VEIL OF VENUS

SENDER tucks RECEIVER into bed for the night.

SENDER pulls a blanket higher over RECEIVER'S shoulders.

SENDER presses a cool cloth to RECEIVER'S forehead.

SENDER brings RECEIVER a glass of water without being asked.

SENDER sits at RECEIVER'S bedside until they fall asleep.

SENDER smooths the wrinkles from RECEIVER'S sheets.

SENDER brushes RECEIVER'S hair back from their face.

SENDER warms food for RECEIVER and sets it within reach.

SENDER helps RECEIVER change into clean clothes.

SENDER bandages RECEIVER'S hands carefully.

SENDER stays awake so RECEIVER doesn't have to be alone.

SENDER offers their shoulder for RECEIVER to lean on.

SENDER rubs slow circles into RECEIVER'S back.

SENDER adjusts the pillow beneath RECEIVER'S head.

SENDER carries RECEIVER'S bag when it gets too heavy.

SENDER holds RECEIVER'S hand through the pain.

SENDER wipes dirt from RECEIVER'S face.

SENDER helps RECEIVER sit up gently.

SENDER drapes their coat over RECEIVER without comment.

SENDER reminds RECEIVER to eat.

SENDER cuts food into smaller pieces for RECEIVER.

SENDER cleans blood from RECEIVER'S skin.

SENDER steadies RECEIVER as they stand.

SENDER keeps watch while RECEIVER rests.

SENDER ties RECEIVER'S shoes for them.

SENDER holds RECEIVER when the shaking won't stop.

SENDER presses their forehead to RECEIVER'S

SENDER helps RECEIVER bathe.

SENDER changes RECEIVER'S bandages for them.

SENDER keeps RECEIVER warm through the night.

SENDER sits with RECEIVER so they doesn't feel alone.

SENDER carries RECEIVER when they can't walk anymore.

SENDER hums softly to calm RECEIVER.

SENDER shields RECEIVER from prying eyes.

SENDER braids RECEIVER'S hair to keep it out of the way.

SENDER wipes tears from RECEIVER'S cheeks.

SENDER keeps a hand on RECEIVER'S back in the crowd.

SENDER wakes RECEIVER gently.

SENDER helps RECEIVER breathe through the pain.

SENDER brings extra blankets when RECEIVER starts to shiver.

SENDER waits outside while RECEIVER gathers themselves..

It is almost pathetic how Barnabas hangs on her every word as she speaks, knowing in his mind what she says to be the truth yet not quite able to bring himself to believe it. Memories flash of his mother, ones from when he was merely a boy yet they have begun to fade with the passage of time. He remembers her warmth and encouragement as she propelled him forward. When she died - murdered simply because of her beliefs - a part of him died with her, and thus triggered the power of Odin to awaken within along with his hatred of humanity.

He often dreams of the day he would reunite with her in Paradise. So why is he suddenly having second thoughts?

Stormy hues glance down at his hands, feeling the aether surge through him. He had truly believed that by being blessed with the power of an Eikon, his purpose was to serve his Lord and await the day that Mythos would arrive, thus would Barnabas prepare him and sacrifice himself so that Ultima would have his perfect vessel. He was promised paradise, yet Orihime claims it was all for naught, that he is merely a pawn in the grand plan to wipe everything from this plane of existence.

Echos of Ultima rattle in his mind, and for the first time in a very long time, he is compelled to ignore them. He lifts his gaze once more, his hands grasping hers as though she is the only lifeline, the last connection to something real in this forsaken place.

"Your heart is too pure for this world." The king states this as a fact. "Should he catch you in his claws, he will see your kindness as a weakness to exploit. I would not let that happen. I cannot..." A soft sigh escapes, expression softening as he places a finger underneath her chin and lifts her gaze.

"If what you say is true, then I will be forced to admit that everything I had ever known was a lie. You must understand that it will not be easy to turn from the path I have tread for so long. My heart has long since withered, and everyone I thought I could trust has turned from me and abandoned me. This world is wretched, yet you truly believe that I am worth saving. That humanity is worth saving."

❤    ━━━━━     paradise   is   nothing   but   a   utopian   misconception,   figment   of   desire   that   ultima   implants   within   humankind's   crux   so   they   may   follow   him   unhesitatingly;   a   chain,   a   leash   tightened   around   the   throats   of   those   who   pledge   obedience   to   his   decree.   it's   within   orihime's   power   to   fracture   such   constraints,   especially   since   the   survival   of   the   world   she   adores   remains   dependent   upon   their   destruction.   she   pledged   to   inflame   the   shackles   with   bare   hands   to   ensure   the   preeminence   of   hope   and   love   over   his   psychoed   contrive.   she   intends   to   obliterate   his   plans   down   to   their   foundation,   create   fissures,   and   consequently   compel   him   to   crumble;   however,   for   such   attainment,   inoue   requires   assistance   from   those   blessed   by   the   eikons.   bahamut   and   odin   remain   the   most   pivotal   keys,   since   if   both   forces   synchronized,   a   substantial   amount   of   ultima’s   design   would   be   pulverized.

❝   he   cannot   twist   me.   my   heart   is   pristine,   and   its   pristine   nature   will   remain   intact.   i   have   been   this   way   all   my   life.   ❞   such   a   being   is   precisely   what   the   world   needs.   someone   capable   of   combating   the   pestilence   that   lurks   beneath   the   soil,   liberating   even   those   deemed   lost   beyond   repair.   someone   whose   abilities   ultima   may   never   perceive   as   sufficient   to   undo   him.   caramel   gaze   is   upraised   by   his   digit,   and   their   gazes   converge.

❝   a   lie   is   a   considerably   bland   term   to   depict   everything   he   does.   i   want   to   believe   he   was   once   good.   ❞   an   exhalation   escapes   rosaceous   lips   as   she   attempts   to   establish   coherent   words   for   thoughts   of   profound   intricacy.   ❝   but   perhaps   he   descended   into   psychosis   once   he   witnessed   humans   behaving   according   to   their   nature.   one   may   possess   divine   status,   but   such   status   doesn't   grant   the   right   to   control   every   detail.   humans,   mortals,   will   inevitably   become   corrupted.   they   will   stumble,   they   will   engender   chaos,   but   some   will   learn,   some   will   surpass   even   god's   expectations.   world   is   not   stagnant,   nor   will   it   ever   be.   ❞

again,   faultliness   remains   a   component   of   cosmos'   beauty.   Perfectly   constructed   beings   don't   exist.   herself   is   heeded   as   an   embodiment   of   perfection,   but   she   also   has   imperfections.   ❝   he   needed   you   to   collapse,   my   lord.   he   wanted   you   to   plunge   into   the   depths   of   misery   so   odin   could   awaken.   your   eikon   is   a   crucial   key   within   his   grand   design.❞   barbarism   beyond   measure;   every   bedevilment   he   endured.   ❝   your   mother’s   demise,   abandonment   imposed   upon   you   by   others,   all   of   it   served   as   a   catalyst,   i   believe.   it   pains   me   to   utter   such   words,   but   this   is   the   truth.   ❞   how   can   she   have   knowledge   of   such   matters?   inoue   have   been   investigating   ultima   diligently   since   her   abilities   first   manifested.

❝   this   world   is   worth   saving,   despite   its   blemishes.   everything   has   beauty.   if   one   shows   commitment,   conditions   may   improve,   but   the   supreme   perfection   is   impossible.   it   will   only   result   in   further   death   and   unnecessary   suffering.   i   believe   he   created   the   eikons   with   a   purpose,   and   such   purpose   is   nothing   but   slaughtering.   it   is   unfair,   because   you   may   be   a   dominant,   but   you   remain   a   person   as   well.   ❞   dominants   are   considered   mere   conduits   of   power,   perspective   she   finds   entirely   incorrect.   they   should   be   recognized   as   individuals   rather   than   things.

inoue   permits   her   palm   to   be   guided   towards   his   chest,   sensing   the   structure   of   dermis.   gentle   hues   soften   immediately   thereafter.   ❝   that   is   what   i   have   been   attempting   to   accomplish   since   the   beginning.   ❞   fingers   soothe   the   area   of   his   chest,   where   one   significant   scar   greets   her   palm   alongside   several   smaller   ones,   each   marking   him   as   a   conflict   veteran.   ❝   i   can.   if   you   allow   me,   i   can   impart   light   and   warmth   into   your   life,   and….   i   can   love   you   for   who   you   are.   not   a   monster,   but   a   man.   ❞   palm   presses   with   noticeable   firmness,   and   gentle   luminescence   emerges   thereupon,   embracing   him   in   his   fullness,   surrounding   her   as   well.   tangerine   aureole   seems   to   adorn   her   silhouette,   conferring   the   semblance   of   an   angel.   warmth   settles   upon   skin,   gradually   undoing some minor scars, leaving only the bigger one.   ❝   allow   me   to   show   you   how   idyllic   it   is   to   feel   loved.   ❞

LIKE THIS AND I WILL THROW LORRAINE OR ORIHIME AT YOU!

All thoughts and cares and slipped his mind in that moment. Nothing could hurt him, nothing would harm him. He was in a safe space and with that, he could easily let those walls down this time. All continues as time passes, until he feels the gentle trace along the star birthmark - an action that illicited his own reaction; a shiver ran throughout his form. That birthmark had been both a blessing and a curse. A curse, for the most part, because of the connection to one Dio Brando, or better yet known as; DIO.

❤             ━━━━━    peculiar,   irregular   marking   captures   her   interest   ;   a   star,   sparsely   pigmented,   intriguing   in   its   atypicalness.   never   before   has   she   seen   such   a   thing,   but   the   way   he   suspends,   gaze   darting   elsewhere,   gives   the   impression   of   something   more   than   mere   coincidence.   something   archaic,   perhaps,   heavy   with   importance.   lorraine   lets   her   brow   arch,   head   tilting   in   gentle   inquiry,   lips   parting   with   admiration.   ❝   it’s   enchanting,   though   i’ve   never   seen   anything   like   it   before.   ❞   what   myth   awaits   below   such   a   mark   ?   a   difficult   one,   she   suspects.   it   transcends   inheritance,   blood   or   ancestry.   Inheritance   always   implicate   costs,   doesn’t   it?

❝   you   don’t   have   to   speak   of   it,   ❞   lorraine   offers,   timbre   delicate,   attempting   to   alleviate   the   awkwardness   that   lingers   between   them.   no   one   should   be   compelled   to   expose   what   wants   to   remain   hidden.   ❝   i’m   only   surprised,   that’s   all.   it’s   rare   to   see   a   birthmark   so   well-defined.   ❞   she   reclines   herself   upon   the   sofa,   but   not   before   standing   to   get   tea.   ❝   drink.   it’s   my   own   recipe,   herbs   and   flowers.   ❞   something   to   relax,   settle   nerves   still   pulsing   from   her   hands.

The question prompts a raised brow, teals taking the woman's form in. Head tilting, the Joestar simply turned fully "Sure." Came the short answer, "What'd you have in mind?" He wasn't going to turn away food - especially when it was being offered. A peaceful moment was actually something he looked forward to in the moment. He also didn't mind enjoying a nice dinner with the woman, either. As the taller had come to get to know Lorraine, he was slowly lowering down those walls. She was a light - a bright light that had drawn many to her orbit. It was her kindness that had initially thrown him off guard when they first met.

❤             ━━━━━     protection   is   foreign   to   her,   unfamiliar   as   silk   against   calloused   dermis.   she   has   always   been   the   one   to   take   a   stand,   offer   previews   of   futures   not   yet   written,   bear   the   weight   of   what   might   come.   but   now,   someone   else   stands   at   her   side,   appearing   just   when   she   needs   him   most.   it's   a   comfort,   unpretentious   and   unheralded.   the   least   she   can   do   is   grant   him   an   instant   of   peace,   a   small   courtesy   in   return.   lithesome   digit   lifts,   tapping   ponderously   her   chin,   gaze   ambling   as   she   bethink   the   possibilities.   so   many   choices,   so   many   flavors   to   indulge   in. 

 ❝   there’s   a   new   place   by   the   bay.   we   could   try   it.   my   treat,   of   course.   ❞   she   speaks   of   the   italian   restaurant   that   opened   just   last   week,   adorned   with   glass   and   candles,   soignee   in   a   manner   that   prognoses   expenditure   and   intimacy.   lorraine   is   ready   to   pay,   if   only   to   partake   in   something   lovely   with   him.   ❝   italian   is   always   pleasant,   and   i   think   they   serve   seafood   too...   ❞   exhilaration   adorns   her   mellifluous   sonority   as   she   reaches   for   his   palms,   fondness   flourishes   in   her   caress.

Valko offered one last wave towards the grateful, elderly woman before watching her form disappear outside of his shop. In all honesty, his workers had every right to deny her any service since she showed up well after they were in the process of closing up for the day. But just one look at her face was enough to make his heart melt and override his more rational mindset.

So he offered to stay behind and handle her order alone. One elegantly decorated chocolate cake, made with every last ounce of affection he could muster. Then again, that was how he made all of his sweets and pastries. Everything tastes better with a little bit of love put into it, he found. And it must have been true, given how popular the place has gotten as of late. Seeing so many satisfied and returning faces alone made all the effort worth it.

Just as he was about to well and truly close up for the day, he spotted someone else seemingly heading for the shop. He really shouldn't let anyone else in at this point. The last order alone took up a considerable amount of time, but...

❝ Evenin'. What can I do for ya? ❞

He really was just too accommodating for his own good.

❤             ━━━━━     sweets   have   always   been   her   Achilles'   heel,   a   secret   ambition   that   abides   after   every   long   shift.   more   often   than   not,   world   conspires   against   her   appetites   ;   by   the   time   she   slips   out   from   behind   fluorescent   lights,   most   cake   shops   and   cafes   have   already   closed   their   doors,   leaving   only   the   echo   of   missed   opportunity.   but   tonight,   fortune   seems   to   have   softened   its   stance.   caramel   eyes   lift,   catching   his   gaze,   a   gentle   smile   blooming   despite   her   fatigue.   she   doesn't   wish   to   bother   him,   but   the   prospect   of   coming   home   empty-handed   is   a   small   sorrow   she   can't   quite   swallow.   tomorrow   is   her   day   off,   and   she   wants   nothing   more   than   to   wake   to   the   scent   of   pastries   in   her   kitchen.   a   breath,   silken   and   uncertain,   precedes   her   words. 

 ❝   i'm   sorry.   i   know   you're   closing,   but   could   you   spare   me   some   doughnuts   ?   it's   okay   if   you   can't.   i   understand   it's   past   your   working   hours...   ❞   she   means   it,   truly.   if   he   refuses,   she'll   obviously   let   the   craving   linger   until   next   day.

"I..." He paused, trying to place her. He knew her. Slept with her? Probably. She was exactly his taste. But --

"Father?" River's voice floater in from behind him. "Who's at the door?"

The connection -- potential connection -- snapped to the front of his mind.

"It's nothing," he called back to her, and stepped out quickly, shutting the door behind him. His attention turned back to the woman. It was coming back to him, for certain. He had been with her. And --

"Yes. That's me." Damn it, her features matched River's upon closer inspection. The eye shape. The texture of her hair. She was -- this was -- "Who are you?"

❤             ━━━━━       gradually,   the   firmness   in   lorraine's   physiognomy   disperse,   supplanted   by   a   tenderness   seldom   witnessed   in   recent   years.   time   had   finally   allowed   her   to   reconnect.   river's   sonority,   imprinted   with   a   musique   reminiscent   of   a   once-precious   song,   resonates   within   her   memory,   subtly   altered   by   maturity   while   preserving   the   essence   of   familiarity.   she   perceives   the   frenetic   conflict   ravaging   his   core;   remnants   of   recognition   flicker   in   his   eyes   as   gareth   attempts   to   cement   her   presence   in   memory's   labyrinth. 

 ❝   you   did   forget   about   me   huh?   well,   i   don't   blame   you.   ❞    dulciloquent   tempo   of   her   words   is   escorted   by   a   smile.   divergent   paths,   previously   unconnected,   now   converge   at   the   behest   of   fate's   design.   destiny's   arbiters,   capricious,   love   to   manipulate   mortal   minds,   but   ultimately,   it   is   their   will   that   determines   the   course   of   events.    ❝   i'm   pleased   to   see   she   is   capable   to   call   you   father.   it   only   proves   i   did   the   right   thing.   ❞ 

"Mm!" Mahon nodded, eyes closing briefly. Perhaps he could have waited a bit longer to let it cool, but no matter. The pain was dull in the background of the flavor.

He covered his mouth with his fist politely as he chewed and swallowed.

"I do!" he answered her finally, pleased as he dropped his hand to address her. "Everything is so well-seasoned, and the sauce is just the right mixture of creamy without overbearing the dish! And for you to make this on the side of the road, of all places..."

He shook his head, pausing to scoop out another bite.

"It is better than a few meals I've had from those who have dedicated their lives to the art. You've a gift, truly." And he happily took another bite.

He liked these sorts of mortal dishes. The layers were reminiscent of mortals themselves (although, admittedly, he could probably find such a comparison to any meal).

❤             ━━━━━     gratitude   radiates   from   her   visage,   genuine,   each   time   an   individual   properly   appreciates   her   cuisine.   mahon   is   no   exception   ;   delight   manifested   through   his   leisurely,   considered   bites,   relishing   texture,   layered   flavors.   hands   fold   neatly   before   her,   a   gentle   pride   flickering   in   soft   hues.   ❝   i   like   to   assist   travelers,   ❞   orihime   offers,   as   if   revealing   an   intimate   detail. 

 ❝   i   want   them   to   experience   comfort   food...something   that   reminds   them   of   home.   ❞   it's   not   always   simple,   she   knows;   everyone's   palate   is   distinct,   each   memory   of   home   distinct.   still,   she   tries,   constantly   innovating,   hoping   to   bring   contentment   to   those   who   pass   through.   for   her,   meals   should   end   with   a   smile.   a   pause,   then   a   soft   inquiry,   concern   evident   in   her   tone.   ❝   would   you   like   some   water,   a   glass   of   orange   juice,   or   perhaps   a   vintage   to   go   with   your   meal?   ❞   inoue   observes   him   eat,   a   touch   of   concern   in   her   gaze,   concerned   he   will   lose   control   of   his   enthusiasm.