#( in my verse for hiero her dad was a cult leader so i'm definitely trying to put those “like father like daughter” vibes into her )

[therosepetalrps]

『✣』 Her brows lifted, pleasantly surprised by his vague knowledge of her name. ❝𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑? 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐊 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐋𝐄-𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍' 𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

Hiero circled around him, still holding tight to his hand, forcing him to turn with her. ❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋. 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐄, 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄. 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒, 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒. ❞

She could tell that everything in him was bubbling to the surface. He was wrestling with his mortality as though fighting a physical battle. In some ways, he seemed more afraid of what it would mean to live than of what it would mean to die. He looked at that bottle like he still longed for the very thing that was killing him. That made her feel a bit nostalgic; a few people had looked at her that way before.

But his quarrel did not just end with the bottle. It was with himself, with God, seemingly with existence itself. She knew that frustration well enough. And she knew that there was nothing to be done for it, unless you were willing to grab onto what you wanted and refuse to let it get away.

Concubine. The word made something flash in her eyes. A giggle rang out in the high vaulted ceiling; its source sweet, but its echo sounding sinister. She cupped his jaw, but did not force his head to turn away from the cross. ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐃'𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑? 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓? 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐄? 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊. ❞

She lifted onto her toes to bring her mouth to his ear, lips so close that kisses ghosted against his skin with every word. ❝ 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎. 𝐈 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍'. 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎. ❞

Her hand slid around to the back of his neck, fingers dipping beneath his shaggy hair and collar to stroke tiny circles on his nape.

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍'. 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐃𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐃. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐀' 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. ❞

She kissed his neck, just below the curve of his jaw, and murmured, ❝ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎. ❞

The way the woman looked at him didn't make him feel better. He felt like he was drowning, and she was holding him under for as long as she could before pulling him back up to the surface for air when all he wanted was the sweet release of his pain, of his life. "You make it sound so easy to forget about." Her hand tried to smooth out the front of his collar, but it was still rippled from her grip, along with his poor care.

"Hierophant?" Something about that name made his stomach turn. What did it mean? His head was hurting, but he tried to think about it. "Th-that's a tarot card!" He remembered that card because it was usually the image of a pope, priest, or some kind of religious symbol. Now that made some sense as to why she was there in a church. 

"I'm not trying to be dramatic.." Joseph just felt poor; he hadn't eaten much in days, and he had already tried to get a beggar to do what he asked her to do. "Huh?" He winced, feeling the woman's grip on his hand. She really seemed to act like she had everything planned out, and yet she knew nothing about the priest. "Living." What did living mean to a man of God—a man who chose people over himself?

"I am living; I'm a priest. Wh-what more do you expect of me after that?"

It took a lot to hold himself back from leaning away from her to grab the bottle he had abandoned on the ground. His eyes, though, stared at the item, glaring at the reason for his illness.

"What do ye actually want tae do with me?" MacAvoy asks.

"Keep me like a pet until I pass on, or like a slave?" He shook his head at those ideas. "Would I be your concubine, yours to use in a way the church doesn't care for us!?" Joseph's eyes turned up past the woman to the cross behind her. "I gave my life for the church—my mind, body, and soul. What have you ever done for me when my heart ached for something you could not give me!?" It would be a cruel joke to give him something like a woman who would only know him at the end of his days. 

"What would you have of mine, Hiero, if I said yes?" Father MacAvoy asked, turning his eyes back to her. "What will ye do with me is I gave myself tae you?"