#divinehr

Home from another tour, and released from his duties, Chorus found himself a bit lost for what to do with his time. No more was the familiar rumble of buses and planes, the clatter and chaos of offloading and onloading at the beginning and end of each day.

Now... now he had no need to look after the other Ghouls, only himself. Papa had no need to have him hovering in the wings.

Not that he was without purpose, of course. Frater Imperator had him fulfilling other duties, running errands, cleaning floors and pulpits, caring for the catacombs, but... it wasn't the same. There was nothing alive to care for.

And so... he found himself seeking to do something with his time after cleaning the Emeritus and Imperator caskets, walking along the halls and through the walls aimlessly.

As it so happened, he found himself in a set of rooms he hadn't been in previously, which wasn't unusual, but it was enough to catch his interest. A delicate sniff, barely audible, brought with it the scent of impossibly old things, of things older than were in the libraries, and rivaling the age of some of the Ghouls in residence.

@divinehr asked: ❝In the shadows, I will make you my angel.❞

Whisked off after spending hours in the archives together for the night, the pair decided to tuck themselves away in a quiet corner of the abbey underneath one of the stairwells where no PRYING eyes could spot the couple unless they ventured into the shadows. The warm flicker of candle flame from further down the hall barely outlines their forms, despite this Perpetua's infernal white eye seems to GLOW eerily even in the darkness with the little light that manages to reach them. Perpetua is pressed against the archivist, one of her long legs practically slotted between her thighs while a hand rests against her lower back.

he feels . . . warm. distinctly aware of it, even when not at the centre of his focus. the feeling, akin to a wave, starting along his shoulders - disseminating, down along his chest only to then flare lower still in his abdomen. all before eventually reaching his thighs and tapering off at the calves. ultimately leaving behind a lingering discomfort, which causes rather unwelcome perspiration below the barrier of his uniform.

it is a feeling he has no doubt experienced before. perhaps not in the same exact manner, although there was an obvious correlation between their instances. he remembers the disease, transferred from between crewman by way of sweat. not unlike that which dots his clavicle, and the natural arch of his midsection. 'i am sorry . . . 'christine'. even now, his lips mimic the insistence in memory while he stares at her. emotionally cornered, perhaps - yet, logically he should be quite used to the prodding nature of humans in their bullheaded attempts to coax that which resides within himself. that careful restraint he works tirelessly to preserve. no . . . this, is different. beyond a state of irritation, or a mere lapse of composure.

instead it is the distinctness of shame, alongside a glow of reluctance. a reluctance to refuse something that he finds he longs to submit to. something he cannot now hope to engage in without compromising restraint. and he finds that over the years, he's grown terribly weary of refusing.

his teeth are pressed tight. bow shaped lips pulled into a frown, whilst his lowered brows narrow inward. almost, apologetically. perhaps, hesitant. "one would be . . ." his voice projects slightly small, marginally unstable, and scratchy. tiers remaining parted in the aftermath creating opportunity for further bodily betrayal, as breathing picks up. animating inertia with the ragged sway of his sternum. however, the breathing exercises assist in his regaining some modicum of authority over himself.

he nods within the pause that lingers - mouth remaining ajar, while remainder of expression is maintained - if not slightly levelled. "fortunate - never to be parted from a sight so lovely as yourself, madam." he tilts his head, a flicker of discomfort briefly crossing his features. reminiscent of previous physical apology. fingers curling around the communicator still held at his hip. "however, my obligations remain unchanged." his breath remains laboured. bottom row of teeth visible in their remaining parted. "i must contact my ship."

Marcus stretches his arms above his head, the harsh warmth from the summer sun making him more tired than he cares to admit. It has taken him a little bit to adjust to all the changes. After all, when he died, Rome was nothing like it is now. It shouldn't surprise him. It's been over 1,000 years after all. He will be the first to admit that he isn't pleased by how much Christianity has swept through his city, his country, his home. What remains of what was is nothing but dust, nothing but something for people to oooh and aaah over.

It hurts, seeing the ghosts of his past like this, but what can he do? He often finds himself at the Colosseum or standing on the Via Appia, thinking about his life before this. What was once so great is, well...still great in its own way. Italy is the home of art and music and science. So many great minds travel from across the world to be in Rome, yet it isn't the same. It's a distinct kind of melancholy that has settled within him, but he knows he should just be grateful to be alive.

@divinehr said : breathe deep through your nose - let the air fill your lungs, then let it pass from your lips. slower, slower…

                  SHE  CAN'T  BREATH  AND  IT  FEELS  LIKE  the  earth  is  spinning  around  her  while  she's  paralyzed  at  a  stand  still .  how  long  had  it  been  since  she  had  a  panic  attack ?  how  long  since  she'd  had  one  over  a  job  the  dark  one  had  given  her ?  it  isn't  even  that  she's  supposed  to  do  anything  terrible  other  than  take  notes  of  things ,  hide  in  the  shadows  and  do  nothing  but  observe .  it  would  be  a  simple  job .  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  simple  job .  but  THE  DATE  MADE  IT  THE  WORST  possible  thing  she  could  think  of .  the  day  the  brothers  had  been  murdered .  it  was  a  day  that  she'd  heard  of  from  every  corner  of  the  abbey ,  the  clergy ,  the  ministry .  she'd  heard  so  many  different  versions  BUT  SHE  NEVER  THOUGHT  she'd  be  asked  to  find  the  truth  of  the  matter .

wasn't  it  enough  to  know  that  they  were  dead ?  wasn't  it  enough  to  know  that  sister  imperator  had  called  for  their  death ?  just  looking  at  the  embalmed  bodies  was  enough  to  make  her  stomach  churn .  enough  to  MAKE  HER  WORRIED  for  any  of  the  bloodline  who  was  still  to  come . it  didn't  matter  that  sister  was  dead ,  that  her  body  was  laying  there  with  the  ones  she'd  killed  and  she  could  never  come  back .  but  what  if  there  was  another  sister ?  what  if  there  was  someone  else  who  would  come  along  that  had  the  opportunity  and  the  want  to  take  out  the  rest  of  the  bloodline ?  if  one  woman  could  do  it …  THERE  WAS  ALWAYS  ANOTHER .

she's  dipped  into  the  archives  to  try  to  catch  her  breath .  she  knows  it's  rare  that  there's  anyone  there  other  than  priscilla  is  hanging  around  and  she  feels  safe  with  her .  she  knows  that  if  she  stumbles  on  her ,  priscilla  would  make  sure  that  she  didn't  spiral  more .  which  is  probably  the  only  saving  grace  rose  can  hold  onto  because  once  she's  in  the  room ,  her  feet  carry  her  to  AN  EMPTY  AISLE  so  that  she  can  drop  to  the  ground  and  pull  knees  to  her  chest .  she  can't  breathe . and  it's  as  if  on  queue ,  priscilla  is  there ,  pulling  her  attention  to  her  so  that  she's  focusing  on  the  woman  instead  of  the  nightmare  that's  going  on  in  her  mind .  

@divinehr sent : [  fever  ]  sender  presses  the  back  of  their  hand  to  receiver’s  forehead,  brows  knitting  with  quiet  concern.

                  HER  FIRST  TRIP  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES  had  been  interesting  to  say  the  least .  first ,  no  one  had  told  her  just  how  long  the  flight  would  be .  though ,  she  had  been  thankful  that  they  had  booked  her  on  first  class  so  that  she could  spread  out  and  hide  her  nerves  behind  a  divider .  she  had  never  expected  to  be  sent  across  the  pond  when  there  were  so  many  others  that  could  have  taken  a  few  pictures  and  sent  them  to  her  for  socials  and  whatever  else .  she  didn't  REALLY  NEED  TO  BE  THERE .  but ,  clearly  the  clergy  had  disagreed  and  had  thrown  her  on  a  flight  for  a  week  in  the  us …  with  jetlag  and  following  a  tour  in  a  bus  that  was  far  from  the  best  place  to  get  any  real  rest .

the  experience  had  been  a  whirlwind .  a  whirlwind  that  she  had  enjoyed  more  than  she  had  ever  expected .  her  JETLAG  HAD  BEEN  FORGOTTEN  when  she  was  standing  backstage  and  dancing  with  the  crew ,  stealing  food  from  catering  when  she  spotted  something  she  liked ,  getting  to  know  the  ghouls ,  and  enjoying  herself  enough  that  she  hated  that  she  had  to  go  back  to  the  abbey .  it  had  shown  her  exactly  why  all  of  the  ministry  seemed  at  least  slightly  jealous  of  anyone  on  the  road  crew  who  got  to  stick  around  for  the  entire  tour .  but  what  none  of  them  seemed  to  know  about  was  BEING  BITTEN  BY  THE  TOUR  BUG  WASN'T  JUST  about  falling  in  love  with  life  on  the  road …  it  was  about  whatever  this  stupid  cold  was  that  she'd  brought  back  to  the  abbey  with  her .

she  knew  she  should  probably  be  taking  it  easy .  no  one  had  expected  her  to  go  straight  to  work  the  minute  she  got  back  from  the  us ,  but  she  had  so  much  to  catch  up  on  and  so  many  things  to  edit  and  so  many  things  to  take  care  of  FOR  THE  FRATER  that  she  just  couldn't  imagine  taking  a  break  after  she'd  been  doing  everything  that  didn't  seem  like  work  for  the  past  week .  she  had  a  laptop .  she  didn't  need  to  be  around  people .  she  could  just  go  to  the  library  or  the  archives  or  something .  no  one  really  went  there  except  for  priscilla  and  she's  reasonably  sure  that  priscilla  wouldn't  notice  that  anything  was  off .

@divinehr asked: 02. applies a bandage with slow and deliberate care.

The taste of SHARP brine crawls deep into the back of their throat, works its way in between the fleshiness of their gums and remains as a loud reminder of their emergence from the ocean depths. Vessel had managed to drag themselves ashore, coughing up saltwater and hints of blood while clawing at wet CLUMPS of sand until they were safe against dry land. The entity's body visibly trembled from the exhaustion and pain from the injuries they sustained despite the great strength they held and the ability to heal quicker than any human body ever could. In that moment of reprieve it was all too much, darkness slowly obscured their vision until they gave into it and fell limp, letting it all wash over them like the waves that crashed onto the rocky shoreline.

"It is scary, no?" A silly thing for a vampire to agree with, but even Perpetua knew he wasn't immune to the fact one day he will cease to exist. That as well as the fact he would outlive everyone he loved...