the throat. Like a sweet little thing caught in a web. The Cardinal just wanted to see where it would go. How far could he push, his pretty little moth in the lamplight.
*Donors even expensive ones rarely if ever let a Vampire drain from a neck hole. The danger of a heart plug, if the Vampire doing the biting didn't seal off the wound or latch properly, could prove a deadly game… but it was *exciting*...
Copia ran his fangs and lips along the lifeline pulsing beneath that perfect pale skin,
“Think a little club like yours could handle me?”
The man licked his lips, a soft tremble running along his body.
“Oh, trust me, there's more fans in this little fan club, that pay to just watch somone do something like you can- I th-think you'll be surprised to find out who's th-there on a given Teusday.” the man panted, hip rutting gently against the Cardinal's thigh planted between them.
Satanas, Copia had him bewitched like a master, and the pretty white feeder had to stifle a noise from squeaking out of his throat, while Copia teased knowingly over his Adam's apple, flicking a toungue to the sweat dampening his skin. The cigarette between the man's lips burning down faster as his breath hitched in soft whimpered breaths. Desire pooled behind Copia's stomach and dropped lower. The man was feeling the power emanate from This Cardinal's aura. It felt risky, delicious, and so deeply consuming…
*Yes. He liked this game…*
Copia leered a smile.
*Silly rabbit...Trix are for-
*Tricks…?* the man chewed his lip, *or treats...*
Their minds were passing something back and forth in the heat of the blinking eyed moment…
(But how?)
*Oh yesss…He liked this game…*
Copia sniffed the man's neck gently and loosened his gloved grip, retreating. The intensity lulling back to a pleasant hum under the electric flicker of the streetlamps in the alley. Heartbeats, thumping in rhythmic time.
“I Do, love an audience. And I like to say, go big, or go home. ” Copia smoothly said.
The man slid a hand through his hair, blue eyes wide, pupils blown with desire. He smirked as he realized Copia had gently tongued the cigarette from his own lips to smoke it, and put it out against the wall with a smouldering hiss that sent tingles across his skin. Copias gloved fingers pinched off the blunt still between the man's fingers, signaling the end of this part of negotiation, and the beginning of the night- the what would happen.
The last question, was where...
“‘The O’ has a play room in the back, discreet, private,” The man said, collecting himself and running a cool hand through the nearly perfectly coifed hair on his head, down his neck self soothingly, “We don't get as many visitors like you there. Its a bit niché, kinda the local secret… But for you, I'm sure it will be quite the treat. And no fussing for attention. Everyone plays nice, unless you want them to play dirty” he said, trying to soothe the crinkle in Copia’s brow before it hardened to a line he found appalling and appealing on such a handsomely painted face. “Like I said” the man continued, “there's no force feeding you to anyone there- I like to let people have fun- that's my thing.”
Copia tilted his head this way then that. Throwing one more bone to see if this too-good-to-be-true offer really was worth the risk. The place sounded exclusive, even if given the front of house impression as a public access thing. It made Cipia a tad uneasy- how closed off would he be, if he didn't want to stay there?
“If you know me and my band, I don't, exactly, like to party without them.” His backup. If they weren't invited, he wouldn't go. Call it a security possé but, it was the last card to play before he would decide to fold.
“What, the Ghouls? Yeah!” The man piped up, “bring them in if you like. They keep it dark, and the props and toys clean for a variety of play… they probably would like the vibe, honestly. Rowdy or relaxed, theres a space for everyone.” The man smiled and tilted his head...
*Boyish. Mischievous. Far from innocent minded. And yet so angelic in his features. A likeness of Lucifer that really, no one could pass up from wanting to drape him over and feed from him*
Copia smirked, but, was a bit surprised that this stranger in an alley here for a hitch and suck was knowledgeable enough about the underworld to know the proper name for his band mates’ kind …
"I mean is it going to matter if the hellspawn are here or there?" Copia said, taking another drag, "They're likely to eat somome alive for fun, I don't like having to clean up the mess."
The man blinked back and incredulously grinned, "Hey, I'm just offering a little something new for your palate, whatever the hellspawn favor, probably half the guests at 'The O' would dig it... Suffocating between a pair of nice thighs, a tight tail around the neck, or being driven up a St. Andrew's with a little knife play, a little fun before the meal..." Copia raised a brow, a little more than interested in the menu.
"Oh, so you think they have tails?" Copia asked, feigning a casual disinterest, as if the man before him were talking in tall tales.
"Oh please," the man remarked rolling his eyes.
*The sass was just too tastey to watch too closely*
"Anyone with an imagination would put two and two together. Ghouls have a look about them. But The Ghoule, have an, element, about their natures, and, they always come with a tail. I've had encounters with one or two in my time. Fun creatures."
The Cardinal blinked.
*Copia had introduced each of the hellspawned Ghoule as merely "Ghouls" every night, but their glamor made them look human enough that the masses sort of just thought it was all a gimmick, all while hearing the truth so plain and not looking too closely... Still.... That this mortal could pick out the difference so properly, garnered enough interest for Copia to share a pleasant grin and wrap an arm around the man's waist, a thumb in a belt loop for ownership, for show. He pulled him closer, a mischievous side hold while The Cardinal's free hand slid and fiddled with the man's clothes, leaning in, words and breaths tickling the ears and neck, tantilizingly.
"So you know the Jargon lad, you are fully aware what you're getting into if they are around."
"Of course. Why else would I have followed the tour so closely, I wanted my own VIP time, especially with you".
"Ah... So you are a groupie guy" Copia tisked, but not entirely put off.
The man shrugged, "I like having a good time. I like giving others a good time. Especially of they're so interesting," he motioned up and down to Copia, "I enjoy variety- but if I dont have to share the attention, I wouldn't mind enjoying your, essence, all for myself."
"Flattery is my favorite lie" Copia said, licking his lips, "That gets you far, Im sure you know."
"Im not just a pretty face" the man replied, looking up at Copia with a catty expression, "I know my way around, I don't aim to just, go far, I want you. All the way. Every way. It's that simple. Can you blame me?" He leaned in closer, this time, *now his* hands pulled at Copia's hips while he whispered, making the Cardinal's skin shiver, "What's a little sin between sinners, I give, you take, and I have an unusually high tolerance to be taken from..."
The man palmed down Copia's pants firmly, The Cardinal let out a satisfying grunt and groan beneath the grip. "And I happen to be good at giving..." Satanas the man was hung nicely, his hardness pressing against Copia's through the material. "If I can entertain a small coven at their penthouse, I'm sure, I can satisfy that appetite in you, wherever you want me to be. "
(But how did he know that. How could a singular person do that?)
*Like a haze, the cloud of need and desire, had put a spell between them, concocted between them as their dark thoughts mistepped into one another. Not only were they like minded, something entirely too compatable was being stitched between them- bewitching them in the lamplight, and The Cardinal knew the danger of this unusual feeling. It wasn't just compatability. It was a Match. Thoughts of a new blood purse drowned his mind. It took everything in him to peel back from the heavy petting and panting between them to take a breath, swallow, and try to out muscle his own grip, leather gloves squeaking softly. Something was too strong here. But by God, how could he help himself. So rare to find such an attraction, such a connection, in one so beautiful, in one so intriguing. He had to calm down. He had to think.*
Copia could sense the truth in the man's words. This whole time, he sensed no deceit betraying the man's thoughts. Copia had a theory. But to test it, he'd need to enjoy the spoils of this prize first. Not that after all that had transpored this night, meant it was a bad thing, he still needed to feed, and with Jim having left him, Copia desperately needed releif, and release... And he was indeed, famished, eager, and painfully aching at this point. He was getting impatient.
*He figured, what could he loose? How bad could it be. His criteria was met. There was no apparent reason to stall, he thought...*
*It was enough to know not only was the Satanic Cardinal's scene wholly invited to a pleasure space, it, or at least his companion, was educated in it. The venue just classed the experience even more highly than he thought before... and now that he was aware what “The O” really was, a buffet of vampire fans who liked to mix blood with their play, it was this esteemed Cardinal's chance to act out, get away with it, to indulge in his carnal vices by the sultry sweet invitation of, had this man not smelled so human, would have guessed was being offered by a devil itself.*
*He would have to guard this beautiful creature, this lovely new pet, for however long he was being kept under wing...*
Suddenly everything rushed back, and the man's bleach blonde hair gleamed, and those eyes so strong, so blue, half lidded, blinked up in a questioning gaze. An intense feeling of possession, protection, even care, shot like an arrow through Copia's chest.
Copia ran a longing finger along The Man's face, thr black glove stark against the softly illuminated skin.
"Jawline for days" Copia muttered absentmindedly...
The man looked both strong and delicate, like bone China, and not a scratch or mark to blemish it... not yet, anyway...
Copia looked at this stranger under his wing, up and down like a prize perched pretty on his arm, he felt like he had struck a lucky bargain with such a unique escort for the night, to a new, hole-in-the wall place, built for somone like himself. And so beautiful was this company, The Cardinal figured even Satan himself would paint this stranger like Lucifer's Statues, poised in pale marble, jeweled eyes gleaming like blue halos of hellfire… who wouldn't want to be worshipped by such a fine specimine?… Who wouldn't want to worship it, to lav luxuriously at that equine neck and watch those sapphire halos wince and widen, hear that pretty voice warble out in pleasure and a little bit of ecstasy in the pain… it would be a true sin, to not to...*
“Lead the way, Caro,” Copia husked, “I'd like to take a look at that place you so highly reccomend. In fact, im feeling a bit lucky. Let us go, just me and you, meet these friends of yours… who knows where the night takes us. Lots to see before the sun comes up. Though if your little suite at the hotel is still an open invitation, I shouldn't wonder I'de keep you in behind the dark curtains, long after sun-up, or if you're free, perhaps join me for my next show, backstage... if you're game to keep the party going after sundown, that is. Like I said, the catering is good. Private and safe, and if you have the stamina like you say you do, why, both of us, should be in for quite the feast.”
The man grinned wide, perfect teeth flat as tombstones, and licked his lips, already tasting the kickback he knew would come from such a man as this vampiric rockstar, feeling his own heat throb achingly beneath his belt line. He sidled up to Copia, an angelic shade to a demon's shaddow, running a handsome hand along the Cardinal's hip giving it a squeeze.
"I like this game."
"Im glad, you do..."
The man motioned out of the alley towards the half hustling night street, and the promises that lay beyond. The two walked off into the shadows, tripping a light fantastic, off to a neon seascape of black velvet prickled by the city lights, as if the dark deep smile of hell were personally welcoming them in, promising a handsome bastard prince such as Copia, a night to remember, and the mysterious glow of a stranger with him, an adventure of a lifetime.
**for indeed, there would be Hell to pay…**
*and little did they know, what was promised, was Exactly, what they were going to get*
Copia smiled into the glass in his hand. Rolling the ice with a satisfyingly soft clink. The condensation sliding down the glass pebbled around his gloved fingertips and the younger man across the bar slid a napkin towards him, the number on it written in a script that seemed a little more sophisticated than one would expect.
*A triple 6 calling card*
*That's a Bingo*
Copia thought, a giddy knott tightening below his stomach.
The Cardinal let his other hand hover a moment before his gloved fingers gently walked the napkin paper under his palm.
“You know, you can just ask for my autograph right here, right now?” Copia smiled. A sultry silk ribbon tied alluringly around his words, invitingly gripping, and impossible to ignore. This was his gift, this charm. It didn't take much to tempt an admirer to his bed, or his fangs, and the bartender in the hotel and he, had been sending glances, measuring, behind knowing smirks to confirm they were indeed ‘in the know’, or rather ‘in the club’.
The man smiled, his piercing blue eyes like sapphires, bleach blonde hair almost glowing in the electric blue bar lights, he was so beautiful and radiant, Copia’s eyes almost hurt.
“So, when are you off,” said Copia, knocking back the glass, flicking out the Ministry Black Card from his fingers, both impatient and eager, “the night is young, many places to see before the sun comes up…”
The man behind the counter smiled, biting his lip before glancing up at the clock. “Depends I guess- my room is a nice perk from the hotel as long as I work here on shoet notice. Time, unfortunately, is money, missing the next shift costs me a shiny penny every time I do it-”
*Ah. He's expensive* Copia thought. He wondered, despite the obvious beauty of the selection in front of him, what made this man think himself so satisfying to take from?…this *bleeder…*
“I may have some room in my schedule-”
“Oh because you're so busy, tending all your clients at the bar?” Copia teased, motioning to the nearly empty room, pocketing the numbered napkin, mentally filing away the visual image of this contact in this city. Hotels made good meetup places for those in The Donor Network. But for the sake of anonymity, donors rarely if ever, gave out any personal information… except the crazy ones...
*The “Cranks” as they were called, those fiending addicts who were available at the drop of a hat to bleed for damn near anyone. They had a look to them. Sunken, pale, slinking around, agressive... willing to do just about anything to be a feeder for a Vampire.
And if a Vampire was known to have a particularly euphoric or strong kickback in their venom, best believe the “Cranks” were throwing themselves at the blood suckers, vying for attention, begging to be drained, more than they should ever let anyone take from them. More than a respectable, clean billed, donor would, anyway...
Those ones, the clean ones, had price tags for their services, schedules to keep themselves in optimal health, routines of food and exercise to keep their bodies in model shape, some even went so far as to undergo routine dialysis to make their blood rich and soft, like purifying wine of the finest quality- the more extreme routined were often catered for more Elite affordability, often posing as escorts or night companions, even long term affairs, offering more than just their blood services, offering more than just their time; the status of being someone's beautiful personal blood purse for company, without the strings and formalities required of a master to a Familiar, came not only with the perks of the venom and the vitality granted by the Vampire that fed from them, but granted their unique effects, a powerhouse rushing through the spillways, there was notoriety involved between who had fed from who, and who was being kept on as an elite's private feeder. It takes all kinds to rule the world. And the occult was only a branch of it, traded sometimes by dollars worth the millions*
*And while Copia was a nearly insatiable man in terms of feeding, and had been, minus some rare circumstances that could be considered deathly desperate, he did have wealth, and expensive taste. Even his modest transactions were more than decent. And his venom, potent. He was more than worth the pain of the bleeding... and shopping around...*
*To be fair, the haughty nature's of the more renowned and unscrupulous donors, the one's who he did know, some personally and unfoetunately by name, did not appeal to him. Their blood parties and habitual, more despicable dining practices, were not of interest to The Cardinal from the Emeritus house... In fact, aside from big spending and some partying, Copia had never been much of a socialite anyway, the circles rarely if ever mixed...
That was more Jim's thing, though Jim was wilder than he was, mixing street drugs, pills, and spirits to enhance his feedings and encounters. Performance enhancers to intensify the feedings... well, used to, anyway, he'd been sober nearly 2 years... but the result of the reputation often attracted a heavier handed crowd, and a little too much risk for eposé. Copia preferred lower profile donors, so remained, a lower profile attitude about his feedings. It made shopping for quality a challenge, often underestimated like a Pretty Woman in a designer store. But tonight, the man across the bar looked like a wet dream, and his scent was alluring like something that might be worth, not only the money, but the risk…*
“Clear your schedule-” Copia smirked, tapping the card edge on the table. “I know a place you might enjoy the night off- and there is more than one tourist with fancies and fanciers that I think would be worth occupying your time.”
The man took the card and rang up the overpriced drinks at the register. Not even looking up, deft hands skimming gracefully over the buttons, its was such a flirt… showing off his handsome hands, roped with smooth cords of blue veins under supple skin. The kind that would be as satisfying to sink ones fangs into as sinking into the flavor of a plush, prime, rare, marbled steak.
And he knew Copia was staring.
“Mm- so you like to entertain your guests. That's generous of you- little partying on the vengabus?” the man chuckled, flashing a sly smile.
Copia smirked, “I've been told I put on a good show, who knows, I do like to throw in little passes for my fans-”
“Oh I know” the man smiled, handing the card back, almost smugly, “I heard the tour was coming through here. Why do you think I'm just a temp- not being strapped down, well, in the conventional sense-” he said, voice dripping saucily over Copia's ears in a way that made The Cardinal's pants tighten pleasantly, "makes it easier to keep up on any tag alongs thrown ny way".
“So you're a fan of mine or you're a groupie guy in general?” Copia teased, taking the card back and leaning forward over the bar, turning his wrist over in a smooth flick, a hot hundo in cash as a tip between two fingers.
*He liked this game.*
“More of, a tour guide.”
“A tour guide?” Copia chuckled, the cash snatched from his hand with a little pizzaz that confirmed oh yes, this donor wasn't just a model expense wannabe. He had something to offer up his sleeve. An *experience*...
The Satanic cardinal wondered what temptations this young man had to offer him...
“I take it you enjoy your encounters with a little fine dining?” The man said, slipping the neck of his apron off, untyinging the back knot around his trim waist quickly.
It looked like the deal might go through.
“I can guarantee my bus has good catering. Privacy, and good security, party your little heart out!” Copia laughed, stepping up from the stool. This was it. Either it was on or off. He hoped it was on.
“Much as I would love to check out , your groupie van-” the man said, tossing his apron shamelessly over the register, “I prefer to take you there myself.”
“There? And where is there?” Copia said, raising an eyebrow.
“Somewhere where a man of your talents would be appreciated.”
Copia frowned slightly.
*Sometimes donors could be pushy, escorts services could land one in a situation… sometimes meaning donors were trying to get themselves and their little friends together for their own experience, it wasn't unusual, but it was often a little scammy. Sort of taking advantage of a situation where a Vampire in need is pressured to satisfy the rest- a power imbalance Copia's kind were not so fond of…*
*And while a little light blood orgy was nothing The Cardinal hadn't snubbed his nose at before, he wondered if the ridiculously beautiful specimen here, so blond and blue eyed, and yoked like a young stag, was like a catphisher for less savory, other, more desperate friends. This city wasn't really known to have Cranks in it, but, one couldn't be too careful. Picking people up in bars had its risks, afterall…*
“I keep company with my troupe- if a party is too much for you, my bus is still comfortable enough for two-” Copia snuffed, shrugging slightly.
The man looked at Copia puzzled. Then, as if putting the peices together, threw his head back and laughed.
The Cardinal was taken back by the sound. It didn't sound scornful, teasing, or even funny, per-se. No, the sound warbling from the young mans throat was, genuine! And even more surprising, it was, captivating. Enchanting almost. And he found himself beginning to laugh along.
“Im *inviting* you to come to a club with me!” the man said after a moment, a smile on his face and a slight twinkle in those sapphire blue eyes, “Im not worried about keeping you all to myself, Im not entirely selfish, but Im not going to force feed you to a bunch of freaks- well, at least not the ones you're thinking of.” he winked.
“And how do you know what I'm thinking of?” Copia said, raising a brow and letting the laughter die down.
“Call it a hunch…” the man thought a moment before shrugging it off, “I have my ways, and in any case, I think you'll find me interesting enough to *want* to follow around this town. I think you'll have a good time! And that's my thing. I like to find the thrill seekers, the adventurers, the ones who might be a bit like me-”
Something about the way the man said that phrase, "*like me*" sent a shiver up Copia's spine, but he let the moment slip away...
The man sounded, almost, happy. Carefree. A sense of some sort of innocence or purity blinked almost kindly from his expressive face… Something was unusual about this donor...
After a quiet moment, the man could feel the strange gaze, guaging his every move, his every pulse, and the confident demeanor he was exuding faltered slightly.
*like a vulnerable little white mouse, caught in the gaze of something that enjoyed eying its prey quiver under its claws*
“Ahem..uh…Care for a smoke?” The man said, nodding towards the exit behind the bar, almost dancing backwards into the pushbar through it. Trying to put a little distance from the awkward silence. Surprisingly, Copia found himself following him.
*The skittish ones always were his favorite to corrupt. Easing them into their pain and pleasure. The control was deeply satisfying, and the little spark of fear in the blood gave it a little tang that made Copia's blood run hot, and his desire throb deliciously*
In a well lit, though sort of dingy back alley, where the dumpster kept company with the spare crates of goods and supplies, the man pulled out a joint, and handed it fresh, to Copia first, the door behind them swinging shut.
Not one to turn down a free first puff and pass, Copia smiled and tweezed the rolled paper at his nose.
It smelled good, relatively fresh. Something homemade about it that felt fun to want to try.
“So, a club?” Copia asked, snapping a lighter from his own pocket and lighting the joint.
“Yeah- kind of a specialty club. Bit vampy. But has a backroom drift." the man said, pulling out a cigarette as well.
“That so,” Copia said, holding the smoke in his lungs and passing the joint back. The man took it gracefully and inhaled. Talking through the tight chested hold he continued, “The O' is a nice place. I think you'll like it.” The man released, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips, then lighting a cigarette like a breath chaser, he continued “I could have them play a song or two from your set list, and all the boys can dance-”
Copia coughed, laughing a little, feeling the smoke waft from his breath, “Haha! What a name for a club- ‘The O’ where boys can dance, let me guess, very gay, probably have ‘pickledick’ chasers and 'cum shots' for their creatively themed drinks?”.
The man blew out his own smoke but shook his head good naturedly. “Hey, it's a neat little place,” he said in mock defensiveness, “that's just the front of the shop… the real party happens in the back.”
“The back?” Copia scoffed playfully, “You make it sound like you got a sex dungeon waiting for me there!”
“Something like that…”
The man took the joint back from Copia.
The alley air seemd to have froze with anticipation.
Trading the cigarette for the joint and back.
“I see… I've never heard of this place on The Network-” Copia said at last.
“Come see it for yourself then, leave a review.” The man said nonchalantly, those jewel blue eyes flashing something inviting, wanting…
“Then what,” Copia roused, a low sound that traveld down the man's spine and sat thick inside his stomach, “Take me to a private room for a bit of fun before the feast?”
“You'd could say that. If you want to come, that is.” The man flicked his hair, the shine flashing slightly under the lamplight.
At this, Copia was already pushing against him in the alley, a hand sliding up the hard planes of the man's torso, thumb drawing down a line where the heat of the vena cava twisted along his insides, and then higher along the arterial branches that plumed upwards toward his neck, where hot breath and the soft gliding trickle of fangs grazed the man's pale, perfect skin.
“I like the sound of that.” Copia hissed, a soft clip in his syllables that made hardened flesh dribble and the senses crawl with anticipation- he had him by the throat. Like a sweet little thing caught in a web. The Cardinal just wanted to see where it would go. How far could he push, his pretty little moth in the lamplight.
*Donors even expensive ones rarely if ever let a Vampire drain from a neck hole. The danger of a heart plug, if the Vampire doing the biting didn't seal off the wound or latch properly, could prove a deadly game… but it was *exciting*...
Copia ran his fangs and lips along the lifeline pulsing beneath that perfect pale skin,
“Think a little club like yours could handle me?”
The man licked his lips, a soft tremble running along his body.
“Oh, trust me, there's more fans in this little fan club, that pay to just watch somone do something like you can- I th-think you'll be surprised to find out who's th-there on a given Teusday.” the man panted, hip rutting gently against the Cardinal's thigh planted between them.
Satanas, Copia had him bewitched like a master, and the pretty white feeder had to stifle a noise from squeaking out of his throat, while Copia teased knowingly over his Adam's apple, flicking a toungue to the sweat dampening his skin. The cigarette between the man's lips burning down faster as his breath hitched in soft whimpered breaths. Desire pooled behind Copia's stomach and dropped lower. The man was feeling the power emanate from This Cardinal's aura. It felt risky, delicious, and so deeply consuming…
*Yes. He liked this game…*
Copia leered a smile.
*Silly rabbit...Trix are for-
*Tricks…?* the man chewed his lip, *or treats...*
Their minds were passing something back and forth in the heat of the blinking eyed moment…
(But how?)
*Oh yesss…He liked this game…*
Copia sniffed the man's neck gently and loosened his gloved grip, retreating. The intensity lulling back to a pleasant hum under the electric flicker of the streetlamps in the alley. Heartbeats, thumping in rhythmic time.
“I Do, love an audience. And I like to say, go big, or go home. ” Copia smoothly said.
The man slid a hand through his hair, blue eyes wide, pupils blown with desire. He smirked as he realized Copia had gently tongued the cigarette from his own lips to smoke it, and put it out against the wall with a smouldering hiss that sent tingles across his skin. Copias gloved fingers pinched off the blunt still between the man's fingers, signaling the end of this part of negotiation, and the beginning of the night- the what would happen.
The last question, was where...
“‘The O’ has a play room in the back, discreet, private,” The man said, collecting himself and running a cool hand through the nearly perfectly coifed hair on his head, down his neck self soothingly, “We don't get as many visitors like you there. Its a bit niché, kinda the local secret… But for you, I'm sure it will be quite the treat. And no fussing for attention. Everyone plays nice, unless you want them to play dirty” he said, trying to soothe the crinkle in Copia’s brow before it hardened to a line he found appalling and appealing on such a handsomely painted face. “Like I said” the man continued, “there's no force feeding you to anyone there- I like to let people have fun- that's my thing.”
Copia tilted his head this way then that. Throwing one more bone to see if this too-good-to-be-true offer really was worth the risk. The place sounded exclusive, even if given the front of house impression as a public access thing. It made Cipia a tad uneasy- how closed off would he be, if he didn't want to stay there?
“If you know me and my band, I don't, exactly, like to party without them.” His backup. If they weren't invited, he wouldn't go. Call it a security possé but, it was the last card to play before he would decide to fold.
“What, the Ghouls? Yeah!” The man piped up, “bring them in if you like. They keep it dark, and the props and toys clean for a variety of play… they probably would like the vibe, honestly. Rowdy or relaxed, theres a space for everyone.” The man smiled and tilted his head...
*Boyish. Mischievous. Far from innocent minded. And yet so angelic in his features. A likeness of Lucifer that really, no one could pass up from wanting to drape him over and feed from him*
Copia smirked, but, was a bit surprised that this stranger in an alley here for a hitch and suck was knowledgeable enough about the underworld to know the proper name for his band mates’ kind …
"I mean is it going to matter if the hellspawn are here or there?" Copia said, taking another drag, "They're likely to eat somome alive for fun, I don't like having to clean up the mess."
The man blinked back and incredulously grinned, "Hey, I'm just offering a little something new for your palate, whatever the hellspawn favor, probably half the guests at 'The O' would dig it... Suffocating between a pair of nice thighs, a tight tail around the neck, or being driven up a St. Andrew's with a little knife play, a little fun before the meal..." Copia raised a brow, a little more than interested in the menu.
"Oh, so you think they have tails?" Copia asked, feigning a casual disinterest, as if the man before him were talking in tall tales.
"Oh please," the man remarked rolling his eyes.
*The sass was just too tastey to watch too closely*
"Anyone with an imagination would put two and two together. Ghouls have a look about them. But The Ghoule, have an, element, about their natures, and, they always come with a tail. I've had encounters with one or two in my time. Fun creatures."
The Cardinal blinked.
*Copia had introduced each of the hellspawned Ghoule as merely "Ghouls" every night, but their glamor made them look human enough that the masses sort of just thought it was all a gimmick, all while hearing the truth so plain and not looking too closely... Still.... That this mortal could pick out the difference so properly, garnered enough interest for Copia to share a pleasant grin and wrap an arm around the man's waist, a thumb in a belt loop for ownership, for show. He pulled him closer, a mischievous side hold while The Cardinal's free hand slid and fiddled with the man's clothes, leaning in, words and breaths tickling the ears and neck, tantilizingly.
"So you know the Jargon lad, you are fully aware what you're getting into if they are around."
"Of course. Why else would I have followed the tour so closely, I wanted my own VIP time, especially with you".
"Ah... So you are a groupie guy" Copia tisked, but not entirely put off.
The man shrugged, "I like having a good time. I like giving others a good time. Especially of they're so interesting," he motioned up and down to Copia, "I enjoy variety- but if I dont have to share the attention, I wouldn't mind enjoying your, essence, all for myself."
"Flattery is my favorite lie" Copia said, licking his lips, "That gets you far, Im sure you know."
"Im not just a pretty face" the man replied, looking up at Copia with a catty expression, "I know my way around, I don't aim to just, go far, I want you. All the way. Every way. It's that simple. Can you blame me?" He leaned in closer, this time, *now his* hands pulled at Copia's hips while he whispered, making the Cardinal's skin shiver, "What's a little sin between sinners, I give, you take, and I have an unusually high tolerance to be taken from..."
The man palmed down Copia's pants firmly, The Cardinal let out a satisfying grunt and groan beneath the grip. "And I happen to be good at giving..." Satanas the man was hung nicely, his hardness pressing against Copia's through the material. "If I can entertain a small coven at their penthouse, I'm sure, I can satisfy that appetite in you, wherever you want me to be. "
(But how did he know that. How could a singular person do that?)
*Like a haze, the cloud of need and desire, had put a spell between them, concocted between them as their dark thoughts mistepped into one another. Not only were they like minded, something entirely too compatable was being stitched between them- bewitching them in the lamplight, and The Cardinal knew the danger of this unusual feeling. It wasn't just compatability. It was a Match. Thoughts of a new blood purse drowned his mind. It took everything in him to peel back from the heavy petting and panting between them to take a breath, swallow, and try to out muscle his own grip, leather gloves squeaking softly. Something was too strong here. But by God, how could he help himself. So rare to find such an attraction, such a connection, in one so beautiful, in one so intriguing. He had to calm down. He had to think.*
Copia could sense the truth in the man's words. This whole time, he sensed no deceit betraying the man's thoughts. Copia had a theory. But to test it, he'd need to enjoy the spoils of this prize first. Not that after all that had transpored this night, meant it was a bad thing, he still needed to feed, and with Jim having left him, Copia desperately needed releif, and release... And he was indeed, famished, eager, and painfully aching at this point. He was getting impatient.
*He figured, what could he loose? How bad could it be. His criteria was met. There was no apparent reason to stall, he thought...*
*It was enough to know not only was the Satanic Cardinal's scene wholly invited to a pleasure space, it, or at least his companion, was educated in it. The venue just classed the experience even more highly than he thought before... and now that he was aware what “The O” really was, a buffet of vampire fans who liked to mix blood with their play, it was this esteemed Cardinal's chance to act out, get away with it, to indulge in his carnal vices by the sultry sweet invitation of, had this man not smelled so human, would have guessed was being offered by a devil itself.*
Suddenly everything rushed back, and the man's bleach blonde hair gleamed, and those eyes so strong, so blue, half lidded, blinked up in a questioning gaze. An intense feeling of possession, protection, even care, shot like an arrow through Copia's chest.
Copia ran a longing finger along The Man's face, thr black glove stark against the softly illuminated skin.
"Jawline for days" Copia muttered absentmindedly...
The man looked both strong and delicate, like bone China, and not a scratch or mark to blemish it... not yet, anyway...
*He would have to guard this beautiful creature, this lovely new pet, for however long he was being kept under wing...*
Copia looked at this stranger under his wing, up and down like a prize perched pretty on his arm, he felt like he had struck a lucky bargain with such a unique escort for the night, to a new, hole-in-the wall place, built for somone like himself. And so beautiful was this company, The Cardinal figured even Satan himself would paint this stranger like Lucifer's Statues, poised in pale marble, jeweled eyes gleaming like blue halos of hellfire… who wouldn't want to be worshipped by such a fine specimine?… Who wouldn't want to worship it, to lav luxuriously at that equine neck and watch those sapphire halos wince and widen, hear that pretty voice warble out in pleasure and a little bit of ecstasy in the pain… it would be a true sin, to not to...*
“Lead the way, Caro,” Copia husked, “I'd like to take a look at that place you so highly reccomend. In fact, im feeling a bit lucky. Let us go, just me and you, meet these friends of yours… who knows where the night takes us. Lots to see before the sun comes up. Though if your little suite at the hotel is still an open invitation, I shouldn't wonder I'de keep you in behind the dark curtains, long after sun-up, or if you're free, perhaps join me for my next show, backstage... if you're game to keep the party going after sundown, that is. Like I said, the catering is good. Private and safe, and if you have the stamina like you say you do, why, both of us, should be in for quite the feast.”
The man grinned wide, perfect teeth flat as tombstones, and licked his lips, already tasting the kickback he knew would come from such a man as this vampiric rockstar, feeling his own heat throb achingly beneath his belt line. He sidled up to Copia, an angelic shade to a demon's shaddow, running a handsome hand along the Cardinal's hip giving it a squeeze.
"I like this game."
"Im glad, you do..."
The man motioned out of the alley towards the half hustling night street, and the promises that lay beyond. The two walked off into the shadows, tripping a light fantastic, off to a neon seascape of black velvet prickled by the city lights, as if the dark deep smile of hell were personally welcoming them in, promising a handsome bastard prince such as Copia, a night to remember, and the mysterious glow of a stranger with him, an adventure of a lifetime.
**for indeed, there would be Hell to pay…**
*and little did they know, what was promised, was Exactly, what they were going to get*
Diving back into the swing of things, Ministry TV has some episode scraps from The Vault for the Between The Lines AU followers that have just landed in our laps for lineup!
In preparation for rolling into our summer marathon, we announce we are preparing this special episodic showcase, to tie into an anticipated lost episode, that connects our funny little time-lines together in a quarter quell finale!
(Didn't you ever wonder what happened on the dad trip everyone took? How even everyone got there?)- [AZ]
( @puuuders commissioned phot credit)
Mark your calendars kids, the BTL AU is expanding starting tomorrow, and following a planned hiatus for our show writer [AZ]-
bless them, they are putting down roots at last-
we will see how the Christmas episode aired at the end of the 2025 year will show how this 2026 year's ending, really is only, The Beginning.
See you soon dears, an episode excerpt will be airing very soon!
(Keep your notifs on, when we go Live, we'll leave the light on!)- [AZ]
“She's mad” Lucius hissed, a sneer in his voice that even through the phone sounded serpentine and bowel crushing.
Copia gripped the receiver tighter, gloves straining like a leathery squeaking rat, fingers tangling in the loops of cording as if unable to escape the words that had been chasing his thoughts for too long.
“Wh-what are you saying?” He said, hushed voice in panick as the pupils in his eyes shrank in cold fear.
“I mean, your little lady has contracted a affliction of the mind and soul- and it isn't of some chemical malfunction in the blood and bone. It's not a curse of this world, Cardinal.” Lucius growled, “This is beyond my medicine.” his throat constricted as he spoke, feeling like the freedoms of his human like form had become a new prison of his own salvations's making. A demon oracle, redeemed from darkness and cursed to live in the Grey matter of humanity, while gifted beyond most measures, could not cast out the thing of likeness of his previous recognition- no, demonic curses are one to the other as a poison to a poison. But unlike some polar relations of anecdotes and cocktails in the alchemic, these do not cancel out. Only heap exponentially upon one another. There was nothing Lucius could do. And it felt like it was killing him.
Perhaps it finally would…
“Surely you must know something!” Copia ushered, voice cracking through the phone as though he were already beginning to weep.
“All I know is I must withdraw my services from this venture. My presence would only, egg on, whatever darkness is plaguing the girl-”
“Be reasonable Lucius, your telling me there's *nothing you can do?”
“Not I!” Lucius barked, fist slamming at the desk in his office where he was calling from, green hellfire crackling along his veins in rage.
“Too many people, myself included have had contact with that fucking Blood Stone! All of you have handled it, all of us are infected! I just happen to be a catalyst, and besides you, Milagro happens to be the weakest amongst us all-”
“She's not weak!” Jim said, clutching Lucius’ desk corners in white knuckled rage-
*Jim and Teddy were in the dungeons of Lucius’ offices, confronting him about his machinations and obsessions, having found that he, and they, we're all being affected by the same malady that was making Milagro go insane- Copia was being phoned into the loop, and Emmanuel and Johan were upstairs in the abbey, frantically trying to make arrangements for Milagro's safe passage to somewhere she might be hidden from even them... Meanwhile Milagro was forced to seek sanctuary at the ministry, while the bloodstone was with Copia,kn the other side of the earth*
Teddy held Jim back at the chest, “Let him talk Jim, Copia needs to hear this-”
“Copia needed to be HERE, this whole time!”
Jim whirled, teeth on edge as a violent rage danced behind his dark eyes like wild fire.
The Preacher Man was on a knifes edge, and he felt like at any moment, either he would slide right through the blade and loose everything, or topple from the brink and loose himself...
“You need to calm yourself!” Teddy snapped, canines bared as his own temper, known to be long fused and short trimmed, flared dangerously, “Copia has been where he's supposed to be, away from here, where he can protect us and get help-”
“Liar, I smell you like wallow-water on a hog, you don't even believe what you're sayin', ya think you're better than everyone, like your high horse shit don't stink!” Jim glowered, sweeping papers off of Lucius’ desk as he went, knocking Teddy's hold on him away, balling fists shoved into his pockets as the Preacher Man sought the dark comfort of the corner of the room, snatching the brandy bottle and swinging it straight muttering, “Go fuck yourself”.
Teddy glared, feeling the red in his face grow livid, and his beast tearing at the bars of it’s cage within.
But Jim was right. Teddy felt like Copia had been far too absent from Milagro's life and care during her time with child, and so soon after their birth as well...
*The twins knew their own father as the red flash in the door to coo and dote on their cherubic faces, and to quickly leave them, fussing and crying at the sudden loss and absence that their own blood knew to be kin. And watching their distressed wailing and constant upset, felt like torture! No, Teddy didnt want Copia here, or just away... he wanted him gone...
*Then again, Teddy Wolfe felt only he was good enough to have earned the right to be by Milagro and her children's side, for to his eyes, everyone but him, had taken his family for granted. He had bonded to them so fiercely, a possessive snarl to any percieved slight was never far, as was the feral roaring in his ears, and he could not close himself from it. As if he were fighting the beast within, which, for the damage he could cause, very well could spell out a fate, dark and terrible, and full of blood and carnage to rival a lycan berserker. Teddy, was also, dangerous... and he knew it... and he hated himself for it. And that hate, made him lash out at everyone like a baited fighting animal, so for now he had to admit, even he couldn't be counted on to keep 'his woman' and 'his cubs' safe. The man' mind was also going, like a mad dog...*
*And now when the woman they all loved needed their strengths the most, it seemed, one by one, every man for himself was dropping out of the race like flies- no one was themselves. No one was all there, everyone was broken in ways darkened unto themselves, and it felt like Milagro was the one most affected- too crazy to be left with her own children, possessed by something abysmal, demented, and possessive beyond any one's ability to pull her back from…*
Lucius continued his phone call with Cardinal Copia, but had seemed to be doing more than that at once, feeling the auras of those around him constant and acrid. Though Grey walking, he was still a deamon. There was an energy feeding him from the combined strife and aggression of these men, and Lucius was tasting every one of them- like swallowing a meal of sustenance that was as disgusting as it was poisoned. And it too was forming changes in him that he could barely control, so subtle was it, that he knew like a frog in a pot, would eventually doom him to a fate in the abyss…
*The road to hell is gentle on the slope, without milestones or signposts*
Glancing at Jim in the corner, stewing hotly half finished down the bottle, Lucius saw the Preacher Man's eyes and hands blackened like a blix from hell. Then his gaze flit over to Teddy who was half seated on the desk, arms crossed and rubbing a hand at his temple, hackles raised and constantly, painfully, shifting between human and wolf's forms...
the subtleties of their maladies were becoming more and more apparent, and the corruption was spreading...
*Like a cancer, crawling amongst them, infecting, corrupting, cell by cell, like a slow dismemberment of self into something…. Monsterous… like a vision of grotesque malformation, wailing and gnashing it's teeth…*
it was clear to the Oracle Deamon how deeply the whole matter was affecting them all, and Lucius knew, that indeed, all of it, was a bad sign…
*
Copia hung up the receiver and buried his hands in his face. The dismal room held coldness and stale air, and the smell of rotted books and bone dust followed wherever he went- settling here on his shoulders, where he stooped over a makeshift table, while tears seeped through his gloves.
The night beyond the window held no hope of dreams and wonder, no music or stars. It was simply dark. And only the flicker of thin pale lamplight from the street beyond, veiled through the forgotten crypt, one place of the few sanctuaries afforded to The Clergy and their Vampiric members. The safe house was old and delayed, like everything inside it, and The Cardinal could feel the emptiness that seemed to fill the air, heavy and malcontent...
“I should never have left…” he whispered. Deep down, what Copia meant was *I should never have gone back*.
A pale hand, shapely and full of youth, slid over Copias left shoulder, a voice smooth and quiet spoke, “We all agreed, it would be safer for you to be here, than there-”
“I know, that's what I said!” Copia gasped, “but I can't protect them from across the world, hiding in some mausoleum like a plague rat in the sewer-”
“This is no sewer, and you are no rat,” The voice continued, a tinge of earnestness behind it, “Believe me. I have seen the world of rats and ‘less-than’ creatures,” the hand was joined by the other, both giving a squeeze at each of Copia's shoulders, “and while you may at times be a rat bastard-”
Copia winced.
“- you are not, a monster, not like what Ive seen.”
“But this, this sickness, it grips me like some clawed thing in the dark, and I can't escape it, no matter where I run.”
“Running in retreat is better than standing by and becoming something you are not-”
Copia closed his sore eyes, watching himself in his mind...
*Remebering the way he pretended to have been fine, indifferent even, all while those at home had suffered from his absence. Hiding in In the limelight, he had found his darkest shame...*
*He had made a mess of things, mistreating Jim as his companion, taking for granted his love and abilities with the dead. The Cardinal had even gone so far as to kill a waitress by blood draining, his appetite known to be voracious, was now unquenchable, and he reacted to it like a fiend, with no regard or remorse in the moment, and expected Jim to quite literally, Clean up the mess. Jim had managed to bring the woman back, but he had his own blood hunger to satisfy, and The Cardinal had greedily taken the food from Jims mouth, having stolen the intended shared feeder from him. And Copia kept on denying Jim the sutrnance of fresh flow. And in keeping his familiar, like a bonded prisoner, to drink only from his veins, The Cardinal was mirroring the injustices done to him, reanacting his own traumas when he himself had been a blood slave, once upon a lifetime ago. It was not like him, but his sickly nature's were spilling out, for while the Grucifix he had been wearing had housed the cursed stone, the stones curse was rather simple... it brought out and fed, the worst in those it affected.*
* It summons evils from within... going unoticed until the damage was too great to ignore, and the demonic feeding that posessed it, while granting power, granted also madness*
*The power had gone to the Cardinals head, the tour had been wildly successful. The erruption of fame and fortune, the masses throwing themselves at his feet, compelled by his silver toungued voice, the grandeur of his presence, and controlled by his will, the warbling of The Cardinal's song had enchanted millions...But behind the scenes and round the trailers, Copia had behaved like a dirty scavenger, latching on to anything that had a bloody pulse, and draining it to death without mercy. He had preyed on the weak and vulnerable, the ones like the network of blood donors, who would let him drain them far beyond what they should, even to an inch of death out of desperation for the euphoria of his venomous bite... even taking them on like disposable lovers, all while *his Jim* suffered in silence...*
*To the public, a charming man of wealth and taste... but two faced was his visage. And in the dark he had been something terrible, something else entirely...*
One of the pale hands left the Cardinal's shoulder, and was brought to the shadows where the younger man stood. The red glow of his eyes, soft, and yet so piercing. He bit into his wrist and stiffened, feeling the way the Cardinal instantly whipped back to latch onto the wound, like a desperate leech, gripping hands wrapped around the presented arm as if it might be taken away. Feral, hating, gluttony at it's core...
Copia couldn't care at the moment, how his companion in the dark looked on with disdain and pity. He was groveling for the blood flowing warm over his mouth, and the soft whimpers and groans leaving him were battering his own ears. The word he embodied, was one he had tried to run from for years- from Nihil, from His Mother, from the responsibility of his calling, and cowering in this place, because Daryn, the man before him, was the only one who could satisfy the blood lust from the sickness crawling in his own veins, the word the Great Cardinal Copia embodied, debased, and internally alone, was
*pathetic*.
"There has to be a way," Copia thought, his dualed mind reaching far and out for answers to the impossible, "there has to be-"
*
"There is" Lucius replied, the forces of his darkness brewing behind the shudder of his barely moving lips.
"But by all the unholy, is such a journey long..."
The Grey deamon smiled softly, an eerie shaddow in his countenance that glowed green, the intensity of which mirrored that of the hellfire that both threatened to consume everyone, and refine them like the crucible of fate, "a plague..." hissed the Oracle deamon, his vision hazed and far, of rats and snakes and spiders and blood, "a plague on all your houses...."
“She's mad” Lucius hissed, a sneer in his voice that even through the phone sounded serpentine and bowel crushing.
Copia gripped the receiver tighter, gloves straining like a leathery squeaking rat, fingers tangling in the loops of cording as if unable to escape the words that had been chasing his thoughts for too long.
“Wh-what are you saying?” He said, hushed voice in panick as the pupils in his eyes shrank in cold fear.
“I mean, your little lady has contracted a affliction of the mind and soul- and it isn't of some chemical malfunction in the blood and bone. It's not a curse of this world, Cardinal.” Lucius growled, “This is beyond my medicine.” his throat constricted as he spoke, feeling like the freedoms of his human like form had become a new prison of his own salvations's making. A demon oracle, redeemed from darkness and cursed to live in the Grey matter of humanity, while gifted beyond most measures, could not cast out the thing of likeness of his previous recognition- no, demonic curses are one to the other as a poison to a poison. But unlike some polar relations of anecdotes and cocktails in the alchemic, these do not cancel out. Only heap exponentially upon one another. There was nothing Lucius could do. And it felt like it was killing him.
Perhaps it finally would…
“Surely you must know something!” Copia ushered, voice cracking through the phone as though he were already beginning to weep.
“All I know is I must withdraw my services from this venture. My presence would only, egg on, whatever darkness is plaguing the girl-”
“Be reasonable Lucius, your telling me there's *nothing you can do?”
“Not I!” Lucius barked, fist slamming at the desk in his office where he was calling from, green hellfire crackling along his veins in rage.
“Too many people, myself included have had contact with that fucking Blood Stone! All of you have handled it, all of us are infected! I just happen to be a catalyst, and besides you, Milagro happens to be the weakest amongst us all-”
“She's not weak!” Jim said, clutching Lucius’ desk corners in white knuckled rage-
*Jim and Teddy were in the dungeons of Lucius’ offices, confronting him about his machinations and obsessions, having found that he, and they, we're all being affected by the same malady that was making Milagro go insane- Copia was being phoned into the loop, and Emmanuel and Johan were upstairs in the abbey, frantically trying to make arrangements for Milagro's safe passage to somewhere she might be hidden from even them... Meanwhile Milagro was forced to seek sanctuary at the ministry, while the bloodstone was with Copia,kn the other side of the earth*
Teddy held Jim back at the chest, “Let him talk Jim, Copia needs to hear this-”
“Copia needed to be HERE, this whole time!”
Jim whirled, teeth on edge as a violent rage danced behind his dark eyes like wild fire.
The Preacher Man was on a knifes edge, and he felt like at any moment, either he would slide right through the blade and loose everything, or topple from the brink and loose himself...
“You need to calm yourself!” Teddy snapped, canines bared as his own temper, known to be long fused and short trimmed, flared dangerously, “Copia has been where he's supposed to be, away from here, where he can protect us and get help-”
“Liar, I smell you like wallow-water on a hog, you don't even believe what you're sayin', ya think you're better than everyone, like your high horse shit don't stink!” Jim glowered, sweeping papers off of Lucius’ desk as he went, knocking Teddy's hold on him away, balling fists shoved into his pockets as the Preacher Man sought the dark comfort of the corner of the room, snatching the brandy bottle and swinging it straight muttering, “Go fuck yourself”.
Teddy glared, feeling the red in his face grow livid, and his beast tearing at the bars of it’s cage within.
But Jim was right. Teddy felt like Copia had been far too absent from Milagro's life and care during her time with child, and so soon after their birth as well...
*The twins knew their own father as the red flash in the door to coo and dote on their cherubic faces, and to quickly leave them, fussing and crying at the sudden loss and absence that their own blood knew to be kin. And watching their distressed wailing and constant upset, felt like torture! No, Teddy didnt want Copia here, or just away... he wanted him gone...
*Then again, Teddy Wolfe felt only he was good enough to have earned the right to be by Milagro and her children's side, for to his eyes, everyone but him, had taken his family for granted. He had bonded to them so fiercely, a possessive snarl to any percieved slight was never far, as was the feral roaring in his ears, and he could not close himself from it. As if he were fighting the beast within, which, for the damage he could cause, very well could spell out a fate, dark and terrible, and full of blood and carnage to rival a lycan berserker. Teddy, was also, dangerous... and he knew it... and he hated himself for it. And that hate, made him lash out at everyone like a baited fighting animal, so for now he had to admit, even he couldn't be counted on to keep 'his woman' and 'his cubs' safe. The man' mind was also going, like a mad dog...*
*And now when the woman they all loved needed their strengths the most, it seemed, one by one, every man for himself was dropping out of the race like flies- no one was themselves. No one was all there, everyone was broken in ways darkened unto themselves, and it felt like Milagro was the one most affected- too crazy to be left with her own children, possessed by something abysmal, demented, and possessive beyond any one's ability to pull her back from…*
Lucius continued his phone call with Cardinal Copia, but had seemed to be doing more than that at once, feeling the auras of those around him constant and acrid. Though Grey walking, he was still a deamon. There was an energy feeding him from the combined strife and aggression of these men, and Lucius was tasting every one of them- like swallowing a meal of sustenance that was as disgusting as it was poisoned. And it too was forming changes in him that he could barely control, so subtle was it, that he knew like a frog in a pot, would eventually doom him to a fate in the abyss…
*The road to hell is gentle on the slope, without milestones or signposts*
Glancing at Jim in the corner, stewing hotly half finished down the bottle, Lucius saw the Preacher Man's eyes and hands blackened like a blix from hell. Then his gaze flit over to Teddy who was half seated on the desk, arms crossed and rubbing a hand at his temple, hackles raised and constantly, painfully, shifting between human and wolf's forms...
the subtleties of their maladies were becoming more and more apparent, and the corruption was spreading...
*Like a cancer, crawling amongst them, infecting, corrupting, cell by cell, like a slow dismemberment of self into something…. Monsterous… like a vision of grotesque malformation, wailing and gnashing it's teeth…*
it was clear to the Oracle Deamon how deeply the whole matter was affecting them all, and Lucius knew, that indeed, all of it, was a bad sign…
*
Copia hung up the receiver and buried his hands in his face. The dismal room held coldness and stale air, and the smell of rotted books and bone dust followed wherever he went- settling here on his shoulders, where he stooped over a makeshift table, while tears seeped through his gloves.
The night beyond the window held no hope of dreams and wonder, no music or stars. It was simply dark. And only the flicker of thin pale lamplight from the street beyond, veiled through the forgotten crypt, one place of the few sanctuaries afforded to The Clergy and their Vampiric members. The safe house was old and delayed, like everything inside it, and The Cardinal could feel the emptiness that seemed to fill the air, heavy and malcontent...
“I should never have left…” he whispered. Deep down, what Copia meant was *I should never have gone back*.
A pale hand, shapely and full of youth, slid over Copias left shoulder, a voice smooth and quiet spoke, “We all agreed, it would be safer for you to be here, than there-”
“I know, that's what I said!” Copia gasped, “but I can't protect them from across the world, hiding in some mausoleum like a plague rat in the sewer-”
“This is no sewer, and you are no rat,” The voice continued, a tinge of earnestness behind it, “Believe me. I have seen the world of rats and ‘less-than’ creatures,” the hand was joined by the other, both giving a squeeze at each of Copia's shoulders, “and while you may at times be a rat bastard-”
Copia winced.
“- you are not, a monster, not like what Ive seen.”
“But this, this sickness, it grips me like some clawed thing in the dark, and I can't escape it, no matter where I run.”
“Running in retreat is better than standing by and becoming something you are not-”
Copia closed his sore eyes, watching himself in his mind...
*Remebering the way he pretended to have been fine, indifferent even, all while those at home had suffered from his absence. Hiding in In the limelight, he had found his darkest shame...*
*He had made a mess of things, mistreating Jim as his companion, taking for granted his love and abilities with the dead. The Cardinal had even gone so far as to kill a waitress by blood draining, his appetite known to be voracious, was now unquenchable, and he reacted to it like a fiend, with no regard or remorse in the moment, and expected Jim to quite literally, clean up the mess. Jim had managed to bring the woman back, but he had his own blood hunger to satisfy, and The Cardinal had greedily taken the food from Jim's mouth, having stolen the intended shared feeder from him. And Copia kept on denying Jim the sustenance of fresh flow. And in keeping his familiar, like a bonded prisoner, to drink only from his veins, The Cardinal was mirroring the injustices done to him, reanacting his own traumas when he himself had been a blood slave, once upon a lifetime ago. It was not like him, but his sickly natures were spilling out, for while the Grucifix he had been wearing had housed the cursed stone, the stone's curse was rather simple... it brought out and fed, the worst in those it affected.*
* It summons evils from within... going unoticed until the damage was too great to ignore, and the demonic feeding that posessed it, while granting power, granted also madness *
*The power had gone to the Cardinal's head, the tour had been wildly successful. The erruption of fame and fortune, the masses throwing themselves at his feet, compelled by his silver toungued voice, the grandeur of his presence, and controlled by his will, the warbling of The Cardinal's song had enchanted millions... But behind the scenes and round the trailers, Copia had behaved like a dirty scavenger, latching on to anything that had a bloody pulse, and draining it to death without mercy. He had preyed on the weak and vulnerable, the ones like the network of blood donors, who would let him drain them far beyond what they should, even to an inch of death out of desperation for the euphoria of his venomous bite... even taking them on like disposable lovers, all while *his Jim* suffered in silence...*
*To the public, a charming man of wealth and taste... but two faced was his visage. And in the dark he had been something terrible, something else entirely...*
One of the pale hands left the Cardinal's shoulder, and was brought to the shadows where the younger man stood. The red glow of his eyes, soft, and yet so piercing. He bit into his wrist and stiffened, feeling the way the Cardinal instantly whipped back to latch onto the wound, like a desperate leech, gripping hands wrapped around the presented arm as if it might be taken away. Feral, hating, gluttony at it's core...
Copia couldn't care at the moment, how his companion in the dark looked on with disdain and pity. He was groveling for the blood flowing warm over his mouth, and the soft whimpers and groans leaving him were battering his own ears. The word he embodied, was one he had tried to run from for years- from Nihil, from His Mother, from the responsibility of his calling, and cowering in this place, because Daryn, the man before him, was the only one who could satisfy the blood lust from the sickness crawling in his own veins, the word the Great Cardinal Copia embodied, debased, and internally alone, was
*pathetic*.
"There has to be a way," Copia thought, his dualed mind reaching far and out for answers to the impossible, "there has to be-"
*
"There is" Lucius replied, the forces of his darkness brewing behind the shudder of his barely moving lips.
"But by all the unholy, is such a journey long..."
The Grey deamon smiled softly, an eerie shaddow in his countenance that glowed green, the intensity of which mirrored that of the hellfire that both threatened to consume everyone, and refine them like the crucible of fate, "a plague..." hissed the Oracle deamon, his vision hazed and far, of rats and snakes and spiders and blood, "a plague on all your houses...."
