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This eternally cursed power. This extremely disgusting existence! May this wretched body help me protect the things most important to me now! This is the only power that makes atonement for my sins possible! 

                             Ashes to Ashes,                                                        Dust to Dust,                                                                             Earth to Earth! 

Abel's relationship with religion.

holding hands   ·   buying flowers (Abel would probably rather pick them than buy them, unless a shop has his beloved's favorite flower(s))   ·   cooking   ·   cuddles   ·   writing a poem / song   ·   holding door open   ·   tying shoe laces   ·   sharing a milkshake with two straws   ·   offering their jacket when it's cold (more like wrapping himself around them like he is the jacket lmao)   ·   kissing in the rain   ·   publicly confessing love.

long walks at the beach  ·   doing the titanic pose on a boat   ·   kissing the back of their hand   ·   slow dancing   ·   introducing them to their parents   ·   lighting candles   ·   flower petals on bed   ·   love letters   ·   stargazing   ·   brushing / doing their hair   ·   picnics   ·   teaching them to play an instrument while gently guiding their hands   ·   compliments.

drawing them   ·   self-made gifts   ·   massages   ·   proposing with a family heirloom ring ·   lending them their favorite book to read   ·   paying for dinner / coffee this man ain't got no dinner/coffee money LOL ·   surprise birthday parties (if his S/O would like that kind of thing)   ·   feeding them   ·   handing them keys to their apartment   ·   making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over   ·   sharing a blanket   ·   couple costumes

tucking a hair strand behind their ear   ·   keeping them from leaving (he's more likely to try to go somewhere with them than keep them from leaving, tho)   ·   moving cities to be together   ·   blowing a kiss   ·   breakfast in bed   ·   defending them in a fight   ·   joint bubble baths   ·   dropping the l-bomb / "i love you" (it would take A LOT, he probably wouldn't say it until you're practically already married)   ·   dedicating a song to them   ·   wearing their clothes ·   yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie   ·   grant them the last bite.

⋆｡˚ ⋆ tagged by : @fractempyreal thank u for my life Whitney

Abel Bloodborne verse...

like  a  sleeping  beauty  prisoner  to  her  dreaming  state,    the  princess  has  not  yet  awakened  from  her  nightmare,   nor  seen  dawn  break  through  the  valley  of  thorns.   the  hand  she  clasps  tightly  is  her  only  anchor  to  reality.   esther  tries  sincerely  to  believe  that  he  is  real;   five  claws  decline  into  fingers,   an  encompassing  warmth  settles  around  her  own  little  palm,   and  she  also  registers  the  steadying  weight  of  his  other  hand  upon  her  shoulder,   a  comforting  grip.   father  nightroad  stands  as  her  rock  amidst  the  frightful  storm  which  has  brewed  and  swelled  around  them,   a  steady  thrum  of  heat  lightning  that  has  not  yet  faded  into  the  clear  evening.   utterly  overwhelmed,   esther  feels  her  knees  wobble  like  a  calf  as  she  clings  to  him.

the  trembling  woman  does  not  realize  she  has  spoken  until  that  familiar  voice  answers  her  own:   not  the  deceptive  cadence  of  a  siren  luring  her  towards  destruction,   but  that  of  an  honest  and  tender  shepherd  whom  she  has  yearned  to  hear  most  of  all  in  these  darkest  days.   now  aware  of  her  fragmented  words,   esther  cannot  help  her  voice  from  cracking,   barely  a  whisper  as  she  remembers  the  past  hours  that  had  unfolded.     ❝   father,   you  were  gone…   but  he…   he  was  going  to…   ❞    a  profane  eucharist.

the  ability  to  speak  leaves  her  as  abel  crushes  her  into  an  embrace.   she  takes  a  sharp  breath;   but  the  poor  girl  falls  into  his  arms  like  he  is  her  last  lifeline  to  earth.   as  she  presses  close  to  his  chest,   sobs  break  against  him  like  waves  against  the  cliff  edge,   unable  to  be  contained  any  longer.   tears  which  silently  rolled  over  her  countance  and  stained  her  wan  cheeks  are  in  full  force  now,   a  deluge  of  salt  and  sorrow,   grief  and  terror.   fractures  in  her  shining  soul  are  laid  bare.   a  million  pieces  spill  forth  without  a  care:   her  tiny  body  cannot  accommodate  such  terrible  pain  any  longer.   through  all  her  fragile  emotion,   however,   esther  closes  her  eyes  to  find  comfort.

          more  than  anything,   i  want  to  be  on  his  side.

❝   please  tell  me  i’m  not  dreaming,   ❞    esther  softly  murmurs  between  hiccoughs  and  the  punctured  sobs  that  wrack  her  body.   her  innocent,   disoriented  blue  gaze  is  questioning  as  she  searches  his  own  eyes  for  her  answer.   crimson  entreats  silver,   small  hands  reaching  towards  his  face,   nearly  reverential  as  she  holds  onto  hope.     ❝   please  tell  me  you’re  real.   ❞

     The mention of Cain burns bright in his chest once again, but Abel only clings to her tighter, lowering her slowly that they might ease against the floor. He knows his brother, for all of his many, many faults, wouldn’t understand what he did to her—the trauma he must have inflicted on Esther, watching him die so gruesomely only to come back for his body. Ever briefly, sparks of static stung the air around him; the priest wound his wings tight around her, shielding her from them until his temper could subside.

          “He won’t.” Abel couldn’t allow him to, he couldn’t grow complacent in his strength and let Cain catch him off guard, not again. He was certain he would have to pursue his brother this time, chase him down while he was recuperating, strike before he could properly regenerate. Abel knew he wouldn’t be so lucky next time: he couldn’t count on the Vatican retrieving his body before Cain could devour him, not where he was going.

          “He won’t get that close again—because I’m here. I won’t... make the same mistakes.” In the past, even looking at her in this form– like this, he felt ashamed, undeserving. Yet even now the fear brimming in her gaze was not because of but for him. Abel took every ounce of rage festering in his heart and channeled it into the gentleness of his words, and the careful circles he rubbed against Esther’s back.

They remain quiet for a long moment after the priest has spoken. What to say? He cannot lie; it simply isn’t worth the risk. Instead, his single green eye runs down, then up Abel’s figure, slowly. He’s thoughtful as the Eldest parasite rattles off a list of things he could say- should say- but what, eventually, the beast utters is the last thing the intellect wants. “So you, a priest on…some mission or holiday, has decided to wander unarmed around a town with multiple missing persons. Not only that, you don’t look as if you’d stand up to whatever has been leaving half bodies behind. If you go missing, who’s going to look for you?” It isn’t a threat, but one that comes with tones of more suspicion. “Come to think of it- when did you come into town?” He asks pointedly, his eye narrowing. A moment’s pause for him to reach into a pocket and pull forth a small wooden cigarette box, and pull a hand rolled stick from the box. “I’ll be honest…Father….whoever you are, a new priest in town wandering around in the evening all on his own to find whatever’s been snatching up town folk in the dead of night seems… a bit odd, don’t you think?” In his mind, he can feel the parasite all but wishing to kick him for his response. So much so, that the next words out of his mouth are more compelled than of his own free will. “I don’t have any answers for you, but I do have some advice: Go back to your holy order. As you yourself said; you don’t have anything to offer here.” Rage roils through him at the forced words, and hands tremble just slightly as he pulls forth matches, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply- he’s polite enough to exhale away from the other man, at least.

     A person of many questions... Abel held his hands up, yet the small smile on his face remained. “I can’t blame you for your skepticism. I admit, we priests are very often sent to deal with situations we might not be the most suited for... but the Vatican can’t very well ignore the requests of smaller churches when they ask our aid, even if, in the end, there isn’t a whole lot we can do to help.”

     He couldn’t help but wonder—Abel knew that those unfamiliar with the church’s inner workings would no doubt find his presence odd, but was it truly so strange? Or was this person merely attempting to deflect suspicion? Though he wasn’t in Rome, this town was yet close enough to fall very close to the Vatican’s actual territory and was far within the sphere of their strongest influence.

          “Even if, in the end, it’s too much for me to handle... well, I’d hope I don’t die. But if I did, it wouldn’t go unnoticed at the very least. It’s true that not all priests have congregations, and for us, traveling is what we do; nevertheless, there are many systems of observation in place to assure we’re safe, or at least that word of our circumstances reaches the right ears, I can assure you! So...” 

Ah- So he believes his own actions are excusable, if only he repents. They had met a number of these types- many, in fact. What they did was ‘evil’ by one standard or another- yet they could find absolution in a god they may never have met. She’s got words for that, but he is speaking of burying the body. Her hunger gets the better of her here, and she makes an offer in tones that are almost peaceful- after all, she saw no reason they should fight this night. “I can take care of that, actually.” It’s quiet; though she cannot help the haunted hunger that echoes in her voice. “…All things that have lived deserve to return to the wheel of creation, don’t you think? I can take care of….that, you can keep your hands…somewhat clean, and…in doing so, you save another hapless fool from entering the cycle by my own hand.” All said as if she were talking of a butchered suckling pig. “From one monster to another… We can go our separate ways- but I want that corpse,” she gives a small exhale, leaning into the wall and allowing tension and magic to flood her body- just in case he did not feel the same. “Otherwise, frankly… I may just dig him up when you leave.”

          “...” He wasn’t surprised by this admission, not enough to note, anyway. “I may be a monster... but I don’t wish to judge you for the things you feel you must do.”

     The wind stirred; from the shadows emerged a pair of wings that draped themselves close to his own body, shielding Abel and the body from the cold. “Still, I wish almost... you hadn’t told me that. I don’t know if I can abide the desecration of a grave in any circumstances—but especially now. I’m saying this for your safety: this is no human. He was... by a manner of speaking, infected, and not by any organic means. I won’t claim to know what you are, but it may hurt you, possibly even kill you, if you feed from him and his ilk.” Secrets he wouldn’t normally indulge, not that he would feel safe elaborating much further. But he was in the presence of a beast, one that he was beginning to recall was quite the recluse... “I and my kind are the only beings that can consume them, and the machines in their blood. I don’t know that I can allow you to make the attempt. But, I must ask...

They had not intended to cross paths with the near-forgotten priest again. How long exactly had it been since they’d last met? It was always the sound of a fight that drew the scavenger. The sound of frantic, panicked hearts akin to a siren’s call for the beast. She is careful to move through the city in near silence, her magic making her roof-top traversal near imperceivable. An additional boon was that the horrible way her human figure skittered along the roof tops would not bring undue attention. She trails the fight, until she is forced to descend and follow on foot. Again she uses the parasite’s arcane abilities to conceal her steps. Her nose tells her what she already knows- something is dying. Something is scared- miserable, before it’s demise. The scent is almost enough to blind her to what her other senses tell her- that there is another here. That this creature is dying at the hands of another predator. In fact, she’s so focused on the scent and sound of dispatched prey, she nearly turns the corner into the ally. The too familiar sound of feeding stops her. She freezes; inhumanely still outside the ally, before her curiosity gets the better of her, and she leans her single gaze around the corner. What she sees surprises and confuses her- what was that? Her nose can only tell her so much- familiar smells of death, the sounds of a body draining of the magic life grants it- and a familiar smell. The priest, Eldest hisses. It is that damned Priest. A barrage of  still shots; a compilation of their encounter prior slips past her vision. Then suddenly, the predator stops and the beast backs up- familiar with the situation she’d now put him in. When he speaks, she waits to respond- giving him a few minutes to truly fret. Then she speaks, hardly above a whisper; confident he will hear her- his human guise no more. “Tell me, Father… who forgives you when you have sinned?”

     Through that brief flash of panic, some pang of recognition resounded in his mind, not that Abel could quite place it... not yet. There was not much left of the Methuselah, save a drained, torn body—run through by his scythe in clean, clinical slices, yet cradled so gently in Abels arms as he stooped to lift the vampire from the alleyway.

          “The Lord forgives all who repent with sincerity,” Abel murmured. Despite the blood staining his cassock, he still held that Methuselah with care as he turned, gazing towards the voice in the dark. “And I feel confident that... there are few in this world more sincere in repentance than I.”

     Would he be believed? He didn’t know, though he wasn’t certain either that it mattered. It was fortuitous in hindsight that he’d convinced himself to feed. If this... being proved themselves a threat, he was confident, too, that he had the strength to repel it, at least enough to make his ‘getaway’, if he needed to. If it really came to that... Abel was certain Caterina would understand. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – attack someone simply because they’d seen a glimpse of what he was.