[For Aion-Sama][WK Fanfic][SchuxFarfxKen]
Rating: Will escalate in later chapters to NC-17
Summary: A long running relationship between Schuldig and Farfarello, and the addition of a kitten to toy with.
Warnings: At the moment it's only Farf and Religion, but it will escalate in later chapters to run the whole gamut of everything that Farfarello and Religion in the same breath implies.
Obsession, fixation, compulsion...the many ways the mind has of compensating for a lack it finds within itself. There are innumerable diseases of the mind and disorders of sanity, all based on a single idea and objective. That which the mind cannot comprehend or accept, it rejects. Sometimes, however, it rejects an integral part of itself, that which is necessary for basic function.
Of the few people living in the world who knew about Farfarello's unique sensation of pain, many of them believed it was a symptom of his madness, that it was one of the things that his mind had rejected in its futile attempt to cling to some measure of sanity. Many of those people also believed that his eye had been lost in a fit of madness, perhaps having to do with his rantings about God and the blindness of His lambs.
Neither idea was right. As to his eye, it was a simple matter. Without being able to feel pain, when a near-microscopic shard of glass had entered his eye in a very mundane sort of circumstance (where Rosenkreuz was concerned), it had been weeks before it had damaged his cornea enough he had realised it was even there. But by then it was too late to salvage the organ. Only one person remained on the earth that knew that tale, though.
The same person was one of two that knew why Farfarello felt no pain, but that was a tale for another day. That person was the subject of one of Farfarello's more secret madnesses, the centre of one of his particular obsessions.
Mea Culpa...Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione verbo, et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa....
Ár n-Athair atá ar neamh, Go naofar d'ainim, Go dtagfadh do ríocht, Go ndéantar do thoil ar an talamh mar a dhéantar ar neamh. Ár n-arán laethúil tabhair dúinn inniu, agus maith dúinn ár bhfiacha mar a mhaithimidne dár bhféichiúna féin Ach ná lig sinn i gcathú, ach saor sinn ó olc.
Schuldig opened one eye and looked down to the end of the bed. It was just past dawn and once again Farfarello was beginning his odd and unusual morning routine. And yet, somehow, the world just didn't seem complete if it didn't begin with the pieced together prayers that the Irishman recited every morning.
Lauds, he called it. Farfarello would never admit to it, but he fancied himself to be a bit of a monk. Though he had foregone the traditional vows of chastity and silence, he did keep himself to an oddly strict schedule. It began every morning with the rising of the sun and his odd repetition of prayers.
He finished with a smile.
Mea Culpa et Mea Gratia.
Only when Farfarello had made the sign of the cross, touching each point with his middle finger (the significance no doubt intentional) did Schuldig move forward, snaking his arms around the pale man and pulling him backwards onto the bed. His little madman, though the nickname felt hollow.
The reports that went back home painted Farfarello as a loose wire that only Schwarz had so far been able to keep under control. But the fact of the matter was that Farfarello was quite stable, simply that the baseline his life was built around was somewhat skewed compared to the rest of the world.
In truth, Schuldig admired his lover for his devotion, for his single-minded and unbreakable faith. Except his faith was so immoveable -because- it wavered. That was where people missed the point about Farfarello's insanity. While a mighty oak would snap in half under the trembling pressure of an earthquake, a willow would sway and bend, and be undamaged at all by the end of the assault.
It was a perfect metaphor for Farfarello entirely, really. His faith, his fighting style, even his lovemaking was defined by fluidity, that lithe grace that kept the man's movements catlike and swift, as though he was a striking eel. But in a forest of oaks, this lone willow was regarded as strange. Everyone saw the Irishman as a madman when in truth he was just as sane as everyone else.
His methods were a bit unusual, but his reasoning was solid. Sociopath, not psychopath....a deep seated faith in God, not schizophrenia. Farfarello was the one who taught Schuldig to not fear madness.
Rozenkreuz taught telepaths to fear the insane, to bring their shields up around themselves and keep insanity out. A brush with insanity might as well be a brush with death, for the insane mind could pull a telepath in and infect them with the madness faster than a kiss could spread disease.
Farfarello had taught Schuldig that there was a method to most madnesses, and if one could walk the line of fractured logic, even the crazies could be controlled. Not that Farfarello needed to be controlled. No, he loved the man just the way he was, a fiery Irish temper matched only by a fiery Irish faith in God.
But there was one thing that he never would understand about Farfarello, that Farfarello had so far always kept hidden from him. He hoped to one day understand, but doubted the madman would ever give him the chance.
Just what -did- it mean to 'test' someone?
Summary: A long running relationship between Schuldig and Farfarello, and the addition of a kitten to toy with.
Warnings: At the moment it's only Farf and Religion, but it will escalate in later chapters to run the whole gamut of everything that Farfarello and Religion in the same breath implies.
Obsession, fixation, compulsion...the many ways the mind has of compensating for a lack it finds within itself. There are innumerable diseases of the mind and disorders of sanity, all based on a single idea and objective. That which the mind cannot comprehend or accept, it rejects. Sometimes, however, it rejects an integral part of itself, that which is necessary for basic function.
Of the few people living in the world who knew about Farfarello's unique sensation of pain, many of them believed it was a symptom of his madness, that it was one of the things that his mind had rejected in its futile attempt to cling to some measure of sanity. Many of those people also believed that his eye had been lost in a fit of madness, perhaps having to do with his rantings about God and the blindness of His lambs.
Neither idea was right. As to his eye, it was a simple matter. Without being able to feel pain, when a near-microscopic shard of glass had entered his eye in a very mundane sort of circumstance (where Rosenkreuz was concerned), it had been weeks before it had damaged his cornea enough he had realised it was even there. But by then it was too late to salvage the organ. Only one person remained on the earth that knew that tale, though.
The same person was one of two that knew why Farfarello felt no pain, but that was a tale for another day. That person was the subject of one of Farfarello's more secret madnesses, the centre of one of his particular obsessions.
Mea Culpa...Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione verbo, et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa....
Ár n-Athair atá ar neamh, Go naofar d'ainim, Go dtagfadh do ríocht, Go ndéantar do thoil ar an talamh mar a dhéantar ar neamh. Ár n-arán laethúil tabhair dúinn inniu, agus maith dúinn ár bhfiacha mar a mhaithimidne dár bhféichiúna féin Ach ná lig sinn i gcathú, ach saor sinn ó olc.
Schuldig opened one eye and looked down to the end of the bed. It was just past dawn and once again Farfarello was beginning his odd and unusual morning routine. And yet, somehow, the world just didn't seem complete if it didn't begin with the pieced together prayers that the Irishman recited every morning.
Lauds, he called it. Farfarello would never admit to it, but he fancied himself to be a bit of a monk. Though he had foregone the traditional vows of chastity and silence, he did keep himself to an oddly strict schedule. It began every morning with the rising of the sun and his odd repetition of prayers.
He finished with a smile.
Mea Culpa et Mea Gratia.
Only when Farfarello had made the sign of the cross, touching each point with his middle finger (the significance no doubt intentional) did Schuldig move forward, snaking his arms around the pale man and pulling him backwards onto the bed. His little madman, though the nickname felt hollow.
The reports that went back home painted Farfarello as a loose wire that only Schwarz had so far been able to keep under control. But the fact of the matter was that Farfarello was quite stable, simply that the baseline his life was built around was somewhat skewed compared to the rest of the world.
In truth, Schuldig admired his lover for his devotion, for his single-minded and unbreakable faith. Except his faith was so immoveable -because- it wavered. That was where people missed the point about Farfarello's insanity. While a mighty oak would snap in half under the trembling pressure of an earthquake, a willow would sway and bend, and be undamaged at all by the end of the assault.
It was a perfect metaphor for Farfarello entirely, really. His faith, his fighting style, even his lovemaking was defined by fluidity, that lithe grace that kept the man's movements catlike and swift, as though he was a striking eel. But in a forest of oaks, this lone willow was regarded as strange. Everyone saw the Irishman as a madman when in truth he was just as sane as everyone else.
His methods were a bit unusual, but his reasoning was solid. Sociopath, not psychopath....a deep seated faith in God, not schizophrenia. Farfarello was the one who taught Schuldig to not fear madness.
Rozenkreuz taught telepaths to fear the insane, to bring their shields up around themselves and keep insanity out. A brush with insanity might as well be a brush with death, for the insane mind could pull a telepath in and infect them with the madness faster than a kiss could spread disease.
Farfarello had taught Schuldig that there was a method to most madnesses, and if one could walk the line of fractured logic, even the crazies could be controlled. Not that Farfarello needed to be controlled. No, he loved the man just the way he was, a fiery Irish temper matched only by a fiery Irish faith in God.
But there was one thing that he never would understand about Farfarello, that Farfarello had so far always kept hidden from him. He hoped to one day understand, but doubted the madman would ever give him the chance.
Just what -did- it mean to 'test' someone?