Log: Complete
When; Nov. 28th
Rating; PG
Characters; revolutions9x6 Xulchilbara, snarky_padre_v Vincent
Summary; Of books, dreams, and how rebirthing a god can be a complicated affair.
Log;
After they had finished with the interrogation, Vincent was feeling antsy.
It was hard not to with all the intentionally heavy energy that had been invoked.
It seemed to him tho that something else was being planned.
A look passed between Xuchilbara and Henry, before Henry left, no doubt to return to Alessa.
Vincent knew he'd done well enough, but he'd been hoping for more. the man had killed him, after all.
But he did not wish to put himself in bad graces with Xuchilbara again.
Still, to have been a part of this and now feeling like something was going to happen he had no place in, he had to say something to his lord.
And so he said, "I dreamed of it again.
That book. it's real, I know it, and I suspect there's something very relevant to it.
If only there was a way to go back to the Hill and get it..."
The two of them had been sitting in relative silence for some time.
After leaving the archbishop bleeding and broken, Xulchilbara had simply retired to his rooms for the evening, and simply kept hold of Vincent's hand.
The God had said nothing, simply shrugged out of the lightly blood-speckled robe he'd donned for Enrico's questioning, and resumed his earlier research, which consisted of reclining across his bed ( which had only been used for sleep by Vincent ) and looking through several books written in anything from arabic, to greek, to a strangely written language that had no name, to something as mundane as the little laptop Alessa had found for him not long after his arrival.
Reading and seemingly content to just pet Vincent's hair, His eyes had quieted somewhat to a deep midnight blue shot with copper splashes of light.
" I am afraid that is not possible, Kamlo" he said distractedly, and without pausing in his reading.
" Part of my...I suppose you could refer to it as 'diplomatic trust' within the Ticking Clock is the stipulation I will not offer safe conduct to any who arrive here."
A light tug on a lock of Vincent's hair; an almost playful bit of flirtation.
" Unfortunately you have died twice within these city walls, and you are therefore barred from exit."
-
Vincent did not allow himself to become disappointed at this; although he had spent much of his time before arrival here sure that his final stand would be in the Hill, he was always rather relieved to not be there.
If this meant the god could prevent the Hill from ever calling him home again, he would be content.
Still, the nagging feeling that there, in the church, his church a legacy for him lay hidden and unclaimed...
Vincent sighed.
He rubbed his head against his Master's hand as a cat might.
"Do you wish anything more from me this night, Lord?" he asked, "you seemed...distracted. I thought maybe you were thinking of Lady Alessa...."
Although he had kept a tight hold on his own lusts, Vincent found himself thinking in abstract about almost everything- Henry, Enrico, the god by his side... his lusts, he was finding, were actually becoming tiresome.
It seemed he never stopped wanting...
"Maybe," he said, a little sadly, "I should go to sleep and see if I can dream of it again."
-
The God set aside the book he had been reading ( a new interest for he'd never paid much mind to them before) and regarded his servant.
" Somewhat, yes, Kamlo." he replied.
His hand drifted to the back of Vincent's neck and drew the human closer, and allow his Lord a better view of those unhuman eyes.
" I often think of her...and Henry..-" now he was both drawing Vincent closer, and leaning foreward, until his mouth a breath away."-...and You." he finished, and pressed his mouth to Vincent's for a long moment.
The corrosive pleasure in such a simple display intensified for a bare second ( a purposeful bit of teasing on his part) and the God pulled away, but only enough to draw his free hand's thumb across his pet's lower lip.
" One can not read in dreams, Vincent...How will seeing it again benefit you here?"
-
"I can though. That is, I think I can. The problem is if this book is what I think it might be..." He was trying to remember something he'd been taught, long ago, "Sometimes...sometimes the rituals go wrong. three times someone has tried to waken the god... bring her back.
Three times that's failed, and why? Outsiders interfering, in one instance. The wrong time, a reluctance on the part of the chosen one, in another," He was referring here to Harry, and to Heather, respectively, "Those were attempts by the Sacred Ladies sect. the one time I've heard of of the Holy Mother sect trying, the ritual failed," and this, of course, referred to Walter Sullivan's attempt at the 21 Sacraments.Vincent had not been present for that, so he knew not how it ended. mutually assured damage, he assumed, since both Walter and Henry had wound up here, "But maybe... if this book is what I think it is, there is another way.
what I think has been the mistake all along is one sect or another thinking they could go it alone. this makes no sense. A birth with no father? A father crying out with no wife? I am sure what I have been dreaming is the final piece.
...And, sadly, only a human priest may speak those words. I had been hoping to talk to you about that..my...humanity. but... perhaps if I can use this book. do this one last thing..."
-
The God's eyes brightened with a flash of dark light, and a haze of blue-green color to mirror Vincent's own.
If the prophet was capable of reading the book, still his memory of what it said may be unreliable.
Such is the nature of drems. In Vincent's case they were often fleeting glimpses of 'what is yet to come'...
Needless to say, Vincent now had his Lord's undivided attention.
" .....You believe it to be a 'forgotten memory'." he elaborated, the flame in his eyes dancing.
Yes, the God had considered previous failures in facillitating the rebirth of his creator, and this newfound penchant for studying the records of men had started as a discreet search for possible remedies to past mistakes in the ritual.
His own search had been rather stalled considering he had always found little use for the things humans recorded and passed down through generations. Too much was lost to the passage of time, and the writer or translator's small ( yet sometimes vital ) misinterpretations.
The slow smile transformed into a rather manic grin, and the God kissed his prophet again, this time with quite a bit more force.
A press of mouth, and coaxing of tongue, then a small nip to Vincent's lower lip
ReSt, ThEn, My DaRlInG...AnD I WiLl ObSeRvE YoUr DrEaM....
For all the grating harshness of his 'voice' and undeniable sense of pleased approval colored his expression and tone.
For now, he also chose to not address Vincent's statement about relinquishing more of his humanity.
Whether he knew it or not, Vincent was more valuable in his semi-mortal state, than the cold emptiness losing such a vital part of the human soul could convey.
-
Rating; PG
Characters; revolutions9x6 Xulchilbara, snarky_padre_v Vincent
Summary; Of books, dreams, and how rebirthing a god can be a complicated affair.
Log;
After they had finished with the interrogation, Vincent was feeling antsy.
It was hard not to with all the intentionally heavy energy that had been invoked.
It seemed to him tho that something else was being planned.
A look passed between Xuchilbara and Henry, before Henry left, no doubt to return to Alessa.
Vincent knew he'd done well enough, but he'd been hoping for more. the man had killed him, after all.
But he did not wish to put himself in bad graces with Xuchilbara again.
Still, to have been a part of this and now feeling like something was going to happen he had no place in, he had to say something to his lord.
And so he said, "I dreamed of it again.
That book. it's real, I know it, and I suspect there's something very relevant to it.
If only there was a way to go back to the Hill and get it..."
The two of them had been sitting in relative silence for some time.
After leaving the archbishop bleeding and broken, Xulchilbara had simply retired to his rooms for the evening, and simply kept hold of Vincent's hand.
The God had said nothing, simply shrugged out of the lightly blood-speckled robe he'd donned for Enrico's questioning, and resumed his earlier research, which consisted of reclining across his bed ( which had only been used for sleep by Vincent ) and looking through several books written in anything from arabic, to greek, to a strangely written language that had no name, to something as mundane as the little laptop Alessa had found for him not long after his arrival.
Reading and seemingly content to just pet Vincent's hair, His eyes had quieted somewhat to a deep midnight blue shot with copper splashes of light.
" I am afraid that is not possible, Kamlo" he said distractedly, and without pausing in his reading.
" Part of my...I suppose you could refer to it as 'diplomatic trust' within the Ticking Clock is the stipulation I will not offer safe conduct to any who arrive here."
A light tug on a lock of Vincent's hair; an almost playful bit of flirtation.
" Unfortunately you have died twice within these city walls, and you are therefore barred from exit."
-
Vincent did not allow himself to become disappointed at this; although he had spent much of his time before arrival here sure that his final stand would be in the Hill, he was always rather relieved to not be there.
If this meant the god could prevent the Hill from ever calling him home again, he would be content.
Still, the nagging feeling that there, in the church, his church a legacy for him lay hidden and unclaimed...
Vincent sighed.
He rubbed his head against his Master's hand as a cat might.
"Do you wish anything more from me this night, Lord?" he asked, "you seemed...distracted. I thought maybe you were thinking of Lady Alessa...."
Although he had kept a tight hold on his own lusts, Vincent found himself thinking in abstract about almost everything- Henry, Enrico, the god by his side... his lusts, he was finding, were actually becoming tiresome.
It seemed he never stopped wanting...
"Maybe," he said, a little sadly, "I should go to sleep and see if I can dream of it again."
-
The God set aside the book he had been reading ( a new interest for he'd never paid much mind to them before) and regarded his servant.
" Somewhat, yes, Kamlo." he replied.
His hand drifted to the back of Vincent's neck and drew the human closer, and allow his Lord a better view of those unhuman eyes.
" I often think of her...and Henry..-" now he was both drawing Vincent closer, and leaning foreward, until his mouth a breath away."-...and You." he finished, and pressed his mouth to Vincent's for a long moment.
The corrosive pleasure in such a simple display intensified for a bare second ( a purposeful bit of teasing on his part) and the God pulled away, but only enough to draw his free hand's thumb across his pet's lower lip.
" One can not read in dreams, Vincent...How will seeing it again benefit you here?"
-
"I can though. That is, I think I can. The problem is if this book is what I think it might be..." He was trying to remember something he'd been taught, long ago, "Sometimes...sometimes the rituals go wrong. three times someone has tried to waken the god... bring her back.
Three times that's failed, and why? Outsiders interfering, in one instance. The wrong time, a reluctance on the part of the chosen one, in another," He was referring here to Harry, and to Heather, respectively, "Those were attempts by the Sacred Ladies sect. the one time I've heard of of the Holy Mother sect trying, the ritual failed," and this, of course, referred to Walter Sullivan's attempt at the 21 Sacraments.Vincent had not been present for that, so he knew not how it ended. mutually assured damage, he assumed, since both Walter and Henry had wound up here, "But maybe... if this book is what I think it is, there is another way.
what I think has been the mistake all along is one sect or another thinking they could go it alone. this makes no sense. A birth with no father? A father crying out with no wife? I am sure what I have been dreaming is the final piece.
...And, sadly, only a human priest may speak those words. I had been hoping to talk to you about that..my...humanity. but... perhaps if I can use this book. do this one last thing..."
-
The God's eyes brightened with a flash of dark light, and a haze of blue-green color to mirror Vincent's own.
If the prophet was capable of reading the book, still his memory of what it said may be unreliable.
Such is the nature of drems. In Vincent's case they were often fleeting glimpses of 'what is yet to come'...
Needless to say, Vincent now had his Lord's undivided attention.
" .....You believe it to be a 'forgotten memory'." he elaborated, the flame in his eyes dancing.
Yes, the God had considered previous failures in facillitating the rebirth of his creator, and this newfound penchant for studying the records of men had started as a discreet search for possible remedies to past mistakes in the ritual.
His own search had been rather stalled considering he had always found little use for the things humans recorded and passed down through generations. Too much was lost to the passage of time, and the writer or translator's small ( yet sometimes vital ) misinterpretations.
The slow smile transformed into a rather manic grin, and the God kissed his prophet again, this time with quite a bit more force.
A press of mouth, and coaxing of tongue, then a small nip to Vincent's lower lip
ReSt, ThEn, My DaRlInG...AnD I WiLl ObSeRvE YoUr DrEaM....
For all the grating harshness of his 'voice' and undeniable sense of pleased approval colored his expression and tone.
For now, he also chose to not address Vincent's statement about relinquishing more of his humanity.
Whether he knew it or not, Vincent was more valuable in his semi-mortal state, than the cold emptiness losing such a vital part of the human soul could convey.
-