the die has been cast (alea_iacta_est) wrote in 2145ic, @ 2018-09-29 13:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | epiphany, vaughn |
reconnection
who: vaughn & epiphany
setting: central park
Epiphany was done with hiding. She had gone into the dark depths of her mind after Samson had delivered her back to The Temple. She offered her followers very little explanation of her state or her reasons for turning off the noise in her mind. It was a step toward trying to separate herself, to isolate herself and identify who she was outside of The Temple. She stayed in her den, surrounded by her thoughts, as she meditated for hours on end. She stayed like that, sleeping, eating, meditating, repeating, for days.
Her wounds had finally begun to heal, pulling the slices of skin on her arms and chest together into scar tissue, when she decided to re-emerge into the world. She had spent so long thinking, pondering, reaching for answers and what she came to realize was that even after it all - even surrounded by her temple and her followers, she was lonely. She was broken. And she wanted to be broken with someone else who understood, instead of leading the broken masses around her.
When she finally let herself see the streets again, Epiphany had to carefully immerse herself again. She had spent so much time in silence that she had to remind herself that the city was loud and boisterous, vivacious in a way that her temple was not. She took to scanning the city for signs of Vaughn, feeling an ache inside her for him that she could only explain as the missing of a kindred spirit, and when she saw him stumble out of a dark alley covered in bruises and blood, she did not think. She took action.
With her staff in one hand and her other held up to ward off the worries of her followers, Epiphany boarded the subway and exited her temple. She walked deftly through the city streets, peering in front and behind her with the use of the street’s cameras, until she found herself at the edge of The Park. She tried to remember the directions Vaughn had pulled her when she came to his home the first time, but it was all a blur of pain and blood loss.
He had warned her not to speak to strangers, but she had no choice if she was going to find him and confirm he was not about to drop dead himself. So as she reached the limits of her vision, she held a hand out and found the nearest tent by touch. “Pardon me,” She spoke softly. “I am a friend of Vaughn. Could you take me to him?”
Vaughn had been spending time trying to block out everything. He'd been forced to take a little time away from the underground fights, just because he didn't especially want to die, but mostly he'd been trying to sleep. Vic seemed to actually be listening, and he was off someplace else. Probably with his new boyfriend, who Vaughn still didn't trust. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Vic to get his heart broken.
But at least he was someplace better for him physically. Vaughn had just had his first fight back earlier that day, and had dragged himself home to rest before the fight later in the evening. He patched up just enough of himself to call it good. He glanced up when a little boy peeked his head into his makeshift home. “Someone's here to see you. Weird lookin lady,” he said. “Want me to bring her or lose her?” Vaughn frowned. He had to know who that was. In the end he sighed. “...bring her,” he said, making himself sit up and take some painkillers so he didn't sound as hurt as he was. “And kid - she’s blind, so you take her by the hand and lead her. Don’t let her get sidetracked and if anyone tries anything, you tell then who she’s with.”
The kid ran off, and as Epiphany was talking to his big sister, he appeared again and took her hand. “I'll take you, lady,” he said. “For a price, what've you got?”
Kneeling down to be closer to the voice of the girl, Epiphany looked up and just above the head of the boy who now held her hand. What did she have? In truth, almost nothing. She carried no credits in her profile. She had no jewelry and only very worn clothing. The only thing she had was her ability to pray, but even that fell short of a real offering because without Atia actually listening, what good was a prayer?
She moved to stand, leaning her weight on her staff, and exhaled. “I will give you my staff if you take me to Vaughn.”
The kid eyed the staff critically, then nodded. “Okay, that looks good,” he said, then took her hand and held tight. “It’s not far,” he added, tugging her along behind him, weaving in and out of various shanties and tents til they got to Vaughn’s place. “Here ya go,” he said, and he put his hand on the staff. “Bye, lady,” he said, taking off in a run with the staff.
Vaughn reached out to put a hand on Epiphany’s arm, drawing her properly inside the place, and he let the heavy cloth drop over the ‘door’ to at least pretend there was privacy. He led her to Vic’s chair, so she could sit down. “What’re you doing here? Figured I’d never see you again.”
When she no longer could feel her staff, Epiphany was surprised by the twinge of sadness she felt. She had crafted that staff over many years, carefully chosen each adornment to it, and now without it she felt somehow less like a prophet. In the end, maybe it was good that it was gone. Maybe the lack of it would help her approach this with a clear head.
She followed Vaughn silently, settling down into the chair with his help and pondered over the question for a moment before she answered. “I saw you hurt. I am worried.” She had not been so certain that she would have sought him out again without that knowledge, without the clear image of him covered in bruises and blood burned into her mind. “Was that all from Samson?”
He was surprised she’d bothered to show up. He hadn’t really thought about her seeing him on the cameras, figuring she wasn’t looking for him in the first place. Not after everything. He also noticed the use of ‘am’ instead of ‘was’. “No, that’s pretty much healed up,” he told her. “I’ve been doing prize fights,” he explained. “They aren’t pretty, but I have to make money somehow.” He eyed her a moment, giving himself a second to really just re-memorize her. “You could have just sent me a message to ask what was going on. You didn’t have to leave your people and come here.”
“Would you have answered a message?” Epiphany asked, no accusation in her tone but honest curiosity. Her head tilted up toward Vaughn’s face, but her eyes drifted just over the area of his mouth. Big, dark orbs that seemed to be tracking his lips’ movements, even if it was impossible for her to be doing so.
“I find that it is harder to tell someone you are fine when they are right in front of you. I am worried you are not fine.” Exhaling, Epiphany linked her fingers together in her lap. She disliked very much the idea that he was fighting for money, but with no credits of her own she could not offer him any. So instead, she settled for circling back to his last comment. “...My people are fine. I am unsure how I am able to help them in this current state.”
“I don't know,” he answered honestly. Because he might have, but maybe not, too. It would have heavily depended on his mood at the very moment she messaged, as opposed to any principal he may be following. He watched her eyes. Her strange, beautiful eyes. Set into her adorable face, alien as it was. As she'd made it. He tracked her words, though, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Though Vaughn had never been great at that. He was quiet a moment before he responded again. “...why wouldn't you be able to?”
Epiphany ran her fingers over the little scars on her hand, thinking over every word she wanted to say about her current state, and every doubt she had about bringing them up again. The last time they had spoken, it ended in a horrible battle and she did not have the energy to fight with Vaughn’s intense words. But she had spent enough time alone, thinking, meditating, to know that even though his words stuck in her like a knife, that they had an underlying sense of care about them. She simply was not sure if she was ready to fully trust him not to harm her like that again, even if she found herself wanting to divulge all her thoughts and worries to him now. Like a moth to a flame.
“I believe that I am at a crossroads, and when a leader is at a crossroads they can make rash decisions. I am not positive that I could make the best decisions for The Temple at this time.”
“Your lot live in the tunnels, not bothering anyone. What kinds of decisions do you really have to make?” Vaughn asked, not trying to be a dick, really trying to understand. He knew that they sort of worshiped her like a goddess, but what did she really decide for them all? What did she do besides slice herself up and bleed for them?
“The kind of decision that would replace me as their guide. That would instill a new prophet and sever me from my ties to Atia and The Temple,” She answered honestly. Closing her eyes, Epiphany leaned back into the chair, letting it take more of her weight than before. “It is a life-altering decision I cannot make rashly.”
“Who would they replace you with? There is no one else, is there? You're the one connected to everything, you're the one they see as a goddess among them...” he trailed off, not sure where this was going. “...you're really considering leaving?” he finally clued into, and he wound up sitting on the ground in front of her. That was...huge.
“That is the concern,” Epiphany answered, her voice half as loud as it had been before. “I am a prophet, not a goddess,” She said, but it was only a half-attempt at clarification. The lines had blurred so much down in the Temple that the difference between prophet and goddess was hard to spot even for her.
“...I am,” she finally answered, opening her eyes to look down toward him when she felt the air shift and heard the closeness of his tone. “My faith has wavered and I feel...Prophets cannot feel lost.”
“I think prophets feel lost all the time,” Vaughn said. “But you know, whatever with that. How do you feel about you? About them? About being a prophet at all? Drop the crown for a second, Piph – just talk to me about how you feel, without the implications. Try,” he invited, and he reached out to brush his fingertips over the side of her wrist for just a moment. Maybe to help try and ground her, or maybe because he just wanted to.
“Prophets cannot feel lost. True prophets understand the future in a way no one else can. They are guided by their lord with understanding of their people. The understand the sacrifices that need to be made in order to keep their family aligned. But I do not feel that mission any longer.” She said, trying to do as he said and drop her crown and put real meaning behind what she said.
“I feel truly lost and it is debilitating. I have always had a purpose. I have always known my purpose. But years have passed and as I reflect on them now I wonder...has Atia ever truly spoken to me at all? Have I been worshipping false idols with nothing to show for it now but a sickly flock of my own?” She looked down toward her wrist when he touched it and shifted out of the chair to settle down on the ground in front of him. “I am unfettered.”
Vaughn rolled his eyes. “Piph – 'true' prophets are full of shit. You think they leave everything in? Didn't the Bible skip like thirty years of Jesus' life or something?” he posed. “Of course someone calling themselves a prophet would claim to never have any moment of doubt because their whole deal is for people to believe in them. Doesn't make it true. Or, if there is someone out there who's never had some doubts or a moment's pause, they're fucking crazy and mentally stunted. You're human, despite the fact that you've been doing your level best to become a machine. You get to feel lost sometimes. I think you're the one who doesn't know what a prophet is, you just have some perfect ideal image in your head of one, and it's an impossible standard you can't possibly keep up with.”
He was quiet a second as he considered the rest of what she was saying. “...I don't know if Atia is real or not. Maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it's the message that does, or I don't fucking know. Maybe religion is dead, and it's time people just were people, not followers.” He watched her sit on the ground with him, and he reached out to take her hands. “It's not that bad, being unfettered. I'm sure it's scary, but most people are.”
Epiphany instantly brought his hands up to her cheek so she could feel them on her skin and lean into his support. She felt much less like a machine here, sitting across from him with his warmth surrounding her. She felt less lost here, too, even though his points filled her with more doubt. Maybe this whole time, she’d been a false prophet and hadn’t known it. Perhaps her entire life was constructed to keep her focused on something that may not even exist.
Inhaling, Epiphany held the breath in her chest for a moment and then let it out slowly. “I do not know what to do without a purpose. I am scared nearly every minute of each day. That place is so much more than just a Temple. It is my home and I feel like an imposter there. I do not know how to feel more human and less machine.”
Vaughn brushed his thumb across her cheek, then drew her in closer. He pulled her into his lap, arms wrapping around her. He brushed his lips across her forehead, nuzzled her nose. “You can go back and try to find your faith again, or leave and find something else, you can, I don't know, go on a...is pilgrimage the right word? To find God somewhere out there…I don't know what to tell you, Piph.” and he wished he did.
She could feel the ache in her bones relax when he touched her. The sensation of his fingers on her cheeks, his lips on her forehead, his nose against hers, all of it felt right. It was something true and real and right there in front of her. It was not withholding or ominous. It did not require her to give every ounce of her being in hopes that one day, someone might see fit to enlighten her. It was simply real, simply Vaughn.
Epiphany melted into his hands, crawling even closer to him to try and be wrapped in his arms completely. She was silent for a good long while as she considered her options and, finally, when she spoke her voice pressed into his neck. “...I would like to see you fight.”
He...really hadn’t imagined those words coming out of her mouth. Yeah, that was a hundred percent not something he’d imagined. But it could definitely be arranged. “...well, might be a little issue there,” he said. “No cameras. It’s pretty illegal. We’d have to figure something out.” Which wasn’t to say he didn’t imagine that there might be a market for something like that...and now that he was thinking about it, he wondered if Vic’s boyfriend might know some people who had money to burn enough to pay for porn might have other things they’d want to buy off the black market. It was risky, but maybe… “I might already have an idea…”
She straightened up a little more and wrapped her arms around Vaughn’s neck to bring him that centimeter closer. “I am ready for the world now. I am ready for it and I want the first thing I see to be you, winning your fight.”
Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his neck. She breathed his scent in and memorized it, and gave a dreamy exhale against his skin. “I would like to stay with you tonight.”
He smiled, though recognized that this was nuts, and was probably just going to keep getting weirder. But whatever, he wasn’t exactly a plan it out kind of guy, he rolled with things. So he was rolling with this without thinking about it. “Then stay,” he told her, reaching up to cradle her face between his hands, tipping it toward him so he could kiss her properly. Hard, even. He was achey and still recovering but that seemed a little like their’ MO at this point. The first time he’d had her was after his extended labor shift and he’d been ready to drop, why change things up now?
Epiphany followed his lips, leaning in to open her lips and run her split tongue against his bottom lip. As she withdrew her tongue, Epiphany bit his bottom lip. Not a nip, but a full bite. She didn't know if his lip was split in battle but she wanted to taste his blood. She needed a reminder of his unique energy.
Hiking her long skirt up, she straddled him and felt his chest against her breasts. Strong, secure. She sighed into his skin at the thought.
Vaughn shuddered, that whole tongue thing getting him every time. When she bit him, he made a sharp sound, but it was definitely a good one. His lip wasn't fully healed up from his fights, so it hurt bad, but he wasn't complaining. She did get a taste of blood though, the split in his lip bursting. It made him pull her closer, and he ground up against her. His hands slid up her thighs as she pulled her skirt up, and he was immediately looking to explore her. He didn't know if she had anything else on under the skirt but it wasn't going to be there long.
Lapping at the blood on his lip, Epiphany let a gutteral sound nestle in her chest. It tasted perfect. She rocked her hips against his when he moved and traced the path of his hand on her legs with her mind. Never before had she felt that her sacrifices to Atia were a hindrance...but never before had she wanted so desperately to see someone as they moved. She wanted to know every line of his skin, every spot and freckle, every bit of him.
Often she wore nothing underneath her long robes but today was different. Underneath, she had on a pair of tiny, silken shorts and she desperately wanted them gone now. “You should take those,” She said when she felt his fingers brush against them under her skirt.
Vaughn had every intention of taking those and he didn't waste time, either. He moved them, basically standing her up where she was so he could reach up and pull them down, carefully lifting each foot one at a time so that they were off, and he tossed them over with his things in the corner. Then he was pulling her back down to him, where he was kissing her once more, leaving them both a little bloody with it, but he really didn't care.
He laid back on the ground, and shifted his hips up enough to push his pants down over his hips, enough to free himself. He wanted her, right now. He was already seeking it, guiding himself between her thighs.
Epiphany let him guide her, lost in the sensations of his touch and the absence of it. She shivered while she waited for him, anticipation coursing through her harder each second that she did not feel his touch. It seemed an eternity had passed by the time she felt his skin on hers again, and as he guided for her she adjusted and, with a gasp, felt him. Shifting, Epiphany sank until their hips met and she let out another low moan caught in her throat. With eyes shut and her head drifting back, Epiphany could only smile. “I missed you.”
Vaughn moaned with her, and he smiled up at her. “I missed you too,” he told her, before he shut up and concentrated on making the wait worth it. He was hurting still, but he was pretty good at pushing past that. He had other priorities, and this was his only one right this second. Making his personal goddess come was at the very top of his list.
As he moved, Epiphany found his rhythm and rocked her hips in time with his own. She could feel the heat change in the tent, the energy shift as they worked together. She wanted desperately to bottle the energy here and save it for later. Typically, she’d be praying right now. Praying to Atia with all the strength and the power of this kinetic energy, but not this time. For the first time in her life, she was focused purely on the sensations of her partner. The way his breath hitched, the way his hips thrusted, the feel of his skin under her fingertips. It heightened her to a level so high so quickly that she was stunned when she felt her edge approach. Frantically, she worked her hips harder against his, chasing after the feeling until it burst inside her and she cried out into the air.
He wasn't consciously aware of it, but on some level he recognized that this felt different than before. Like she was more present with him or something. More a participant, perhaps. He didn't know. He just did his best to keep up with her and when she hit, after a few more thrusts, he followed along with her, crying out a little as he did so, before he pulled her down into a hard kiss.
Collapsing onto him, Epiphany offered her whole self up through that kiss. Every ounce of uncertainty she’d had just melted into his mouth and she realized that the important thing wasn’t whether Atia had forsaken her or not, but whether she was willing to give this up in his name. And here in his tent with the warmth of his body against hers and the vibrations pulsing between them, she knew her answer was no.