A term of endearment such as dear made the ancient cuts and bruises littering the Quiet God’s skin tingle. His head tilted in amusement at the familiarity and closeness provided by Charles’s creation; given to Vincent so early on into their relationship. Admittedly, Vincent’s guard was up immediatlely upon hearing it; his walls around his heart unrelenting. Many times before, Vincent was given such an endearing term after being the brunt of his ex-cult’s violent ‘teachings.’
It was always going to be difficult for the God to accept such carefree gentleness from other people without himself initiating it or requesting it or without instinctively wondering if his company was going to abuse him immediately after such praise. And regardless of the past, he carried inside his heart, the looming creation of his only friend labeled as sinister was already enough for Vincent to remain guarded when in the creation’s company.
But at the same time, Vincent could not lie and say he did not mind the attention Charles’s creation gave to him. There was something inexplicably comforting about his presence. He indulged his charmingly cryptic smiles and vague ways. He followed The Imposter around in various conversations like he was a pet following its master, curious and hopeful for more treats (secrets) to be given to him. The Imposter was interesting; completely and entirely different from the predictable nature of Vincent’s world.
Vincent craned his neck to look at his companion in the eyes. “Ah. Good evening to you as well, Mr. Imposter,” He greeted cheerfully, all the while bringing his right hand thoughtfully to his chin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
His pleasantries echoed throughout the castle’s great hall, filling up the area’s empty space with sound.
He glanced at the umbrella in the Imposter’s hand before summoning his own. The object materialized in Vincent’s grasp, which he waved like a flag at him before idly twirling it.
“Feel free to ask any question you like,” Vincent said, before snapping his fingers; causing the double doors leading to the outside world to open inwards behind him.
“It’s a good thing you brought an umbrella with you,” the boy chuckled. "I’m preparing to stroll around the castle’s garden.“
Vincent adjusted the white scarf he wore around his neck a bit, smiling slightly. "You’re not the type to mind the cold, are you?” He asked.
“My question is a rather important one, but the pleasure is to see you as well. Though you call me by the erroneous name that Charles so kindly gifted me, your company is enjoyable.”
Umbrella Man straightened back up at the greeting, finding himself enjoying the look of a God craning his neck just to talk to him. The echoing hall combined with the somewhat flashy gestures showcased something else that the Imposter quite enjoyed about this world and its God; a unique sense of presentation. Yet another sign of creations made to delight an audience, despite its utter lack of it to his knowledge. Or at the very least, its avoidance of him due to the quiet God or otherwise.
Perhaps that was just another aspect of the game they were playing. Although private conversations between them were hard to come by, he could already tell that his words were making its mark on the child. That intelligent gleam in his eyes, mind racing to try and deduce where his final act led, were an absolute thrill to watch. Even better, he seemed to enjoy it as well, an eager participant in his game of truths. Of course, as terribly fun the journey to said truth was, the final result was the real test of everything he had prepared wasn't it? When the story was finally put into the hands of the quiet God and his actions decide it all. Perceptions of darling Charles broken and cracked, how will their faces twist into shades of despair nor joy?
While it would be much more entertaining with an audience, he must admit this entire plot had a certain amount of enjoyment for him, by itself alone. Charles was a fool to think he could go without those secrets being spilled to his oh-so-beloved one. How easily an desire to understand another could be turned selfish when not offering up anything in return, to only use one's love for your own private sense of comfort and improvement. Really, it would have been better if he just stuck to those false idealizations and memories, that would stay consistent to the lie at least. How weak minded humans always ended up being.
Still, he supposed he should thank Charles for making it so much more interesting for him. Vincent too, for being such a interesting piece to play with as well, much better then the boring empty vessels that lined the cage of the House. Knowing why exactly he was being drawn to the the God didn't lessen that interest in any capacity, the measure of a piece who wished to play his game, who ached for that knowledge, was undeniable. It had grown tiring being around nothing but puppets, who's knowledge and roles he had already well acquainted himself with, long ago. Real beings had a much better spark to them, capable of so much more, who were so much more. Why wouldn't he want to be around such wonderful beings? Death becomes even more entertaining from the amusement the dead bring.
Just another reason why the dear puppeteer's disappearance was truly a tragedy.
“Wonderful. Perhaps you can show me the answer to my question on our stroll then.”
If the God would lead him right to the audience, that would be even better. He snatched his own umbrella up, twirling it in a mimicking gesture to Vincent's and opened it up above his head. With a slight limp in his step without his makeshift cane, he walked forward to where Vincent stood, stopping just short of him. Very lightly he dusted off the front of his suit jacket, adjusting the umbrella handle on his shoulder.
“The cold does not bother me much but I take it you prefer it considering how often it occurs. Might it be because it reminds you of your old world's weather?”
The Imposter chuckles a bit at his own statement, aware that the other would not take it exactly as intended. Another hint, another game, my my he had so much to do. An arm was extended as though to gesture at the door, a invite for them to get going as they talked. He was rather eager to see where the God liked to roam in his own world, while finding the one he had been seeking. As well the opportunity to gain further knowledge himself, this was promising to be a delightful evening.
Altogether it put a certain excitement into his step, while part of his subconscious flashed emotions and images that were not his own; Charles reading on an upper floor of the black castle unaware of all that went on around him. The Imposter had plenty of time.
