Mason Johanson Is a Falling Star (mutinous) wrote in repose,
Re: Church: Janus/Mason
He sipped from the cup, watching Janis cross and get the milk. This blonde and lovely version of the individual he'd come to know was just as amenable as the other. He thought it interesting that Janis came to him his way, but he himself was, of course, also changeable. "Getting settled in the new skin." If he could modify the hard-coded traits of the shell he occupied, its west Texas accent and fondness for cigarettes, he wasn't interested in trying. If not, he must be engaged by its limitations.
That small smile broadened a touch. No smiles from Janis, no indeed, and he tipped his head. "Remaining unpredictable is a greater part of my charm," he said.
Then he tilted the other way, in response to her question, looking out the darkening window at the empty field behind the church. The only thing in it was the trailer, all alone in the tall grass. "Nobody you're all that keen on," he said. "I don't expect any trouble." Truly, the day-to-day work was more of a stewardship. Its most active duties were mediation, artful diplomacy, and the iron rod where required to resolve petty disputes between feuding potentates, those who saw each other encroaching on their staked out territories in a world of pain and punishment. He created the rules, and enforced them, simple and rough as they were. Enough early examples near to the Fall meant it wasn't necessary for him to remind them often of who was king. Not more than once in a generation or so. No one had taken the throne of Hell but him since the dawn of creation. Those fool enough to try were fool enough to be wiped from book like a smudge under his thumb.
But he wasn't fond of such dealings. He liked a well-oiled machine, and he didn't seem the least bit worried about leaving a proxy in charge. He already had something in mind. The regent left below could be disagreeable, and they'd all be thrilled to have him back when he returned. Stability itself, this unpredictable rebel.
Thinking about it made him feel strangely tired.
He had been standing there, thinking, between sentences, for several long moments. He turned his eyes back to Janis, reclining. He lifted the mug to his lips again. "You thought I was here for you." A statement, not a question, thoughtfully observed. "Why?"