dandelionsphinx

[dandelionsphinx]

THE RITUAL HAD NOT BEEN ENOUGH. that is the thought plaguing the priest's mind as the masses spread out, leaving the holy sanctum empty, flooding the streets. it is, perhaps, a ludicrous thing — to hunt them down, and elijah fears for their well-being if found by the wrong people. it's why the groups are strategically composed — the calculating balancing the ..passionate. it's his hope they will keep one another in check. that the bride and groom will survive whatever the hell is bringing tempers to a high, shrieking pitch. it's a silent prayer that lord radcliffe interrupts, his delivery a blunt knife to a delicate underbelly. ❝ nothing happens. ❞ his voice is rich with irish lilt, a light rasp from the cigarettes he consumes at an alarming rate. ❝ but isn't that a bit ..boring, for your tastes, lord radcliffe? ❞ while the priest has no negative feelings for the man, the miasma around him is so ominous, he can't deny it. ❝ if i knew what motivated you, trust i would have used it by now. you seem to me a man that has everything and therefore cannot be satisfied. so what can i offer? i can promise that whoever finds them — or figures out what's become of them — there will an unrelenting flood of praise and good word spread about their character. forgive me for saying so, but that seems like something you could use. ❞

┏ •◦இ•◦ ┓downing his latest drink, nathaniel swallowed, staring out at the people in front of him. wedding should've been joyous occasions, and yet, here everyone was on an adventure in search of the bride and groom. crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned up against the nearest wall. "so, what happens if i don't want to participate in this little witch hunt?" he asked, looking down at the person standing next to him. nathaniel didn't really care. while he'd known victor for a good chunk of time, he hadn't really approved of the marriage. but he hadn't really approved of any marriage. "look, if i promise to go, can you at least make it worth my while?"

[dandelionsphinx]

THE PRIEST'S AURA is a swirl of cigarette smoke — a representation of the obfuscating mask he wears, the persona he upholds. as a young man, it felt like a lie. now, it feels like sorcery, a manipulation of his own vessel towards an end that serves his very soul. whatever he is, now, a mix of phantom and stoic faith, he is accepted as he appears, and the shape he takes is genuine because he is everything and nothing, all at once. how could that be a lie? ❝ it's not the work itself, ❞ he begins, a sigh carrying his words. ❝ it's everything in between that sets me off my course. sometimes, it's my self that's to blame. ❞ for the ego and it's demand for importance, survival, purpose must be dismantled to achieve enlightenment. ❝ if i could take a break from being father harris, i might accomplish so much more. what the world commands us to be is not who we really are. but... it is a damn good distraction. ❞ his pale eyes scan her face, wondering if she follows. ❝ were you to have all the respite you crave, who or what would you be? ❞

coming off of writing pages upon pages of philosophical riddles, elijah tends to take some time to descend from that high ground and manage the little details of his reality.

❝ netherbridge is a strange place, ❞ he muses. ❝ it conducts its own energy. even though i'm the only priest in name, there are many here that steward its inherent energy for the good of everyone. my wife is one. you are one, too. ❞ she might serve drinks and turn down beds, but that is a soul-nourishing task, whether she recognizes it or not. does she find purpose in her profession, as he does?

❝ whatever you make, they will be sated, ❞ he concludes, taking a deep draw from his cigarette. ❝ i've learned that most souls don't know what they want until they're told. ❞ he's surprised by her candor, so his eyebrows lift just barely. ❝ a self-aware individual, ❞ he remarks, eyes narrowing as if he's appraising the very essence of her through the flesh and bones of her worldly composition. ❝ acceptance that you are imperfect is uncommon. perhaps you're much farther along towards salvation than you realize. ❞

AMUSED BY THE UNCONVENTIONAL PRIEST, ARYA CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HERSELF. lightly chuckling at the words, she offered a nod. she could understand the need to step away from work every now & then. though, she wasn't the one to slack, a respite every now & then was a blessing. "it is a thing we all share. the wish for a little respite from work." she spoke, lips curling upwards in a smile. the shyness she felt at disturbing the other had ebbed into nothing - she'd been the type to take others' time seriously, always despising on inconveniencing others. perhaps it was a road to a guaranteed sanity, after all.

arya hummed as he spoke.

it was good to see she did not come here for nothing. the priest - while, admittedly, her question had been a bit surprising & confusing - had proven to be a useful well of information. she chuckled at the former. "I'mquite sure you're the only priest netherbridge currently has." did the town ever have more than one priest? why would then, where there was only one church - the sanctum. there weren't even nuns or convents around the sleepy little town. it was... strange. there should've been at least one monastery. for a town this size & age... it was almost suspicious.

but, it wasn't her problem.

perhaps the asher archives have an answer to it - though she haven't yet ventured home to check it. she wouldn't rack her brains about it now. not when she'd learned of the decoration & the taste. offering a soft chuckle, she smirked. "how unoriginal. though, it will be a feat to find fresh strawberries in october. I have to ask around for the owners of the greenhouses to spare a few fresh ones - I doubt the families would appreciate strawberry jam." though it was delicious. spiked up with vanilla pudding & custard... delicious.

this time a more relaxed chuckle left her lips.

"not yet, father, though I thank you for the willing ear & the promise of salvation. I have sinned & I shall continue to do so, but nothing of great importance to warrant the fires of hell to consume my flesh upon my death's day."

[dandelionsphinx]

DOES HIS WIFE KNOW that he is the watchful dark, made of the same components, sewn through with slivers of nebulae? if he is that tapestry of endless velvet, she is the starlight that punctures it. pure & divine in her making, a supernatural force, bringing depth to an otherwise endless void. the vizard he shows to the world crumbles when he's alone with her, when the resonance of her undoes all that he's built, and he's always relieved to feel the weight fall away and leave his formless soul. looking into her eyes, he does not see the reflection of a man, but the great, yawning deep, and he knows he is truly, fearfully seen.

leaning his forehead against her own, he chuckles at the absurd thought — leading his followers off the cliff. while he would never wish them harm, there is a freedom in the notion of ascending high above this plane, of leaving them behind, forever doomed to the limits of their comprehension. he will never save them all, let alone one. he knows if they leap, their faith will not save them. but elijah knows he will sprout wings.

❝ you have all of me in these moments and all the others, a'yu. even if it doesn't feel like it. ❞ fingers accustomed to brittle pages gather in the ends of her hair, winding through the silken tresses. if these moments could expand out over the whole of time, elijah knows neither of them could stay. not for lack of wanting to, but because the universe pulls them in infinite directions, drawing from them like wells of power. ❝ no matter where this path we're on leads, we will always find one another when the wind stills and the world goes quiet. just remember that. we belong together. ❞ a truth he knows like he knows the evolution of the seasons. just as the sun and moon belong to one another, as the heavens and the earth project the other in an infinite loop.

❝ as above, so below. as within, so without. i am yours, and you are mine. ❞ a mantra he's spoken since the infancy of their relationship. ❝ you call it sense, but i call it acceptance of an objective truth. ❞ he's smiling, amused when he gets to play with her in this way — with words, with depth. as if their love is an ancient force like the one that drives the rivers and keeps the sun burning from within. ❝ for me, there is only you. ❞

and even lost in the complex labyrinth of themselves, it's just that simple.

❝ careful, ❞ he warns, playfully. ❝ or i'll have you up 'til dawn. ❞ her weight is but a whisper in his arms, and she winds herself around him artfully; how is it that two corporeal forms are so complementary? lost in her eyes, he walks them to their shared bed — and as soon as they reach its edge, he falls with her, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. his hips grind down between her thighs, the pleasure of it drawing a groan from some distant hollow inside of him that only she can fill. ❝ i love you, ❞ he breathes against her lips. a hand trailing up her naked thigh pushes her knee towards her chest, opening her up to him. despite the layer of clothing between them, his body is still on fire, and the experience of her taste, her warmth, her scent sends waves of crippling rapture lapping over him, welling at the center of him.

sitting up on his heels, he marvels at her. hands trembling slightly with need when he tackles the buttons of his own shirt. ❝ i want to see you, xueyu. ❞ a gentle command.

IT WAS ALWAYS ADVISABLE TO GIVE IN TO TEMPTATION. why else would it be there? how lovely was a thing that tempted, a desire so searing hot - the most honest sentiment in the known & unknown universe. to be desired & to be tempted was the same thing. her lips curve up in a soft smile, an unspoken victory over the mirage of a pristine, perfect priest her husband had taken up to portray. she had much preferred the sharp edges in his pale eyes, the things unspoken that remain a buried mystery, waiting to be unearthed. he was a good priest - better than any before him ever was or any after his shall ever be - but it was one thing to be good & to be a fool - & her husband was no fool.

amused by his words, xueyu purred, "perhaps we should chuck them off the nearest cliff - if they ever become too demanding. however, for now, I am pleased with what crumbs of you I get in the watchful hours of the dark." she chuckled, a deep, guttural sound leaving the pit of her throat. she could help, once it comes to it - she could sing them all away, like the sirens of the legends that had plagued the sailors who trespassed on their territory. she, too, would do so - after all, they were trespassing on her territory. his words leave her with a pleased purr, head tilting back to observe her husband. "divinity had brought us together, yes." she agreed- but whose divinity was it? the thread of life, of fate? perhaps. perhaps they were tied together in scarlet ribbons. it was poetic - it was definite. unescapable like the passage of time. but, soulmates such as them... they did have eternity together. "we were both lucky, you & I. part luck, part providence & part our good sense to recognizing it." she chuckled.

xueyu listened to him speak, her nails combing through the dark strands of his silken hair. indeed, they were a perfect match - their thoughts in absolute unison. she was more than pleased to hear it, & she hummed, tracing her fingers about the shape & curves of his visage. "I don't doubt you've done it to perfection, my love." she hummed, leaning forward to trace her lips across his.

then his fingers graze her & dark thoughts, sinful thoughts seep back into her mind - the pool of hunger & heat coiling deep within her, sending warm shivers down her thighs, her entire being. all sense of decent self ebbs away, locks itself in unison with her legs around his waist, her own arms coiling like twin serpents around his neck, fingers dug deep into his scalp. "smart choice." she purrs against his ear, teeth barely grazing the lobe. "I love that deadly focus of yours. it'd be a shame to dim it down."

[dandelionsphinx]

HER QUESTION is a refreshing and honest one, and elijah is intrigued, to say the least. interest in death or darker subject matter is often associated with madness or the macabre, but the priest knows it's simply curiosity, a shaft of intelligence shining light in the thicket of things most of mankind sees fit to ignore, keep buried. he watches the light dancing in her eyes as she speaks, observes the careful way she chooses her words. like a motherless fawn walking through an open field, feeling the weight of predators in the shadows. ❝ when did you start to question this.. natural interest you have in death and darkness? and when did you start to notice it? ❞

she is both the fawn and the wolf that stalks it; at war with the balance of light and dark within. ❝ i am not here to pass judgement, so speak freely. it's important we understand where this fear is coming from. ❞

too often, fear is a product of others' judgement. a woman with a natural proclivity to darkness is too readily viewed with prejudice — inspiring those that don't understand to resort right to claiming there's a witch is in their midst. having married a woman shrouded in delicate shadow, he has come to understand it is simply the nature of divine feminine energy. women are creatures that carry within them a portal to the spirit world, the beyond, and they ferry souls back with them into this corporeal realm. a woman true to herself dances on the infinite line between life & death with terrifying grace.

it is a beautifully powerful thing to behold, if it is nurtured and respected.

☆ﾟ*·ﾟPOPPY'S DAY TO day seemed rather innocent, full of smiles, laughter, and the innocent making of flower crowns. but it was all but that. because you see, the youngest crowley lady held a secret, one that made her worry for the future. she's kind, and caring, but the fascination that lies deep within her threatens to fight her every single day. poppy can't tell you why she feels this way, or why she has such a strong pull to laughing at misfortune, or why any time someone in the town is sick, she's fascinated. she likes knowing and hearing about all of the illnesses, how people pass, and what the futures of their families entail.

and now, while the town prepared for her brother's wedding, poppy worried what might happen. she hadn't sensed anything or had any fears, not that she would if she understood. in all reality, she was afraid and wanted to know if everything she'd been stressing about was even worth it. the priest seemed like the best person to talk to about all of this. at least he wouldn't judge her all that too much.

knocking on his door, she took a deep breath, waiting for the approval to enter. as she received it, poppy stepped in, giving him a smile, hoping that might ease the weirdness of the question she was about to ask. "i wanted to know if it's normal for someone to be interested in death and to laugh when someone finds themselves itchy from a poison ivy flower crown." shifting awkwardly, she sat in the seat opposite him. "i know most of the townsfolk think i'm innocent, and i think i mostly am, but i'm so interested in everything dark. it scares me, a bit."

[dandelionsphinx]

THE INNKEEPER is not a customary sight in the holy sanctum, let alone in elijah's office, but the upcoming ceremony has shifted the boundaries in netherbridge. worlds are colliding, and that comes with new acquaintances, new faces, new energies. he considers her introduction in his quiet way, lips not quite mirroring the nervous smile she offers, but with a calm serenity masking his features. there is intention as he listens to the timbre in her voice, regards the striking violet of her eyes — this is a woman like him, in some respects. someone the world saw fit to displace. but unlike elijah, she's accepted her new reality with humility, and that deserves some respect. the meek will inherit the earth, after all.

elijah is never sure if those words are intended as a blessing or a threat.

❝ i've all the time in the world, ❞ he assures her, reaching for a cigarette. the natural response to her discomfort is to show her his humanity, to make her feel at ease with him. too many of his parishioners view him as a saint, hiding themselves from him, but he is far from that. ❝ and i promise, a break from the torment of my pen is always welcome, miss asha. ❞ he gives her a nod before he strikes a match and draws smoke deep into his lungs. writing is where he often finds peace, but it can become a chore when he's otherwise preoccupied — when that place he taps into seems walled off, impenatrable.

but she's come asking for guidance on the food, not for spiritual intervention, nor is she laden with heart-wrenching confessions to spill. at least, not today. droll and somewhat disappointed, he lets out a sigh — a plume of smoke that hangs in the air. ❝ i know more than i'd like to about the family's preferences and too little about their faith; i'm not sure why i've been deemed worthy of carrying that knowledge around in my head, but here we are. ❞ he ashes his cigarette and props a foot up on his knee, leaning back further in his chair. ❝ they prefer pastels, lavender in particular, but they want the decorations tasteful. suitable for the sanctum. as far as the cake — ❞ a pause for sardonic fanfare. ❝ strawberry. ❞ there is barely a smirk on his lips, but humor in his pale eyes. ❝ and here i was hoping you were a soul in need of saving. ❞

ENTERING THE PRIEST'S STUDY WASN'T HIGH ON THE TOP PF HER PRIORITIES, BUT WORK WAS WORK. as the wedding was creeping nearer, all but a two-days deadline, arya had wanted clearance from eliah that her... assortment of beverages & foods for the upcoming three-day festivity had been approved by the families - & the pastor, himself. knocking on the door to announce her arrival, arya waited until she was grated entry before offering the elder man an incline of her head & a smile in greeting.

"evening, mr. harris. I hope I am not intruding on you. this will take but a moment of your time, if you have one to spare." she spoke, the violet eyes glinting under the candlelight, her modestly painted lips curved in a friendly - albeit a little shy - gesture. for a once prominent house, for a would be lady ( in another life, before her family had fallen into ruin centuries ago ) she was rather introverted & solitary.

"I wish to speak to you of the upcoming festivity. the typhon inn will be in charge of the food & the beverage. are there any requirement from the two families about the provisions? perhaps the decorations or the flavour of the cake?" arya asked.

[dandelionsphinx]

THE FIRE in its hearth dies down low, leaving crackling embers as a percussive accompaniment to the low tones of their voices. the amber light seems to dance along with the dissonant and compelling pitch of her laugh. the sound resonating in his bones, a nail dragging languidly up his spine. elijah leans his head back to take in the vision of her perched on his lap, and he knows she is of some ethereal ilk, her veins laden with a dark & glimmering ichor. to drink it would poison most men, but he is of another breed, too. one she must see in these quiet moments together when the hunger in him sprawls out like a luxurious sphinx stretching its limbs, claws and teeth glinting white with intent. his want for her is the most honest part of him; it is where he knows he is seen, felt, heard, accepted.

when xueyu leans close and mewls in his ear on susurrus tones, he slowly draws up the hem of her skirts, reaching beneath to palm the bare meat of her inner thigh. a place he's claimed time & time again. despite his brandishing touch, her skin remains like warm silk. fingertips brush the threads of her undergarments, teasing, promising. ❝ if damning them all meant more of this, more of you, i could be tempted. ❞ a dark admission in his muddy, irish lilt, distilled by the sensual tension mounting between them. ❝ i could lead them off a cliff, one by one, and feel nothing, if i knew it meant an eternity wrapped up in you. ❞

whatever draws them together is a taut, explosive string, and eli never questions where it might lead him — down crooked paths, up black rivers, through abyssal voids. perhaps that is true faith.

❝ god is chaos, ❞ he echoes in agreement. ❝ and beauty, ❞ he amends, just slightly. tilting his head, he traces her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, watching the petal-like flesh tug under the pressure. ❝ he is all things, but you, ❞ he trails off, eyes distant as he studies the fire's dim light rippling in the surface of her onyx gaze. ❝ you are beyond that spectrum, xueyu, outside of even god's understanding. and somehow i managed to capture your heart. mm, no, i can't call that luck. that's not even providence. it's true divinity. ❞

as she lands a perfectly-placed kiss upon his throat, his fingers slip up through the dark coils at the nape of her neck — an encouraging weight is applied along with a grunt of approval. for a moment, he forgets the world, forgets himself, and then he's reminded. she drags him up from under the surface of her ocean to look once more at the reality of netherbridge. ❝ i'm a few steps ahead of you already, ❞ he confesses, but there's no pride in it. moreso an admission that his worry exceeds what he's shared with her thus far. ❝ i've done the purification ritual three times this week. ablutions, salt, smudging, crystals, meditation, prayer. if there's anything reasonable in my power to assuage the restless spirits without drawing too much attention, i assure it, it's been done. ❞ he exhales, and the tension in his chest disperses — thanks only to the beautiful woman in his arms.

the hand between her thighs draws ever closer to the apex where, finally, knuckles drag over her shielded sex with strategic pressure. he leans forward to kiss the corner of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the bend of her neck — where he nips skin. ❝ not yet, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ i'm going to need my focus. ❞ looping an arm beneath her legs, the other securely around her waist, he stands, ready to carry her to their chambers. ❝ for the next hour, i'm all yours. ❞

THE CHUCKLE THAT LEFT HER LIPS HAD BEEN CLOSE TO BLASPHEMOUS. the witch, comfortably seated in her husband's lap, his hand burning hot upon her thigh. she would quite enjoy the lack of his flock - she'd quite enjoy having more of him around. not for their daughter's sake - she had loved their daughter to death & beyond, but sharing elijah even with her had sometimes been odious to her. his laughter alone could make her see stars - make her appreciate the fleeting mortal life of humanity. her own lips responded with a pull, but the tone of her voice was soft, low - a lover's whisper. "perhaps that is not a bad idea. the less sheep in your herd, the more you can tackle on the gigantic task of handling me." it was a delicious thought - but, all of the thoughts that centered around her husband had been delicious.

she wondered, too.

"gods know no logic - they are guided by a destiny that only ever spins on the wheel of cruelty, irony & peppered with a little bit of luck & love. though, I daresay I have been fortunate enough in latter - my wheel of fortune had been gracious to me when we met." xueyu replied, then leaned into the light kiss he pressed onto her lips. she would have loved to deepen it, but he moved away too swiftly, leaving her with a displeased click of the tongue. never mind that now.

she'll have her way with him later.

the very thought brought a smirk to her lips, but she masked her unholy thoughts with a retort. "you could win over a tower of bricks, my love. I did not doubt they'd love you for a minute." in her opinion, they loved him a little too much - fortunately, she had snatched him before any of the other eligible ladies could even dream of it. still, dissatisfied by the shortness of their kiss, xueyu leaned forwards to press a soft peck at his throat, right below his adam's apple.

the topic shifted, like the sands in the desert, rolled over on a warm, suffocating wind. that is how the situation felt - how the upcoming wedding had felt. she softly frowned, but lightly nodded at his words. exorcism. perhaps it shouldn't go that far, since they did not know what the energy around them all is, but... a cleansing ritual, for sure. at least upon the sanctum, where the holy rite will be held. "I'm sure it's nothing. we're overthinking it. mere jitters. but, perhaps you should put something else in the incense burner. mere frankincense will not be enough to cleanse the stagnant energy, no matter how weak it may be." even a trace of it is too much.

a good night's rest - it was what they all needed.

still, she couldn't fight back a soft chuckle. "& you shall have it, but perhaps not immediately. daisy is fast asleep - we so seldom get such a peaceful moment as we have now. it would be a shame to waste it on... sleeping. at least not for another moment or so. shall I brew you valerian tea, then?" she asked with a smile, nuzzling against him.

[dandelionsphinx]

THE BREATH that carries her chuckle is a suggestion, like soundless wind rippling reeds, and elijah will knowingly follow it to his own end, into oblivion — hence, the name he’s assigned her. at first, the title represented her sensual command of his senses; when she beckoned, he followed, answering in every way a man could respond. with his heart, his mind, his body. his soul. that meaning is now eclipsed by the ethereal reality of her presence. yes, she could dash ships on the rocky shores with her beauty and essence, but there was something else written into her make-up. a gilded, telestic energy he could only attempt to understand. she had power, quiet and lethal like a dagger, or purposeful and healing like an athame. overall, and perhaps more of note, she had a depth that challenged the deepest oceans. elijah had succumbed to it, submitted himself to her pull, trusting that she would not drown him but grant him breath where other men would suffocate.

xueyu allows him to trespass those dark leagues, and he knows it is a privilege that he may.

he leans his head back, laughing at the humorous prospect of damning his congregation for their lack of self-awareness. the dark edge of her complements his own, and he relishes when she brandishes it. he repays her with a gentle touch — his hand sipping up the slant of her thigh. ❝ if i doled out judgement like god, there would be no one left to bicker over whether i should or not, ❞ he answers, bemused. ❝ it takes a higher conscious to abstain from my knee-jerk reaction to do just that. ❞ it was not so long ago, when he had abandoned faith for the alleys of galway, that he was a reactionary monster. to this day, there remains a trail of the dead and destitute that follows him because of it — no matter how much higher he’s crawled up the pendulum to avoid the vertigo of its merciless swing. ❝ god works out our deeds in life and in death. if we could see the absolute of everything, like him, there would only be acceptance of a masterwork. ❞ a sigh. ❝ we’ll see if this logic withstands whilst my patience is stretched to its limit. ❞ 

she does not know how dangerously close he teeters on the edge of madness, on the cusp of giving in to his human wiles. how easy it would be to use his place as netherbridge’s priest to tear down those around him, to build a mountain of their misdeeds and rule over them, to spread pious wings that shadowed their hamlet. that flicker of black flame lives in him, but discipline, faith, and his family alone have kept it in check.

the road to being a better man was never meant to be easy. that’s what the work has taught him. 

fingers card through his hair, and her honeyed words lull him into a peaceful stupor only she can manage. ❝ mm, they seemed to resent my irish brogue upon arrival. the echo of jacobite rebellion has never dulled for the english. i suppose i’ve won them over, though. ❞ an impish smirk splays across his lips as he guides her chin forward, kissing her. she tastes of jasmine, and he inhales as if she is a fount of life. 

of course, his words darken the room. it’s as if he’s summoned the entity of betrayal and old wounds to stand in the shadowy corners and simmer in black pitch. but it is a relief to know his wife feels it, too, for her cognition of all the babbling rivers of energy flowing around them, whether noxious or divine, is one of her greatest talents. it’s validating, comforting that he is not losing his edge — for how easy it is for him to fall into the trap of his own delusions. a truth about him he is afraid she will come to know, given enough time. worst of all is the thought that she’s already aware. ❝ it requires exorcising — but without understanding the origin of it, i feel helpless. no general ritual can slake the thirst of a nameless monster. i don’t think anyone in this town realizes that this ceremony is a ritual in and of itself. and to move forward with it — without cleaning the wounds left by the last — is to exhume whatever darkness they've tried to bury with time and fabled tales. ❞ 

elijah leans into the calming stroke of her pale fingers through his hair, his own hands settling at the dip of her lower back, gripping. thumbs tracing. ❝ of course. thank you, love. a good night’s rest will do wonders for me. ❞

THE NAME he has given her leaves her with a soft smile blooming upon her lips. none has ever called her such a name but him - & she would not allow anyone else to do so. sirens were the creatures of deep abyss, legendary & mythical, but wise even if their more alarming natures often took hold of them. they were called demons, but they were the souls of nature - & nature was never demonic in itself. xueyu smiled to her husband, the softest of chuckles leaving her lips at his complaining.

a demanding flock, indeed.

"the nobles do take the lives of others for granted, but perhaps you could threaten them eternal damnation. I am sure god would not protest. he knows the nature of humankind, he knows how foolish & self-serving they - we - are. the nobility plays by their own rules, but they should not. a human heartbeat is all the same - we are all but skeletons with a life's breath in our lungs. death does not care of differences - so, why should life?" she retorted & made herself comfortable in his lap.

a soft chuckle rasped out of her.

"say what you wish, but you'd make an excellent bard. you have a soothing voice." she spoke, waving her fingers through his dark locks, combing through the hair as she had been accustomed to do nightly. she would do so daily as well, but they were both busy with their chores & errands. but, her relaxation at his chuckle soon turned back to tension as he spoke again. it was comforting to know he felt it, too - though she never once doubted he wouldn't.

they were more than well matched in that matter.

she understood what he meant. after all, she had sensed it too - sensed the tension in the air, sensed the uncertainty. there was something so dangerous lurking behind the whole ordeal ; she had almost wanted to ask him to stay behind & have someone else hold the rite of matrimony. it felt wrong - misplaced... no. it felt uncanny.

"you are not going mad, my love. I feel it, too. the utter... wrongness of it, if I can call it such. something lurking behind us, watching our steps. waiting." baiting its time. her fingers continue to comb through her husband's hair & she adds with a soft smile ;

"perhaps it is just nerves. this is the first wedding netherbridge had in three decades, if town gossip is correct. it's only natural you'll be on edge - as would I." her hand slips to his cheek, thumb tracing the small scar. "I will take sleeping tonic tonight, perhaps you could take it, too. it'll ease your mind & refresh your sleep."

[dandelionsphinx]

setting: netherbridge church, priest's office — mid-day status: open starter (2/2)

It is not a question of whether or not the power lives in you. The question is whether or not you can channel it, articulate it. Humans have come to a certain understanding of consciousness and science, but without the proper tools, his understanding can never equate to being.  Being is for what man should strive, above all else, and your being cannot crystalize until your mind, your body, and your soul are in perfect agreement. Make it so. After all, there is an image of a perfect being — anthropomorphized as to be relatable in form and practice: Jesus, Buddha, Zoroaster, Krishna, Odysseus, yes, of course — but an image alone cannot convey the essence of divinity. It cannot transpose the Ray of Creation. You, as those I have named have done, must seek the sublime resonance of union with the Absolute. You must have the hunger to harness it, to master yourself or you will be lost. Only when you are whole will transmutation begin.

The scratch of his quill stalls when he hears his office door open. He sets his half-moon glasses to the side and lifts his head to greet the parishioner. ❝ Come in. ❞ His Irish accent is thick and common, but his tone is calming. Composed. He gestures to the chair across from his desk. The room is simple, as a priest's workspace would be, but the furnishings are fine — dark, ornate wood for his desk and shelves, stately green velvet upholstery for the chairs. Light filters in through stained glass window panes overlooking the modest chamber, and the scent of incense, cigarette smoke, and strong tea leaves ( no doubt curated by his wife ) threads a rich tapestry.

Elijah leans back in his chair which creaks, steepling his fingers. ❝ How might I be of service to you? ❞

[dandelionsphinx]

WRITING SERMONS requires elijah's undivided attention, so most evenings are spent bent over his desk — tomes splayed open on every surface, championed and defeated by his hungry consumption. candles burning desperately to their last. all awash in the light of a pale moon. that gossamer, blue light plays with the shadows dancing across his endless pages, each canvas riddled with the purposeful spill of ink and soul. like a warrior's trail of blood across a snowy battlefield.

there is a sweet spot in the throes of his focused possession — when the cigarette smoke lingers heavy around him, when the hour is deathly quiet and pregnant with the promise of epiphany. when god's grace unlocks that safety deposit box inside of him and the truth comes like a devastating flood, unencumbered by ego or self-criticism. but tonight, it doesn't come. tonight, elijah is caught in that tension before the melody resolves, and the friction is driving him mad.

the only thing that could stand between himself and god's word is a devil, and yet it has no name.

to his relief, xueyu comes to break that tension, to chase it away with her milk-white skin and dark, otherworldly eyes, and the timbre of her voice — dangerous and beautiful, like a flower's poison. it has always reminded him of the disembodied song he'd heard as a boy near a fearsome loch. and so he calls her, ❝ my siren. ❞ the words come on an exhale as her hands slip over his shoulders, and he relaxes into her touch as if she were a basin of holy water.

elijah reaches to take one of her hands, kissing the meat of her palm and guiding her as she comes to settle on the arm of his weathered wingback. ❝ they are a tiresome flock, ❞ he mutters, his voice low, his accent thick when tired. ❝ the lot of them. ❞ he means the family more than the couple, themselves. ❝ i've been too lenient, hopin' the wedding might invigorate the town, draw attention to the church, but they forget that i'm a spiritual leader. not an errand boy or a bard. ❞ when she grins, he pulls her into his lap, arms weaving around her middle. ❝ i'll see to it we have more time together once it's done. ❞ the severity of his tone carries, even as he speaks into the bend of her neck. there is a soft chuckle. ❝ so tied up in themselves, they forget our role in this. but i should learn from your patience. this will all be over in a few days. ❞ and yet .. ❝ in my mind, i can't imagine it — ❞ he confesses, eyes going a bit distant as he stares into the fire in the hearth. ❝ the wedding, ❞ he clarifies. ❝ it's as if it will never come to pass. that there is no end. ❞ eli sighs as he leans his head back, looking into his wife's beautiful face and tucking a strand of raven behind her ear. ❝ tell me i'm losing my mind. ❞

the stress drives him to craving a drink, and no one deserves that side of him, let alone his family.

location & time: the harris estate, late evening.

with: @dandelionsphinx

WITH DAISY safely tucked into bed, xueyu's daily life of running a medicinal practice & running after her daughter had been concluded - & that meant she was more than ready to kick back & enjoy some well earned rest in her husband's company. the preparations for the upcoming wedding of the decade had been in full swing & she'd seen less of her beloved during the day - the nights, however, had turned watchful. the coming days were... odd, to say the least.

misplaced.

something felt out of place & line, out of direct line of sight but she could swear it lingered in the peripheral - loitered right behind their backs. a saccharine smile, one promising great things, only to turn out deadly & deceitful. some would say devil's work, but even the devil was more honest. this felt like horror & terror wrapped in a shroud & buried but an inch beneath their feet - the soil damp, the deadman's hand all but sticking out, ready to take the unwitting souls strolling about in the darkness of the night.

it felt heavy - & the air smelled of it.

finding elijah in his usual spot, yuer's darker premonitions turned lighter - evaporating with the moon's rising light. the healer of netherbridge smiled to her husband, the corners of her lips curling upwards as she reached his seat. "there you are" she softly spoke, her hands snaking around the headrest to rest upon his shoulders.

"I've seen less of you during the day. is the couple too demanding of their needs?" she softly pouted & circled around to the sit atop the armrest. "how was your day? as... entertained I am about the upcoming festivity - lord knows the netherbridge could use a fun distraction - I am also eager for it to end. you'll have less work when the wedding ends, won't you?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"it's simply odious I have to spend days advising the ladies exactly how tight their corsets should be without fainting & not spending them with you & daisy instead. odious."

[dandelionsphinx]

holy madness burning in an icy gaze, the weight of a blackwood cross tucked beneath his robe, sermons rising to a fever pitch, morning fog and a nameless melody, the singe of blasphemy soothed by earnest repentance ...

// ELIJAH ERASMUS HARRIS — { priest of netherbridge }

tw: mentions of murder, depression, mental disorder, violence, abuse, addiction, etc.

( basics. )

› name : elijah erasmus harris › nickname(s) : eli, ras, father › gender : male (he/him) › orientation : demiromantic heterosexual. › date of birth : 11 october › birthplace : galway. › occupation : priest of netherbridge & leader of occult accord dawn of the 13th seal. granted the honorific the 13th apostle.

( physical & mental. )

› height : 6' › weight : 185. › body type : lean but mischievously muscled › eye color : ice blue › hair color : dark cinnamon brown › dominant hand : right. › scars : jagged scar along the hollow of his right cheek. lashes across his back. › conditions : prone of migraines, vertigo, and bouts of psychosis. › schemas : delusions of grandeur, flawed yet anointed

( personality. )

› 6+ qualities : tireless, charitable, compassionate, visionary, magnetic, devoted, disciplined + convicted › 6+ flaws : obscurantist, judgmental, can be cold, aggressive, and violent, and sometimes delusional and unhinged + manipulative › mbti : enfj › moral alignment : chaotic good › temperament : a paradox or a hypocrit, depending on the angle you take, elijah is a godspoke man with a dark & treacherous past, and though he lives his life in the light now, there are shadows in him that cannot be swept away. rage lives within him, and while he preaches forgiveness and means it, his demon is vengeance. those that trespass against him, his family, his congregation or his secret order are not likely to walk away. at the least, they will limp. he does not relish in being a sinner, but he accepts his light and his dark — uncharacteristic of a priest. most of his faith is bound to hidden texts he's discovered in his research. books of the bible that never saw the light of day. books gilded with occult wisom and knowledge. he considers himself a work in progress. most that meet him find him mysterious and magnetic, but there is a cold fire in him they cannot hold or temper. his patience lasts forever, but once the switch is flipped, the beast cannot be contained. › enneagram : type 8, the challenger / type 7, the enthusiast › soul type : wayward › animal : three-eyed serpent › greek god : hermes › zodiac : libra

( background. )

› intelligence : likely genius-level — but with that comes dark territory / could potentially harbor schizo-effective tendencies › skills : master of ancient languages & translation, prolific writer with many published works, master orator and natural leader, great with finances, inherent understanding of psychology › likes : reading, writing, preaching, ministering, time spent with this wife and daughter, fine tobacco, people watching, quiet, order, a well-built pyre, architecture & building, & mindful art, theater, symbolism, finding patterns & hidden meanings in everything, charitable giving › dislikes : self-righteousness, piousness, anyone that poses a threat to his wife & child, those that do evil for the sake of doing it (though he has once walked in a similar path), his past and discussing it with others, alcohol (due to his proclivity for addiction), himself

( facts. )

• born under a blood moon eclipse. named aodhan iarlaith. • orphaned when his mother murdered his father in cold blood. she was deemed schizophrenic and hospitalized after. he was barely 6. • at the orphanage, he learned scripture and hard discipline among other unmentionable abuses from the priests meant to guard him. while he longed for a connection with god, the stewards of his word were so terrible, the boy fled them at the age of 10. • after escaping the abuses of the orphanage, aodhan lived as a young street urchin for years. this drew him to addiction, violence, thievery. by the age of 14, he was a killer, running a young group of thugs that terrorized their small, irish village. • at the age of 17, his gang murdered a young man named elijah harris. he died in an alley with empty pockets the night before his voyage to england where he was to attend oxford and study divinity. for the first time in years, this dead boy, very nearly his own age, made him reflect on his life thus far. his pathetic stray from god's path — and a fire lit within him, even as he sobbed over the lifeless body in a cold, rain-drenched alley stinking of piss. aodhan died that night, and elijah harris was resurrected. he went to oxford a new man. • it was not easy, but elijah was smart. cunning, even. he excelled after a few seemingly devastating pitfalls — mainly due to his violent and unreasonable temper. he began to wake up. • he was briefly exiled as a heretic for his obsession with judas iscariot and the blasphemous nag hammadi texts. that exile led to travel and further delves into the occult, other cultures and religions, etc. his trip to china was one of the most enlightening experiences of his life, and he studied as long as he could with monks in the buddhist tradition. • when he was accepted back to oxford after countless appeals, he was welcomed back in and forgiven his past (even though he carried what he'd learned in his heart). soon after, the bishop installed the newly minted priest at netherbridge, ignoring his past discretions due to his charisma and enthusiasm. • not long after, he started the dawn of the 13th seal in shadow. • publishes his occult works in french under a pseudonym: lucien nébuleux. his most famous work is called exode: corporel.

[dandelionsphinx]