OH HOW HER RAGE STIRRED behind an unfaltering gaze. He could see it as much as he could feel it, sending the most pleasant chill down the skin of his nape like an icy cold touch that burned as hot as flame. Powder snow fell delicately and crunched beneath his feet as the Cardinal crouched to pick the LAST surviving rose from the churchyard's hedgerow, its thorns too docile to penetrate black leather — black like the entirety of his ensemble so only his pale, insipid face was not concealed by melanoid darkness. As he rises to full height he clutched the flower's head tightly, allowing it to disintegrate in the palm of his hand. It bled crimson petals, carried away by the gentle but frigid winds. Copia then discarded the crumpled remnants that were once beautiful and alluring mere moments ago, watching them fall sorrowfully before the headstone of Papa Emeritus III. His cold smile is befitting of the symbolism unfolding before both himself and Annabelle. She looked so broken yet roused, an antique doll with no function but still looked PRETTY sitting on somebody's mantle piece.
Winter had come for the roses, removing them of their purpose and their splendor, just as he had done to her. He pondered in that moment if the year's end felt just as powerful. ❛ Make no mistake. Even I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to deny that troublemaker's fealty to the third Emeritus, quite the opposite in fact, considering his heartbroken retreat after . . . Well. ❜ Copia's eyes roll downward to the withered rosehead and grave as if they were taboo to speak aloud. ❛ I just think he was too weak to overcome his despair and see the bigger, grander picture. ❜ He knows what he's doing. He's digging beneath her skin, teasing old wounds while making new ones. Calculating incisions. His eyes immediately dart back to Annabelle's in hopes of catching a quick FLINCH or two.
❛ At least he's a lot more durable than that figurehead he loved so much, knowing he's still alive. Ergo, I suppose I can't speak too ill of him. But I digress. Wouldn't you like to see how he's doing? For yourself I mean. What a sweet reunion that would be. ❜ He clasped his hands together, leaning forward with a sappy expression as though he were in the middle of a pantomime act; Sheer mockery. What does she have to lose now other than the Quintessence? Dangling everything she held dear at the precipice, chaining her to his ambition. All that Copia had put into motion had flourished in resounding chaos. It came at a price for many yet had apparently left him unscathed, allowing him to slot into place, exactly where he YEARNED to be — Caressing the arms of the papal throne like the embrace of a lover making love to his ego. Indeed he was virulent . . . pestilent. And indeed the Devil's will favoured Copia, cruel as sin. He’d led Omega to believe callous fate took Annabelle from him, to ensure his constitution would shatter, making it that much easier to shape him to the Cardinal's agenda; Without her knowledge nor the Clergy’s. He couldn't help but simper, mulling over what her reaction might be to learning he had been so CLOSE this entire time, tortured and crippled deep in the bowels of the cathedral's underpass. It had been months since he ceased to speak, since his flesh could withstand injury still festering, since his eyes held any semblance of lucidity. Tormented in every sense of the word. Omega's laughter seemed only a distant memory lost beneath the fetid corpse pile devised by none other than Copia. From the ghoul's mouth nothing remained but his soul begged for mercy; To no avail for he would not have it.
Debauchery ruled the Cardinal and his cruelty knew no limits — Like sickness his venom acted slowly, rotting body & mind. Relentless. His smile was the crescent moon privy to plague - infested Europe crying out in a crescendo of screams and prayer in vain. His very presence, a terrible omen. He enjoyed the sound of cracking bone and breaking hearts. He stood hauntingly akin to a wraith amongst a sea of graves, snow dusting his shoulders as he grinned eerily never once removing his gaze from Annabelle. It was as though he was staring straight through her at an entity looming over her shadow. He did not move. He did not blink. His pupils like needle - point possessed by something grotesque. ❛ A . . . Sweet . . . Reunion . . . ❜ He uttered again ( but far more forebodingly ) through his knife of a smile though his face moved little, taking on the appearance of a waxen effigy. ❛ You would do anything to be in his arms wouldn't you? ❜ In that moment everything that enveloped them came to a halt, colder and quieter than before. Even creatures of the night seemingly fled their vicinity. ❛ Anything. ❜ He takes a step closer; Another BITE into her inhibitions.
- ⊰ CONTINUED FROM ( x ) / @eiusvitaaeterna / because tumblr wouldn’t let me turn the other post into an editable reblog ⊱
