Oh my word (Peter, Rolf, Dragonetti)
Peter made his way to Dragonetti's cell with much trepidation. He was not looking forward to seeing the man, even if their roles had very much switched. It was Peter who was the jailer now, and not Dragonetti.
Peter let himself into Dragonetti's room and immediately the man looked up at him and his jaw squared. He was wearing civilian clothing again, and Peter was disturbed at seeing it. The man just didn't look right when he wasn't in robes. "Hello, Alessandro."
"You do not deserve to address me with such familiarity, Kemp." Dragonetti was sitting on his bed and he looked like he had been praying. That made sense to Peter. When Dragonetti had had Peter as a prisoner, he had done a lot of praying himself.
"I simply assumed that since you have held my family hostage, that seemed to indicate some kind of familiarity. Why so hostile? Have you been treated with disrespect, even for a moment?" Peter asked, feeling suddenly tired. He was pretty sure trying to appeal to a fanatic's common sense was about as wise as flinging oneself against a brick wall with the hopes that one would stick.
"You're keeping me in some kind of...crumbling, diseased prison. This is a crime, Kemp! They'll find you!"
Peter shook his head. "First of all, according to the births and deaths registry, Alessandro Dragonetti died in prison. You no longer exist. No one is going to look for you except maybe your Templar brethern. And since you came into my home and held my family hostage, which I don't believe is a tactic the Templar would agree to, I'm pretty sure they don't know where you are. And you are not in a prison, Alessandro. You're in a hospital. How it looks is up to you." Dragonetti was seeing the crumbling down version that was witnessed by people who wished the denizens of Robert MacGavillary Memorial Hospital harm. No one would bother to look inside an abandoned building for a collection of supernaturals so vast that the building would have pulsed like a beacon to other supernaturals, were it not for Rolf's handy, cloaking visions. "You are choosing to see a prison."
"Don't spew your devilish filth at me, Kemp," Dragonetti growled. "I want to be released at once!"
Peter pulled up a chair instead and he sat opposite Dragonetti so he could look the other man in the eyes. "No. You didn't release me when I wanted to be released."
"You will usher in the apocalypse if you are let alone to do your bidding," Dragonetti spewed at him.
"I have to say I have absolutely no interest in bringing about any apocalypse," Peter sighed. "That wouldn't exactly spell happiness for my family or the people I love. I've always wondered why people would ever want to bring about the end of the world. It makes no sense..." He'd have to ask Tasha about that one. She had believed, as a teenager, that she might just bring about the end of the world. What a strange concept. "You will not be mistreated here, Dragonetti. I can't release you, however, until I am certain you will not hurt anyone else."
"You want to keep me here because you fear the Age of the Church the Templar will bring into being!"
"I do," Peter admitted. "But not for the reasons you think. I fear it because humanity has moved on since the days when they needed the church to be at the very centre of their lives. Science has now explained much of what religion orignally offered explanations for. This isn't to say I don't think faith is an amazing and worthwhile thing. I do. But to bring the church back to power...to remove free-will from enlightened people...the results would be catastrophic. These aren't peasents who believe they need the church to save their souls, Alessandro. You're talking about businesspeople...musicians, artists, lawyers...people who have moved beyond thinking the devil resides in their pig."
"Whatever you say," Dragonetti whispered, "I know the truth."
"Argh." Peter responded, though much of his demeanor was simply saying 'I knew this would happen'. "Alessandro, I brought you here because I want you to understand me. You think I'm the son of the devil. Frankly, I think this happens to make you a little dim. I'm just a man. If I was the son of the devil, would I really be keeping you in a place where you have not once been physically harmed, and where your needs are met? You did not offer me the same hospitality."
"You don't deserve 'hospitality', Devil."
"If you prick me, do I not bleed?" Peter asked, and then he turned red. "Pretend I didn't say 'prick'. Erm. What I mean is, I'm just like you. You gave me nothing to eat, and I was hungry. You did not provide me with warmth, and I was cold. You injured me all in the name of something I don't agree with, and you tried to force me to give you the whereabouts of my wife. Which, beyond not knowing them, I would never give you because I would hardly let you do the same things to her. Wouldn't a 'devil' give her up to spare himself pain? I can't understand why you've cast me in this role, beyond a simple misunderstanding-"
Dragonetti shook his head, and it was obvious he didn't believe a word Peter was saying. He had heard it all before, though Peter was usually much more frantic when he said it, trying to use logic to appeal for mercy. He had never received any. Part of him wanted to grab hold of Dragonetti's neck and squeeze until the man breathed no more. He had faked his own death anyway, Peter would only be turning his lie into truth. Instead, Peter laced his fingers together and he stowed them in his lap, just in case the traitorous appendages decided to attack Dragonetti before he could stop them. The man was beyond frustrating.
It was time to start at the beginning. "What you saw was not the work of any devil." Dragonetti appeared none the wiser as to what Peter was referring to, so Peter elaborated. "You and your friend, Bishop Holden tried to execute me because I refused to adhere to your way of life, which is bad enough. When you attempted to kill me, it didn't work, and you took this as a sign that there was some kind of foul play afoot. You couldn't kill me because I was made immortal. And not by the 'devil' or whatever you people seem to think. I was made immortal by an angel."
"Nothing about you could be the work of God," Dragonetti growled.
"That's...blasphemous," Peter said, nearly stuttering in his surprise. "If you believe God is responsible for all creation, then he must have been responsible for me. Isn't rejecting God as the architect of the Universe a sin, Alessandro."
"Don't you preach to me, Kemp! You're not qualified!"
"On the contrary, I am qualified," Peter said, sounding exhausted. "But that's enough of that. I didn't say my immortality was a work of God, I said it was the work of an angel."
"I don't believe you," Dragonetti said simply.
"I didn't think you would," Peter added. He rose and went to the door. He knocked twice, and a moment later, they were joined by Rolf. When Dragonetti saw the angel, his eyes grew to twice their size and he stood from the bed slowly. Rolf wasn't even in his angelic form. Dragonetti was simply in horrified awe at finding himself in the presence of Raphael Caprio who was a long time enemy of the Templar. He had been in Rolf's presence before, but he had not known who the man was then. Now he did. And he was about to see what Raphael really was.
Rolf slowly let the wings materialise on his back until his angelic features nearly filled the tiny room. "Oh my god..." Dragonetti whispered. "You're a heavenly being. Why...why would you oppose God's mission!? Unless...unless Kemp wasn't lying when he said you were created by the devil..."
"I was created by no devil," Rolf said calmly. "I am an angel, and it was me who made Peter immortal. I did it so he could save others like me. I did not expect him to become tangled up with my affairs." His affairs, of course, being the war he had waged with the Templar for the entirety of his nearly three centuries.
Dragonetti was clearly speechless. And then he said something that was hardly surprising. "This is all a guise, created to lead me away from the truth!"
Peter shook his head sadly. "I wish you could see through your own delusions. I will prove to you I'm just a man, and that your fanatical quest is erroneous."
Rolf turned to Peter and he let his wings dissipate. He gave the man a frustrated look as Dragonetti glowered at them both in silence. "Come on my boy..."
Rolf and Peter left Dragonetti there, and as the walked down the hall, it was Rolf who broke the companionable silence. "I don't know if he will ever believe you, Peter."
"As long as he doesn't, he's a danger," Peter admitted. "I don't like keeping anyone a prisoner, but I can't let him go, knowing he'll harm others if I do. I'm just...relieved they probably don't know where he is. If they tried to take one of my children for a bargaining chip again..." Once, Dragonetti had been in their hands, and Bishop Holden had simply abducted Tasha and demanded a trade. Peter hadn't even argued, he had set up the trade immediately. He wondered how many things would have been different if he hadn't. Tasha wouldn't have been with them, but the attack on London initiated by the Templar would have been different. Kay's sister might still be alive. Thomas, Scarlett and Stephie might not have undergone such horrible torment at the hands of the Templar. Not to mention his own incarceration under the Vatican, though that was not preferrable to losing his daughter. It did make one think.
"I believe we are safe, at least for a while. I very much doubt they have a man who dreams visions like you do. And if they do, they wouldn't be aware of it. Even if he doesn't see reason, at least people are safer."
"For now," Peter said with a sigh. "Come on, you're buying me pudding."
Rolf chuckled. "It would be a delight, Peter."
Peter let himself into Dragonetti's room and immediately the man looked up at him and his jaw squared. He was wearing civilian clothing again, and Peter was disturbed at seeing it. The man just didn't look right when he wasn't in robes. "Hello, Alessandro."
"You do not deserve to address me with such familiarity, Kemp." Dragonetti was sitting on his bed and he looked like he had been praying. That made sense to Peter. When Dragonetti had had Peter as a prisoner, he had done a lot of praying himself.
"I simply assumed that since you have held my family hostage, that seemed to indicate some kind of familiarity. Why so hostile? Have you been treated with disrespect, even for a moment?" Peter asked, feeling suddenly tired. He was pretty sure trying to appeal to a fanatic's common sense was about as wise as flinging oneself against a brick wall with the hopes that one would stick.
"You're keeping me in some kind of...crumbling, diseased prison. This is a crime, Kemp! They'll find you!"
Peter shook his head. "First of all, according to the births and deaths registry, Alessandro Dragonetti died in prison. You no longer exist. No one is going to look for you except maybe your Templar brethern. And since you came into my home and held my family hostage, which I don't believe is a tactic the Templar would agree to, I'm pretty sure they don't know where you are. And you are not in a prison, Alessandro. You're in a hospital. How it looks is up to you." Dragonetti was seeing the crumbling down version that was witnessed by people who wished the denizens of Robert MacGavillary Memorial Hospital harm. No one would bother to look inside an abandoned building for a collection of supernaturals so vast that the building would have pulsed like a beacon to other supernaturals, were it not for Rolf's handy, cloaking visions. "You are choosing to see a prison."
"Don't spew your devilish filth at me, Kemp," Dragonetti growled. "I want to be released at once!"
Peter pulled up a chair instead and he sat opposite Dragonetti so he could look the other man in the eyes. "No. You didn't release me when I wanted to be released."
"You will usher in the apocalypse if you are let alone to do your bidding," Dragonetti spewed at him.
"I have to say I have absolutely no interest in bringing about any apocalypse," Peter sighed. "That wouldn't exactly spell happiness for my family or the people I love. I've always wondered why people would ever want to bring about the end of the world. It makes no sense..." He'd have to ask Tasha about that one. She had believed, as a teenager, that she might just bring about the end of the world. What a strange concept. "You will not be mistreated here, Dragonetti. I can't release you, however, until I am certain you will not hurt anyone else."
"You want to keep me here because you fear the Age of the Church the Templar will bring into being!"
"I do," Peter admitted. "But not for the reasons you think. I fear it because humanity has moved on since the days when they needed the church to be at the very centre of their lives. Science has now explained much of what religion orignally offered explanations for. This isn't to say I don't think faith is an amazing and worthwhile thing. I do. But to bring the church back to power...to remove free-will from enlightened people...the results would be catastrophic. These aren't peasents who believe they need the church to save their souls, Alessandro. You're talking about businesspeople...musicians, artists, lawyers...people who have moved beyond thinking the devil resides in their pig."
"Whatever you say," Dragonetti whispered, "I know the truth."
"Argh." Peter responded, though much of his demeanor was simply saying 'I knew this would happen'. "Alessandro, I brought you here because I want you to understand me. You think I'm the son of the devil. Frankly, I think this happens to make you a little dim. I'm just a man. If I was the son of the devil, would I really be keeping you in a place where you have not once been physically harmed, and where your needs are met? You did not offer me the same hospitality."
"You don't deserve 'hospitality', Devil."
"If you prick me, do I not bleed?" Peter asked, and then he turned red. "Pretend I didn't say 'prick'. Erm. What I mean is, I'm just like you. You gave me nothing to eat, and I was hungry. You did not provide me with warmth, and I was cold. You injured me all in the name of something I don't agree with, and you tried to force me to give you the whereabouts of my wife. Which, beyond not knowing them, I would never give you because I would hardly let you do the same things to her. Wouldn't a 'devil' give her up to spare himself pain? I can't understand why you've cast me in this role, beyond a simple misunderstanding-"
Dragonetti shook his head, and it was obvious he didn't believe a word Peter was saying. He had heard it all before, though Peter was usually much more frantic when he said it, trying to use logic to appeal for mercy. He had never received any. Part of him wanted to grab hold of Dragonetti's neck and squeeze until the man breathed no more. He had faked his own death anyway, Peter would only be turning his lie into truth. Instead, Peter laced his fingers together and he stowed them in his lap, just in case the traitorous appendages decided to attack Dragonetti before he could stop them. The man was beyond frustrating.
It was time to start at the beginning. "What you saw was not the work of any devil." Dragonetti appeared none the wiser as to what Peter was referring to, so Peter elaborated. "You and your friend, Bishop Holden tried to execute me because I refused to adhere to your way of life, which is bad enough. When you attempted to kill me, it didn't work, and you took this as a sign that there was some kind of foul play afoot. You couldn't kill me because I was made immortal. And not by the 'devil' or whatever you people seem to think. I was made immortal by an angel."
"Nothing about you could be the work of God," Dragonetti growled.
"That's...blasphemous," Peter said, nearly stuttering in his surprise. "If you believe God is responsible for all creation, then he must have been responsible for me. Isn't rejecting God as the architect of the Universe a sin, Alessandro."
"Don't you preach to me, Kemp! You're not qualified!"
"On the contrary, I am qualified," Peter said, sounding exhausted. "But that's enough of that. I didn't say my immortality was a work of God, I said it was the work of an angel."
"I don't believe you," Dragonetti said simply.
"I didn't think you would," Peter added. He rose and went to the door. He knocked twice, and a moment later, they were joined by Rolf. When Dragonetti saw the angel, his eyes grew to twice their size and he stood from the bed slowly. Rolf wasn't even in his angelic form. Dragonetti was simply in horrified awe at finding himself in the presence of Raphael Caprio who was a long time enemy of the Templar. He had been in Rolf's presence before, but he had not known who the man was then. Now he did. And he was about to see what Raphael really was.
Rolf slowly let the wings materialise on his back until his angelic features nearly filled the tiny room. "Oh my god..." Dragonetti whispered. "You're a heavenly being. Why...why would you oppose God's mission!? Unless...unless Kemp wasn't lying when he said you were created by the devil..."
"I was created by no devil," Rolf said calmly. "I am an angel, and it was me who made Peter immortal. I did it so he could save others like me. I did not expect him to become tangled up with my affairs." His affairs, of course, being the war he had waged with the Templar for the entirety of his nearly three centuries.
Dragonetti was clearly speechless. And then he said something that was hardly surprising. "This is all a guise, created to lead me away from the truth!"
Peter shook his head sadly. "I wish you could see through your own delusions. I will prove to you I'm just a man, and that your fanatical quest is erroneous."
Rolf turned to Peter and he let his wings dissipate. He gave the man a frustrated look as Dragonetti glowered at them both in silence. "Come on my boy..."
Rolf and Peter left Dragonetti there, and as the walked down the hall, it was Rolf who broke the companionable silence. "I don't know if he will ever believe you, Peter."
"As long as he doesn't, he's a danger," Peter admitted. "I don't like keeping anyone a prisoner, but I can't let him go, knowing he'll harm others if I do. I'm just...relieved they probably don't know where he is. If they tried to take one of my children for a bargaining chip again..." Once, Dragonetti had been in their hands, and Bishop Holden had simply abducted Tasha and demanded a trade. Peter hadn't even argued, he had set up the trade immediately. He wondered how many things would have been different if he hadn't. Tasha wouldn't have been with them, but the attack on London initiated by the Templar would have been different. Kay's sister might still be alive. Thomas, Scarlett and Stephie might not have undergone such horrible torment at the hands of the Templar. Not to mention his own incarceration under the Vatican, though that was not preferrable to losing his daughter. It did make one think.
"I believe we are safe, at least for a while. I very much doubt they have a man who dreams visions like you do. And if they do, they wouldn't be aware of it. Even if he doesn't see reason, at least people are safer."
"For now," Peter said with a sigh. "Come on, you're buying me pudding."
Rolf chuckled. "It would be a delight, Peter."