"Do you believe in 'Gravity'?"

Floating through forever,                                   I am stealing the energy,                                                                      Endlessly endeavor,                                      This is finding infinity, I’m falling through a dark sunrise,                                      I will escape the entropy,                                                                  And find a way to leave this time,                                     I will bring you back to me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

             Father Enrico Pucci roleplay blog for JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. 

Ungalo let out a loud snort at the priest’s words. Not supposed to be drunk leisurely? Sure. “Tell that ta all the fuckin’ drunks out there in the fucking world,” he retorted, find far too much mirth in this. Not even the prospect of another one of pristine priest Pucci’s motherfucking manners lessons could bring his mood down. He never listened to those lectures anyway, so it wasn’t any skin off his ass.

“Ya know, Poochy, when you look like I do, ya kind of stop fucking carin’ about how you look. People’re gonna think you’re a fucking retard anyway ‘nd cross the fuckin’ road to walk on the other fucking side ‘cause they think they’re going to catch whatever you’re smoking.” Ungalo remarked in a blase manner.

"The drunks are sinners, just as their vices are sins. They are the ones who attempt to seek salvation at the bottom of a bottle, yet only find anger and misery. At themselves, or at the mistakes they've made." The priest had an answer to everything. To a certain point, that is. He was but a mortal man trying to save any soul he came across. Yet, even he could admit that some were simply not salvageable.

They would sooner fall to the pits of hell.

“–Ah, but you don’t see… You are doing work beyond anything you could possibly imagine, far beyond any one wish.” Enya’s voice remained warm as she considered the other, took in the youthfulness of his features. For all that DIO spoke of gravity, Enya knew that there was something far more powerful at work. Fate had guided DIO to this boy, and Fate had guided this boy here this very day.

“Stay close to our Lord,” she then suggested, smiling. “And listen to His words; receive what gifts that He has to give. You’ll have need for what He gives you now in years to come.” Her words remained vague as to whether she was referring to his God or to her Lord DIO.

Not see. Ah, the premonitions she has. Something he could not truly understand, yet accepted as a truth to this world. Prophets come in many forms. And, sometimes, it could be from a religion that was not one you followed. "I will embrace whatever work that must be done if it will lead to Heaven." Not so much the one found in books, but the one his friend spoke of often. A world no longer seeded by the unknown. Without fear of one's own destiny, and given their purpose.

Her words were always taken into consideration, and these particular ones were no different. "I have no intention of refusing what he wishes to give." As mysterious as her statement was, he could gather it was related to DIO in some way regardless. They were words that needed to have their every detail and meaning inspected before one could come to a conclusion.

Pucci was far more welcoming than the other denizens of DIO’s mansion; Mariah didn’t see the need to refute his invitation to sit upon one of the pews. She kept her eyes upon the boy, inspecting his expression to see its changes. “Thoughts are the loudest of noises, aren’t they?” She asked rhetorically. “They ring within your head and fill the cavernous expanse of your mind with echoes that don’t fade.”

She wouldn’t say much other than that; she’d come to the prayer room for quiet and solitude, not to spill her entire soul to DIO’s friend.

“–I must confess, I’ve never learnt much of Christianity beyond what is obvious, that your holy book is the Bible and that you believe in three gods. Is it the predominant religion wherever you came from?”

Call it on his upbringing, or perhaps the lessons he's been taught with his studies. Be as it may, he would be welcoming to those who sought him for a talk, or perhaps just plain company. Regardless of their make, or the fact that he may find them entirely disgusting and vile. "It's circumstantial. A thought can be gentle waves crawling onto shore, or a violent hurricane tearing the very foundation of your psyche. There are the good, the bad, and the in between. But, that is for the one thinking to decide if they are too loud."

There was silence when she spoke of her lack of knowledge. Listening, waiting, gathering. Everything he would need to best find a way to ease her question without bombarding her with the usual rant he's seen so many of his brothers and sisters do.

Really, who the fuck would even want to be a priest? Spending your entire fucking day reading the same fucking book, with words that no normal person needed to understand. And it was all shit that was fictional! ‘Sides that, being a priest just seemed so fucking boring, what with all of their shitty jobs of standing like someone taped a fucking rod to their back and preaching about preachy things.

Hell, the priest was preaching about those things even now. A brighter life? Hope?  Ungalo wasn’t so sure what kind of brighter life you could even fucking get in a world like this.

He didn’t even register the lead that Pucci left concerning his father, as well as Pucci’s ambiguity concerning his blood.

“… ‘S it true that the best part of bein’ a priest is the fucking… What was it again? Communing thing? Since you got the wine ‘nd shit?”

It was written in his fate to be a priest. To, perhaps someday, be as great as his ancestor had. A family blanketed by the religion that would never waver from their family. Had Ungalo continued on and made his thoughts more vocal, it no doubt would have resulted in him slamming the good word into his face.

"Communion is not something to take lightly, nor is the blood of Christ supposed to be drunk leisurely." The disapproval for such a thing to be said was clear on his face. The only reason he hadn't lashed out about it was due to the blood running in him. The boy had that going for him, at least.

sollemne‌:

Enya’s eyes may have been fixed upon the boy’s face, but her gaze surpassed him, looking into things beyond their current means, beyond their current time. And how tantalising it was to know how things would be one day! To see the very Earth fold in on itself–to be present as sinners were born anew…

“Firstly–I should thank you, my dear,” Enya’s words would come as a surprise to some. Her smile as wide as she regarded Pucci with an expression that was reserved solely for her son and her Lord. “Your presence here harkens only good omens; why, even Lord DIO himself appears to be lighter with you around!”

Pucci doesn't really know how to handle people of her card quite yet. He's met them, surely, but it's the little differences each sport in their claim of seeing past, present, and future can be jarring at times. Liars, deceivers. And, on the rare occasion, those like her that can actually view what fate has in store for those she focuses on.

He would be impressed if it didn't set him on edge.

This had been a long while coming, and finally she had the opportunity to speak to the boy that had so captured her Lord’s eyes. The boy who would allow her plans to come into fruition; that would allow DIO to take hold of the World and write it anew.

“–And the Snake finally approaches,” Enya murmured, though she didn’t spare any effort in keeping her voice down. Neither did she turn to set her eyes upon the boy, even as she raised the glass of wine she’d just poured. “Here. Drink, my boy, and come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

She gestured grandly at the seat opposite to herself.

Cryptic. He's dealt with such before. Fortunate tellers were a sort to keep the true answer hidden under riddles and deeper meanings. Perhaps she was calling him such for his Stand, or perhaps it is due to him being a rarely seen figure in this 'garden'.

Whether the case, it would be rude to turn down a polite offer.

The seat was taken with grace. He'll have to portion this wine so it will last for however long she wanted to talk, though. The blood of Christ wasn't meant to be taken in excess; he's seen far too many make that mistake. "I'm sure there are many topics you wish to broach." None of which he'd be unwillingly to answer. Pucci was honest, despite the company his friend kept.

Yeah, he was back again at Pucci’s room, but what the fuck else was Ungalo supposed to do with his day when Donny was off beating himself off to the thought of priestly approval and Rykiel was crying himself to sleep or whatever.

Pucci, at least, gave Ungalo the time of day, for all that he looked at everyone as if they were insignificant to him. Fucking asshole. All priests were dickheads. Had to be something about the whole fucking religion that had them shoving sticks so far up their asses they had to stand ramrod straight all the fucking time.

“Who the fuck’s not got any fucking sins to confess?” Ungalo retorted, snorting at Pucci’s questions even as he stomped over towards his usual seat to slouch artlessly in it. Slinging an arm over the back of his chair and staring at Pucci, there was an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face.

“–Why’re you a priest?” He suddenly demanded. “What’s the point?”

Ah, there was that foul mouth. Ungalo made him so wish he carried a bar of soap in his pocket. If only to wash the filth away with a deep clean. Thankfully for him, Pucci never thought he would need to utilize something like that. Yet, here was the proof he should prepare for it in the future.

"Your vocabulary could use work."

The priest put down what he had been working on; a model ship, it seemed. Possibly dwelling in nostalgia from his days of conversing with DIO.  To honor his friend in one of the only ways he knew how, aside from opening Heaven's gate. Tools were placed down, cassock smoothed out, as he gave this boy his full attention.

Who was he to deny a question its answer?

Mariah had, for once, retreated to the peaceful sanctuary of the prayer room in hopes of finding some sort of peace of mind in her restless night but instead, found herself face to face with DIO’s closest friend.

“–Brother Pucci. I should have expected to see you here,” she greeted coyly, even as she moved forward to lean up against the nearest surface.

She’d always considered Enrico Pucci somewhat of a mystery. He was almost frightfully young, and pious in a maner that was rather jarring in comparison to the company that DIO had them keep. How had DIO come to meet the young holyman? And what exactly had DIO calling friend rather than subordinate?

Mariah would be interested in finding out, but she was patient beyond all other things. Instead, she said, “I didn’t expect that you’d be awake at this time. Does any of your scriptures have anything that could silence an unquiet mind?”

He had been sweeping the floor when the sound of the door had graced his ears. Routine upkeep of the room he'd been given made the stay less idling for him. His practice needed him to be in top shape in order to welcome those who sought his listening, after all.

Which was probably why he showed no shred of surprise at who the visitor was. The mansion was full of the damned, yet some still sought some form of word that could quell whatever seared through their soul. She was one of the lesser offenders, from what he's observed, that walked these walls. Which was a blessing all in itself.

"Mariah." Gone were the moments he would have shown far too much. The studies he'd gone through, and his trauma, had made him far more closed off compared to the person he once was. The broom had been propped up to the side, and he gestured for her to sit on one of the pews.

   ゴ   ゴ ゴ  ゴ  ゴ  ゴ

“——THERE’S NO SALVATION for those who do not want to be saved.” A statement he had heard from the Order itself when growing up; a vain attempt at pursuing punishment against those who did not agree with their beliefs. They did not believe in redemption or second chances, so why should he be that merciful? If by only dying, he was able to regain his freedom, then a fitting solution that was.

         In all these years, growing accustomed to his new power; to building the otherworld to his liking, he had thought on ways to make them pay for their sins—giving birth to those creatures made out of darkness, that fed from the fear of people. In time, they would all be consumed by their own shadow, until there was nothing left. They would all become the monsters that they were on the inside, living without free will in his world.

“——They will see the light when it’s too late. I will drag them to hell with me.”

No salvation for the false preachers, prophets, and the damned who follow them. Pucci so dearly wished he could say he was surprised, but the words would not form on his tongue. Those who ventured into hell to seek a God that stared them in the face. Blind to what danger they've wrought upon themselves.

Far be it from him to help indulge whatever fantasy they had that their God would be able to save them in the face of such an entity, they themselves, had created. The former priest wasn't one to keep the veil over his eyes if someone had lifted it up so blatantly as this man had.

"Is it truly light if you will deliver the sins carved into their flesh?" A mere muse; it was a question that did not need an answer. "They would sooner plot to stay afloat as you take them. As despicable as the order could be, they have numbers spread out far enough to stay a thorn in your side should word get out." Possibly, even try to ensnare him in some way. Though, Pucci doubted it would be a successful endeavor.

As much as he hears about this woman, it was such a rare treat to actually see her himself. Within the walls of the manor his friend had taken as his own or otherwise. Enya kept to her own devices if they did not concern her 'lord' or that dreadful hell spawn she called a son.

While he could not blame a mother for loving her child, it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

He'd  been on his way to the library when he first saw her. In such a hurry as he usually sees her. The priest wasn't one to take away if someone was in a bit of a busy path, so he was likely to leave her be. Much like the other residents that walked within these walls, really. Some, though... some he avoided actively. They made his skin crawl to the point he had to pray he would make it to the next sunrise.

The next he saw her, it was no visions leading her to the vampire he called his friend. No, it was something of an oddity. To see her as a human usually does, mulling about for food and drink. Nothing to blame her for, yet everything to question why she would be public about it today.

He was bound for another visit. The sons of DIO flocked to him as if there were elastic cords attached to his person. Able to pull away to a point before they had to venture back and seek the priest for something or another. Pucci had a feel for this one, it was more than to just learn or have an ear to vent his problems to.

No, he could see right through Ungalo.

To have a constant in his life, after so many years, would have been jarring enough for the waters to be tested here and there. Yet, eventually, he knew where he could go for shelter, for sanctuary. A man tied to a father he never knew.

"What is it you want this time?" His tone was purely one of questioning, despite how he strung the words together. The meaning was always lurking deeper than what was presented to the air, after all. "I do not have many books here for you to try and read from, nor do I have worksheets to test you with."

  ゴ   ゴ ゴ  ゴ  ゴ  ゴ

          A BLASPHEMOUS MONSTER; a traitor to the Order he was, consumed by the very darkness that they summoned in a vain attempt to wake their God. In their search for PARADISE, they were dooming themselves with numerous rituals and prayers that fell to deaf ears. Blinded by their faith, those who followed the religion failed to realize that it was already too late for them. Their world had already ended for them.

       The title given in question couldn’t be far from the reality. He had made of this world of darkness, his domain—twisted and shaped to his liking, and travelling through the otherworld to this one to watch the Order burn by their own fire, until there were nothing but mere ashes left.

 “——I was raised within that cult, and the only escape for me was DEATH. Sacrifices were to be made to regain my freedom.” The similarities between their mindsets earned the mercy of that one who they called demon, and a gracious smile appeared upon those lips, red-tinted on the inside. “——I was in darkness, so darkness I became ; GOD of the otherworld, as they refer it as.”

Raised to die, or raised to be fodder for the growing mass of corruption and sin? He knew the order was one to take extremes to bring forth their ideal version of God, yet it went sideways in the end no matter how many times they've tried. Orphans, murderers, innocents... Which is why it probably didn't make an ounce of surprise show on his face. He knew they were capable of such heinous acts.

"The darkness of man far exceeds the darkness of Silent Hill, and her creations." A rot in the souls of humankind that needed to be wiped clean so they could start on a fresh path. "You became the darkness, but will you be the one open their eyes to the light? Blind and deaf things that they are."

   ゴ   ゴ ゴ  ゴ  ゴ  ゴ

         LOSS WAS A RECURRING THEME for the former priest,it appeared. How tantalizing it was to simply just ask rather than to dwell on the memories of a broken man, who no longer cared about what fate had in storage for him; so long as SALVATION was at his reach.

        What SIN did this man carry to accept such thing?  If it truly guaranteed him something better than what this place and the Order had to offer, he wanted to be his witness.If the crime was truly atrocious, only pain and suffering awaited.He’d be doomed to face what haunted him.

      The fact that someone of the darkness had found him, wasn’t a coincidence. He didn’t believe in such things, as everything had a raison d'etre.Every encounter was predetermined, and it was in the individual’s to decide what to make of it. To any other, he was just a demon—a spawn from hell that their own religion created.Anyone else would’ve already run, but this guy, and that for that very reason, the entity was interested to learn more about him, about his tremulous past.

   “——Just call me DIO.”

The name given was a taste on the tip of his tongue. A golden drop of honey, promising of greater things yet also inviting a bitter truth to whatever fantasies others had. Something, or someone, that would grant him the chance to see reality and realize his true purpose for venturing far beyond what the church called of him.

"DIO." A whisper, a croon. It was a test to see how well it flowed. "Are you the true ruler of this world? The God beyond the veil of the order?" Not the one they themselves worshiped; the one that could be considered real instead of some deity that had to be constructed with far too many rituals of the flesh. What answers this man could give him, Pucci would willingly soak into his very soul. Use them to repair the shattered parts and make him a new man from the ground up.

He stood, eyes on his palms. The very ones that called the detective agency, that held the dead body of his sister, and tried to mend the damage done to his brother. All in naught. He turned back to the man, a glimmer in his eye and a new determination shining through his heart.