#vileincarnations

Continued  from  here. @vileincarnations​

His  words  sound  weak,  a  pathetic  last  attempt  at  sounding  indifferent,  unaffected.  Secundo  regularly  laughs  in  the  faces  of  men  for  less,  watching  them  fumble  and  wallow  in  their  misery,  their  powerlessness.  In  fact,  his  own  predicament  makes  his  skin  crawl,  jaw  visibly  tightening  against  the  sensation  as  yellowed  eyes  follow  the  ghoul’s  incessant  pacing.  What  right  does  Azoth  have  to  rage,  pecking  around  like  the  foolish  mother  hen  he’s  always  been?  He’s  an  absolute  fool  on  a  fool’s  errand,  fussing  over  eggs  long  since  spoiled.  It  makes  him  ill  with  distaste.  

Irritation  is  what  finally  draws  his  scrutiny  away,  gaze  drifting  down  to  his  forearm  as  it  burns  for  his  attention.  As  he  watches,  the  sensation  only  grows  in  intensity,  his  eyes  clouding  over  with  a  familiar  dreadful  haze.  Bruised  veins  and  cracked  skin  paint  a  picture  of  failure,  each  track  mark  a  nail  in  his  predestined  coffin.  He’s  been  SET  UP  FOR  FAILURE.  Nights  of  partying  until  daybreak,  quiet  mornings  in  his  chambers,  bustling  moments  backstage...all  tainted  by  the  fog.  Papa  cringes  at  the  thought,  avoiding  what  memory  he  has  like  thoughts  themselves  could  fling  him  into  the  vastness  of  an  overdose.  Eyes  narrow  at  the  evidence  glaring  back  at  him,  lips  curling  into  a  sneer.  

As  Azoth  fires  back  in  the  darkness,  Secundo  straightens  out  of  his  reverie,  tall  and  yearning  for  a  fight.  The  murmured  apology  does  little  to  calm  his  nerves.  “There  is  no  FIXING  to  be  done.”  Papa  hisses  back,  just  as  snakelike,  meeting  the  ghoul’s  stare.  “He  has  made  his  decision.”  Venom  pours  from  gritted  teeth  at  the  thought  of  the  witless  Nihil,  eyes  flashing  in  the  dim.  He  can  imagine  his  so  called  father  sitting  in  his  office  with  that  whore  around  his  neck  signing  off  on  whatever  is  thrown  in  front  of  him  without  a  care  in  the  circles.  How  fucking  dare  he?  The  bastard.  

@vileincarnations​  confessed  :   ❝  i was sort’ve hoping you needed me.  is that selfish?  ❞ - from Azoth

A  sermon  is  as  draining  as  it  is  impassioned...especially  in  recent  weeks.

The  success  of  Meliora,  leaving  an  afterglow  as  brief  as  it  was  gloryous,  leaves  a  hollowness  in  its  wake,  the  accomplishment  of  the  Grammy  only  a  mild  reprieve.  No,  the  clergy  is  hot  on  the  heels  of  success  with  thoughts  of  MORE,  with  hands  grabbing  for  fame,  monetary  gain,  and  in  the  case  of  their  dear  Sister  Imperator,  world  domination.  It  is  never  enough.  

Within  this  vein,  Terzo  stands  in  full  papal  regalia,  sweat  dripping  from  his  forehead  and  into  the  collar  of  his  undershirt.  He  finds  peace  behind  the  curtains  of  the  cathedral,  striding  into  a  backroom  and  shutting  the  door  behind  him.  Those  who  seek  his  approval,  to  discuss  the  satanic  triumph  that  is  the  Ghost  project,  or  to  simply  kiss  his  ass  wouldn’t  dare  follow  him  here.  It  is  his  temporary  haven.  As  the  door  opens,  his  world  briefly  shatters.  

Papa  straightens,  hands  clasped  so  serenely  that  Primo  may  find  his  jealousy  at  the  action.  At  the  sight  of  Azoth,  they  swing  defeatedly  to  his  side  as  shoulders  falter.  “Thank  the  fucking  circles.  I  thought  you  were  Imperator.”  His  words  come  out  in  a  sigh,  exhausted.  

As  the  ghoul  speaks,  the  third  finds  himself  mildly  shocked,  lips  parting  slightly  as  he  ponders.  How  could  the  hellish  mentor  possibly  know  the  strain  he’s  under?  The  sleepless  nights  spent  at  the  piano  or  with  guitar  in  hand  working  on  the  Popestar  album?  The  corners  turned  with  eyes  that  linger  on  figures  who  seem  to  close  in  on  his  every  move?  A  father’s  intuition  perhaps?  Terzo  has  learned  not  to  dwell  on  his  many  questions  regarding  Azoth  and  his  masterful  level  of  empathy...simply  thanking  the  powers  that  be  for  his  presence  instead.  

“Selfish?  Padre,  certo,  ho  bisogno  di  te.  Raramente  c'è  un  momento  in  cui  non  mi  ritrovo  a  desiderare  la  tua  presenza.”  Every  word  rings  true,  his  eyes  practically  begging  for  a  haven  of  equal  importance  to  the  room.  His  hellish  father  does  not  want  from  him  anything  that  is  not  simply  himself.  What  a  blessing.  A  lion  amongst  starved  wolves.  

teeth clench with all the things he wants to say. the stifling profound, of his gloved fingers rising to tap the fratello on the under-chin. if only to announce that he does in-fact know how hips work. that he's known how hips worked since profano was but a glimmer in his neglectful father's eye... yet, tonight he is but a humble servant of selfish desire. for what is little known to most, is that the soon-to-be deposed papa, is as much appreciative of all things submissive as he is all things dominant. the art of sex an art he is proficient in, in all senses. & if you ask a sister of sin -- be rest assured that if she cannot tell you a personal account, she is likely to have a tale passed on from her fellow sorella. siblings of any and all types an honoured guest at the papa's altar, whenever they wish to partake. or, whenever they are called upon. & few ever refuse, due to rumor alone. tonight he's taken fratello profano into his apartments. room heavy with the stink of incense, that hangs low in the air. musky, & cut with the second's shoe polish. along with the thick cigarette smoke, that wafts from his leather coated fingers. ever draping his hands in fabric, lest he sees too much of a person. it is almost difficult to ignore the man's aura even now, but he does with a semi-permanent scowl. taking a long drag of the nicotine. "you may be surprised at my proficiency in the art of dance, fratello." one hand rises, his thumb & fingers steepled in a curt motion. he cringes. drops his hand a bit heavily. a bit too forward, no? feet fan emerald & onyx, in his graceful movement to crane over the ashtray he stubs his cigarette into. smoke expelling through nostrils upon his descent.

secundo approaches again. bushy eyebrows canopying his mismatched eyes. hands raise to remove his mitre from atop his head. bending in a bow, with gaze sweeping. ultimately laying the ceremonial vestment at the young brother's feet. angelo looks up, without fully straightening his back. "please. tonight, do not think of me as papa." palm meets beating heart. he nods curtly, before raising his head. though he is still painted & robed. smelling delightfully of gluttonous gorging. of food, & alcohol. red wine staining his palate. "Sono solo il tuo umile servitore, fratello". he lowers his gaze again before nodding, & straightening fully. his hands clasping submissively at his front. "so please. if you would like to dance -- you will lead." he then offers a hand, with a cant of his head & a raise of his brow.

3. How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

Surprisingly, Primo is almost always genuine as far as what he presents emotionally. He isn't hiding anything because he feels that he does not need to. He's just really that subdued as a person.

14. How do they put out a candle?

Good question. It truly depends on his mood and the time and place. If he's using the candles for ritual purposes....they just seem to go out on their own as he wishes. Take that as you will. If he's just using the candles for light, he blows them out like a normal human being. One of the most normal things Vitto does.

25. What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

Plants. This guy knows everything, and I'm not just talking about medicine. He's an excellent gardener.

31. When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

Primo feels the most guilt when something terrible befalls his brothers. It doesn't matter if what happened has anything to do with him or not. Secretly, he has the classic older sibling trait of taking on the responsibility for his younger brothers. When anything happens to them, he feels guilt. He copes with this by rationalizing. He will literally sit in a dark room and work through his own thoughts and feelings rather than speaking to anyone about them. However, he always checks on his brothers.

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓  𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒  𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

Is  it  . . .  another  (  last  )  one  confessor  behind  those  wall  ?  Special  had  barely  left  the  booth  ,  grabbing  what  he  needed  for  todays  task  .  He  swear  there  would  be  someone  out  there  ,  the  Sisters  or  Brothers  would  have  inform  them  that  the  confession  booth  is  close  to  its  end  hours  and  the  demon  himself  would  have  plenty  of  time  to  spent  his  night  on  doing  something  . . .  well  ,  the  ‘  something  ‘  stuff  that  only  Special  consider  as  his  normal  daily  routine  .  Now  time  shift  doesn’t  seems  so  matter  - - - -  since  Special  voluntarily  filling  up  Papa’s  duty  ,  he  felt  like  he  had  just  to  finish  it  .

Sighing  silently  to  himself  ,  Special  return  to  lean  his  back  against  the  seat  ,  legs  crossed  as  he  granted  permission  to  those  individual  behind  the  wall  to  speaks  .  He  heard  a  lot  of  confession  ,  forgiveness  and  everything  - - - -  it  is  impressive  enough  how  he  had  done  it  better  ,  thanks  to  his  skills  to  mirrored  the  Papa’s  behavior  and  communicating  .

When  he  heard  of  this  one  confession  ,  it  places  the  Special  ghoul  thoughts  into  a  halt  .  An  eerie  awkward silence  falls  behind  the  booth  of  ones  who  heard  and  he  speaks  ,  ❝  Oh  Earth-lings  ,  no  matter  how  big  or  small  your  sins-sinny-sinned  matters  you’ve  done  ,  you  are  forgiven  .  However  our  Father  in  Hell  had  told  me  that  you’re  doing  an  excellent  job  . . .  so  ,  eh  ,  carry  on  ?  ❞

That was... unexpected. Usually the whole song and dance the reveal that he was a vampire came as a surprise. People would scream or they’d fight many would run. He was in one of those moods where he wanted a bit of chase to get his dinner. So he’d picked the first person he’d thought would scare easy showing dark eyes and fangs when the man is alone. When the man does nothing it amuses him. Suddenly it turns from feeding himself to feeding something else, to feeding his lust.

@vileincarnations​  confessed  :   ❝  when your eyes are on me,  i feel like something worth seeing.  ❞ - from Profano, if you prefer!

  The  eyes  of  adoration  have  a  price,  a  weight.  Often,  he  can  feel  it,  a  tangible  thing  pressing  down  atop  his  shoulders.  Every  mouth  moves  to  sing,  every  hand  extents  to  taunt  the  heavens,  and  all  eyes  beg  for  his  gaze.  This  is  the  way  of  the  crowd,  the  congregation...and  Terzo  revels  in  it.  The  third  shoulders  this  weight,  wrapping  himself  up  within  it,  adorning  himself  with  it  like  fine  jewelry.  He  is  both  proud  and  humbled  by  it  as  he  ages.....but  he  is  also  just  as  equally  addicted  to  it,  this  sharing  of  souls.  He  craves  it.  

When  thousands  cry  out  to  speak  nightly,  one  person  becomes  very  manageable.  Instead  of  shying  away  from  such  a  profoundly  emotional  confession,  Terzo  welcomes  it  with  open  arms,  gaze  unwavering.

                                  “This  is  because  you  are  worth  seeing,  Profano.”  

Papa  Emeritus  III  rounds  his  desk,  preferring  to  be  as  far  away  from  the  paperwork  that  lies  waiting  as  possible.  Speaking  with  the  archdiocese  is  always  far  more  gratifying  than  anything  his  clerical  duties  have  to  offer.  In  fact,  he  has  always  liked  the  man  and  perhaps  loved.

  “—and  you’re  in  luck,  because  I  happen  to  enjoy  looking.”  Terzo  can’t  help  but  smile  faintly,  allowing  his  usual  mischief  to  glimmer.