[ The Ministry was obviously a place of unholy miracles, and if you just so happened to reach out to the edge of time, you might find that that the future and the past had kept closer than you'd known.
Such was the case now, when cellphones and telephones somehow seemed to merge to bridge a 50 year gap, and Sister found herself looking for the fruit of her womb amidst the Ministry halls, despite his slumbering form still also waiting inside her. He said he was in the rehearsal space - did he mean the chapel, where Papa Nihil used to perform, or perhaps the entry hall, where Sister had considered playing soccer?
Ah, there he was - she knew him immediately, in her heart of hearts. ]
[ The instability of time, present in Clergy HQ or elsewhere, was not something Copia even knew much about to fail to have any kind of grip on it. Of course things were, eh...screwy, at times, but that came with the territory, no? Miracles weren't reserved for the opposition.
So seeing this near-portrait quality of his mother in her heyday...not something to immediately raise any alarms. Sister had a way about her and while she was not always forthcoming with her secrets, there were a certain number of things he had come to expect from her. Foremostly that she had her reasons. And maybe a little bit of stock in the magic department - she'd gone through a few...what he would call "looks" since her accident. He knew she was self-conscious, so. Mostly, he could just smile and hope that this was something that finally made her comfortable. ]
Oh, heyyy. [ He does an awkward little wave from what he supposes was more of an old chapel as was growing up, wasn't it? Hopping down from the stage, he half-shuffled, half-jogged to meet her down the rows.
...Come to think of it, not that he would ever volunteer the comment, she did look a little - mentally he makes a rounding hand gesture over a stomach. Even thinking the actual word would be what made this weird.
[ Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. This Ministry was older - certain things have been renovated, offices and quarters moved around, though the marble halls were the same, cold and homey all at once.
But of course, what was most startling was seeing her full grown son in all his... awkward glory. So much of him reminded her of Nihil, from the gleaming white iris of his left eye to the... dancing shuffle. It actually made her proud. ]
I should, since I'm carrying you. [ The Antichrist deserved nothing less than perfection, and to be called "Mama" by him was the highest honor. ]
Come here, my little C. [ Or not so little anymore, as she held her arms out for a hug. ] You've become such a fine, handsome man.
[ Okay, so there was that impossible equation overlay popping up in his head again. (The Ghouls would be thrilled to know he was making such good use of that particularly mentally filed meme. Or any meme, at all, from the last ten years or so.)
On the one hand, "carrying" was exactly how his mother felt about her duties. Of course she "carried" him, she carried the whole Church on her back, dragged the unwilling behind her like they were being keelhauled.
On the other. Was this...some weird roleplaying thing that she and Nihil were doing? Not that he would blame Sister, at least, for needing the enrichment... He just didn't think he needed to, y'know, know about it.
But he will absolutely take hugs where he is allowed them. ] What is this, this handsome man talk? [ He was not trying to challenge her, just confused. Amused, even, for whatever this change of heart seemed to be. ] When did you suddenly become a fan of my sweatpants?
[ Surely he knew that she knew that he'd been through enough trauma in his life. Surely he knew that that meant he'd be spared from being part of his mother's roleplay fantasies, and that his parents would ensure he had a new video game before they indulged in pottery play outside of the Papa Emeritus Zero's office. Surely -
Well, that was neither here nor there (though it ought to be part of the discussion, as he wouldn't even be born if his parents weren't so... creative).
Sister Imperator gave him a tight hug, closing her eyes and leaning into the embrace. She didn't know when she would once again be able to hold her fully grown son like this. Be as it may that she had her own Copia already with her inside her belly, but seeing him already thriving... What else could a mother ask for? ]
If you need them for practice, then so be it. You can rehearse fully naked or in leotards and a tutu if it'll help you perform better. [ However, she raised a brow as she pulled back to look him over, even as she smoothed his clothes out and tucked the tag of his shirt behind its collar. ] Though I must ask - why aren't you wearing your own colors? I know you're not on stage, but one would think you wouldn't choose to wear Papa Nihil's burgundy given the option. Did you take it up as your own motif?
[ WELL, YES, OKAY, BUT. Sometimes - not that he was criticizing, not even to himself - Sister's priorities...changed. It was not so much that he expected she wanted to drag him into whatever this was as...maybe she and Papa had gotten carried away. They did that sometimes - somehow, another thing that hadn't changed much with Nihil's passing.
Which, like, hey. Good for her, right? She could do better, much better, but he'd known as well as he knew the ancient scrolls that she did not want to.
...This was maybe a weird trail of thought to scamper down while hugging his mom, wasn't it? ]
Leotards, I would consider. [ He shrugged, extracting himself only so far as she would allow. ] Fully naked, eh. That sounds like a Ghoul request. Maybe not for the next US tour.
Oh, what? These? [ He looked himself over, readjusting the neck of the hoodie after a polite moment of allowing her to set it how she wanted. ] Way too dark for Pops, don't you think? [ And he snorted. ] But now that you mention, maybe it is time a new pair. Last thing I need is to give that shitbag something else to piss and moan at me about.
[ As the one and only son of the Unholy Family, it was inevitable that Copia's thoughts would turn to the circumstances by which he came into this world - his parents' sexcapades. Jesus was lucky that He didn't need to ponder such mortification, since His was the corporeal sort, not the brain-bleach sort. Anyway, not that this young-Sister-self would know, but her older self would eventually - forty years of separation from her Papa Emeritus Zero was literally a lifetime too long to be away from the person one was destined to be one flesh with. Whether she would tell Copia that, though, was another story, because that meant admitting things she was far too proud to.
Now, Copia's reaction to Papa Nihil made her purse her lips. Apparently the three of them were once again reunited, despite the fact that she'd left after seeing the debacle that was the Kiss the Go-Goat performance. Apparently Copia himself harbored some ill feelings towards his father, which - well. Could one blame him? Younger Sister had a reason for walking out, after all. ]
The only difference is that you're wearing the burgundy with black, not white. Otherwise you'd have exactly the same colors. [ Her brow creased. ] Is he giving you a hard time?
[When Paul-Muad'Dib Atreides appears at the Ministry, he's wearing the brown cloak of the Preacher. He's here under invitation - Paul is a strange sight in Los Angeles between his unusual eyes and eccentric habits. But he also has a way of slipping beneath notice. But he's Sister's friend, and as Sister's friend he approaches without fear. Paul has seen, done, and been through a lot in his long life. He's not easily intimidated. Sister has his trust.
But most people who've seen Paul don't know him for who and what he really is. Only a select few do. He prefers things that way.]
[ The Ministry was no stranger to visitors of all walks of life and death. A human man appearing in the brown robes of the desert was no surprise, but what was a surprise was that Sister Imperator was expecting him. She rarely welcomed guests who were there for leisure and not business.
A Sister of Sin opened the door for him, inspecting him quizzically. Sister Imperator had instructed her to look for the Eyes of Ibad, and upon recognizing that he was the Prime Mover's guest, she stepped aside respectfully to let him through. ]
Sister Imperator is waiting for you in her office. I will take you to her.
[ The entrance hall was a beautiful place. The long marble hall led deeper into the Ministry, but above the inner entryway was a large, stained glass window depicted the fires of Hell with Satan in its center. Paintings of angels, demons, and all sorts of creatures adorned the domed ceilings, which curved down into the tombs, both empty and taken, that lined the upper floor's walls.
The nun guided Paul down more hallways toward the heart of the Ministry, where the office of the Prime Mover awaited him. ]
[Paul gives the Sister a nod of respect when he’s granted entry. Clearly his arrival was expected, and Paul’s eyes are a marker of who he is. He follows along, observing the environment around him. Paul recognizes beauty, and he notices the stained glass with curiosity and interest.
The figures are ones he recognizes from mythology. As he follows the Sister, he’s absorbing and memorizing the details to keep them with him. There’s always something to learn in every environment. He’s quiet and respectful while traveling the halls. There will be a time and a place to indulge his curiosity later.]
Thank you.
[Paul is a guest here and he behaves as one, but he feels he must compliment Sister on the artwork. It must be a deep structure with a great deal to see. What Paul has looked at so far must only be a portion of the whole, and that portion is enough to stun him. There’s a long Old Earth history of artwork depicting Hell and the Devil.
Sticking close, he knows that they’re headed to Sister’s office.]
[ A heavy wooden door with a gold plaque labelled "PRIME MOVER" stood before them. The nun leading Paul knocked on her door, and her reply could be heard from within.
The Sister of Sin opened the door to let Paul through.
Sister Imperator's office was sumptuously decorated. A large and ornate desk lay between her and her visitors, and a silk Persian carpet adorned the center of the the marble floor. Bookshelves full of forbidden tomes stretched across the walls, and a large window behind her was open to let the L.A. sun in. Of course, a large grucifix was hung on one wall, gleaming polished silver.
The round table to the side of the room had food ready for her guest. Deviled eggs, an assortment of canapes, various sliced fruit, as well as a chilled Californian wine. For herself, of course, Sister Imperator had freshly squeezed orange juice. ]
Welcome, Paul. I'm glad you could visit on your day off.
[With a polite nod of thanks to the Sister of Sin, Paul steps through once he hears Sister’s voice, looking over the room before getting himself settled.
A well-furnished environment, clearly ready for a visitor. The set table was sign enough of that. Paul is grateful for the welcome. Admiring the bookshelves for a moment, he then turns his attention to Sister. He remembers Sister informing him that the books in her collection contained lost, forbidden knowledge.
He greets Sister Imperator with a smile and a small bow of respect.
Well-decorated, he sees, and comfortable. He takes a spot at the table and surveys the food. Sister knows Paul well enough to know what he likes. He takes and samples one of the canapés, giving a pleased sound as he eats it.]
I promised you a visit, and I’m a man of my word. Life at the library has been comfortable. I hope you and your son are well?
[ Food had always been a central aspect of their meetings, and it had become a source of comfort for the both of them, because he had lived many years of deprivation, and because she was growing a new life in her womb. That set the stage for them to exchange their stories, their musings, and their knowledge. As such, Sister Imperator felt it would be remiss of her as a host if Paul's visit to the Ministry didn't have delicious treats waiting for him.
She took a seat at the table across him. ]
Wine? It's not Caladan-grown, I'm afraid, but it's one of my favorites.
[ She patted her abdomen fondly. She was growing slightly rounder. This would not be noticeable for most people, but Paul was not "most people." ]
[Paul is appreciative - food and books seem to have become two of the things which draw them together, and he’s perfectly content with that. Knowledge is something which pulls people across worlds. Paul is someone who is eager to learn everything he can about his new home - there’s a lot of work still to be done, but he’s made good progress and is building a place for himself on Earth.
He has noticed her growing pregnancy.]
Thank you. It may not be from Caladan, but California wine is a close second.
[He pours himself a cup and takes a sip, humming in approval. Very good. She knows his tastes, as he’s done some exploring of the local blends.]
I have been, yes. Ravenously. A good chunk of my salary goes to my own library.
You know, the idea of living in the city permanently appeals.
When Paul returns to the Ministry, this time he's carrying a load of books on a cart behind him. He bows and clears his throat. Since the last time he visited he had an idea, and the books are a part of his plan. Nothing too ostentatious - he'd suggested to Sister that the Ministry start a book club for its members, and Paul brought along some suggestions he had come up with from his workplace as well as some of his own works.
Underneath his own arm is the book Sister gave him, already with a bookmark in place. Paul's been at work reading.
"Paul-Muad'Dib, at your service." A courteous nod from Paul. "I had some donations I wished to deliver."
The Sister of Sin that answered the door for him recognized Paul, of course, but was surprised to see him with a literal cartload of books. They'd all grown accustomed to Sister Imperator's new friend and his visits, but he still never failed to surprise them.
Frankly, it was good that Paul spent an ample amount of time with the rest of the Clergy members. For a spouse who openly cheated on the Prime Mover, the Papa Emeritus Zero was a sullen and jealous man, and Paul's respectful manner and open friendliness to everyone diffused any confrontations or overt tension that might have occurred.
"Yes, of course," the nun said, opening both the Ministry's double doors to let him through. "Sister Imperator is already in the library."
Paul is always reading, so he decided to share his books with his friends at the Ministry. He's a common sight, charming the Sisters with his knowledge and polite manner - after all, Paul was trained in how to move in royal courts and handle diplomatic matters.
He's also careful to make clear that he's only a friend - he'll play along with flirting and games, but he's also loyal to Chani and clarified that from the start. He's also an eager participant in gossip. It's his way of getting to know people and learn more about the world he's found himself in. Learning about people's taste in books is another way of doing that.
"Thank you." Paul gives a gracious smile. "I'll be right there, then."
The nun nodded before she moved to assist Paul with the book cart that he hauled along with him. The Ministry library was formidable, but of course, the books were all to do with Satanic theology, history, and related topics. For anything else, there was a small local library near them which some Clergy members went to and of course the Los Angeles Public Library.
Sister Imperator was consulting some tomes when she saw Paul and the other nun enter the library with his cart. He'd mentioned the book club, of course, but she hadn't expected the donations.
Paul's books are a carefully selected mixture - fiction and nonfiction, and from a range of genres. He gives a grateful smile in return for the nun's assistance. He was willing to push the cart himself, but also won't turn the help down. He bought most of them himself from local bookstore, though more than a few are Paul's own works that he's offering to the library for their use.
He bows on seeing Sister, stepping aside to give her a better view of the books. "It's the least I can do in exchange for your hospitality. My memoirs are included and I know you wanted to read them."
Sister Imperator accepted Paul's memoirs with a grateful nod. He'd been open with her about most things, keeping only the truth of his abilities to himself, and Sister was not one to pry. If he wanted to share this with her, she would respect the gesture, as the exchange of knowledge was important to her and to their beliefs.
"Thank you."
She looked over at Paul's collection. "What are you starting with?"
[ Ever since you were born you've been dying. Every day a little more you've been dying. Dying to reach the setting sun...
Sister Imperator heard the strains of music echo across the edges of time, and she blinked as the sun shone red-hot into her eyes -
She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, she was back. Two sons, one with dark hair, hand in hand with the one with hair as blond as hers. Two of them running through the fields, laughing joyously. Their backs to her as they frolicked through the grass and flowers. A beautiful sight for any mother.
She would have clutched her chest, but no - even if they could not see her, they should never see her weakness. They should never know, or never carry it themselves. This was her cross to bear.
Mary on a Cross...
A flash of awareness brought her back. Another witch entered her personal space. A sister in magick, and in understanding. ]
[Time. Thessaly had seen countless ways of tracking its passing. Across countries and centuries. Across worlds and dimensions. Beings who lived and died were obsessed with marking down what came before and what was to come, and where in that framework they fell. As though situation correlated with singularity. As though defying time meant defying fate.
She was born long before Sister's magic existed. Before the Creator and any devil, before any book good or ill. Yet the pulling tendrils inside of her blood sang like it was yesterday with the familiarity of the crying souls of her home city. One long ago burned to ash.
She was the trickster witch. The homely phantom. She was the anchor and scribe to a past she would only now share with a few, for who else could appreciate the past?
The Twin Songs.
The words sighed in the winds as she appeared. It was a quiet but not gentle rustle. It came out in ancient Greek in the rasps of air. It would sound like a curse to most, but what it meant? A term of affection, for those two little witches that Sister had born. Witches that Thessaly planned to watch over in her way, to provide guidance in traditions that nobody but she still carried.
She was wearing a long skirt and a sensible blouse, hair messily in a braid and glasses thick. She stepped out from the doorway without any pile of smoke or sand or fire because that was trite. She wasn't even trained in divination that well, but some magic was so strong that it vibrated to those who knew the ancient tunes. What she was trained in though was glamour. This truth...
It hurt, but she'd known it even longer.
So she did what she did best. She carried on. Squared her shoulders and focused on the woman for whom this all meant far more than it did to Thessaly.]
There are magics they're not as familiar with. To prologue it. Your appearance.
[No hello, no hugs. She greeted Sister with the prudency of a solution to aid in her plan. Why else bother someone's doorstep? Certainly not for sentimentality. Sister was supremely gifted in obfuscation and glamour, but perhaps additional magic might further aid in her endeavor. An offering, nothing more, and Thessaly wouldn't be insulted if it was rejected.]
[ Thessaly brought with her the echo of Αἰολία. The humanity within Sister Imperator was too young to understand it, but it was with gratitude that she felt her soul - her direct avenue to the Morningstar, his magicks, and the Akashic records - allowing her to glimpse the eternity that her sister-witch carried with her.
She smiled at the pragmatism. Appreciated it. Sentimentality was reserved for her sons. One could say that the root of Thessaly's appearance at her doorstep was indeed love, but never mind that - Sister Imperator was very good at intertwining business with her personal agenda and seeing both to fruition, and that was her greatest strength as the Prime Mover.
Beside the sensible and practical figure that was the powerful witch Thessaly, Sister Imperator painted a different picture. She allowed herself the softness of a white, diaphanous sundress, her blond hair cascading down her back and shoulders, unbound. She was aglow with motherhood and black divinity, a halo gleaming around her head - the very image of the dark Madonna.
In the Ministry halls she would wear her black tapered suits, her scarlet stiletto heels, her silver grucifix. But here, out in the fields of Sweden in summer with her children, she could hide her blades. At least for a moment. ]
It will be a while yet.
[ But for someone like Thessaly, Sister Imperator knew it would pass like the blink of an eye. ]
The road is long for them. There will be many things I will need to keep under lock and key until they are ready.
[Thessaly had never properly met the Morningstar. Oh, she'd been around when that whole scuffle happened, she'd been on the peripheral for the falling out and subsequent shifting that had happened. She had never properly been to hell though, but not because she thought herself relevant enough for Lucifer to care enough to keep. It was Death she evaded, not what came afterwards. No, Thessaly avoided hell because she'd had many enemies fall that ended up there, and other afterlives. She kept moving forward in this plane.
It was clear though that her sister in magic was tied to this entity, and Thessaly respected it. She'd tied herself to a being once, been part of a temple and fiercely loyal to a clergy. She'd never run it, she'd had no interest in that level of political danger, but she understood devotion. Her goddess had sometimes felt like the only being who could understand her desires without shame. Perhaps somewhere, a tiny piece of the silken spider long lost still remained, because Thessaly did.
At the end of the day, there was a bond despite the differences that Thessaly felt. A sense that magic like theirs flowed long before even she existed, and in new ways with witches like Sister. It was that power, sacred and worth protecting, that initially drew Thessaly near.
That Sister ended up being a practical witch who held fast to her beliefs and could handle herself in a match had been a pleasant surprise.
Still. She gave Sister a faint smile at the halo. It was a bit much for Thessaly, but she got it. Symbolism. Nobody escaped it.]
Indeed.
[The offer was on the table, but it would be many years before Sister might need it. If at all. She didn't belabor the point, merely moving on now that Sister knew she had it in her back pocket.
Thessaly didn't snoop, but she did make a slow tour of the space, examining it with a keen eye. Not for aesthetics, but she did always like to note what stayed the same and what if anything changed.]
So many think that truth is an all or nothing endeavor. Especially the young. What none can doubt is your intention in your actions. Or if they do, their loss.
What is the most immediate risk to them, as you see it?
[ The Catholics so did love their ceremony and devotion, their pomp and circumstance - and of course their dark mirror would have the same heavy-handed symbolism.
There were timelines and realities before YHWH condemned magick as not-His, and therefore "evil." Thessaly's power was older than even that, and indeed, Sister Imperator was a newer witch, gifted by the Morningstar the magicks denied of pious Christians. But still, there was sisterhood she felt between her and Thessaly because of the cosmic nature of the arcane that they devoted their lives to, the magick and mysteries that resided in the very fabric of reality that they harnessed.
As such, she understood Thessaly's offer, and was grateful for it. She nodded. She would take her up on this offer, one day when her glamours and her wards began to crack beneath old age and disease. The end of her mortal life was nothing to fear for Sister Imperator, and she welcomed her friend Death even now, even if it would be half a century yet before she came for her. But it reassured her all the same that her sons would have someone watching over them - someone who she knew was as pragmatic (actually even more so) than her, and to be frank, would call them out on their bullshit if necessary.
The field they stood in now was about an hour away from the city, but Sister and her Twin Songs loved it. It was ablaze with flowers, and the sunshine was bright and cheery. Despite the Satanic aesthetic, Sister Imperator was not averse to soft and pleasant things - at least not where her sons were concerned. And they did love to frolic in nature, singing and dancing and free of all worries.
Sister Imperator turned to Thessaly. ]
Thank you.
[ For offering to help strengthen her magick when it was needed, when Sister's mortality flickered and left her. For watching the Twin Songs from the shadows. For her constancy, until it was time for the universe to wrap up and turn off the lights and rest. ]
They will question and feel resentment, no doubt. After all, our tenets stress that knowledge and wisdom are paramount. But these things come with a price, and must come at the right time. The human psyche can be so fragile.
[ Her two sons' laughter drifted to them in the breeze. ]
Their safety. They must be hidden. They are the sons of the Papa Emeritus and the Prime Mover. This immediately paints a target upon their backs. The Unholy See and the position of Prime Mover are their birthrights, but they must only ascend when they are ready - and when those who would threaten their regime are disposed of.
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for rrrrats
[ The Ministry was obviously a place of unholy miracles, and if you just so happened to reach out to the edge of time, you might find that that the future and the past had kept closer than you'd known.
Such was the case now, when cellphones and telephones somehow seemed to merge to bridge a 50 year gap, and Sister found herself looking for the fruit of her womb amidst the Ministry halls, despite his slumbering form still also waiting inside her. He said he was in the rehearsal space - did he mean the chapel, where Papa Nihil used to perform, or perhaps the entry hall, where Sister had considered playing soccer?
Ah, there he was - she knew him immediately, in her heart of hearts. ]
He's here!
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[ The instability of time, present in Clergy HQ or elsewhere, was not something Copia even knew much about to fail to have any kind of grip on it. Of course things were, eh...screwy, at times, but that came with the territory, no? Miracles weren't reserved for the opposition.
So seeing this near-portrait quality of his mother in her heyday...not something to immediately raise any alarms. Sister had a way about her and while she was not always forthcoming with her secrets, there were a certain number of things he had come to expect from her. Foremostly that she had her reasons. And maybe a little bit of stock in the magic department - she'd gone through a few...what he would call "looks" since her accident. He knew she was self-conscious, so. Mostly, he could just smile and hope that this was something that finally made her comfortable. ]
Oh, heyyy. [ He does an awkward little wave from what he supposes was more of an old chapel as was growing up, wasn't it? Hopping down from the stage, he half-shuffled, half-jogged to meet her down the rows.
...Come to think of it, not that he would ever volunteer the comment, she did look a little - mentally he makes a rounding hand gesture over a stomach. Even thinking the actual word would be what made this weird.
He did his best, anyway. ] Looking good, Sister.
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But of course, what was most startling was seeing her full grown son in all his... awkward glory. So much of him reminded her of Nihil, from the gleaming white iris of his left eye to the... dancing shuffle. It actually made her proud. ]
I should, since I'm carrying you. [ The Antichrist deserved nothing less than perfection, and to be called "Mama" by him was the highest honor. ]
Come here, my little C. [ Or not so little anymore, as she held her arms out for a hug. ] You've become such a fine, handsome man.
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On the one hand, "carrying" was exactly how his mother felt about her duties. Of course she "carried" him, she carried the whole Church on her back, dragged the unwilling behind her like they were being keelhauled.
On the other. Was this...some weird roleplaying thing that she and Nihil were doing? Not that he would blame Sister, at least, for needing the enrichment... He just didn't think he needed to, y'know, know about it.
But he will absolutely take hugs where he is allowed them. ] What is this, this handsome man talk? [ He was not trying to challenge her, just confused. Amused, even, for whatever this change of heart seemed to be. ] When did you suddenly become a fan of my sweatpants?
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Well, that was neither here nor there (though it ought to be part of the discussion, as he wouldn't even be born if his parents weren't so... creative).
Sister Imperator gave him a tight hug, closing her eyes and leaning into the embrace. She didn't know when she would once again be able to hold her fully grown son like this. Be as it may that she had her own Copia already with her inside her belly, but seeing him already thriving... What else could a mother ask for? ]
If you need them for practice, then so be it. You can rehearse fully naked or in leotards and a tutu if it'll help you perform better. [ However, she raised a brow as she pulled back to look him over, even as she smoothed his clothes out and tucked the tag of his shirt behind its collar. ] Though I must ask - why aren't you wearing your own colors? I know you're not on stage, but one would think you wouldn't choose to wear Papa Nihil's burgundy given the option. Did you take it up as your own motif?
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Which, like, hey. Good for her, right? She could do better, much better, but he'd known as well as he knew the ancient scrolls that she did not want to.
...This was maybe a weird trail of thought to scamper down while hugging his mom, wasn't it? ]
Leotards, I would consider. [ He shrugged, extracting himself only so far as she would allow. ] Fully naked, eh. That sounds like a Ghoul request. Maybe not for the next US tour.
Oh, what? These? [ He looked himself over, readjusting the neck of the hoodie after a polite moment of allowing her to set it how she wanted. ] Way too dark for Pops, don't you think? [ And he snorted. ] But now that you mention, maybe it is time a new pair. Last thing I need is to give that shitbag something else to piss and moan at me about.
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Now, Copia's reaction to Papa Nihil made her purse her lips. Apparently the three of them were once again reunited, despite the fact that she'd left after seeing the debacle that was the Kiss the Go-Goat performance. Apparently Copia himself harbored some ill feelings towards his father, which - well. Could one blame him? Younger Sister had a reason for walking out, after all. ]
The only difference is that you're wearing the burgundy with black, not white. Otherwise you'd have exactly the same colors. [ Her brow creased. ] Is he giving you a hard time?
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But most people who've seen Paul don't know him for who and what he really is. Only a select few do. He prefers things that way.]
It's Paul. I'm here, as I said I'd be.
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A Sister of Sin opened the door for him, inspecting him quizzically. Sister Imperator had instructed her to look for the Eyes of Ibad, and upon recognizing that he was the Prime Mover's guest, she stepped aside respectfully to let him through. ]
Sister Imperator is waiting for you in her office. I will take you to her.
[ The entrance hall was a beautiful place. The long marble hall led deeper into the Ministry, but above the inner entryway was a large, stained glass window depicted the fires of Hell with Satan in its center. Paintings of angels, demons, and all sorts of creatures adorned the domed ceilings, which curved down into the tombs, both empty and taken, that lined the upper floor's walls.
The nun guided Paul down more hallways toward the heart of the Ministry, where the office of the Prime Mover awaited him. ]
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The figures are ones he recognizes from mythology. As he follows the Sister, he’s absorbing and memorizing the details to keep them with him. There’s always something to learn in every environment. He’s quiet and respectful while traveling the halls. There will be a time and a place to indulge his curiosity later.]
Thank you.
[Paul is a guest here and he behaves as one, but he feels he must compliment Sister on the artwork. It must be a deep structure with a great deal to see. What Paul has looked at so far must only be a portion of the whole, and that portion is enough to stun him. There’s a long Old Earth history of artwork depicting Hell and the Devil.
Sticking close, he knows that they’re headed to Sister’s office.]
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The Sister of Sin opened the door to let Paul through.
Sister Imperator's office was sumptuously decorated. A large and ornate desk lay between her and her visitors, and a silk Persian carpet adorned the center of the the marble floor. Bookshelves full of forbidden tomes stretched across the walls, and a large window behind her was open to let the L.A. sun in. Of course, a large grucifix was hung on one wall, gleaming polished silver.
The round table to the side of the room had food ready for her guest. Deviled eggs, an assortment of canapes, various sliced fruit, as well as a chilled Californian wine. For herself, of course, Sister Imperator had freshly squeezed orange juice. ]
Welcome, Paul. I'm glad you could visit on your day off.
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A well-furnished environment, clearly ready for a visitor. The set table was sign enough of that. Paul is grateful for the welcome. Admiring the bookshelves for a moment, he then turns his attention to Sister. He remembers Sister informing him that the books in her collection contained lost, forbidden knowledge.
He greets Sister Imperator with a smile and a small bow of respect.
Well-decorated, he sees, and comfortable. He takes a spot at the table and surveys the food. Sister knows Paul well enough to know what he likes. He takes and samples one of the canapés, giving a pleased sound as he eats it.]
I promised you a visit, and I’m a man of my word. Life at the library has been comfortable. I hope you and your son are well?
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She took a seat at the table across him. ]
Wine? It's not Caladan-grown, I'm afraid, but it's one of my favorites.
[ She patted her abdomen fondly. She was growing slightly rounder. This would not be noticeable for most people, but Paul was not "most people." ]
He's an energetic boy. He'll be a great dancer.
Have you been devouring the books at work?
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He has noticed her growing pregnancy.]
Thank you. It may not be from Caladan, but California wine is a close second.
[He pours himself a cup and takes a sip, humming in approval. Very good. She knows his tastes, as he’s done some exploring of the local blends.]
I have been, yes. Ravenously. A good chunk of my salary goes to my own library.
You know, the idea of living in the city permanently appeals.
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Underneath his own arm is the book Sister gave him, already with a bookmark in place. Paul's been at work reading.
"Paul-Muad'Dib, at your service." A courteous nod from Paul. "I had some donations I wished to deliver."
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Frankly, it was good that Paul spent an ample amount of time with the rest of the Clergy members. For a spouse who openly cheated on the Prime Mover, the Papa Emeritus Zero was a sullen and jealous man, and Paul's respectful manner and open friendliness to everyone diffused any confrontations or overt tension that might have occurred.
"Yes, of course," the nun said, opening both the Ministry's double doors to let him through. "Sister Imperator is already in the library."
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He's also careful to make clear that he's only a friend - he'll play along with flirting and games, but he's also loyal to Chani and clarified that from the start. He's also an eager participant in gossip. It's his way of getting to know people and learn more about the world he's found himself in. Learning about people's taste in books is another way of doing that.
"Thank you." Paul gives a gracious smile. "I'll be right there, then."
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Sister Imperator was consulting some tomes when she saw Paul and the other nun enter the library with his cart. He'd mentioned the book club, of course, but she hadn't expected the donations.
"You brought quite an amount of books."
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He bows on seeing Sister, stepping aside to give her a better view of the books. "It's the least I can do in exchange for your hospitality. My memoirs are included and I know you wanted to read them."
He pulls the memoir from the pile and offers it.
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Sister Imperator accepted Paul's memoirs with a grateful nod. He'd been open with her about most things, keeping only the truth of his abilities to himself, and Sister was not one to pry. If he wanted to share this with her, she would respect the gesture, as the exchange of knowledge was important to her and to their beliefs.
"Thank you."
She looked over at Paul's collection. "What are you starting with?"
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for witchforhire
Every day a little more you've been dying.
Dying to reach the setting sun...
Sister Imperator heard the strains of music echo across the edges of time, and she blinked as the sun shone red-hot into her eyes -
She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, she was back. Two sons, one with dark hair, hand in hand with the one with hair as blond as hers. Two of them running through the fields, laughing joyously. Their backs to her as they frolicked through the grass and flowers. A beautiful sight for any mother.
She would have clutched her chest, but no - even if they could not see her, they should never see her weakness. They should never know, or never carry it themselves. This was her cross to bear.
Mary on a Cross...
A flash of awareness brought her back. Another witch entered her personal space. A sister in magick, and in understanding. ]
Well met, my sister.
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She was born long before Sister's magic existed. Before the Creator and any devil, before any book good or ill. Yet the pulling tendrils inside of her blood sang like it was yesterday with the familiarity of the crying souls of her home city. One long ago burned to ash.
She was the trickster witch. The homely phantom. She was the anchor and scribe to a past she would only now share with a few, for who else could appreciate the past?
The Twin Songs.
The words sighed in the winds as she appeared. It was a quiet but not gentle rustle. It came out in ancient Greek in the rasps of air. It would sound like a curse to most, but what it meant? A term of affection, for those two little witches that Sister had born. Witches that Thessaly planned to watch over in her way, to provide guidance in traditions that nobody but she still carried.
She was wearing a long skirt and a sensible blouse, hair messily in a braid and glasses thick. She stepped out from the doorway without any pile of smoke or sand or fire because that was trite. She wasn't even trained in divination that well, but some magic was so strong that it vibrated to those who knew the ancient tunes. What she was trained in though was glamour. This truth...
It hurt, but she'd known it even longer.
So she did what she did best. She carried on. Squared her shoulders and focused on the woman for whom this all meant far more than it did to Thessaly.]
There are magics they're not as familiar with. To prologue it. Your appearance.
[No hello, no hugs. She greeted Sister with the prudency of a solution to aid in her plan. Why else bother someone's doorstep? Certainly not for sentimentality. Sister was supremely gifted in obfuscation and glamour, but perhaps additional magic might further aid in her endeavor. An offering, nothing more, and Thessaly wouldn't be insulted if it was rejected.]
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She smiled at the pragmatism. Appreciated it. Sentimentality was reserved for her sons. One could say that the root of Thessaly's appearance at her doorstep was indeed love, but never mind that - Sister Imperator was very good at intertwining business with her personal agenda and seeing both to fruition, and that was her greatest strength as the Prime Mover.
Beside the sensible and practical figure that was the powerful witch Thessaly, Sister Imperator painted a different picture. She allowed herself the softness of a white, diaphanous sundress, her blond hair cascading down her back and shoulders, unbound. She was aglow with motherhood and black divinity, a halo gleaming around her head - the very image of the dark Madonna.
In the Ministry halls she would wear her black tapered suits, her scarlet stiletto heels, her silver grucifix. But here, out in the fields of Sweden in summer with her children, she could hide her blades. At least for a moment. ]
It will be a while yet.
[ But for someone like Thessaly, Sister Imperator knew it would pass like the blink of an eye. ]
The road is long for them. There will be many things I will need to keep under lock and key until they are ready.
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It was clear though that her sister in magic was tied to this entity, and Thessaly respected it. She'd tied herself to a being once, been part of a temple and fiercely loyal to a clergy. She'd never run it, she'd had no interest in that level of political danger, but she understood devotion. Her goddess had sometimes felt like the only being who could understand her desires without shame. Perhaps somewhere, a tiny piece of the silken spider long lost still remained, because Thessaly did.
At the end of the day, there was a bond despite the differences that Thessaly felt. A sense that magic like theirs flowed long before even she existed, and in new ways with witches like Sister. It was that power, sacred and worth protecting, that initially drew Thessaly near.
That Sister ended up being a practical witch who held fast to her beliefs and could handle herself in a match had been a pleasant surprise.
Still. She gave Sister a faint smile at the halo. It was a bit much for Thessaly, but she got it. Symbolism. Nobody escaped it.]
Indeed.
[The offer was on the table, but it would be many years before Sister might need it. If at all. She didn't belabor the point, merely moving on now that Sister knew she had it in her back pocket.
Thessaly didn't snoop, but she did make a slow tour of the space, examining it with a keen eye. Not for aesthetics, but she did always like to note what stayed the same and what if anything changed.]
So many think that truth is an all or nothing endeavor. Especially the young. What none can doubt is your intention in your actions. Or if they do, their loss.
What is the most immediate risk to them, as you see it?
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There were timelines and realities before YHWH condemned magick as not-His, and therefore "evil." Thessaly's power was older than even that, and indeed, Sister Imperator was a newer witch, gifted by the Morningstar the magicks denied of pious Christians. But still, there was sisterhood she felt between her and Thessaly because of the cosmic nature of the arcane that they devoted their lives to, the magick and mysteries that resided in the very fabric of reality that they harnessed.
As such, she understood Thessaly's offer, and was grateful for it. She nodded. She would take her up on this offer, one day when her glamours and her wards began to crack beneath old age and disease. The end of her mortal life was nothing to fear for Sister Imperator, and she welcomed her friend Death even now, even if it would be half a century yet before she came for her. But it reassured her all the same that her sons would have someone watching over them - someone who she knew was as pragmatic (actually even more so) than her, and to be frank, would call them out on their bullshit if necessary.
The field they stood in now was about an hour away from the city, but Sister and her Twin Songs loved it. It was ablaze with flowers, and the sunshine was bright and cheery. Despite the Satanic aesthetic, Sister Imperator was not averse to soft and pleasant things - at least not where her sons were concerned. And they did love to frolic in nature, singing and dancing and free of all worries.
Sister Imperator turned to Thessaly. ]
Thank you.
[ For offering to help strengthen her magick when it was needed, when Sister's mortality flickered and left her. For watching the Twin Songs from the shadows. For her constancy, until it was time for the universe to wrap up and turn off the lights and rest. ]
They will question and feel resentment, no doubt. After all, our tenets stress that knowledge and wisdom are paramount. But these things come with a price, and must come at the right time. The human psyche can be so fragile.
[ Her two sons' laughter drifted to them in the breeze. ]
Their safety. They must be hidden. They are the sons of the Papa Emeritus and the Prime Mover. This immediately paints a target upon their backs. The Unholy See and the position of Prime Mover are their birthrights, but they must only ascend when they are ready - and when those who would threaten their regime are disposed of.