#relicrots

@relicrots​  confessed  :   ❛ the storm’s getting worse. ❜ 

A  painted  ghost  shimmers,  disappearing  as  it’s  disturbed  by  droplets  only  to  take  shape  again  a  second  later,  scrutinizing  the  beholder  and  finding  peace  in  the  rain.  Terzo  looks  from  his  reflection  and  the  puddle  forming  near  the  bottom  step  of  the  tour  bus  to  the  skies.  Grey,  shattered  every  other  moment  or  so  by  electric  blue.  It  makes  his  hair  stand  on  end,  reaching  out  to  touch  the  air.  A  powerful  thunderstorm.  

Papa  nods  silently  at  words  spoken  aloud  by  his  companion,  thinking  the  same  himself  as  he  continues  to  watch  clouds  swirl.

He  has  never  regretted  the  rain,  finding  the  damp  smell  of  the  water  soaking  the  ground  enticing  and  the  green  of  the  Earth  as  well  as  the  chirping  of  the  birds  after  a  downpour  joyful.  A  trait  from  his  eldest  brother,  perhaps.  He  also  takes  childlike  delight  in  the  noise  of  the  thunder,  the  rumble  in  his  chest,  the  chaos  of  the  swirling  mist  of  a  summer  storm.  Something  passed  down  from  Secundo,  no  doubt.  As  a  child,  the  third  would  often  fling  off  his  clothes  and  dance  in  the  rain,  relishing  in  the  water  as  it  dripped  off  of  his  skin,  and  celebrating  like  a  heathen  from  the  depths.  This  is  something  entirely  his.  

This  evening,  the  water  is  the  only  thing  in  the  way  of  the  Cardinal,  himself,  and  the  warm  comfort  of  the  moderately  priced  hotel  waiting  for  them.  Normally,  he’d  simply  jog  inside.  In  fact,  the  thought  of  pushing  Copia  out  into  the  rain  had  nearly  made  him  giddy  before  the  storm  picked  up.  It’s  furious  now,  dangerous  in  its  beauty.  The  wind  has  joined  the  rain,  sending  a  chill.  

“With  your  luck,  Cardinale,  we’ll  both  be  struck  by  lightning.”  Papa  comments,  turning  away  from  nature  and  smirking  in  the  direction  of  the  man  beside  him.  “We  should  wait  here,  no?  See  if  Mother  Nature  decides  to  favor  us...or  not.”  The  bus  is  not  so  bad...unless  the  storm  turns  tornadic.  

Fretful, fussing, verging on frantic, Mary loiters like a gadfly outside of Papa’s stanze; to pester the pontiff - surely sleeping at this hour - or not to pester, that was the question. The plain, plaster walls of the cloister were about as comforting as a bracing wind, biting at supple cheeks and lips and nipping at blushing noses, and the silence had sent them spiralling into an existential abyss, one which he had nourished with his nightmares and his dread, and threatened to swallow him whole. What was it that German guy had said? Something about gazing long enough into an abyss and… Fickle minded, Mary doesn’t dwell on the tangent, their attention snagged by the sound of shoes scuffing on paved floors of the papal apartment — or at least that’s what it sounds like.

An audible groan is wrenched from the composer as they wrangle with their self control: he should take this to one of Emeritus’ subordinates, court the attention of one of his cardinals, lest he court the ire of His Unholiness… The former Cardinal would probably delegate the task of consoling him anyway, that’s what the bishops and priests were for. He should line up after Black Mass and cram himself into that crooked little confessional like everybody else. Songwriter or not, what made him any better than any other member of the congregation? … Then again, the rest of the congregation probably didnt have prophetic dreams about the End Times.

Just as Mary raises a fist to the wood, Mary hears the scraping of the lock, and the door swing open on its hinges: “Oh, buonasera Papa, or buona notte, I guess,” Mary scrubs the smudged eyeliner from their cheeks with a swipe of the hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you, heh. Sorry… Did I wake you?” He presses with a pinched smile.

IVORY CLAWS DRUM to a slow and steady rhythm upon rock, all the while her eyeless gaze is fixed upon @relicrots​​ that bows before her. It is a gaze that quietly picks him apart, his regalia spoke plenty of who this mortal hails, he is certainly no holy man of the cloth. So patiently she listens, amusement toying with the corners of her mouth, a subtle smirk threatens to show. A cat watching a naïve bird hop closer. 

“  A noble cause, the pursuit of knowledge. But one that has oft killed many men.  ” 

Claws come to a rest, and she pushes herself from her throne of weathered rock to lean closer, dark tresses spill from her shoulders in a silken cascade, she peers down with an inquisitive cant of her raven crown.

“  I’m not one to DIVULGE such information. . .  ” Drathenia begins, a breath is drawn through vicious teeth. Any that learned more than she permitted met gruesome, bloody ends. This one knew how to find her; that alone would be grounds for death. A contemplative sigh gusts from her lips, and eventually she smiles. “  But since you have come such a long way, perhaps I could entertain your request; with conditions of course. . .  ” 

lips pull into a soft little giggle. blinking, as teeth bare from behind the bathroom door. facing away from it, as if it would give her a bit more modesty. as if she weren't about to walk out & face him, in her tragically thin underwear... fists clutching at the hem of her undershirt, pulled up past her navel. "what do you mean, cardinal?" they had continued to speak to one another, as she entered. never having had a particularly tough time conversing with the cardinal.. however, she supposes she hasn't imposed much small talk upon him, as of yet. today was the first time they had truly spent much time together, besides their frequent pairings in professional tasks. buffer presented to aid in carrying conversation, when required. yet not feeling like you have anything interesting to say, is a bit different than struggling to converse. perhaps her mind was becoming too active.

"i think you have plenty of interesting things to say." . she says knowingly, wriggling out of her top. habit folded expertly against the porcelain sink. "you're just holding back on me." teasing -- her smile fades as she studies herself in the mirror. of course, she's heard things. rumors, he's never divulged. how can one have nothing interesting to say, to someone who's akin to a blank canvas? to someone who wants to know everything? "in fact --" she said... supposes she's ready as she'll ever be. turning around & pulling the handle. -- "i heard you have pet rats."

she smiles as she exits. a genuine one -- almost forgetting she was half naked. fingers extend to flutter over her chest. adorned with tiny beauty marks that scatter from neck to sternum. & looking down, the sensation hits her like a bucket of water. smile uncontrollable, the sister's cheeks flush. "which, i um... happen to think is very interesting." she finishes meekly. peering at him through her eyelashes, while her bottom lip earnestly slips between rows of teeth.