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Milagro's breath was soft and shuddering, cool sweat dripping down the back of her neck despite the warm summer swelter of an unusually humid night.
In the dark she stood, daring herself not to look back. In this moment, still as a pillar...
“I ask you again,” The Cardinal husked, ten paces away, as his form seemed to darken the room, the moonlight behind dimming as he crossed the threshold of the back cabin door, having followed her in from behind.
“Are you, afraid of me?”
Milagro swallowed, heartbeat throbbing along her neck into her ears in whooshing echoes.
“I…. I don't think I'm afraid.” She said, so soft she could have been answering the question only to herself.
But The Cardinal, draped in black, had heard her words, and an unusual smile traced upwards of his sharp and watchful features.
“Now darling," The Cardinal tisked, "I thought we agreed never to lie to one another.” Copia's footsteps barely creaked on the old wood floors as his stride haunted over the planks, so smoothly he could have been floating in his ghastly approach. But as he nearly pressed himself against Milagro's back, he felt the air shift with her reply, giving him pause, his hands hovering having nearly curled over her shoulders, halted from their course.
“Im not afraid of you-” Milagro said, her voice a tone more determined than a moment ago, “I don't know if or, what, exactly I'm afraid of, but...” She then stepped forward towards the glass pane window, her palms splayed against the barrier that separated her, from the black woods beyond the cabin steps of the front door. “If it weren't so hard to imagine, I'd say I'm not afraid at all- Actually, I think I'm, I'm angry at you…” her fists clenched.
Copia blinked, his confidence shaken and his face, though shadowed, no longer seemed to exude his usual entrancements or control. In fact he looked confused, perhaps even shaken. The once cocky demeanor, snapping away, gone, like a sudden clap, putting the light out.
“Why would you be angry with me?” He asked incredulously, his hands dropping to his sides, gloves squeaking softly as his own fists balled in anticipation of Milagro's answer...
*None of this was going to his plan*
*His guilty conscience displayed behind her back like a beacon hastily covered by a thrown over shroud. He could see the gears turning in her mind. He knew if he wanted to salvage this, he had to get ahead of her accusations, he had to tell her the truth eventually... He had to show her… he was deprived and starving for her. And while the lingering scent of fear tickled inside of his nose, there was something else he couldn't quite place that cloyed at his senses. It smelled like bullshit, and it was beginning to irritate him. Like hackles rising on a mongrel in a cage, The Cardinal sneered, eying the woman from behind, feeling The Appetite deepen*
“What was so bad, I did, that you would be angry with me, to begin with!” The Cardinal insisted, his voice harsh in the half whispered silence.
Milagro whirled, “Like you don't know-” she huffed, shouldering past him towards the bed they had been sharing over the past week- avoiding him and his line of questionings once again.
*This week's getaway from The Ministry and its prying eyes and ears in the walls, was not going the way she had wanted either. Things between them were coming to a head, and despite the shared passions and desires of the heart and flesh, she knew he had been hiding himself from her. She knew he had been skirting around something, and his insistence otherwise in his snarky comments and attitude of late, had since stopped being charming-*
*A spat in the woods some minutes ago had made her march back through the black woods, a bit unsafely, even she would admit, back to the Cabin and while the storming off, though what she had done had dampened the fire of her temper in the process, Milagro still had a slew of insults and sharp truths nailed to the tip of her tongue, ready to fly, like flaming arrows to peirce through that bullshit armor he donned every morning with the piety of his cassock robes. Now Milagro, wasn't one to want to start arguments and fight. But by the gods she was usually, if not almost always, the one to finish them. She was known for her words to, in heated moments like these, be cutting, and sometimes, while true, even *cruel.* Somethign she had never been before Copia had come into her life.*
Milagro was fighting herself for self control, and was loosing to the likes of The Esteemed Cardinal Copia
Copia grabbed Milagro by the arm, halting her from walking away from him again, the beast in him snapping at the bars of his heart cage, defenses bolstering.
“Now just a minute!” He spat, “Since yesterday you have been acting like, like a petulant child! Bratting around and being contrary! I don't know if you are pissed with me or something that happened ‘back home’, but I certainly don't deserve to be-”
*Ignored, he meant to say*
“Treated like a pretty little prize to be won and not earned?! Don't bother!” Milagro interrupted, snapping her arm down, breaking Copia's hold, "It's not like I get to be anything with you, anyway! And of everyone's whispering and watching, the least I can get is any attention in public from you, it's like I'm not even somone you care to consider to locking in a trophy case!"
*(Ah yes... all those times she had found him, gazing in expressions from hypnotized to hatred, at the Golden Saxaphone displayed in the clergy offices, clutching his grucifix like a man both bewitched and possessed by a desire beyond what she could comprehend... The Cardinal had been avoiding her, obsessing with his career doing so, carrying his duty like a chain, an inward despisement that clung to him like the clergical collar at his throat.)*
Copia, momentarily stunned by the fight in Milagro's words, didn't reach for her again, instead let her walk away, which somehow stung even more. Like the loss of touch had pulled out something from his hurt and guilt, and left it vulnerable and open... something he didn't like...
Milagro's silhouette glided towards the corner of the cabin, where she yanked off her shirt and started undressing while maintaining eye contact, “Yeah, you're right!” She laughed dryly, “I don't deserve that!”
*There was a beat of tension between them. But taking the cue as them about to go to bed, cross with one another again, Copia followed her lead, a reluctant dancer into the fray of an argument he knew would not end tonight, and would carry once more into the next day of their oh so precious, oh so limited time alone together on this vacation*
Copia sputtered and grumbled, pulling at his own shirt, fumbling over the buttons of his more sporty tailored cassock. Then in his frustration yanked the clergyman's collar from his neck and cast it aside like he was tossing a gauntlet into the fight, all the while his eyes not leaving Milagro's form, following the curves and lines that he lusted for, despite the growing anger he was feeling.
As if running hot in his temper was also gushing blood into his core, the heat intensifying, something preying excited itself at the hum of malcontent... and it licked its lips in anticipation, urging, for more, more...
“You are so damn difficult when you don't have to be!” Copia at last said, rather snidely, “I deserve some respect about this! If it weren't for my dedications, I wouldn't have got you your job! I take care of you, I clothe and feed you, spoil you with the pretty things you want and bring you out here to have a little vacation, with me all to yourself, and this is the thanking I get?! Speaking to me like I'm some piece of shit boyfriend who doesn't care like the other bastards you were dating back home?!”
The moment he said those thing he knew he fucked up. The words that had flown so carelessly from his painted mouth, sounded Exactly like his mother's...
Milagro slapped the wardrobe closed, naked and every inch her petite stature managing to still tower over him with her words, “Jesus you're such a prick! YOU didn’t bring me here for a romantic getaway for ME, you brought me here to your fuck ass cabin in these weired as fuck woods, for YOU!”
“I brought you here so we could spend time together, to bond and focus on us!”
“No, you are literally making this whole thing about YOU! How I owe you, how I need you, how you provide basic necessities as if it were an added gratuity to your magnanimous courtesy, that's not caring for me, that's buying me- and I'm not for fucking sale!”
“Satanas, you are taking this so way out of context-line!”
“Face it Cardi, you didn't bring me here for my benefit. You brought me here for yours, so you can have ME all to YOURSELF, without Imperator, ghouls, and the Siblings of Sin prying into your business. You barely even acknowledge me walking in the halls when it's even just you and me at the opposite ends, hell, you even avoid me unless you want to drag me into a closet to get slutty for some high fevered fuck! Like I don't have a life, and my own feelings, like you're hiding me, from yours!”
“Im not avoiding you, because there's nothing I'm avoiding you to shame, er- to be ashamed of!” Copia cried out exasperatedly, pulling his pants down and stepping out of them, throwing himself onto the bed corner removing the rest of his clothes angrily, “What, you think you know everything going on with me and my life, I'm balancing on knives and walking on shell-eggs because I have urgent and important things that I can't have you involved in for your own good!”
“Oh please!” Milagro said, throwing up her hands as she knelt down and threw open her suitcase, tossing clothes as she dug for what she wanted, turning her back to Copia, “You do what you do to get your rocks off, and leave me, like I'm some sordid affair-”
“You are not an affair!” Copia stamped, suddenly at Milagro's side, digging with her into the suitcase, elbows deep into autopsying the chaos contained inside, and immediately locating her pale white nightgown, holding it out to her, which she promptly attempted to snatch up.
“Stubbornly enough, I actually do care," Copia said, gloved hand fisted into the silk, like they were both in a tug of war, and yet still side by side "And I've never treated you like you were some secret slut!”
“I never said that-” Milagro almost yelled. But she halted her rage and covered her face in her free hand a moment, trying to compose herself in deep breaths between her tense fingers.
Copia, still running hot, felt the urge to hold the line, “-and being a slut is not a thing to be shamed of around here- The Ministry even welcomes it- so if you're angry at me over feeling shame for your actions, that's not my wrongdoing- that's yours- you hold guilt in you and that has nothing to do with how I treat you, how I care, how I brought you here to try and mend US.”
“You aren't doing all this because you care, you're doing all this because you are hiding something. You always have been, and you've been lying to me somehow-”
The Cardinal's mouth opened and shut. No silver toungued song could backtrack what had been said and done. His hand slacked.
Milagro stood as she took the silk clothing from Copia's gloved hands, at once disliking the way they looked compared to her own bare fingers.
It was only then she noticed how strange it all was. Crouched down, Copia really was wearing nothing but his socks and gloves. And somehow, despite his tall stature and dancer's muscles proud beneath, a thickness half cocked hanging below his waist, and his eyes, gleaming with imposition and determined adversary, he somehow looked less like the glowering steeple of the satanic, and instead seemed so defeated....so, small... a something that seemed buried as if forgotten, and to the pious, mattered not a thing more...
While Milagro stood there beside him, naked as she came into this world… his world… a world she had slowly been feeling the weight of ‘otherness' pressing down on her, and how despite the claims of welcome and the promise of fulfillment as a Sister of Sin in the Ministry, having discarded her old life, at least probationarily, she felt deeply the sense that she did not belong…
That She was a stranger here, walking the gilded halls, finding nothing but mystery after mystery, secrets unexplained, with powerful people and hidden places she didn't trust, and the person she had put her faith in, wasn't so un-entrenched with them, as she had been led to believe*
Milagro stared down at the man who had somehow taken so much from her without even knowing, and spoke her truth,
“You didn’t bring me to the valley to take care of me- and you brought me to this cabin to fuck in peace. And in a couple days you'll fuck off like you always do and act like I'm just a person in the room to be polite to… you won't let me in. And I think you know that. And I think you have been avoiding allot of things, or some big thing, and I'm your outlet, I'm your distraction. So why are you even bothering to be mad at me, for being mad at you for it, at all?”
The room was still. Copia’s mouth hung open like a dead fish, and he blinked up at her in shock.
Now, Milagro wouldn't look at him. She put on the soft nightgown without even raising her head. The tears she was trying to hide from him, forcing themselves out of her eyes and down her cheeks, were like daggers to The Cardinal's darkened heart. A mark of innocence so sincere it was painful. And he felt like a coward...
*Copia hated to see Milagro cry. He hated himself for being the reason she was crying, thinking and saying all these things…. Realizing that there was a ring of truth to her words… had he really been so blind? Had she really been suffering so much and so quietly while he had been looking the other way?*
Copia watched her as she quietly dressed. Her skin as soft and pale as the silk against it. Blonde hair shimmering, casting a halo of glowing sadness about her. The heat in him had cooled, leaving him feeling hollow, and empty.
Milagro crossed to the back cabin door, the gown floating around her legs, and stood in the open doorway facing the trees beyond, arms crossed, holding herself together as if she too, were cold. The night was too warm to goose pimple her skin and yet she shivered. She was vulnerable and beautiful, and in pain, and it was his own damn fault. The Cardinal knew it. And he knew she was also, right…*
Copia sighed heavily and quietly straightened out the mess of clothes in the suitcase, gloved hands deftly moving to fold, roll, and neatly tuck everything back in to place, with a gaping hole in the lineup of clothes where the Nightgown should be. Staring at it, eyes downcast he saw the irony of the situation. And he knew the chasm that had grown between them had come from a place he had projected from himself.
*He had to tell her. He had to come clean.*
She deserved the truth. She deserved what she had been asking for these many months. She deserved the better life he had promised her, all that time ago, before bringing her to the valley to see if she would even want to stay. She deserved to know what this place actually was, and what He really was… even if the danger was in the knowing, she deserved to know the truth*
Long minutes passed, and the moon had moved enough to change the direction of the streaming light through the door. Milagro was now leaning sideways in the frame, halfway down a joint she had kept handy on the nearby coat rack shelf. A nightly ritual before bed.
*Copia had arranged this old forgotten cabin to be renovated for this excursion- to have handy amenities and furniture for comfort and ease, to facilitate the mood to relax and kick-back, where he would have been at the door with her, romantically staring at the moon, sharing some Mary, before pulling her with him into the sheets, to share in passion and lovemaking... but despite the nesting he had done in anticipation of cozying up to his pretty bird, a fledgling to his world, she already had a foot out of the nest, and he knew, it was only a matter of time before she flew the coop, and like the others in his past, she would never, ever, come back...*
‘You can't love a free thing’ Copia muttered, quoting a movie he used to watch when he was younger and not so busy… not so distracted…
The words held a truth for him, having himself been kept at an arms length by his own family. In turn, he never fully embraced those around him. He cared, just not enough- not the way he should. He wasn't the only one in this current relationship with aspirations, dreams, desires, and fears. He knew that. And willfully he had been avoiding the responsibility of acknowledging it, and accepting it… of nurturing those thing, by taking Milagro under his wing*
*Hence the sudden passionate takings and love bombing of his affections… he could see it. The way he buried his pain with his vices. The way he would suddenly swoop in and take his woman in every position in every desperate corner of the Ministry, and never to the privileged comforts his own bed. He could see the way he had held his aloofness and work above her and his feelings for her. And he knew she cared. But what really scared him, was that he didn't actually know for himself, if she cared for him… if she loved him back… if she thought him worth staying for…*
“Millie-” Copia began, his shoulders drooped and his eyes still downcast, talking at the wall, “I… I haven't been totally honest with you-”
Milagro sighed and rolled her eyes, still looking out of the doorway to the black woods where the tall trees stood like church collumns in the night.
"And here I thought we agreed not to lie to one another." Milagro whispered...
*Like a slap in the face...*
Copia felt the disdain of the sting, but took a steadying breath. The little woman's fiery attitude sometimes came out when she knew she was right about something, but he held his tongue about it. What he was going to say was more important… and was earned it's due shaming... a pennance he must humbly accept...
“I did bring you here under some false pretenses... I, I brought you here, for you and Jim… but you are right, I did it mostly, for me…”
*because-...*?
But Copia couldn't bring himself to continue. The words of explanation died in his throat as his own thoughts about what he had done and what he wanted to do, choked him up.
After a quiet beat Milagro spoke softly,
“I know… And I know the Real Reason, why…”
Copia's eyes shot wide and he froze, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi truck about to slam him into oblivion.
“Oh?” He said, trying to quell the shakiness in his voice, his throat dry.
He was caught. And he wasn't sure how deeply into the shit he was in…
“Yeah… I mean, its kinda obvious isn't it?” Milagro said, dragging out the last of her joint before tossing it out. She still didn't face him. Open hands now behind her back, she propped against the doorframe and wistfully kept her gaze occupied on nothing much at all.
But Copia's gaze stayed trained on her…
The way her jaw angled to curve along her pretty neck, the tops of her breasts exposed and then hidden by a little ribbon of lace swen into the neckline of the silken nightgown like an ethereal shroud, moving in a whisper as the summer breeze outside filtered in. The moonlight cast against her, making Milagro look both ghostly and angelic. And The Cardinal felt the weakening in his knees.
Copia knew she was his weakness. He was even more afraid, now, more than ever, to face her and the truth head on.
He kept his movements unhurried and neutral, the way a traumatized person does when sensing danger- instead of staying mostly naked for bed, he set about dressing himself once more, putting on a comfier set cassock robes, he often wore when he knew he would.not be able to sleep, donning the one with a hole in the front pocket that he always said was lucky for him. He needed all the luck he could get, and he needed the bravery of his cubby, for he felt both miserably perceived, and very small…
"Obvious?" The Cardinal hushed back.
“Yeah-” Milagro said. Her face turned to him now, and he felt her focus hone in. He looked away.
He busied himself to ease the tension.
Milagro knew it, knew that he felt perceived, that he was being avoidant because she knew it was so, and he knew that also. Still, she kept her eyes on him as he moved to re-dress himself, as if this whole mess of a night hadn't just rocked them both, perhaps all the way off the boat, in a way. Like he wasn't making himself small on purpose, painting himself into the background, being ‘normal’, pretending things were fine when they weren't. In a way she hated him for that too...
*Milagro felt guilty for that. But despite recognizing the signs of his unhealthy coping of some unknown traumas, she knew she needed to confront him about it, because it was hurting her too… though a little bit she felt satisfaction that the confrontation was punishing him- he kinda deserved it- for what he had put her through to now... for what she had given up to leave an old life behind and try starting a new one where she was so isolated in a sea of unfamiliar faces, with no bearings, no countryman, no family, and no other friends…*
“What do you want from me?” Copia said, fists clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure, jaw tightened and eyes shut tight… voices from all his life echoed in the whooshing pulse at his ears, despising whispers slithering along his veins, all too knowing...
*The pathway to hell is paved with good intentions*
“I… I want you to be honest with me,” Milagro said, a coldness in her voice that wasn't there before…
“Honest?” The Cardinal chuckled grimly, “My dear, there is no thing I can truly hide from you. Am I not allowed to keep some things private?”
“Am I not allowed to know the reality of the situation?”
“Reality is what you make of it,” Copia snapped back, an edge to his voice that made Milagro's skin grow cold and her hands shake.
“Then be real with me” she coaxed, “I know you want to be.”
"Careful, cara mia, what you wish is what you get. What if the knowing, breaks you, leads you astray, what if the knowledge you seek is a poisoning for your heart? What if these are just words I give you, what if what you want, is much much worse, than you thought?”
“Well…” Milagro asked, “what, if?...”
More than anything, she deserved to hear the truth that he had been hiding behind his cassock robes.
She deserved the choice.
She deserved to have the cards on the table for her to decide fairly, consciously, if she should stay, if his home, should be hers too…
*The way, soft under foot and gentle sloped,*
…In these marble halls and green filled gardens,
*kept by Death and all of his friends*
where the facade of a people pleasing professional hid behind his dark makeup and charming smiles,
*A road without sharp turns, paved with ‘good intentions’, and missed opportunities*
A dark Cardinal with a dark secret
*without milestones or sign posts,*
Thrust into a dance macabre, without the promise of being able to turn back
*the way unbarred to those who belonged there, the doors- open, glowing warm by the fires within,
It was time to call him out.
*promising sanctuary from the cold*
It was time to know the truth.
*as above, so below…*
“I know you care about me,” Milagro paused, “but there's something else, isn't there, we both know it… you want more… you should at least have the decency to ask me for it.” She frowned, stepping back into the room from the doorway, the light behind her making her front faced form dim in the shadows.
“So what's it going to be Cardi…”
Copia methodically and carefully closed the suitcase and wardrobe, a neat click as the latches locked into place like the final snap of an electric chair's restraints…
“What do you want me to Do, Millie.” He asked, moving to the window she had first been at, gloved fingers gently matching the splay of her handprints there, gazing out like she and done, out to that world beyond the glass he was looking through, where he too felt like a total stranger.
“I want the truth… I want you… all of you. For what you are-”
*go on, say it* his heart pleaded, wanting the pain to be over already.
Unable to do it himself, he needed her to say it, to permit him to reveal the secret he had been keeping from her for so long…
*He depended on her too much, it’s why he was scared. He knew what he was capable of. He knew his own demons were hot on his heels about the deeper reason he had invited her to the valley to see if she wanted to stay*
“I told you,” she sighed,
*… to give up her old life for this one… because he needed her. She was a sustenance in his soul that he couldn't imagine living a life without… and the appetite he had acquired for her, was burning him from the inside out…*
Milagro's tone relented, “I know why you haven't been honest with me. I know why you are afraid. The way you act, how you disappear, how you need me, but can't allow yourself to Have me truly-”
Copia felt his heart breaking, and in its place the monstrous head of his fears was rearing up to consume them whole.
“So then you know-” Copia relented, finally giving in, watching his reflection in the glass grow murky as the clouds drifted before the moonlight, his eyes glowing red, his reflection daring, staring back at him. Like it wasn't his. Like it was smirking, while he was afraid.
“Yes. So why hide it anymore?” Milagro said gently. Almost tenderly. She moved from the dim light of the doorway, stepping into the dark shadows, her form a dim glow from where she had been before, and yet, still so present, and graceful, a ghost of what could still be, but wasn't.
“I want you to be Real with me,” she pleaded, a gentle hand circling around Copias waist, an eerie breath of cold air creeping into the warm room, contrasting the warmth of her body.
*Something was off. Something wasn't right. Something was off from one end of the room to the other. One could imagine a frost creeping in like a breath of ice, narrowing the color and warmth of thw room to two heartbeats. One red, bright, and beating. The other, dark, heavy, and barely alive*
The sensation, suffocating, but about the truth, the whole of it, both people here were about to prove themselves, wonderously, wildly, wrong…*
“So please,” Milagro whispered, turning Copia from the window to face her. But instead of looking into his face, his facade, to beg this of him, she was already at his breast, her head tucked under and against him, like a small creature seeking comfort in his closeness.
He swallowed dry, his own arms embracing her tightly. A gloved hand drifted, stroking through her hair at her head, before fisting tightly into the silken blonde, like every ounce of feeling portrayed in his every action, his fierce embrace, everything he could be, but wasn't.
“Please what?” He murmured, pressing his lips to her hair as he held her, his whole body against hers, begging to be one.
“Please. Just, show me…” she faltered, soft voice choking back hot tears that stung her face and pierced his heart,
“Please, just do it…”
Copia blinked.
*This was his invitation… this was it. That moment he both longed for and dreaded.*
“You… you really want me to?” He whispered, feeling his heart race and his breath quicken, his body suddenly teaming as the monster in him was feeling its collar being removed…
“Yes.” Milagro said, nuzzling deeper into his chest, her arms tightening around his body as if he might suddenly disappear, “I want you to…”
*the restraint, was gone. And like an animal suddenly realizing the cage doors were open, that they were free, Copia saw his opportunity. And Took it.*
At her words The Cardinal's eyes rolled back and closed, as if in relief, as if in, pleasure…
In the embrace she kept, Copia suddenly removed his gloves behind her back and his shapely hands found her throat, his thumbs lining along her pulse line, tipping her head back with his other hand.
His heart was pounding, his passion earnest and more desperate than ever before, an aggressive snarl in his words awakened, as she let him, submitted to him, eyes closed and gasping, panting, he kissed her neck like she was the last meal he would ever have-
“Fuck, I've been waiting to hear you say this.”
He groaned, feeling a throbbing hardness ache below his waist. He had her tight against him like she was his and he would never let her go,
“I need you, I want you," he murmured panting heavily,
"I can't live, not without you”*
is what Milagro thought he said. But in reality, the Dark Cardinal had spoken his truth, so impending, so vile, so sincere,
“... I can't *starve*, I'll not live without you.”
And suddenly Milagro's eyes exploded open, letting out a cry in something between pleasure, and *pain*.
Copia was two fangs deep into her neck, blood drooling from his messy desperate latch, covering the white of Milagro's gown, staining the pretty lace, a first time blooding, while she felt him taking from her. More and more, like it wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, the press of his lips and the heat, wet and gripping, sliding down The Cardinal's throat. His little bird was caught, and the intensity drowned out any anguish. The venom roiled in Milagro's veins and she felt it burn with something like euphoric ecstasy, like a morphine drug suffocating her one heartbeat at a time, the burn...the burn... and she felt her body slip from herself, and into a cloud of release, slack and docile, soft sounds bleating while the growling gulps kept taking and Taking...
The heightened sensations overwhelming. The ultimate expression of the two lovers, biting into the fruit, of good and evil.
Never to un-know, what had happened here tonight.
It was like the clash of storms where lovers meet, the chasm between them slamming closed as they collided with one another where they were, As they were. But as Copia lowered his precious obsession to the floor, like a virgin to his bed, covering her and lost in the throws of the great expression of his deepest desires, he realized something…though the sweet iron flavor against his toungue was unlike any he had encountered before,
Milagro also tasted- strange…
Not how he expected from her scent, not after that first clinging bite...
It wasn't fear, he liked the tang of that- the little fear and little pain like notes tracing through the melody of a vino sanguine, no… this was something else… something indeed, wrong.
The Cardinal lifted his head from the smeared wound he'd been suckling from, thinking to gaze down at her and see the wonderment of her submission to him, that he thought he would see... but that was not what he was seeing below him at all.
Like an anti coagulant, His venom had circulated from the wound, changing the blood, and while it should have, that wound was not closing. It was bleeding out. And fast!
The Cardinal found beneath him the sight of Milagro looking up at him, mouth agape and wide eyed, betrayed, like he was an Iscarriot, and she, a lamb he was in the midst of him committing unto her as a sacraficial slaughter.
“No, no no no!” Copia yelled, scooping her up into his arms, his mouth pressing against the hemorrhaging at her neck, venom dripping from his toungue, lapping and pressing, trying to seal the wound.
*He never should have done it. He never should have gotten carried away! He knew better than to drain from a neck hole, because getting lost in the moment could mean draining someone to death- and while there were anecdotes in the tomes about accidents stemming from moments like this, he was witnessing it in real time, he was watching her, helplessly, as in his arms she was dying!*
*A living nightmare from a time too long ago he had forgotten to remember, when blood and bone had been taken from him, flashes of a life so full of worries and promises, cruelly ripped from his heart, oh the memories, awakened at the sight of *her* like this, screaming from his insides the words "What have I done, what have I done!" , voices of the dust, the lives so carelessly he had taken for granted, and lost, the ruin of him in a past lifetime*
"Do it" she had said...
“Millie, Millie look at me!” Copia screamed, eyes bulging in panic as Milagro's were fast fluttering closed, glazing over as she kept bleeding out all over the floor, her gown, Copia's red cassock, and pouring over his bare hands; all were covered in blood. It was a horror to behold. And as something between them pulsated like a poison of NIMH, Copia realized in this moment, the great irony of misunderstanding…
“Do it…. *Tell me you love me*”
His thoughts raced, for the bite had already begun its work, despite her fading body, their connection was immediate. Those thoughts raced in her in that moment as he had taken her into his arms.
That's what she had been trying to say. But not what he had been hearing!
The dramatic irony being, that she had meant one thing, while he had understood another.
He thought she knew what he was, and that she was asking for him to… to…-
“Amore look at me, wake up!” He said, trying to shake her, her eyes fluttering weakly. Wordless lips moved and the sound of the blood was all he heard pounding in his ears.
Copia whimpered as he held Milagro in his arms, pressing his lips to her neck, his hands to her throat, trying to stem the bleeding, anything, anything!
“I love you please, I love you… don't leave me… don't leave me!…”
Three things flashed through his mind then;
One, he had to get her to safety.
Two, he had to get her there fast.
And Three, if she died, if he let her die, then he, and all he loved, even her, would be Damned…
In that instant of his realization, he was up and running with her through the black woods back to the Ministry, with inhuman haste. He crashed through the branches and cobwebs of the old trail, feet flying fast along the miles that trailed to the Emeritus Estate, where there was only one person he knew that could maybe, maybe, save her…
“MOTHER!!!”
Copia screamed as he slammed through the side doors with the Lady Milagro limp in his arms.
“What?! What happened, what happened!” Voices said, urgently, overlapping, and jumbled in Milagro's ears, echoing in the gilded corridors in the dead night. The moon casting spidery shaddows through the decals of stained glass panes- windows closing in by shaddowed branches like hands in the sky, trapping the chaos and voices, like the shrieks of helpless flies caught in a web, as the harbinger of death and doom closed in on crawling long legs...
Milagro's world was quickly fading into darkness, her slackened body seeming to want to float away as if never at all…
The world was spinning and turning black all over, and all the while she was hearing Copia wailing in the halls, that this was all his fault, all his fault, somone, somone help, mother, mother...
*The thing Copia had been keeping so secret, Milagro now realized, had not only been how he felt, but what he was…*
“On the table, NOW!” Imperator's voice commanded. Hands seemed to grasp and rip, clothing red with blood and an ichor poured from within as something else was peeling away from her clammy skin, de-gloving itself from her somehow in her swirling mind, Milagro felt as if she were being flayed, wet flesh exposed to reveal agonizing pain- it was a moment before she realized the screaming was comming from her own throat. Bright lights dimming, Milagro's numbing lips trembled, as a hot fiery sensation suddenly seemed to zip up her spine, a jolt of what felt like electricity burning her chest, gripping her like a ragdoll to shake…
She now knew why the Ministry was so strict, so secluded, so shut away from the world, that every secret and sound was burried in mystique and cloaked in the shaddows,
And perhaps why Copia, and Jim, really wanted her to stay… why so badly they wanted her for themselves, why their affections seemed so irascable and pained in desperate longings that lured her in with such desire and creeping flush, like coaxing the red ribbon of horrific fever from the throat of the sick and sinners alike, condeming the quick and the dead...
*The Emeritus Estate was no ordinary Ministry... Father Jim Defroque wasn't just the wayward son of a preacher man. Sister Imperator was not merely a discipled spinster supporting the local Satanic Papacy and her son, the Esteemed Cardinal Copia, was no ordinary man... and Milagro was no ordinary woman to him. She'd become his, a coveted thing, a sacrifice in the silence, a lamb lead so easily into the trap as a fool to the feast... she had gone so willingly, so blindly, bewitched, and now, marked for her loss of innocence, beguiled into unwitting temptation, and loosing this fight for her very soul... for Cardinal Copia was, indeed, had always ever been.... a devistatingly beautiful child of the night, fallen from grace, deliciously wicked, Vampire….*
Copia and Jim high as hell, picked up some instruments one day and played this Diddy in a backroom somewhere, and Imperator was not impressed when she caught them.
Jims head ended up ploinked through the guitar, strings curled and wiry, splinters in his curls.
Copia half strangled in the acordian, where everytime he breaths the accordion whumps and groans.
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(A Lost Episode From the Curse of the Bloodstone Arc)
Between The Lines: Of Meetings and Partings Part 2
(Also known as one of the lost episodes of Season 2, though it was first aired in Season 3, in the "Jimmy Come Home" montage in Season 3... hmm... I wonder why this memory would be so important...) -[AZ]
Written by [AZ]
Hosted by Zombocomme
Music Provided by Ghrizkit Radio
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Enjoy
Jim watched as the tall pines both seemed to pass like church steeples running along the hill, and tombstones on a churchyard slope. The drive from the lonely airstrip in the remote landscape was always so long, and he couldn't help but feel like he was running in place, somehow standing still, while leaving the heft of a heavier life behind…
“Ya think a man'a feel easier coming home than leavin the road.” Jim murmured to himself, remembering what it was like to be ten, watching the raindrops race on the foggy car windows the way they did now.
“Mm- home is where you wanna be son- but hey, what do I know, I'm just the chauffeur tryin' to take you there.” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, passing back a thermos.
Jim leaned forward and reached for the metal cylinder, pulled momentarily from his reverie- unscrewing the top he caught a whiff of the warm steam and felt something in him melt away. A smile he'd forgotten to dawn in some time caressed his neatly combed whiskers.
It was like medicine to the soul as he took that first warm sip, the taste of a rich chocolate flavor, spiced with cinnamon and Chile de Arbol peppers. The man could hold his own in a mid grade hot wing contest, and while the heat packed behind the chocolate flavor wasn't something to laugh at, the hot drink carried in it something sweet that only one person, he knew, could make it taste so good-
“Mm-mm!” Mr. Psaltarian hummed, “now that is one tasty cocoa! Woman can make a good cup of anythang!” He slurped his own helping, one hand on the wheel as he drove, pursing his lips as he smiled.
Jim chuckled, a sound that felt warm and familiar to his own ears, “That Woman, can make a man want a cuppa anythang if'n *shes the one that makes it.”, he chuckled as he slugged back the thermos and felt the tingle run down to his toes. Closing his eyes, The Preacherman sat back against the luxury leather, not even remembering that's what it was. The road curved ahead and a giddy feeling sank deep into his soles.
“I reckon she made this ‘specially for the pick up?” Jim asked, though he knew the answer.
“You mean for the ‘pick-me-up’!” Mr. Psaltarian said brightly, leaning into the curve, tires splashing a spray against an old guardrail, like the whoosh of a water slide throwing a fresh sheet of wetness, cool and clear against the metal with a melodic tine.
“Bless that woman.” Jim smiled, raising his thermos as Psaltarian did likewise, smirks passing between as they looked at one another in the reirview mirror. Jim held the half downed drink in his lap letting his fingers and thighs hum in the warmth. It was always cold 'round here, but soon the road would dip and dive, and the cold would drop away as the geothermal valley opened up. And the excitement he felt before began to feel something more along the lines of, rejuvenated.
Jim's thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of the thermos, nail sliding against the ridge of the matte covering as his thoughts moved beyond the forest of trees in his view. Even as the soft patter of a summer rain gently thumped against the car's window pain, droplets racing faster than before, the slow roll of the grey clouds above gave way to a translucent light beyond. But it wasn't the clouds he was seeing. It was *her*...
*That silvery bell that tinkled in her laugh, and the gentle soul that loved him from behind it. He really had missed her. Her constance, her warmth, her moods and smiles, she was something that could be thoughtful one minute, and game the next. And suddenly Jim realized he'd been smiling to himself, nearly missing the point where the land changed, and it's beauty sank deeper than the old man mountain, around which the road was turning, to a sight hed been longing to see...
Jim leaned forward and unbuckled, feeling a rush in his chest like it always did when he saw the way the valley opened up to his eyes beyond the mountain pass.
"He do paint a beautiful picture, don't he " Jim mumbled, blinking at the light comming through, admiring how streams of it were shot through thr clouds like in the paintings of angels and heavens looking down to earth.
*Far away, illuminated by such a stream of light, was the Emeritus estate, where Jim Defroque 's youth had taken him so often to walk amongst the pillars and old architecture of marble and long standing stone by choral.musoc and candleight. But that wasn't what he was returning to today. No, it was to where *she was*, which felt blessedly so much closer in their journey, higher up the mountain road than down it, tucked queitly away, shying in the shade of far off trees*
*Jim had left Copia and his jockey roads and concerts, he had left the heartache and the loneliness, the hurt and guilt, the mess between them and the messes he'd been thrown at to clean up… and now, Jim was coming to another place that had somehow always felt like home, even when his own sat in the Defroque manor far away in Alabama somewheres…
Getting a chance to breathe, to just be, and feel like the work of his hands meant something.
"A hand in service is worth two on the pew", Jim's Father James pften said. But it wasnt his father Jim was thinking of as the car swayed down the wet roads in its lazy descent, Ministry Valley, where painted todays picture by a creator Jim figured lived somewhere, was lovingly cast in rainy clouds and scattered sunshine.*
A Jim smiled softly to himself,
*lucky to be here. To have made it this far. To get to see this place again...*
“Oh shit I forgot my umbrella.” Jim said to Mr. Psaltarian, suddenly blinking, realizing the rain had not stopped but had run through the pass with them into the valley, not unheard of, but a little unusual for this time of year.
“You know how it is- wait a while and the sky will change its colors.” Mr. Psaltarian said, waving his hand in front of his face as he gave an annoyed ‘pshaw’.
“Oh uh, right.” Jim muttered. He sort of plopped backwards into his seat, feet scuffing together like he'd just been reminded he'd been a silly boy and told not to worry so much…
*It's just, he'd worn his new vest to go with his new slacks today. He wanted to look good, make an impression. He knew she loved it when he dressied-up to see her after not seeing eachother for a while... He'd been gone only a few months this time, but they were so long when he remembered that the view he would be comming home to was going to be different than ever before, when he had left it…*
The rain scattered along the path, and The preacherman wondered, if even something...anything... god even... when a prayer so simple in his heart muttered silently across his lips, "God...if there is a god... maybe you could help a little... Ide really like, a family..."
*The abandoned abbey to where Jim was headed, had been a run down forgotten thing that he and Copia used to escape to when they were boys. The Emeritus estate had decided to place prominence on their grandeur, and moved from those humbler quarters to a a
Sprawl of flatland outside the woods, sometime in the middle ages, and since then, "The Ministey" had several facelifts through the years before settling into the sprawling cathedral like manor, and added on church headquarters... Stern, strong. And beautiful in its designs... nothing like the old forgotten abbey that sat alone miles off, forgotten save by those who even knew to look for it, tucked into the dark woods where no one goes... where ghosts and secrets lived in the deathly silence... but it was unrecognizable now!
Now, it was a bustling communal space, currently occupied with the Lycans who'd relocated there over the summer. It was just turning August, and preparations for the rest of the year were in full swing, and the activity in the valley had shifted from the Emeritus estate that Copia had been so absent from lately, to the Abbey a ways away, cleaned up, repair works in progress, and peopled once more. Even the forrest that had once sought to hide it awa h had been pusjed back to allow a vein of travel that roped through the woods from the Estate to the sister commune, and the campgroind at the Laketown shore even farther away... It seemed odd that the campgrounds there were so quiet now, and it felt sad to look at im a way, while The Preacherman and The Minister, his chauffeur, passed the brief scenic view of its entrance and trails along the road, only to watch the ghost town dissapear behind a wall of trees that widened the view away from the roads. Again, Jim felt like he was in one place, while the world seemed to moce and pull around him...*
*Usually this time of year, the Lakeside Cabin Land had life in it brought by tourists and reservation parties, but the woods had grown *strange…and dark*, and the waterfront had become dangerous in ways too mysterious and sudden for The Ministry to authorize the public vessel, open, and later, to allow the Lycan commune that had arrived to those shores to remain encamped there. News of the happenings there over the summer had reached Copia and Jim's ears while they had been on the road for tour, and it had indeed been cause to worry… But thankfully, Milagro, the woman they both loved and held deep connection with, had been kept secret and safe, thanks to the Lycans, Alpha Emmanuel Mendez his omega and partner Johan Olson, and Teddy (Thaddius) Wolfe, of course…*
There, when Copia and Jim couldn't have been... shouldn't... wouldn't... whatever... they'd been her white knights whisking her away from danger and visiting her in tall towering places, and Jim felt a tug in his chest, knowing, he could have joined them, left Copia sooner, maybe avoided his current heartache altogether...
The Lycans, and The Vampires, sharing a Valley, for the sake of that gentle woman...
*all the kings horses and all the kings men*
“I heard the backway through the wood got shut down, Loups and shit making it worser ‘an the silk road” Jim said a bit absentmindedly, fingers strapped over his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Mr Psaltarian sighed, "You'd think The Ministry would care about how shit like Loups and Wendigos, strangers and all that, keeps getting into this valley” Mr. Pslatarian spat.
As he continued to drive, Jim frowned.
“Cardi has his hands full, and I ain't surprised that Nihil and Sister Imperator got they hands fulla ‘nuff with cleaning up after last year's hiccups. If'n it doesnt affect the Ministry, it aint big enough to worry 'bout” Jim said almost automatically, both in defense of and in betterment of Copia, and that family he belonged to.
“Don't remind me.” Psaltarian shuddered.
“But I agree, ‘least they could do is set some eyes on the grounds that do bring ‘em business. Laketown cabins closed, how the hell they making the money to upkeep -”
“Cardi's tours are raking it in faster than ever.” Psaltarian said, a nerve clearly flared pver the matter, “Im not surprised the current campaign for his ‘Ascension’ is taking a more global prescedent, than the valley-”
“Yeah, and fuck who's at home in it huh!” Jim spat. Thinking of all the people, the ghoul, Clergy, siblings of sin, and most of all, the neglected partner of the trio between them- their woman, Milagro Montoya, and the precious cargo she carried…
The car was silent a moment, both men stewing, though Jim more so. The road swerved and swayed, the Car bouncing gently along as the landscape whoosh past.
“So why did you come back?”
Mr Psaltarian asked quietly, the car bumping up and down in long rhythms as of holding a space and breath for whatever Jim might say.
“I…” Jim hesitated.
He could see how he looked from deep within. Like he was begging for a way out of the rooms of hurt and the chambers of heartbreak... a life that held a little too much loss, and not enough guiding lights along the nowhere roads...
*I am running away....'Running to' …I wonder, what does it matter?...* Jim thought.
The preacherman mused, remembering the highlights of the dark and light that had painted over his life. Thoughts racing over one another, like raindrops running past eachother on a rainy car window... the shape of something he couldn't quite see a silent companion beside him...
After a long pause, the rain patter softened to a gentle shimmer against the glass, the hum of the car lulling as a few old mile markers grazed over the fields of clearing left from logging operations too far old to remember much history about, irrelevant as it seemed now, yet so part of the landscape that, had they not appeared in the view, would have left anyone traveling this road lost…
Clarity spoke for Jim,
“I came back because… I know where I'm needed… and I ain't losing time thinking on it.” Jim said, a grave resoluteness to his voice. As if he was trying to fit somone else's shoes...
*funny, it almost sounded like sulking*
“So, you're running from things again?” Mr Psaltarian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I ain't 'running from'- not this time…” Jim said, an earnest color to his words a hot flame in his temperament that put a heat in his chest, a feeling that seemed to rise from the meanderings of his imagination in the midst of the feild beyond where he envisioned himself planting his foot in the sand, so to speak.
“Well,” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, rapidly changing gears as he whipped the car into a section of clearing, off-roading through a lesser known or recognized dirt path into the wooded area beyond the clearing on the side of the road, Jim holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar above his head.
Once the momentum tossled into a stop, the car parked at the tree-line, and Mr. Psaltarian pulled the keys from the ignition. The Minister exited the vehicle and marched towards the trunk, opening it as Jim caught his breath at the fun, and perhaps slightly scary whiplash, and unbuckled himself from the backseat. The preacherman capped his thermos and slung it into a duffle bag, that had ridden shotgun during the trip.
“Take it from me-” Psaltarian said, snapping the trunk shut and handing a heavy designer suitcase to Jim's hand nearly making the preacherman drop down with it. Jim clutched the duffle against his chest like precious cargo, and rolled his eyes, popping the handle up from the other suitcase.
“Take my advice- when ya run, make sure you run-”
“Ta somethin’, not ‘way-from” Jim recited back.
“And-” Psaltarian halted, holding the suitcase handle back, making Jim sort of yoink back before he could stubbornly walk off intonthe woods with his ‘yeah-yeah attitude’,
“Nothin happens here, that doesn't happen *there.”
Psaltarian added, before adjusting Jim's tie with expertised hands, movements practiced from all the assisting done for the Head families and leaders of The Ministey over the years. He pat Jim's whiskered cheek boyishly, and produced a small handful of daffodils wrapped in a bit of butcher paper and string, a modest bouquet, not to be forgotten, as they almost had been, from the floor of the front seat.
“and always return, with the end in mind.”
Jim stared down at the flowers a moment. Almost as if, he had realized he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come home in the first place.
*He'd sacrificed so much in silence, just to bring a little soul from the others side, he felt had been waiting for him, for a family... a Vampire's Life Eternal, exchanged for bringing the soul of what would be his firstborn, to this side of the veiled world... he had to be there... Like a wise man to a nativity, he knew, he had to come back, and leave the rest behind... and that he shoulda made this pilgrimage back to.his woman sooner...*
*A man puts away childish things*
Jim thought, his mind briefly thinking of the tie, the chain, wrapped around his heart that had been tethering him into Copia’s company, a bond forged when they had been young, that had long since twisted out of shape, and purpose. Jim then thought of the call to let it go, for the sake of the family The Preacherman had truly wanted to love and be loved by... beginning with somone who loved him so sincerely , she had fundementally changed him, and brought out the very best.*
Pursing a determined lip, he nodded and took the flowers into his own hand. The men nodded in farewell to.one another, and Jim turned. He looked out of place. So nciely dressed, standing in a field at the edge of a wood, like a man journeying to the crossroadsnof.his life... a duffle slung over his shoulder and tightened to his chest, flowers in one hand, dragging a designer suitcase with the other. Ahead, he'd walk over a wobbly footpath he knew would take a bit of time to get him to where he was trying to go to.
And for once, he was glad he was wearing his own shoes, instead of the stuffy ones his father often insisted on, or the ones that had been gifted from Copia and his family to match their tastes... no, these were his own. He had made sure of it. He wanted to bring himself to Milagro, not somone trying to be something else.
*She loved him most that way. Him as himself. Even in the darker times Jim had endured through his addictions and vices, she had loved him, and he'd found strength in her hand to crawl out of the mires he kept falling into. This time thoguh, he wanted to show, he would be here, for her...*
As Jim entered the dark shade of the woods, and looked back, watching Mr. Psaltarian whip a donut in the field and speed away, kicking up dirt and grass towards the road down to the Emeritus estate, Jim watched how the sunshine seemed to filter out, the misty rain having stopped altogether now. He dusted off the dewy velvet drops from his hair and shirt, even though he knew it would dry soon enough to not matter much. But he wanted to look just so.
*He didnt want to walk in to Milagros' sights and look like the pitiful stray he felt like now. Moving from one owner to the next all sad a pathetic like…*
Jim knelt down and opened the duffle a tad, checking on his bag of goodies and gifts he knew might give him grace in saving from his own absence during Milagro's time without him or Copia. But even as he zipped it back up, trying not to jostle the contents too much and look on the bright side of things, he unhooked the thermos and drank the rest of Milagro's famous homemade hot chocolate, as if it were a potion of courage... instead, a wave of something like guilt flooded him. Momentarily, he looked back to where he had come from. The scattered field silent and empty now… Then ahead to where he was going, stuffed full of trees and shadows.
He was scared.
*Not that he couldn't do it, but that in the doing, he'd ultimately let someone down…*
Then Jim eyed the daffodils tied with a string. He picked them up and gently stroked the petals and circled the ridges centering the flower face.
*"Daffodills!”
he could hear her saying in his head, a memory, bright beyond the clouds like sunshine above the rain. The delight of her voice, the way she so sweetly clasped her hands together in awe at the simple wonder of something so, ordinary… it had always moved The Preacherman to think of it.*
*Jim had enjoyed the simple pleasures of wildflowers, sure, even preached about God's flowers of the field a time or two when he used to do that sorta thing… but Father Defroque had not truly appreciated them before... the Esteemed Preacherman had grown an affinity for the blood red roses and their rainbow of hues amongst the ministry gardens where Copia's memory to him seemed to seep deeper over time… nothing like the seemingly plain, though pleasant peach trees back home at his manor, or rather, his Father's, or... his Father's father's... His father's, beautiful southern mansion in Alabama.
*never despise the small things*
Jim remembered, wiping a hand down his face a moment before clutching the flowers closer. They caressed his lips and cheeks, so cool and soothing...
Warm memories rising... where the simple moments in life, seemed more beautiful than all them yellow flowers in gods earthy feilds...
He sighed. Jim, quietly scolded himself for his cynical habits, and bowed his head a moment to thank god for the pretty pictures painted for him in the orchards that ran along the Defroque Manor. There had been many. And he needed to hold onto that.
Remmebering that even though that place, his home supposedly, felt more like a prison of the past than for memories made anew, it was still a place where love had been felt. Where sanctuary had been granted, and where those trees in the peach orchards rolled beyond the gentle slopes of Jim's horizon view from those big house windows... such beautiful trees, they carried a nostalgia and sense of accomplishment in their air, but were like apples to oranges in comparison to the verdant arrangements from every southern socialite party and bubliette and debutante. They were humble things, productive things, not like the displays of exotic floral arangements and peacockery that had come in every shape and size that seemed to don every church-going-woman's big hat… what James, Jim's Father thought was lady like and respectable, and what Jim should want, as his son and heir to the family business... but Milagro, the flowers that reminded Jim of her, were different… after knowing her, every time he thought of how he would change things if he could, he thought of her dancing through the peach trees beyond his window, and he knew he wanted that for his view from the back porch. To plant a feild of wildflowers beside the orchards.
'For the polinators to come on down, benefit both sides' he would say to himself, when dreaming big about that future he wanted so much.*
*Jim imagined how Milagro and he would walk together under the shade of those trees, earth so soft she could be barefoot on the wall, he'd a taken care of that place so good, shed always walk on somethin soft, or on a carpet of petals... and when the fruit hung ripe and sweet, how they'd pluck them, lay them together in their baskets lined with a nest of wildflowers and mixed Honeys to share it. She loved all the flowers, but she took particular affinity to the ones that people didnt think much of. She was like that in many ways. And that was a beautiful thing...*
Jim smiled softly at the bright flower faces staring up at him, remembering that day he had seen the sweetest, purest joy spread over that pretty woman's face, and the genuine happiness that that word, ‘daffodils' was always said with… no matter the occasion. Coulda been a wriggle of a weedy thing that popped up on the wrong side of a Crack house, or a field of them strung up in a flower show in pasedena… always the same*...
“Daffodills” Jim murmured in time with her echo, a warmth settling in him as he sighed.
“How did you get so many?” He recited, a moment from a scene in a movie he barely remembered taking her to once.
But when he had looked over at her in the picture of those theater lights, seeing her crinkled eyes and cheerful grin, lost in the projector lights beyond,
“They're your favorite flower…” he had realized as soon as the movie said it when reciting the movie line to her…
That look on her face, was one he knew was waiting for him on that road ahead in life. It was then he knew, there was more waiting for him in his version of heaven, than he had ever known...*
And before he knew it, Jim Defroque was marching through the woods, hauling his things, already in that moment when he would walk through those doors and see *her again*.
And as the vision to him grew stronger with each step, he clutched the bouquet tighter, remembering why he was ‘coming home in the first place’
*I know where I'm needed… and I aint wasting time in getting there...
time to run to, not away from*
Jimmy Defroque thought.
As Jim stepped through his vision into the present, barely noticing the clearing of space between him from the abbey doors, the sight gave way through the passing entrance of The Abbey, to the lazy stairway that ascended towards the landing, where already waited a pretty Blonde, round with child, eyes warm as the stream of sun lluminating the window behind her.
At the sight of Jim, standing there at the bottom of the stairs, arms and hands full of things, that pretty woman clasped her hands together in delight, hair streaming behind her, her steps excitedly running to him, and right through , into his arms, opened so all at once for her, longing to be filled with her… on god, it was a beautiful picture… the rest of the world swept away from the velvet kisses exchanged in giddy reunion, through the dusting dew of happy tears, and hands that would never really let go...
Jim's shoulders fell away from his ears, and his arms strengthened with Milagro in them as she nuzzled against his chest. He kissed her hair and her neck and face like he'd missed her more than anything in the world than he realized, and as he knelt down, kissing the round of her stomach where the precious things he should have been here sooner for, were growing inside her, Milagro lovingly slipped one hand into his, running her fingers up his arm to his hair, her other hand dropping to the other parcel between them.
“Daffodils!” She smiled, a soft squeal of delight in her voice as her laughter landed like the mist of warm sweet summer rain to Jim's ears. She smelled like blossoms, her rosy cheeks round and soft as peaches with that pretty glow that comes from someone wearing their motherhood on their sleeve.
Jim closed his eyes, cheek against Milagro's stomach and realizing he was indeed, home, not only where he was needed, but where he belonged,
“Daffodills-” he repeated,
a warm sigh carrying down the gentle rumble of his voice.
Repeated, almost as if to Milagro and to the little ones she carried...
*what he'd given up so much for, for the life of the unknown that was opening up to him like a bit of sunshine in the dark*
Perhaps even repeated aloud,
as if to himself,
*to remind him to remember where he'd come to, what end in mind he cared the most to run after...*
Jim inhaled the familiar scent of the boquet in hand, sighed, and recited
“they're you're favorite flower”.
Milagro smiled warmly. A light in her gaze as she watched her heart grow with the sight before her.
She rested her hand with the flowers on Jim's shoulder, and let the other caress over his head, bringing him closer against her body.
“How did you get so many”
she recited, continuing the line, basking in the light of a memory growing then, and now.
*nothing happens here that doesn't happen there, was more than meant for the ones who run off from their circumstances, trying to get to a grass thats greener… no, they're also for the prodigals, that run back to where home is- where the love is in the very air they breathe*
Jim sighed once more and hugged Milagro at the waist, nuzzling into her as he leaned into her embrace.
“Baby I missed you” Jim said. Then kissing Milagro's belly once more, he added happily, thinking of that end he wanted, the way every man that dreams his own heaven, saying
“and I missed my babies too”.
He stood once more and this time, his lips went to hers. And there they stayed letting the sun shine on the close of a long, long, day...
Weeee! Come catch the wave with us at Ministry📺TV for the Part two of
Between The Lines: Of Meetings And Partings
dropping soon!
A part of the episode where we get to see a fan fave, one we have particularly sympathized with since our popular Wafflehause episode...
See the Rerun Here🧇🏠: https://www.tumblr.com/zombocomme/782233944704892928/between-the-lines-btl-au?source=share
(Curious? You should be.... how else do you think DeCopia became a hashtag!... )- [AZ]
So Jim Defroque,
(Yes he has a playlist, newly updated , link to come ;) -Ghrizkit Radio
We wondered when he would clean up his act and get real with himself in the timeline from the part 1 (released previously) Here:
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
So now that Jimmy has left Copia's Touring Entourage... where, and more importantly, who , is home now?
(Don't you wonder what the strings of events was that lead from that wafflehause angst, to a sweet sight like this?) -[AZ]
[Photo credit 🧡 @puuuders , go comish!]
(Dig a little deeper... the rabit hole is gonna grow, much bigger, than you think ;) [AZ]
Keep your notofs on, we will go live again soon, and the part 2 in this little ramp up will help us set the stage... for the next big events to turn, in our,
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(A Lost Episode From the Curse of the Bloodstone Arc)
Between The Lines: Of Meetings and Partings Part 2
(Also known as one of the lost episodes of Season 2, though it was first aired in Season 3, in the "Jimmy Come Home" montage in Season 3... hmm... I wonder why this memory would be so important...) -[AZ]
Written by [AZ]
Hosted by Zombocomme
Music Provided by Ghrizkit Radio
🫲🙂↕️🫱
Enjoy
Jim watched as the tall pines both seemed to pass like church steeples running along the hill, and tombstones on a churchyard slope. The drive from the lonely airstrip in the remote landscape was always so long, and he couldn't help but feel like he was running in place, somehow standing still, while leaving the heft of a heavier life behind…
“Ya think a man'a feel easier coming home than leavin the road.” Jim murmured to himself, remembering what it was like to be ten, watching the raindrops race on the foggy car windows the way they did now.
“Mm- home is where you wanna be son- but hey, what do I know, I'm just the chauffeur tryin' to take you there.” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, passing back a thermos.
Jim leaned forward and reached for the metal cylinder, pulled momentarily from his reverie- unscrewing the top he caught a whiff of the warm steam and felt something in him melt away. A smile he'd forgotten to dawn in some time caressed his neatly combed whiskers.
It was like medicine to the soul as he took that first warm sip, the taste of a rich chocolate flavor, spiced with cinnamon and Chile de Arbol peppers. The man could hold his own in a mid grade hot wing contest, and while the heat packed behind the chocolate flavor wasn't something to laugh at, the hot drink carried in it something sweet that only one person, he knew, could make it taste so good-
“Mm-mm!” Mr. Psaltarian hummed, “now that is one tasty cocoa! Woman can make a good cup of anythang!” He slurped his own helping, one hand on the wheel as he drove, pursing his lips as he smiled.
Jim chuckled, a sound that felt warm and familiar to his own ears, “That Woman, can make a man want a cuppa anythang if'n *shes the one that makes it.”, he chuckled as he slugged back the thermos and felt the tingle run down to his toes. Closing his eyes, The Preacherman sat back against the luxury leather, not even remembering that's what it was. The road curved ahead and a giddy feeling sank deep into his soles.
“I reckon she made this ‘specially for the pick up?” Jim asked, though he knew the answer.
“You mean for the ‘pick-me-up’!” Mr. Psaltarian said brightly, leaning into the curve, tires splashing a spray against an old guardrail, like the whoosh of a water slide throwing a fresh sheet of wetness, cool and clear against the metal with a melodic tine.
“Bless that woman.” Jim smiled, raising his thermos as Psaltarian did likewise, smirks passing between as they looked at one another in the reirview mirror. Jim held the half downed drink in his lap letting his fingers and thighs hum in the warmth. It was always cold 'round here, but soon the road would dip and dive, and the cold would drop away as the geothermal valley opened up. And the excitement he felt before began to feel something more along the lines of, rejuvenated.
Jim's thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of the thermos, nail sliding against the ridge of the matte covering as his thoughts moved beyond the forest of trees in his view. Even as the soft patter of a summer rain gently thumped against the car's window pain, droplets racing faster than before, the slow roll of the grey clouds above gave way to a translucent light beyond. But it wasn't the clouds he was seeing. It was *her*...
*That silvery bell that tinkled in her laugh, and the gentle soul that loved him from behind it. He really had missed her. Her constance, her warmth, her moods and smiles, she was something that could be thoughtful one minute, and game the next. And suddenly Jim realized he'd been smiling to himself, nearly missing the point where the land changed, and it's beauty sank deeper than the old man mountain, around which the road was turning, to a sight hed been longing to see...
Jim leaned forward and unbuckled, feeling a rush in his chest like it always did when he saw the way the valley opened up to his eyes beyond the mountain pass.
"He do paint a beautiful picture, don't he " Jim mumbled, blinking at the light comming through, admiring how streams of it were shot through thr clouds like in the paintings of angels and heavens looking down to earth.
*Far away, illuminated by such a stream of light, was the Emeritus estate, where Jim Defroque 's youth had taken him so often to walk amongst the pillars and old architecture of marble and long standing stone by choral.musoc and candleight. But that wasn't what he was returning to today. No, it was to where *she was*, which felt blessedly so much closer in their journey, higher up the mountain road than down it, tucked queitly away, shying in the shade of far off trees*
*Jim had left Copia and his jockey roads and concerts, he had left the heartache and the loneliness, the hurt and guilt, the mess between them and the messes he'd been thrown at to clean up… and now, Jim was coming to another place that had somehow always felt like home, even when his own sat in the Defroque manor far away in Alabama somewheres…
Getting a chance to breathe, to just be, and feel like the work of his hands meant something.
"A hand in service is worth two on the pew", Jim's Father James pften said. But it wasnt his father Jim was thinking of as the car swayed down the wet roads in its lazy descent, Ministry Valley, where painted todays picture by a creator Jim figured lived somewhere, was lovingly cast in rainy clouds and scattered sunshine.*
A Jim smiled softly to himself,
*lucky to be here. To have made it this far. To get to see this place again...*
“Oh shit I forgot my umbrella.” Jim said to Mr. Psaltarian, suddenly blinking, realizing the rain had not stopped but had run through the pass with them into the valley, not unheard of, but a little unusual for this time of year.
“You know how it is- wait a while and the sky will change its colors.” Mr. Psaltarian said, waving his hand in front of his face as he gave an annoyed ‘pshaw’.
“Oh uh, right.” Jim muttered. He sort of plopped backwards into his seat, feet scuffing together like he'd just been reminded he'd been a silly boy and told not to worry so much…
*It's just, he'd worn his new vest to go with his new slacks today. He wanted to look good, make an impression. He knew she loved it when he dressied-up to see her after not seeing eachother for a while... He'd been gone only a few months this time, but they were so long when he remembered that the view he would be comming home to was going to be different than ever before, when he had left it…*
The rain scattered along the path, and The preacherman wondered, if even something...anything... god even... when a prayer so simple in his heart muttered silently across his lips, "God...if there is a god... maybe you could help a little... Ide really like, a family..."
*The abandoned abbey to where Jim was headed, had been a run down forgotten thing that he and Copia used to escape to when they were boys. The Emeritus estate had decided to place prominence on their grandeur, and moved from those humbler quarters to a a
Sprawl of flatland outside the woods, sometime in the middle ages, and since then, "The Ministey" had several facelifts through the years before settling into the sprawling cathedral like manor, and added on church headquarters... Stern, strong. And beautiful in its designs... nothing like the old forgotten abbey that sat alone miles off, forgotten save by those who even knew to look for it, tucked into the dark woods where no one goes... where ghosts and secrets lived in the deathly silence... but it was unrecognizable now!
Now, it was a bustling communal space, currently occupied with the Lycans who'd relocated there over the summer. It was just turning August, and preparations for the rest of the year were in full swing, and the activity in the valley had shifted from the Emeritus estate that Copia had been so absent from lately, to the Abbey a ways away, cleaned up, repair works in progress, and peopled once more. Even the forrest that had once sought to hide it awa h had been pusjed back to allow a vein of travel that roped through the woods from the Estate to the sister commune, and the campgroind at the Laketown shore even farther away... It seemed odd that the campgrounds there were so quiet now, and it felt sad to look at im a way, while The Preacherman and The Minister, his chauffeur, passed the brief scenic view of its entrance and trails along the road, only to watch the ghost town dissapear behind a wall of trees that widened the view away from the roads. Again, Jim felt like he was in one place, while the world seemed to moce and pull around him...*
*Usually this time of year, the Lakeside Cabin Land had life in it brought by tourists and reservation parties, but the woods had grown *strange…and dark*, and the waterfront had become dangerous in ways too mysterious and sudden for The Ministry to authorize the public vessel, open, and later, to allow the Lycan commune that had arrived to those shores to remain encamped there. News of the happenings there over the summer had reached Copia and Jim's ears while they had been on the road for tour, and it had indeed been cause to worry… But thankfully, Milagro, the woman they both loved and held deep connection with, had been kept secret and safe, thanks to the Lycans, Alpha Emmanuel Mendez his omega and partner Johan Olson, and Teddy (Thaddius) Wolfe, of course…*
There, when Copia and Jim couldn't have been... shouldn't... wouldn't... whatever... they'd been her white knights whisking her away from danger and visiting her in tall towering places, and Jim felt a tug in his chest, knowing, he could have joined them, left Copia sooner, maybe avoided his current heartache altogether...
The Lycans, and The Vampires, sharing a Valley, for the sake of that gentle woman...
*all the kings horses and all the kings men*
“I heard the backway through the wood got shut down, Loups and shit making it worser ‘an the silk road” Jim said a bit absentmindedly, fingers strapped over his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Mr Psaltarian sighed, "You'd think The Ministry would care about how shit like Loups and Wendigos, strangers and all that, keeps getting into this valley” Mr. Pslatarian spat.
As he continued to drive, Jim frowned.
“Cardi has his hands full, and I ain't surprised that Nihil and Sister Imperator got they hands fulla ‘nuff with cleaning up after last year's hiccups. If'n it doesnt affect the Ministry, it aint big enough to worry 'bout” Jim said almost automatically, both in defense of and in betterment of Copia, and that family he belonged to.
“Don't remind me.” Psaltarian shuddered.
“But I agree, ‘least they could do is set some eyes on the grounds that do bring ‘em business. Laketown cabins closed, how the hell they making the money to upkeep -”
“Cardi's tours are raking it in faster than ever.” Psaltarian said, a nerve clearly flared pver the matter, “Im not surprised the current campaign for his ‘Ascension’ is taking a more global prescedent, than the valley-”
“Yeah, and fuck who's at home in it huh!” Jim spat. Thinking of all the people, the ghoul, Clergy, siblings of sin, and most of all, the neglected partner of the trio between them- their woman, Milagro Montoya, and the precious cargo she carried…
The car was silent a moment, both men stewing, though Jim more so. The road swerved and swayed, the Car bouncing gently along as the landscape whoosh past.
“So why did you come back?”
Mr Psaltarian asked quietly, the car bumping up and down in long rhythms as of holding a space and breath for whatever Jim might say.
“I…” Jim hesitated.
He could see how he looked from deep within. Like he was begging for a way out of the rooms of hurt and the chambers of heartbreak... a life that held a little too much loss, and not enough guiding lights along the nowhere roads...
*I am running away....'Running to' …I wonder, what does it matter?...* Jim thought.
The preacherman mused, remembering the highlights of the dark and light that had painted over his life. Thoughts racing over one another, like raindrops running past eachother on a rainy car window... the shape of something he couldn't quite see a silent companion beside him...
After a long pause, the rain patter softened to a gentle shimmer against the glass, the hum of the car lulling as a few old mile markers grazed over the fields of clearing left from logging operations too far old to remember much history about, irrelevant as it seemed now, yet so part of the landscape that, had they not appeared in the view, would have left anyone traveling this road lost…
Clarity spoke for Jim,
“I came back because… I know where I'm needed… and I ain't losing time thinking on it.” Jim said, a grave resoluteness to his voice. As if he was trying to fit somone else's shoes...
*funny, it almost sounded like sulking*
“So, you're running from things again?” Mr Psaltarian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I ain't 'running from'- not this time…” Jim said, an earnest color to his words a hot flame in his temperament that put a heat in his chest, a feeling that seemed to rise from the meanderings of his imagination in the midst of the feild beyond where he envisioned himself planting his foot in the sand, so to speak.
“Well,” Mr. Psaltarian smirked, rapidly changing gears as he whipped the car into a section of clearing, off-roading through a lesser known or recognized dirt path into the wooded area beyond the clearing on the side of the road, Jim holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar above his head.
Once the momentum tossled into a stop, the car parked at the tree-line, and Mr. Psaltarian pulled the keys from the ignition. The Minister exited the vehicle and marched towards the trunk, opening it as Jim caught his breath at the fun, and perhaps slightly scary whiplash, and unbuckled himself from the backseat. The preacherman capped his thermos and slung it into a duffle bag, that had ridden shotgun during the trip.
“Take it from me-” Psaltarian said, snapping the trunk shut and handing a heavy designer suitcase to Jim's hand nearly making the preacherman drop down with it. Jim clutched the duffle against his chest like precious cargo, and rolled his eyes, popping the handle up from the other suitcase.
“Take my advice- when ya run, make sure you run-”
“Ta somethin’, not ‘way-from” Jim recited back.
“And-” Psaltarian halted, holding the suitcase handle back, making Jim sort of yoink back before he could stubbornly walk off intonthe woods with his ‘yeah-yeah attitude’,
“Nothin happens here, that doesn't happen *there.”
Psaltarian added, before adjusting Jim's tie with expertised hands, movements practiced from all the assisting done for the Head families and leaders of The Ministey over the years. He pat Jim's whiskered cheek boyishly, and produced a small handful of daffodils wrapped in a bit of butcher paper and string, a modest bouquet, not to be forgotten, as they almost had been, from the floor of the front seat.
“and always return, with the end in mind.”
Jim stared down at the flowers a moment. Almost as if, he had realized he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come home in the first place.
*He'd sacrificed so much in silence, just to bring a little soul from the others side, he felt had been waiting for him, for a family... a Vampire's Life Eternal, exchanged for bringing the soul of what would be his firstborn, to this side of the veiled world... he had to be there... Like a wise man to a nativity, he knew, he had to come back, and leave the rest behind... and that he shoulda made this pilgrimage back to.his woman sooner...*
*A man puts away childish things*
Jim thought, his mind briefly thinking of the tie, the chain, wrapped around his heart that had been tethering him into Copia’s company, a bond forged when they had been young, that had long since twisted out of shape, and purpose. Jim then thought of the call to let it go, for the sake of the family The Preacherman had truly wanted to love and be loved by... beginning with somone who loved him so sincerely , she had fundementally changed him, and brought out the very best.*
Pursing a determined lip, he nodded and took the flowers into his own hand. The men nodded in farewell to.one another, and Jim turned. He looked out of place. So nciely dressed, standing in a field at the edge of a wood, like a man journeying to the crossroadsnof.his life... a duffle slung over his shoulder and tightened to his chest, flowers in one hand, dragging a designer suitcase with the other. Ahead, he'd walk over a wobbly footpath he knew would take a bit of time to get him to where he was trying to go to.
And for once, he was glad he was wearing his own shoes, instead of the stuffy ones his father often insisted on, or the ones that had been gifted from Copia and his family to match their tastes... no, these were his own. He had made sure of it. He wanted to bring himself to Milagro, not somone trying to be something else.
*She loved him most that way. Him as himself. Even in the darker times Jim had endured through his addictions and vices, she had loved him, and he'd found strength in her hand to crawl out of the mires he kept falling into. This time thoguh, he wanted to show, he would be here, for her...*
As Jim entered the dark shade of the woods, and looked back, watching Mr. Psaltarian whip a donut in the field and speed away, kicking up dirt and grass towards the road down to the Emeritus estate, Jim watched how the sunshine seemed to filter out, the misty rain having stopped altogether now. He dusted off the dewy velvet drops from his hair and shirt, even though he knew it would dry soon enough to not matter much. But he wanted to look just so.
*He didnt want to walk in to Milagros' sights and look like the pitiful stray he felt like now. Moving from one owner to the next all sad a pathetic like…*
Jim knelt down and opened the duffle a tad, checking on his bag of goodies and gifts he knew might give him grace in saving from his own absence during Milagro's time without him or Copia. But even as he zipped it back up, trying not to jostle the contents too much and look on the bright side of things, he unhooked the thermos and drank the rest of Milagro's famous homemade hot chocolate, as if it were a potion of courage... instead, a wave of something like guilt flooded him. Momentarily, he looked back to where he had come from. The scattered field silent and empty now… Then ahead to where he was going, stuffed full of trees and shadows.
He was scared.
*Not that he couldn't do it, but that in the doing, he'd ultimately let someone down…*
Then Jim eyed the daffodils tied with a string. He picked them up and gently stroked the petals and circled the ridges centering the flower face.
*"Daffodills!”
he could hear her saying in his head, a memory, bright beyond the clouds like sunshine above the rain. The delight of her voice, the way she so sweetly clasped her hands together in awe at the simple wonder of something so, ordinary… it had always moved The Preacherman to think of it.*
*Jim had enjoyed the simple pleasures of wildflowers, sure, even preached about God's flowers of the field a time or two when he used to do that sorta thing… but Father Defroque had not truly appreciated them before... the Esteemed Preacherman had grown an affinity for the blood red roses and their rainbow of hues amongst the ministry gardens where Copia's memory to him seemed to seep deeper over time… nothing like the seemingly plain, though pleasant peach trees back home at his manor, or rather, his Father's, or... his Father's father's... His father's, beautiful southern mansion in Alabama.
*never despise the small things*
Jim remembered, wiping a hand down his face a moment before clutching the flowers closer. They caressed his lips and cheeks, so cool and soothing...
Warm memories rising... where the simple moments in life, seemed more beautiful than all them yellow flowers in gods earthy feilds...
He sighed. Jim, quietly scolded himself for his cynical habits, and bowed his head a moment to thank god for the pretty pictures painted for him in the orchards that ran along the Defroque Manor. There had been many. And he needed to hold onto that.
Remmebering that even though that place, his home supposedly, felt more like a prison of the past than for memories made anew, it was still a place where love had been felt. Where sanctuary had been granted, and where those trees in the peach orchards rolled beyond the gentle slopes of Jim's horizon view from those big house windows... such beautiful trees, they carried a nostalgia and sense of accomplishment in their air, but were like apples to oranges in comparison to the verdant arrangements from every southern socialite party and bubliette and debutante. They were humble things, productive things, not like the displays of exotic floral arangements and peacockery that had come in every shape and size that seemed to don every church-going-woman's big hat… what James, Jim's Father thought was lady like and respectable, and what Jim should want, as his son and heir to the family business... but Milagro, the flowers that reminded Jim of her, were different… after knowing her, every time he thought of how he would change things if he could, he thought of her dancing through the peach trees beyond his window, and he knew he wanted that for his view from the back porch. To plant a feild of wildflowers beside the orchards.
'For the polinators to come on down, benefit both sides' he would say to himself, when dreaming big about that future he wanted so much.*
*Jim imagined how Milagro and he would walk together under the shade of those trees, earth so soft she could be barefoot on the wall, he'd a taken care of that place so good, shed always walk on somethin soft, or on a carpet of petals... and when the fruit hung ripe and sweet, how they'd pluck them, lay them together in their baskets lined with a nest of wildflowers and mixed Honeys to share it. She loved all the flowers, but she took particular affinity to the ones that people didnt think much of. She was like that in many ways. And that was a beautiful thing...*
Jim smiled softly at the bright flower faces staring up at him, remembering that day he had seen the sweetest, purest joy spread over that pretty woman's face, and the genuine happiness that that word, ‘daffodils' was always said with… no matter the occasion. Coulda been a wriggle of a weedy thing that popped up on the wrong side of a Crack house, or a field of them strung up in a flower show in pasedena… always the same*...
“Daffodills” Jim murmured in time with her echo, a warmth settling in him as he sighed.
“How did you get so many?” He recited, a moment from a scene in a movie he barely remembered taking her to once.
But when he had looked over at her in the picture of those theater lights, seeing her crinkled eyes and cheerful grin, lost in the projector lights beyond,
“They're your favorite flower…” he had realized as soon as the movie said it when reciting the movie line to her…
That look on her face, was one he knew was waiting for him on that road ahead in life. It was then he knew, there was more waiting for him in his version of heaven, than he had ever known...*
And before he knew it, Jim Defroque was marching through the woods, hauling his things, already in that moment when he would walk through those doors and see *her again*.
And as the vision to him grew stronger with each step, he clutched the bouquet tighter, remembering why he was ‘coming home in the first place’
*I know where I'm needed… and I aint wasting time in getting there...
time to run to, not away from*
Jimmy Defroque thought.
As Jim stepped through his vision into the present, barely noticing the clearing of space between him from the abbey doors, the sight gave way through the passing entrance of The Abbey, to the lazy stairway that ascended towards the landing, where already waited a pretty Blonde, round with child, eyes warm as the stream of sun lluminating the window behind her.
At the sight of Jim, standing there at the bottom of the stairs, arms and hands full of things, that pretty woman clasped her hands together in delight, hair streaming behind her, her steps excitedly running to him, and right through , into his arms, opened so all at once for her, longing to be filled with her… on god, it was a beautiful picture… the rest of the world swept away from the velvet kisses exchanged in giddy reunion, through the dusting dew of happy tears, and hands that would never really let go...
Jim's shoulders fell away from his ears, and his arms strengthened with Milagro in them as she nuzzled against his chest. He kissed her hair and her neck and face like he'd missed her more than anything in the world than he realized, and as he knelt down, kissing the round of her stomach where the precious things he should have been here sooner for, were growing inside her, Milagro lovingly slipped one hand into his, running her fingers up his arm to his hair, her other hand dropping to the other parcel between them.
“Daffodils!” She smiled, a soft squeal of delight in her voice as her laughter landed like the mist of warm sweet summer rain to Jim's ears. She smelled like blossoms, her rosy cheeks round and soft as peaches with that pretty glow that comes from someone wearing their motherhood on their sleeve.
Jim closed his eyes, cheek against Milagro's stomach and realizing he was indeed, home, not only where he was needed, but where he belonged,
“Daffodills-” he repeated,
a warm sigh carrying down the gentle rumble of his voice.
Repeated, almost as if to Milagro and to the little ones she carried...
*what he'd given up so much for, for the life of the unknown that was opening up to him like a bit of sunshine in the dark*
Perhaps even repeated aloud,
as if to himself,
*to remind him to remember where he'd come to, what end in mind he cared the most to run after...*
Jim inhaled the familiar scent of the boquet in hand, sighed, and recited
“they're you're favorite flower”.
Milagro smiled warmly. A light in her gaze as she watched her heart grow with the sight before her.
She rested her hand with the flowers on Jim's shoulder, and let the other caress over his head, bringing him closer against her body.
“How did you get so many”
she recited, continuing the line, basking in the light of a memory growing then, and now.
*nothing happens here that doesn't happen there, was more than meant for the ones who run off from their circumstances, trying to get to a grass thats greener… no, they're also for the prodigals, that run back to where home is- where the love is in the very air they breathe*
Jim sighed once more and hugged Milagro at the waist, nuzzling into her as he leaned into her embrace.
“Baby I missed you” Jim said. Then kissing Milagro's belly once more, he added happily, thinking of that end he wanted, the way every man that dreams his own heaven, saying
“and I missed my babies too”.
He stood once more and this time, his lips went to hers. And there they stayed letting the sun shine on the close of a long, long, day...
Weeee! Come catch the wave with us at Ministry📺TV for the Part two of
Between The Lines: Of Meetings And Partings
dropping soon!
A part of the episode where we get to see a fan fave, one we have particularly sympathized with since our popular Wafflehause episode...
See the Rerun Here🧇🏠: https://www.tumblr.com/zombocomme/782233944704892928/between-the-lines-btl-au?source=share
(Curious? You should be.... how else do you think DeCopia became a hashtag!... )- [AZ]
So Jim Defroque,
(Yes he has a playlist, newly updated , link to come ;) -Ghrizkit Radio
We wondered when he would clean up his act and get real with himself in the timeline from the part 1 (released previously) Here:
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
So now that Jimmy has left Copia's Touring Entourage... where, and more importantly, who , is home now?
(Don't you wonder what the strings of events was that lead from that wafflehause angst, to a sweet sight like this?) -[AZ]
[Photo credit 🧡 @puuuders , go comish!]
(Dig a little deeper... the rabit hole is gonna grow, much bigger, than you think ;) [AZ]
Keep your notofs on, we will go live again soon, and the part 2 in this little ramp up will help us set the stage... for the next big events to turn, in our,
Diving back into the swing of things, Ministry TV has some episode scraps from The Vault for the Between The Lines AU followers that have just landed in our laps for lineup!
In preparation for rolling into our summer marathon, we announce we are preparing this special episodic showcase, to tie into an anticipated lost episode, that connects our funny little time-lines together in a quarter quell finale!
(Didn't you ever wonder what happened on the dad trip everyone took? How even everyone got there?)- [AZ]
( @puuuders commissioned phot credit)
Mark your calendars kids, the BTL AU is expanding starting tomorrow, and following a planned hiatus for our show writer [AZ]-
bless them, they are putting down roots at last-
we will see how the Christmas episode aired at the end of the 2025 year will show how this 2026 year's ending, really is only, The Beginning.
See you soon dears, an episode excerpt will be airing very soon!
(Keep your notifs on, when we go Live, we'll leave the light on!)- [AZ]
Copia smiled into the glass in his hand. Rolling the ice with a satisfyingly soft clink. The condensation sliding down the glass pebbled around his gloved fingertips and the younger man across the bar slid a napkin towards him, the number on it written in a script that seemed a little more sophisticated than one would expect.
*A triple 6 calling card*
*That's a Bingo*
Copia thought, a giddy knott tightening below his stomach.
The Cardinal let his other hand hover a moment before his gloved fingers gently walked the napkin paper under his palm.
“You know, you can just ask for my autograph right here, right now?” Copia smiled. A sultry silk ribbon tied alluringly around his words, invitingly gripping, and impossible to ignore. This was his gift, this charm. It didn't take much to tempt an admirer to his bed, or his fangs, and the bartender in the hotel and he, had been sending glances, measuring, behind knowing smirks to confirm they were indeed ‘in the know’, or rather ‘in the club’.
The man smiled, his piercing blue eyes like sapphires, bleach blonde hair almost glowing in the electric blue bar lights, he was so beautiful and radiant, Copia’s eyes almost hurt.
“So, when are you off,” said Copia, knocking back the glass, flicking out the Ministry Black Card from his fingers, both impatient and eager, “the night is young, many places to see before the sun comes up…”
The man behind the counter smiled, biting his lip before glancing up at the clock. “Depends I guess- my room is a nice perk from the hotel as long as I work here on shoet notice. Time, unfortunately, is money, missing the next shift costs me a shiny penny every time I do it-”
*Ah. He's expensive* Copia thought. He wondered, despite the obvious beauty of the selection in front of him, what made this man think himself so satisfying to take from?…this *bleeder…*
“I may have some room in my schedule-”
“Oh because you're so busy, tending all your clients at the bar?” Copia teased, motioning to the nearly empty room, pocketing the numbered napkin, mentally filing away the visual image of this contact in this city. Hotels made good meetup places for those in The Donor Network. But for the sake of anonymity, donors rarely if ever, gave out any personal information… except the crazy ones...
*The “Cranks” as they were called, those fiending addicts who were available at the drop of a hat to bleed for damn near anyone. They had a look to them. Sunken, pale, slinking around, agressive... willing to do just about anything to be a feeder for a Vampire.
And if a Vampire was known to have a particularly euphoric or strong kickback in their venom, best believe the “Cranks” were throwing themselves at the blood suckers, vying for attention, begging to be drained, more than they should ever let anyone take from them. More than a respectable, clean billed, donor would, anyway...
Those ones, the clean ones, had price tags for their services, schedules to keep themselves in optimal health, routines of food and exercise to keep their bodies in model shape, some even went so far as to undergo routine dialysis to make their blood rich and soft, like purifying wine of the finest quality- the more extreme routined were often catered for more Elite affordability, often posing as escorts or night companions, even long term affairs, offering more than just their blood services, offering more than just their time; the status of being someone's beautiful personal blood purse for company, without the strings and formalities required of a master to a Familiar, came not only with the perks of the venom and the vitality granted by the Vampire that fed from them, but granted their unique effects, a powerhouse rushing through the spillways, there was notoriety involved between who had fed from who, and who was being kept on as an elite's private feeder. It takes all kinds to rule the world. And the occult was only a branch of it, traded sometimes by dollars worth the millions*
*And while Copia was a nearly insatiable man in terms of feeding, and had been, minus some rare circumstances that could be considered deathly desperate, he did have wealth, and expensive taste. Even his modest transactions were more than decent. And his venom, potent. He was more than worth the pain of the bleeding... and shopping around...*
*To be fair, the haughty nature's of the more renowned and unscrupulous donors, the one's who he did know, some personally and unfoetunately by name, did not appeal to him. Their blood parties and habitual, more despicable dining practices, were not of interest to The Cardinal from the Emeritus house... In fact, aside from big spending and some partying, Copia had never been much of a socialite anyway, the circles rarely if ever mixed...
That was more Jim's thing, though Jim was wilder than he was, mixing street drugs, pills, and spirits to enhance his feedings and encounters. Performance enhancers to intensify the feedings... well, used to, anyway, he'd been sober nearly 2 years... but the result of the reputation often attracted a heavier handed crowd, and a little too much risk for eposé. Copia preferred lower profile donors, so remained, a lower profile attitude about his feedings. It made shopping for quality a challenge, often underestimated like a Pretty Woman in a designer store. But tonight, the man across the bar looked like a wet dream, and his scent was alluring like something that might be worth, not only the money, but the risk…*
“Clear your schedule-” Copia smirked, tapping the card edge on the table. “I know a place you might enjoy the night off- and there is more than one tourist with fancies and fanciers that I think would be worth occupying your time.”
The man took the card and rang up the overpriced drinks at the register. Not even looking up, deft hands skimming gracefully over the buttons, its was such a flirt… showing off his handsome hands, roped with smooth cords of blue veins under supple skin. The kind that would be as satisfying to sink ones fangs into as sinking into the flavor of a plush, prime, rare, marbled steak.
And he knew Copia was staring.
“Mm- so you like to entertain your guests. That's generous of you- little partying on the vengabus?” the man chuckled, flashing a sly smile.
Copia smirked, “I've been told I put on a good show, who knows, I do like to throw in little passes for my fans-”
“Oh I know” the man smiled, handing the card back, almost smugly, “I heard the tour was coming through here. Why do you think I'm just a temp- not being strapped down, well, in the conventional sense-” he said, voice dripping saucily over Copia's ears in a way that made The Cardinal's pants tighten pleasantly, "makes it easier to keep up on any tag alongs thrown ny way".
“So you're a fan of mine or you're a groupie guy in general?” Copia teased, taking the card back and leaning forward over the bar, turning his wrist over in a smooth flick, a hot hundo in cash as a tip between two fingers.
*He liked this game.*
“More of, a tour guide.”
“A tour guide?” Copia chuckled, the cash snatched from his hand with a little pizzaz that confirmed oh yes, this donor wasn't just a model expense wannabe. He had something to offer up his sleeve. An *experience*...
The Satanic cardinal wondered what temptations this young man had to offer him...
“I take it you enjoy your encounters with a little fine dining?” The man said, slipping the neck of his apron off, untyinging the back knot around his trim waist quickly.
It looked like the deal might go through.
“I can guarantee my bus has good catering. Privacy, and good security, party your little heart out!” Copia laughed, stepping up from the stool. This was it. Either it was on or off. He hoped it was on.
“Much as I would love to check out , your groupie van-” the man said, tossing his apron shamelessly over the register, “I prefer to take you there myself.”
“There? And where is there?” Copia said, raising an eyebrow.
“Somewhere where a man of your talents would be appreciated.”
Copia frowned slightly.
*Sometimes donors could be pushy, escorts services could land one in a situation… sometimes meaning donors were trying to get themselves and their little friends together for their own experience, it wasn't unusual, but it was often a little scammy. Sort of taking advantage of a situation where a Vampire in need is pressured to satisfy the rest- a power imbalance Copia's kind were not so fond of…*
*And while a little light blood orgy was nothing The Cardinal hadn't snubbed his nose at before, he wondered if the ridiculously beautiful specimen here, so blond and blue eyed, and yoked like a young stag, was like a catphisher for less savory, other, more desperate friends. This city wasn't really known to have Cranks in it, but, one couldn't be too careful. Picking people up in bars had its risks, afterall…*
“I keep company with my troupe- if a party is too much for you, my bus is still comfortable enough for two-” Copia snuffed, shrugging slightly.
The man looked at Copia puzzled. Then, as if putting the peices together, threw his head back and laughed.
The Cardinal was taken back by the sound. It didn't sound scornful, teasing, or even funny, per-se. No, the sound warbling from the young mans throat was, genuine! And even more surprising, it was, captivating. Enchanting almost. And he found himself beginning to laugh along.
“Im *inviting* you to come to a club with me!” the man said after a moment, a smile on his face and a slight twinkle in those sapphire blue eyes, “Im not worried about keeping you all to myself, Im not entirely selfish, but Im not going to force feed you to a bunch of freaks- well, at least not the ones you're thinking of.” he winked.
“And how do you know what I'm thinking of?” Copia said, raising a brow and letting the laughter die down.
“Call it a hunch…” the man thought a moment before shrugging it off, “I have my ways, and in any case, I think you'll find me interesting enough to *want* to follow around this town. I think you'll have a good time! And that's my thing. I like to find the thrill seekers, the adventurers, the ones who might be a bit like me-”
Something about the way the man said that phrase, "*like me*" sent a shiver up Copia's spine, but he let the moment slip away...
The man sounded, almost, happy. Carefree. A sense of some sort of innocence or purity blinked almost kindly from his expressive face… Something was unusual about this donor...
After a quiet moment, the man could feel the strange gaze, guaging his every move, his every pulse, and the confident demeanor he was exuding faltered slightly.
*like a vulnerable little white mouse, caught in the gaze of something that enjoyed eying its prey quiver under its claws*
“Ahem..uh…Care for a smoke?” The man said, nodding towards the exit behind the bar, almost dancing backwards into the pushbar through it. Trying to put a little distance from the awkward silence. Surprisingly, Copia found himself following him.
*The skittish ones always were his favorite to corrupt. Easing them into their pain and pleasure. The control was deeply satisfying, and the little spark of fear in the blood gave it a little tang that made Copia's blood run hot, and his desire throb deliciously*
In a well lit, though sort of dingy back alley, where the dumpster kept company with the spare crates of goods and supplies, the man pulled out a joint, and handed it fresh, to Copia first, the door behind them swinging shut.
Not one to turn down a free first puff and pass, Copia smiled and tweezed the rolled paper at his nose.
It smelled good, relatively fresh. Something homemade about it that felt fun to want to try.
“So, a club?” Copia asked, snapping a lighter from his own pocket and lighting the joint.
“Yeah- kind of a specialty club. Bit vampy. But has a backroom drift." the man said, pulling out a cigarette as well.
“That so,” Copia said, holding the smoke in his lungs and passing the joint back. The man took it gracefully and inhaled. Talking through the tight chested hold he continued, “The O' is a nice place. I think you'll like it.” The man released, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips, then lighting a cigarette like a breath chaser, he continued “I could have them play a song or two from your set list, and all the boys can dance-”
Copia coughed, laughing a little, feeling the smoke waft from his breath, “Haha! What a name for a club- ‘The O’ where boys can dance, let me guess, very gay, probably have ‘pickledick’ chasers and 'cum shots' for their creatively themed drinks?”.
The man blew out his own smoke but shook his head good naturedly. “Hey, it's a neat little place,” he said in mock defensiveness, “that's just the front of the shop… the real party happens in the back.”
“The back?” Copia scoffed playfully, “You make it sound like you got a sex dungeon waiting for me there!”
“Something like that…”
The man took the joint back from Copia.
The alley air seemd to have froze with anticipation.
Trading the cigarette for the joint and back.
“I see… I've never heard of this place on The Network-” Copia said at last.
“Come see it for yourself then, leave a review.” The man said nonchalantly, those jewel blue eyes flashing something inviting, wanting…
“Then what,” Copia roused, a low sound that traveld down the man's spine and sat thick inside his stomach, “Take me to a private room for a bit of fun before the feast?”
“You'd could say that. If you want to come, that is.” The man flicked his hair, the shine flashing slightly under the lamplight.
At this, Copia was already pushing against him in the alley, a hand sliding up the hard planes of the man's torso, thumb drawing down a line where the heat of the vena cava twisted along his insides, and then higher along the arterial branches that plumed upwards toward his neck, where hot breath and the soft gliding trickle of fangs grazed the man's pale, perfect skin.
“I like the sound of that.” Copia hissed, a soft clip in his syllables that made hardened flesh dribble and the senses crawl with anticipation- he had him by the throat. Like a sweet little thing caught in a web. The Cardinal just wanted to see where it would go. How far could he push, his pretty little moth in the lamplight.
*Donors even expensive ones rarely if ever let a Vampire drain from a neck hole. The danger of a heart plug, if the Vampire doing the biting didn't seal off the wound or latch properly, could prove a deadly game… but it was *exciting*...
Copia ran his fangs and lips along the lifeline pulsing beneath that perfect pale skin,
“Think a little club like yours could handle me?”
The man licked his lips, a soft tremble running along his body.
“Oh, trust me, there's more fans in this little fan club, that pay to just watch somone do something like you can- I th-think you'll be surprised to find out who's th-there on a given Teusday.” the man panted, hip rutting gently against the Cardinal's thigh planted between them.
Satanas, Copia had him bewitched like a master, and the pretty white feeder had to stifle a noise from squeaking out of his throat, while Copia teased knowingly over his Adam's apple, flicking a toungue to the sweat dampening his skin. The cigarette between the man's lips burning down faster as his breath hitched in soft whimpered breaths. Desire pooled behind Copia's stomach and dropped lower. The man was feeling the power emanate from This Cardinal's aura. It felt risky, delicious, and so deeply consuming…
*Yes. He liked this game…*
Copia leered a smile.
*Silly rabbit...Trix are for-
*Tricks…?* the man chewed his lip, *or treats...*
Their minds were passing something back and forth in the heat of the blinking eyed moment…
(But how?)
*Oh yesss…He liked this game…*
Copia sniffed the man's neck gently and loosened his gloved grip, retreating. The intensity lulling back to a pleasant hum under the electric flicker of the streetlamps in the alley. Heartbeats, thumping in rhythmic time.
“I Do, love an audience. And I like to say, go big, or go home. ” Copia smoothly said.
The man slid a hand through his hair, blue eyes wide, pupils blown with desire. He smirked as he realized Copia had gently tongued the cigarette from his own lips to smoke it, and put it out against the wall with a smouldering hiss that sent tingles across his skin. Copias gloved fingers pinched off the blunt still between the man's fingers, signaling the end of this part of negotiation, and the beginning of the night- the what would happen.
The last question, was where...
“‘The O’ has a play room in the back, discreet, private,” The man said, collecting himself and running a cool hand through the nearly perfectly coifed hair on his head, down his neck self soothingly, “We don't get as many visitors like you there. Its a bit niché, kinda the local secret… But for you, I'm sure it will be quite the treat. And no fussing for attention. Everyone plays nice, unless you want them to play dirty” he said, trying to soothe the crinkle in Copia’s brow before it hardened to a line he found appalling and appealing on such a handsomely painted face. “Like I said” the man continued, “there's no force feeding you to anyone there- I like to let people have fun- that's my thing.”
Copia tilted his head this way then that. Throwing one more bone to see if this too-good-to-be-true offer really was worth the risk. The place sounded exclusive, even if given the front of house impression as a public access thing. It made Cipia a tad uneasy- how closed off would he be, if he didn't want to stay there?
“If you know me and my band, I don't, exactly, like to party without them.” His backup. If they weren't invited, he wouldn't go. Call it a security possé but, it was the last card to play before he would decide to fold.
“What, the Ghouls? Yeah!” The man piped up, “bring them in if you like. They keep it dark, and the props and toys clean for a variety of play… they probably would like the vibe, honestly. Rowdy or relaxed, theres a space for everyone.” The man smiled and tilted his head...
*Boyish. Mischievous. Far from innocent minded. And yet so angelic in his features. A likeness of Lucifer that really, no one could pass up from wanting to drape him over and feed from him*
Copia smirked, but, was a bit surprised that this stranger in an alley here for a hitch and suck was knowledgeable enough about the underworld to know the proper name for his band mates’ kind …
"I mean is it going to matter if the hellspawn are here or there?" Copia said, taking another drag, "They're likely to eat somome alive for fun, I don't like having to clean up the mess."
The man blinked back and incredulously grinned, "Hey, I'm just offering a little something new for your palate, whatever the hellspawn favor, probably half the guests at 'The O' would dig it... Suffocating between a pair of nice thighs, a tight tail around the neck, or being driven up a St. Andrew's with a little knife play, a little fun before the meal..." Copia raised a brow, a little more than interested in the menu.
"Oh, so you think they have tails?" Copia asked, feigning a casual disinterest, as if the man before him were talking in tall tales.
"Oh please," the man remarked rolling his eyes.
*The sass was just too tastey to watch too closely*
"Anyone with an imagination would put two and two together. Ghouls have a look about them. But The Ghoule, have an, element, about their natures, and, they always come with a tail. I've had encounters with one or two in my time. Fun creatures."
The Cardinal blinked.
*Copia had introduced each of the hellspawned Ghoule as merely "Ghouls" every night, but their glamor made them look human enough that the masses sort of just thought it was all a gimmick, all while hearing the truth so plain and not looking too closely... Still.... That this mortal could pick out the difference so properly, garnered enough interest for Copia to share a pleasant grin and wrap an arm around the man's waist, a thumb in a belt loop for ownership, for show. He pulled him closer, a mischievous side hold while The Cardinal's free hand slid and fiddled with the man's clothes, leaning in, words and breaths tickling the ears and neck, tantilizingly.
"So you know the Jargon lad, you are fully aware what you're getting into if they are around."
"Of course. Why else would I have followed the tour so closely, I wanted my own VIP time, especially with you".
"Ah... So you are a groupie guy" Copia tisked, but not entirely put off.
The man shrugged, "I like having a good time. I like giving others a good time. Especially of they're so interesting," he motioned up and down to Copia, "I enjoy variety- but if I dont have to share the attention, I wouldn't mind enjoying your, essence, all for myself."
"Flattery is my favorite lie" Copia said, licking his lips, "That gets you far, Im sure you know."
"Im not just a pretty face" the man replied, looking up at Copia with a catty expression, "I know my way around, I don't aim to just, go far, I want you. All the way. Every way. It's that simple. Can you blame me?" He leaned in closer, this time, *now his* hands pulled at Copia's hips while he whispered, making the Cardinal's skin shiver, "What's a little sin between sinners, I give, you take, and I have an unusually high tolerance to be taken from..."
The man palmed down Copia's pants firmly, The Cardinal let out a satisfying grunt and groan beneath the grip. "And I happen to be good at giving..." Satanas the man was hung nicely, his hardness pressing against Copia's through the material. "If I can entertain a small coven at their penthouse, I'm sure, I can satisfy that appetite in you, wherever you want me to be. "
(But how did he know that. How could a singular person do that?)
*Like a haze, the cloud of need and desire, had put a spell between them, concocted between them as their dark thoughts mistepped into one another. Not only were they like minded, something entirely too compatable was being stitched between them- bewitching them in the lamplight, and The Cardinal knew the danger of this unusual feeling. It wasn't just compatability. It was a Match. Thoughts of a new blood purse drowned his mind. It took everything in him to peel back from the heavy petting and panting between them to take a breath, swallow, and try to out muscle his own grip, leather gloves squeaking softly. Something was too strong here. But by God, how could he help himself. So rare to find such an attraction, such a connection, in one so beautiful, in one so intriguing. He had to calm down. He had to think.*
Copia could sense the truth in the man's words. This whole time, he sensed no deceit betraying the man's thoughts. Copia had a theory. But to test it, he'd need to enjoy the spoils of this prize first. Not that after all that had transpored this night, meant it was a bad thing, he still needed to feed, and with Jim having left him, Copia desperately needed releif, and release... And he was indeed, famished, eager, and painfully aching at this point. He was getting impatient.
*He figured, what could he loose? How bad could it be. His criteria was met. There was no apparent reason to stall, he thought...*
*It was enough to know not only was the Satanic Cardinal's scene wholly invited to a pleasure space, it, or at least his companion, was educated in it. The venue just classed the experience even more highly than he thought before... and now that he was aware what “The O” really was, a buffet of vampire fans who liked to mix blood with their play, it was this esteemed Cardinal's chance to act out, get away with it, to indulge in his carnal vices by the sultry sweet invitation of, had this man not smelled so human, would have guessed was being offered by a devil itself.*
*He would have to guard this beautiful creature, this lovely new pet, for however long he was being kept under wing...*
Suddenly everything rushed back, and the man's bleach blonde hair gleamed, and those eyes so strong, so blue, half lidded, blinked up in a questioning gaze. An intense feeling of possession, protection, even care, shot like an arrow through Copia's chest.
Copia ran a longing finger along The Man's face, thr black glove stark against the softly illuminated skin.
"Jawline for days" Copia muttered absentmindedly...
The man looked both strong and delicate, like bone China, and not a scratch or mark to blemish it... not yet, anyway...
Copia looked at this stranger under his wing, up and down like a prize perched pretty on his arm, he felt like he had struck a lucky bargain with such a unique escort for the night, to a new, hole-in-the wall place, built for somone like himself. And so beautiful was this company, The Cardinal figured even Satan himself would paint this stranger like Lucifer's Statues, poised in pale marble, jeweled eyes gleaming like blue halos of hellfire… who wouldn't want to be worshipped by such a fine specimine?… Who wouldn't want to worship it, to lav luxuriously at that equine neck and watch those sapphire halos wince and widen, hear that pretty voice warble out in pleasure and a little bit of ecstasy in the pain… it would be a true sin, to not to...*
“Lead the way, Caro,” Copia husked, “I'd like to take a look at that place you so highly reccomend. In fact, im feeling a bit lucky. Let us go, just me and you, meet these friends of yours… who knows where the night takes us. Lots to see before the sun comes up. Though if your little suite at the hotel is still an open invitation, I shouldn't wonder I'de keep you in behind the dark curtains, long after sun-up, or if you're free, perhaps join me for my next show, backstage... if you're game to keep the party going after sundown, that is. Like I said, the catering is good. Private and safe, and if you have the stamina like you say you do, why, both of us, should be in for quite the feast.”
The man grinned wide, perfect teeth flat as tombstones, and licked his lips, already tasting the kickback he knew would come from such a man as this vampiric rockstar, feeling his own heat throb achingly beneath his belt line. He sidled up to Copia, an angelic shade to a demon's shaddow, running a handsome hand along the Cardinal's hip giving it a squeeze.
"I like this game."
"Im glad, you do..."
The man motioned out of the alley towards the half hustling night street, and the promises that lay beyond. The two walked off into the shadows, tripping a light fantastic, off to a neon seascape of black velvet prickled by the city lights, as if the dark deep smile of hell were personally welcoming them in, promising a handsome bastard prince such as Copia, a night to remember, and the mysterious glow of a stranger with him, an adventure of a lifetime.
**for indeed, there would be Hell to pay…**
*and little did they know, what was promised, was Exactly, what they were going to get*
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Copia smiled into the glass in his hand. Rolling the ice with a satisfyingly soft clink. The condensation sliding down the glass pebbled around his gloved fingertips and the younger man across the bar slid a napkin towards him, the number on it written in a script that seemed a little more sophisticated than one would expect.
*A triple 6 calling card*
*That's a Bingo*
Copia thought, a giddy knott tightening below his stomach.
The Cardinal let his other hand hover a moment before his gloved fingers gently walked the napkin paper under his palm.
“You know, you can just ask for my autograph right here, right now?” Copia smiled. A sultry silk ribbon tied alluringly around his words, invitingly gripping, and impossible to ignore. This was his gift, this charm. It didn't take much to tempt an admirer to his bed, or his fangs, and the bartender in the hotel and he, had been sending glances, measuring, behind knowing smirks to confirm they were indeed ‘in the know’, or rather ‘in the club’.
The man smiled, his piercing blue eyes like sapphires, bleach blonde hair almost glowing in the electric blue bar lights, he was so beautiful and radiant, Copia’s eyes almost hurt.
“So, when are you off,” said Copia, knocking back the glass, flicking out the Ministry Black Card from his fingers, both impatient and eager, “the night is young, many places to see before the sun comes up…”
The man behind the counter smiled, biting his lip before glancing up at the clock. “Depends I guess- my room is a nice perk from the hotel as long as I work here on shoet notice. Time, unfortunately, is money, missing the next shift costs me a shiny penny every time I do it-”
*Ah. He's expensive* Copia thought. He wondered, despite the obvious beauty of the selection in front of him, what made this man think himself so satisfying to take from?…this *bleeder…*
“I may have some room in my schedule-”
“Oh because you're so busy, tending all your clients at the bar?” Copia teased, motioning to the nearly empty room, pocketing the numbered napkin, mentally filing away the visual image of this contact in this city. Hotels made good meetup places for those in The Donor Network. But for the sake of anonymity, donors rarely if ever, gave out any personal information… except the crazy ones...
*The “Cranks” as they were called, those fiending addicts who were available at the drop of a hat to bleed for damn near anyone. They had a look to them. Sunken, pale, slinking around, agressive... willing to do just about anything to be a feeder for a Vampire.
And if a Vampire was known to have a particularly euphoric or strong kickback in their venom, best believe the “Cranks” were throwing themselves at the blood suckers, vying for attention, begging to be drained, more than they should ever let anyone take from them. More than a respectable, clean billed, donor would, anyway...
Those ones, the clean ones, had price tags for their services, schedules to keep themselves in optimal health, routines of food and exercise to keep their bodies in model shape, some even went so far as to undergo routine dialysis to make their blood rich and soft, like purifying wine of the finest quality- the more extreme routined were often catered for more Elite affordability, often posing as escorts or night companions, even long term affairs, offering more than just their blood services, offering more than just their time; the status of being someone's beautiful personal blood purse for company, without the strings and formalities required of a master to a Familiar, came not only with the perks of the venom and the vitality granted by the Vampire that fed from them, but granted their unique effects, a powerhouse rushing through the spillways, there was notoriety involved between who had fed from who, and who was being kept on as an elite's private feeder. It takes all kinds to rule the world. And the occult was only a branch of it, traded sometimes by dollars worth the millions*
*And while Copia was a nearly insatiable man in terms of feeding, and had been, minus some rare circumstances that could be considered deathly desperate, he did have wealth, and expensive taste. Even his modest transactions were more than decent. And his venom, potent. He was more than worth the pain of the bleeding... and shopping around...*
*To be fair, the haughty nature's of the more renowned and unscrupulous donors, the one's who he did know, some personally and unfoetunately by name, did not appeal to him. Their blood parties and habitual, more despicable dining practices, were not of interest to The Cardinal from the Emeritus house... In fact, aside from big spending and some partying, Copia had never been much of a socialite anyway, the circles rarely if ever mixed...
That was more Jim's thing, though Jim was wilder than he was, mixing street drugs, pills, and spirits to enhance his feedings and encounters. Performance enhancers to intensify the feedings... well, used to, anyway, he'd been sober nearly 2 years... but the result of the reputation often attracted a heavier handed crowd, and a little too much risk for eposé. Copia preferred lower profile donors, so remained, a lower profile attitude about his feedings. It made shopping for quality a challenge, often underestimated like a Pretty Woman in a designer store. But tonight, the man across the bar looked like a wet dream, and his scent was alluring like something that might be worth, not only the money, but the risk…*
“Clear your schedule-” Copia smirked, tapping the card edge on the table. “I know a place you might enjoy the night off- and there is more than one tourist with fancies and fanciers that I think would be worth occupying your time.”
The man took the card and rang up the overpriced drinks at the register. Not even looking up, deft hands skimming gracefully over the buttons, its was such a flirt… showing off his handsome hands, roped with smooth cords of blue veins under supple skin. The kind that would be as satisfying to sink ones fangs into as sinking into the flavor of a plush, prime, rare, marbled steak.
And he knew Copia was staring.
“Mm- so you like to entertain your guests. That's generous of you- little partying on the vengabus?” the man chuckled, flashing a sly smile.
Copia smirked, “I've been told I put on a good show, who knows, I do like to throw in little passes for my fans-”
“Oh I know” the man smiled, handing the card back, almost smugly, “I heard the tour was coming through here. Why do you think I'm just a temp- not being strapped down, well, in the conventional sense-” he said, voice dripping saucily over Copia's ears in a way that made The Cardinal's pants tighten pleasantly, "makes it easier to keep up on any tag alongs thrown ny way".
“So you're a fan of mine or you're a groupie guy in general?” Copia teased, taking the card back and leaning forward over the bar, turning his wrist over in a smooth flick, a hot hundo in cash as a tip between two fingers.
*He liked this game.*
“More of, a tour guide.”
“A tour guide?” Copia chuckled, the cash snatched from his hand with a little pizzaz that confirmed oh yes, this donor wasn't just a model expense wannabe. He had something to offer up his sleeve. An *experience*...
The Satanic cardinal wondered what temptations this young man had to offer him...
“I take it you enjoy your encounters with a little fine dining?” The man said, slipping the neck of his apron off, untyinging the back knot around his trim waist quickly.
It looked like the deal might go through.
“I can guarantee my bus has good catering. Privacy, and good security, party your little heart out!” Copia laughed, stepping up from the stool. This was it. Either it was on or off. He hoped it was on.
“Much as I would love to check out , your groupie van-” the man said, tossing his apron shamelessly over the register, “I prefer to take you there myself.”
“There? And where is there?” Copia said, raising an eyebrow.
“Somewhere where a man of your talents would be appreciated.”
Copia frowned slightly.
*Sometimes donors could be pushy, escorts services could land one in a situation… sometimes meaning donors were trying to get themselves and their little friends together for their own experience, it wasn't unusual, but it was often a little scammy. Sort of taking advantage of a situation where a Vampire in need is pressured to satisfy the rest- a power imbalance Copia's kind were not so fond of…*
*And while a little light blood orgy was nothing The Cardinal hadn't snubbed his nose at before, he wondered if the ridiculously beautiful specimen here, so blond and blue eyed, and yoked like a young stag, was like a catphisher for less savory, other, more desperate friends. This city wasn't really known to have Cranks in it, but, one couldn't be too careful. Picking people up in bars had its risks, afterall…*
“I keep company with my troupe- if a party is too much for you, my bus is still comfortable enough for two-” Copia snuffed, shrugging slightly.
The man looked at Copia puzzled. Then, as if putting the peices together, threw his head back and laughed.
The Cardinal was taken back by the sound. It didn't sound scornful, teasing, or even funny, per-se. No, the sound warbling from the young mans throat was, genuine! And even more surprising, it was, captivating. Enchanting almost. And he found himself beginning to laugh along.
“Im *inviting* you to come to a club with me!” the man said after a moment, a smile on his face and a slight twinkle in those sapphire blue eyes, “Im not worried about keeping you all to myself, Im not entirely selfish, but Im not going to force feed you to a bunch of freaks- well, at least not the ones you're thinking of.” he winked.
“And how do you know what I'm thinking of?” Copia said, raising a brow and letting the laughter die down.
“Call it a hunch…” the man thought a moment before shrugging it off, “I have my ways, and in any case, I think you'll find me interesting enough to *want* to follow around this town. I think you'll have a good time! And that's my thing. I like to find the thrill seekers, the adventurers, the ones who might be a bit like me-”
Something about the way the man said that phrase, "*like me*" sent a shiver up Copia's spine, but he let the moment slip away...
The man sounded, almost, happy. Carefree. A sense of some sort of innocence or purity blinked almost kindly from his expressive face… Something was unusual about this donor...
After a quiet moment, the man could feel the strange gaze, guaging his every move, his every pulse, and the confident demeanor he was exuding faltered slightly.
*like a vulnerable little white mouse, caught in the gaze of something that enjoyed eying its prey quiver under its claws*
“Ahem..uh…Care for a smoke?” The man said, nodding towards the exit behind the bar, almost dancing backwards into the pushbar through it. Trying to put a little distance from the awkward silence. Surprisingly, Copia found himself following him.
*The skittish ones always were his favorite to corrupt. Easing them into their pain and pleasure. The control was deeply satisfying, and the little spark of fear in the blood gave it a little tang that made Copia's blood run hot, and his desire throb deliciously*
In a well lit, though sort of dingy back alley, where the dumpster kept company with the spare crates of goods and supplies, the man pulled out a joint, and handed it fresh, to Copia first, the door behind them swinging shut.
Not one to turn down a free first puff and pass, Copia smiled and tweezed the rolled paper at his nose.
It smelled good, relatively fresh. Something homemade about it that felt fun to want to try.
“So, a club?” Copia asked, snapping a lighter from his own pocket and lighting the joint.
“Yeah- kind of a specialty club. Bit vampy. But has a backroom drift." the man said, pulling out a cigarette as well.
“That so,” Copia said, holding the smoke in his lungs and passing the joint back. The man took it gracefully and inhaled. Talking through the tight chested hold he continued, “The O' is a nice place. I think you'll like it.” The man released, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips, then lighting a cigarette like a breath chaser, he continued “I could have them play a song or two from your set list, and all the boys can dance-”
Copia coughed, laughing a little, feeling the smoke waft from his breath, “Haha! What a name for a club- ‘The O’ where boys can dance, let me guess, very gay, probably have ‘pickledick’ chasers and 'cum shots' for their creatively themed drinks?”.
The man blew out his own smoke but shook his head good naturedly. “Hey, it's a neat little place,” he said in mock defensiveness, “that's just the front of the shop… the real party happens in the back.”
“The back?” Copia scoffed playfully, “You make it sound like you got a sex dungeon waiting for me there!”
“Something like that…”
The man took the joint back from Copia.
The alley air seemd to have froze with anticipation.
Trading the cigarette for the joint and back.
“I see… I've never heard of this place on The Network-” Copia said at last.
“Come see it for yourself then, leave a review.” The man said nonchalantly, those jewel blue eyes flashing something inviting, wanting…
“Then what,” Copia roused, a low sound that traveld down the man's spine and sat thick inside his stomach, “Take me to a private room for a bit of fun before the feast?”
“You'd could say that. If you want to come, that is.” The man flicked his hair, the shine flashing slightly under the lamplight.
At this, Copia was already pushing against him in the alley, a hand sliding up the hard planes of the man's torso, thumb drawing down a line where the heat of the vena cava twisted along his insides, and then higher along the arterial branches that plumed upwards toward his neck, where hot breath and the soft gliding trickle of fangs grazed the man's pale, perfect skin.
“I like the sound of that.” Copia hissed, a soft clip in his syllables that made hardened flesh dribble and the senses crawl with anticipation- he had him by the throat. Like a sweet little thing caught in a web. The Cardinal just wanted to see where it would go. How far could he push, his pretty little moth in the lamplight.
*Donors even expensive ones rarely if ever let a Vampire drain from a neck hole. The danger of a heart plug, if the Vampire doing the biting didn't seal off the wound or latch properly, could prove a deadly game… but it was *exciting*...
Copia ran his fangs and lips along the lifeline pulsing beneath that perfect pale skin,
“Think a little club like yours could handle me?”
The man licked his lips, a soft tremble running along his body.
“Oh, trust me, there's more fans in this little fan club, that pay to just watch somone do something like you can- I th-think you'll be surprised to find out who's th-there on a given Teusday.” the man panted, hip rutting gently against the Cardinal's thigh planted between them.
Satanas, Copia had him bewitched like a master, and the pretty white feeder had to stifle a noise from squeaking out of his throat, while Copia teased knowingly over his Adam's apple, flicking a toungue to the sweat dampening his skin. The cigarette between the man's lips burning down faster as his breath hitched in soft whimpered breaths. Desire pooled behind Copia's stomach and dropped lower. The man was feeling the power emanate from This Cardinal's aura. It felt risky, delicious, and so deeply consuming…
*Yes. He liked this game…*
Copia leered a smile.
*Silly rabbit...Trix are for-
*Tricks…?* the man chewed his lip, *or treats...*
Their minds were passing something back and forth in the heat of the blinking eyed moment…
(But how?)
*Oh yesss…He liked this game…*
Copia sniffed the man's neck gently and loosened his gloved grip, retreating. The intensity lulling back to a pleasant hum under the electric flicker of the streetlamps in the alley. Heartbeats, thumping in rhythmic time.
“I Do, love an audience. And I like to say, go big, or go home. ” Copia smoothly said.
The man slid a hand through his hair, blue eyes wide, pupils blown with desire. He smirked as he realized Copia had gently tongued the cigarette from his own lips to smoke it, and put it out against the wall with a smouldering hiss that sent tingles across his skin. Copias gloved fingers pinched off the blunt still between the man's fingers, signaling the end of this part of negotiation, and the beginning of the night- the what would happen.
The last question, was where...
“‘The O’ has a play room in the back, discreet, private,” The man said, collecting himself and running a cool hand through the nearly perfectly coifed hair on his head, down his neck self soothingly, “We don't get as many visitors like you there. Its a bit niché, kinda the local secret… But for you, I'm sure it will be quite the treat. And no fussing for attention. Everyone plays nice, unless you want them to play dirty” he said, trying to soothe the crinkle in Copia’s brow before it hardened to a line he found appalling and appealing on such a handsomely painted face. “Like I said” the man continued, “there's no force feeding you to anyone there- I like to let people have fun- that's my thing.”
Copia tilted his head this way then that. Throwing one more bone to see if this too-good-to-be-true offer really was worth the risk. The place sounded exclusive, even if given the front of house impression as a public access thing. It made Cipia a tad uneasy- how closed off would he be, if he didn't want to stay there?
“If you know me and my band, I don't, exactly, like to party without them.” His backup. If they weren't invited, he wouldn't go. Call it a security possé but, it was the last card to play before he would decide to fold.
“What, the Ghouls? Yeah!” The man piped up, “bring them in if you like. They keep it dark, and the props and toys clean for a variety of play… they probably would like the vibe, honestly. Rowdy or relaxed, theres a space for everyone.” The man smiled and tilted his head...
*Boyish. Mischievous. Far from innocent minded. And yet so angelic in his features. A likeness of Lucifer that really, no one could pass up from wanting to drape him over and feed from him*
Copia smirked, but, was a bit surprised that this stranger in an alley here for a hitch and suck was knowledgeable enough about the underworld to know the proper name for his band mates’ kind …
"I mean is it going to matter if the hellspawn are here or there?" Copia said, taking another drag, "They're likely to eat somome alive for fun, I don't like having to clean up the mess."
The man blinked back and incredulously grinned, "Hey, I'm just offering a little something new for your palate, whatever the hellspawn favor, probably half the guests at 'The O' would dig it... Suffocating between a pair of nice thighs, a tight tail around the neck, or being driven up a St. Andrew's with a little knife play, a little fun before the meal..." Copia raised a brow, a little more than interested in the menu.
"Oh, so you think they have tails?" Copia asked, feigning a casual disinterest, as if the man before him were talking in tall tales.
"Oh please," the man remarked rolling his eyes.
*The sass was just too tastey to watch too closely*
"Anyone with an imagination would put two and two together. Ghouls have a look about them. But The Ghoule, have an, element, about their natures, and, they always come with a tail. I've had encounters with one or two in my time. Fun creatures."
The Cardinal blinked.
*Copia had introduced each of the hellspawned Ghoule as merely "Ghouls" every night, but their glamor made them look human enough that the masses sort of just thought it was all a gimmick, all while hearing the truth so plain and not looking too closely... Still.... That this mortal could pick out the difference so properly, garnered enough interest for Copia to share a pleasant grin and wrap an arm around the man's waist, a thumb in a belt loop for ownership, for show. He pulled him closer, a mischievous side hold while The Cardinal's free hand slid and fiddled with the man's clothes, leaning in, words and breaths tickling the ears and neck, tantilizingly.
"So you know the Jargon lad, you are fully aware what you're getting into if they are around."
"Of course. Why else would I have followed the tour so closely, I wanted my own VIP time, especially with you".
"Ah... So you are a groupie guy" Copia tisked, but not entirely put off.
The man shrugged, "I like having a good time. I like giving others a good time. Especially of they're so interesting," he motioned up and down to Copia, "I enjoy variety- but if I dont have to share the attention, I wouldn't mind enjoying your, essence, all for myself."
"Flattery is my favorite lie" Copia said, licking his lips, "That gets you far, Im sure you know."
"Im not just a pretty face" the man replied, looking up at Copia with a catty expression, "I know my way around, I don't aim to just, go far, I want you. All the way. Every way. It's that simple. Can you blame me?" He leaned in closer, this time, *now his* hands pulled at Copia's hips while he whispered, making the Cardinal's skin shiver, "What's a little sin between sinners, I give, you take, and I have an unusually high tolerance to be taken from..."
The man palmed down Copia's pants firmly, The Cardinal let out a satisfying grunt and groan beneath the grip. "And I happen to be good at giving..." Satanas the man was hung nicely, his hardness pressing against Copia's through the material. "If I can entertain a small coven at their penthouse, I'm sure, I can satisfy that appetite in you, wherever you want me to be. "
(But how did he know that. How could a singular person do that?)
*Like a haze, the cloud of need and desire, had put a spell between them, concocted between them as their dark thoughts mistepped into one another. Not only were they like minded, something entirely too compatable was being stitched between them- bewitching them in the lamplight, and The Cardinal knew the danger of this unusual feeling. It wasn't just compatability. It was a Match. Thoughts of a new blood purse drowned his mind. It took everything in him to peel back from the heavy petting and panting between them to take a breath, swallow, and try to out muscle his own grip, leather gloves squeaking softly. Something was too strong here. But by God, how could he help himself. So rare to find such an attraction, such a connection, in one so beautiful, in one so intriguing. He had to calm down. He had to think.*
Copia could sense the truth in the man's words. This whole time, he sensed no deceit betraying the man's thoughts. Copia had a theory. But to test it, he'd need to enjoy the spoils of this prize first. Not that after all that had transpored this night, meant it was a bad thing, he still needed to feed, and with Jim having left him, Copia desperately needed releif, and release... And he was indeed, famished, eager, and painfully aching at this point. He was getting impatient.
*He figured, what could he loose? How bad could it be. His criteria was met. There was no apparent reason to stall, he thought...*
*It was enough to know not only was the Satanic Cardinal's scene wholly invited to a pleasure space, it, or at least his companion, was educated in it. The venue just classed the experience even more highly than he thought before... and now that he was aware what “The O” really was, a buffet of vampire fans who liked to mix blood with their play, it was this esteemed Cardinal's chance to act out, get away with it, to indulge in his carnal vices by the sultry sweet invitation of, had this man not smelled so human, would have guessed was being offered by a devil itself.*
Suddenly everything rushed back, and the man's bleach blonde hair gleamed, and those eyes so strong, so blue, half lidded, blinked up in a questioning gaze. An intense feeling of possession, protection, even care, shot like an arrow through Copia's chest.
Copia ran a longing finger along The Man's face, thr black glove stark against the softly illuminated skin.
"Jawline for days" Copia muttered absentmindedly...
The man looked both strong and delicate, like bone China, and not a scratch or mark to blemish it... not yet, anyway...
*He would have to guard this beautiful creature, this lovely new pet, for however long he was being kept under wing...*
Copia looked at this stranger under his wing, up and down like a prize perched pretty on his arm, he felt like he had struck a lucky bargain with such a unique escort for the night, to a new, hole-in-the wall place, built for somone like himself. And so beautiful was this company, The Cardinal figured even Satan himself would paint this stranger like Lucifer's Statues, poised in pale marble, jeweled eyes gleaming like blue halos of hellfire… who wouldn't want to be worshipped by such a fine specimine?… Who wouldn't want to worship it, to lav luxuriously at that equine neck and watch those sapphire halos wince and widen, hear that pretty voice warble out in pleasure and a little bit of ecstasy in the pain… it would be a true sin, to not to...*
“Lead the way, Caro,” Copia husked, “I'd like to take a look at that place you so highly reccomend. In fact, im feeling a bit lucky. Let us go, just me and you, meet these friends of yours… who knows where the night takes us. Lots to see before the sun comes up. Though if your little suite at the hotel is still an open invitation, I shouldn't wonder I'de keep you in behind the dark curtains, long after sun-up, or if you're free, perhaps join me for my next show, backstage... if you're game to keep the party going after sundown, that is. Like I said, the catering is good. Private and safe, and if you have the stamina like you say you do, why, both of us, should be in for quite the feast.”
The man grinned wide, perfect teeth flat as tombstones, and licked his lips, already tasting the kickback he knew would come from such a man as this vampiric rockstar, feeling his own heat throb achingly beneath his belt line. He sidled up to Copia, an angelic shade to a demon's shaddow, running a handsome hand along the Cardinal's hip giving it a squeeze.
"I like this game."
"Im glad, you do..."
The man motioned out of the alley towards the half hustling night street, and the promises that lay beyond. The two walked off into the shadows, tripping a light fantastic, off to a neon seascape of black velvet prickled by the city lights, as if the dark deep smile of hell were personally welcoming them in, promising a handsome bastard prince such as Copia, a night to remember, and the mysterious glow of a stranger with him, an adventure of a lifetime.
**for indeed, there would be Hell to pay…**
*and little did they know, what was promised, was Exactly, what they were going to get*
Diving back into the swing of things, Ministry TV has some episode scraps from The Vault for the Between The Lines AU followers that have just landed in our laps for lineup!
In preparation for rolling into our summer marathon, we announce we are preparing this special episodic showcase, to tie into an anticipated lost episode, that connects our funny little time-lines together in a quarter quell finale!
(Didn't you ever wonder what happened on the dad trip everyone took? How even everyone got there?)- [AZ]
( @puuuders commissioned phot credit)
Mark your calendars kids, the BTL AU is expanding starting tomorrow, and following a planned hiatus for our show writer [AZ]-
bless them, they are putting down roots at last-
we will see how the Christmas episode aired at the end of the 2025 year will show how this 2026 year's ending, really is only, The Beginning.
See you soon dears, an episode excerpt will be airing very soon!
(Keep your notifs on, when we go Live, we'll leave the light on!)- [AZ]
