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Cesare Borgia (il_valentino) wrote in bearandbarnacle,
@ 2008-11-27 14:09:00

Entry tags:

cesarepost, cesarethread, event, storm, xelthread

Cesare: Event: Storm
He stands there, getting wet and wetter, but instead of hurrying inside - fixing himself a caffè, now that he's learnt how to, instead of grabbing one of those lush towels, or better yet: lounging away the rest of the day, snug in a fauteuil, swirling Armagnac - he walks away from the door, back into the rain.

He doesn't look where he's going until he bumps into a bench, shin first. Cesare takes that for a sign - isn't the sky full of portents? - and sits, getting wet and wetter, the glasses clutched in his hand as if they were a saint's relic.

Looking heavenwards, all he sees are fleeing shapes, panicked and wheeling, twisted by an invisible force and trampled by the throng. The shapes in the clouds remind him of something. Something he's seen, somewhere. He vaguely remembers being angry then.

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sunnyshadow
2009-01-17 07:14 pm UTC (link)

Xel keeps kneading until he's sure the spell has really taken and Cesare won't easily wake. Then he hops off him, and stretches into the gold, regaining his own body.

He knows where Cesare lives, and although he's never been inside, he thinks there's a good chance that there won't be anything two feet beyond the door. So he teleports there, with Cesare over his shoulder (really too large for him to carry without awkwardness, but the weight isn't a problem for a chimera of his description) and the bird in the other hand.

There's some sense of shared space to the well-appointed rooms, and Xel idly lets his eyes wash over the place, finding Cesare's bedroom almost by scent. He bends to roll Cesare onto his mattress, removes the ducal footwear, and twitches the sheet over him.

Then a thousand years of mazoku priesthood smack him upside the back of the head. He tucks Cesare in more carefully. And arranges his boots neatly beside the bed. And--and--he can't help it, he has to tug his gloves on and generally nudge the room into a more graceful tidiness before he goes to find a refrigeratable container or wrapping for the pheasant. There's nothing he can do. Even if he's been trying to remember his generalship around Cesare, he was always, always both, from the moment he was a mazoku worth anything, and he's just too well trained.

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il_valentino
2009-01-18 09:30 am UTC (link)

For a second or five, he's reeling, reeling, lost in some indescribable nowhere, and then he nudges his faces into someone's crook of a neck. Nice. Warm. Male, he thinks.

Nice.

There are sleep-sensed disturbances, and then there are presences, the soothing, co-habitational sort. He twists deeper into the pillows, still looking for that warm neck.

Making soft lipsmacky sounds, he flops one arm out and over the edge of the bed, fingers curled in invitation.

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sunnyshadow
2009-01-18 10:48 am UTC (link)

About to pick up the bird and go, Xel glances back at the little noises. His heart twists at the sight. Is there anything he can do? Of course there is, the simplest thing in the world. It only needs a little tweaking.

Now, how to do this.

After a moment's closed-eyed thought and a long, centering breath, he lifts his hands to make the gestures, draws on the seed of the Sea within him, and returns to the language of his birth.

"Gift of a beloved Mother
Shining like gold in the dark crevices of my peaceful soul,I call upon you--
I now invoke you!"
He feels the warmth of the Sea bubbling to fill his soul, and basks in it for just a moment, smiling softly. Now the tricky bit.
"Darkness beyond blackest pitch,
Deeper than the deepest night,
King of Darkness, who shines like gold upon the Sea of Chaos,
I call upon you for one sworn to you."
That's a bit of a stretch, really, but Cesare is a priest, he'd said, and even those sworn to the god of virtue ultimately serve the Parent of creation. He lays his hands on Cesare's face, cupping it gently, and goes on into the realms of invention. At least if this doesn't work he's unlikely to get much of a backlash from it, although you can never tell for really sure with Chaos magic.
May the eyes of the soul
Of the one before me
Be opened to You as You walk with him,
That he may feel Your love
And know it true."
He bends over to press his lips to Cesare's face, between his eyes, and murmurs quietly into the bone,
"Astral Waken"

He picks up the bird and backs quietly out of the room to go hang it, as he now remembers Cesare preferred. He hopes this will help his friend feel less lonely--but, in honesty, he'll also be curious to see whether the man starts seeing the supernatural and magical around him.

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	liriaen 2009-01-18 11:16 am UTC (link)
	cries softly Uh. Really. cries a lot now PS: Also, two glorious new chapters, here, and here. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	sunnyshadow 2009-01-18 02:48 pm UTC (link)
	Oh, dear. Er, sorry? (pounces on chapters) (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	il_valentino 2009-01-18 03:41 pm UTC (link)
	No skin to speak of, umm sorry. Damn hormones. :/ Hot damn, chapter 14? Leonardo could have had him flat on his back in no time at all. (Reply to this) (Parent)

il_valentino
2009-01-18 03:58 pm UTC (link)

He half-hears his small moan, bespeaking the neediness with which he turns toward the hands, flower to the sun. He's not a light sleeper, never was, but there's only a thin veil between the now and the remembered, and he surfaces into brightness as if back in Assisi, under Giovanni di Bonino's stained glass windows casting him in azure, crimson, and emerald;

those had been colours, nothing more than colours, and he, half-bored to death, twisting his cardinal's ring, eyes glued to some noblewoman's cleavage, had sat until Mass was over, the Ite long spoken, when Miguel touched his shoulders and he'd looked up

to see Bonino's colours for the first time, really see them, playing with Miguel's curls.

He wriggles a bit in his sleep, seeking a shoulder or, that failing, the edge of the bed to anchor himself. There still are noises, quiet rummaging, good husbandry-like... they soothe him.

Lips between his eyes, aren't those. He opens his lips in turn, hopeful.

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	sunnyshadow 2009-01-18 04:49 pm UTC (link)
	He touches the lips, opening baby-birdlike, with two gentling fingers, and smooths the dark hair back. With a little half-smile for the quietly hovering spirit, he slips away. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	il_valentino 2009-01-19 03:09 am UTC (link)
	mmmmmh <3 thank you for a wonderful, wild, moving thread! (Reply to this) (Parent)

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