the-anointed-one
EMERITUS IV.
lit. style RP account for PAPA IV. indie.
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Spillways (Live at AFAS Live Amsterdam 04/06/2023)
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Jose Gabriel Alegría Sabogal. St. Sebastian. 2016.
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Of Mice and Men (n.d. / oil on panel) - Sean Delonas
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OPEN RP ---- SEE THE LIGHT.
❝ May I come in? ❞
That sickening warmth that radiated from the ill and ENGULFED the room with their disease... it SOURED the air, poisoned it---- and yet the man did not stir. He appeared content lingering in the doorway, comfortable, and was patient in allowing himself to be seen before stepping forward. The dark fabric of his soutane swayed with each stride like dancing smoke, dreamlike and slow. When greeting eyes clouded in fever and exhaustion, a sight so FAMILIAR ( it was the look of one nearing the abyss, one foot in, one foot out, some may say ) he offers a softened smile. There was no PITY or thinly veiled sadness, as those nearing the end so often see. Rather, it was the smile of an old friend, visiting again for what feels like a final farewell.
❝ This sickness... you have been fighting it for quite some time, hm? I can see it. That strength it has taken you to get this far. You are tough as shit, alright. ❞ The laughter that follows is gentle and warm---- it escapes the Cardinal’s lips with care and perhaps somewhere beneath that, UNDERSTANDING. Careful not to disturb his bedridden company, Copia slowly lowers himself, perching on the side of the bed with a CREAK. His fingers, politely intertwined in his lap, unlace themselves to reach out and take one of the dying’s hands, leather tenderly squeezing and feeling for the fading pulse beneath.... A pause. A stifled breath of frustration. Ah, fuck... so soon. Always so soon. The light in his smile falters for a moment, leaving behind the furrowed brows of deep thought. Nearing the abyss, one foot in, one foot out... This would need to be done quickly.
❝ It is that strength that brought me to you, you know. It is a terrible thing, to have so much life left to live, so much fight still left inside of you, only to succumb to this... this sickness---- this rotten thing. My friend, your body... it is failing you, but if you allow me, there is something I can save. Please, will you let me help you? ❞
#the-anointed-one#( it is here. that Prequelle inspired starter is here & ready for ALL. )#( so excited for this! canon. multi-fandom. ocs… gazes at u with hearts in my eyes )#( also I will get to messages very soon! just needed to get this out there!! )#open rp#open ghost rp#indie ghost rp#copia rp#papa iv rp
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𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔷𝔢𝔯𝔬 (x)
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papa have you seen the perfect rat he lines up with Fibonacci!!
[ MESSAGE FROM PAPA ]
❝ Hello! Yes, yes! You are speaking of that very round and special rodent that you have sent to the ministry’s inbox? I am not allowed access to this, but our special ghoul that manages those kinds of online things shared with me the photo. He is indeed very perfect! But bloated... I fear for the little rodent’s health. They are not supposed to eat chocolate and citrus fruits, you know, very dangerous for them. Ah, I am rambling now... Papa enjoyed it very much, thank you! ❞
#ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘᴀᴘᴀ. (MINISTRY MAIL)#( ok I don’t usually do these kinds of answers. but this was too perfect and cute. )#( PAPA WOULD IN FACT ENJOY THAT RAT PHOTO. thank you so much for blessing my eyes with it as well. )
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I am possibly making a very PREQUELLE INSPIRED open starter that involves being vaguely set in medieval times, in which Copia as the Cardinal ( adorned in his black cassock ---- just a clergyman! absolutely not some kind of personification of death. no way. ) appears at the bedside of the sick for offers of saving their soul... absolutely NOT a deal with the devil kind of thing. no way. I am looking at canon characters, OCs, and multi-fandom characters very endearingly, batting my eyelashes...
#ɪɴᴄᴏʜᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ. (MUN)#( this... would be a dream to write. )#ghost rp#indie ghost rp#the band ghost rp
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As the second son stilled, the air weighed HEAVY in Copia’s throat---- condensed and suffocating. The comment was, of course, made in JEST, a light ( and tense ) chuckle following in the same breath. Perhaps a hint of honesty slithered beneath the surface, a genuine YEARNING to know when in the Hell he’d managed to get under the miserable old man’s skin, but nothing he imagined the Second would care to acknowledge---- if he acknowledged Copia at all. That APATHETIC silence he had come to expect from the most bitter of the Three... in this moment, oh, how he missed it. It was foolish, Copia found in retrospect, now standing there DUMBFOUNDED, hands pressed tightly to his stomach, clenched and fidgeting---- to expect anything less than the Second’s brutal truth, and the LURCH of his insides as he stomached it.
❝ ... It is, yes, thank you. Truly. I am grateful for you, always being so... truthful, with me, Papa. ❞ Like TOXINS on his tongue---- daggers, hellfire. All the terrible things that left the mouth tasting of metal and scarlet. Were there any solace to this ( this CONTEMPT, and Copia’s bitter familiarity of it all ), it was at the mention of... Ah! Yes, the Scary One’s retirement... However, momentary relief died beneath those SCORNFUL eyes, and although the Cardinal’s gaze was forced elsewhere beneath their weight, he did hold them as the Second’s final remark LINGERED. Perhaps it was the sudden epiphany that the man no longer towered over him as a threat, a looming obstacle to surpass, or what felt like a lifetime of BITING his tongue in the Second’s presence---- he wasn’t sure, but with that feigned friendliness returning, came also a BOLDNESS the Cardinal did not fully intend ( in that rambling and passive-aggressive way of his, but a boldness nonetheless ).
❝ And with yourself, it seems. I cannot imagine how difficult it is, this retirement, to pass the gauntlet so soon. Having to admit to yourself that you are no longer... well, in your prime, as they say. It is a very difficult and, ah... honest! An honest thing to do. ❞
@the-anointed-one confessed: sometimes i think you must hate me .
Eyes fall shut slowly as he pauses, leather creaking against the doorknob as he clutches it, stopping short of turning it. The meek, questioning, nasally voice that has plagued him for years has halted him. It would be just as easy to take his leave of the Cardinale, push onwards and out into the corridor as if he hadn’t heard…but it is far too late for that. He would curse, inwardly of course, for his hesitation…if the statement wasn’t such a clear opportunity…
“I do hate you, Cardinal.” …to insult the man still shrouded in his shadow. Having not yet turned, he can only imagine the look on the rodent-like face of the clergyman. Finally, he does indeed turn to face him, casting a glance over his shoulder to elaborate. “You could very well be a pest to me. An inconvenience. A thorn in my side…” However, his interaction with the Cardinal is rather, thankfully limited. His brother however, the third, has taken the brunt of the antics of the clergyman. “However, my ’blissful' retirement has saved me from that fate.” In truth, he has never been fond of Copia, his anxiety filled movements tiptoeing around his nerves. He despises weakness.
“Is that what you wanted? The truth? I know it is so difficult to come by.”
#secondemeritus#( I am in the walls of the ministry. I am a rat watching this all go down actually. )#( enthralled. so excited!! )
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Noticing Trauma sentence starters
Feel free to alter dialogue to suit your muse!
“That really spooked you.”
“I don’t want to pry, but.. I want you to know I also want to listen, if you want someone to talk to.”
“Well, pretend I’m not here. What would you say if nobody could hear it?”
“Does this happen a lot?”
“Hey, what happened between you two?”
“When is the last time you ate?”
“Is this okay?”
“Hey.”
“This is the third meal you’ve missed this week, are you okay?”
“[Name]?”
“What did he/she/they do?”
“This … hurts you.”
“You don’t feel safe, here.”
“When you look at [trigger], you… what is that?”
“What can I do?”
“You were crying in your sleep.”
“What do you dream about?”
“Whenever you get stressed, you do this thing with your hands. What is it?”
“You’re right, I don’t understand, yet. Will you help me?”
“Should I leave a light on for you?”
“I brought you some water.”
“I won’t judge you.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with trust. You don’t have to tell me. But I’ll listen, if you do.”
“Count your breaths with me, okay? Ready? One, two, three, four…”
“I’m here.”
“Talk to me.”
“You don’t need to tell me everything. I just want to know how I can help.”
“Let me hold your hair back, at least.”
“You used to love that [item].”
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(x)
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In a VIOLENT bellow of light and hellfire, the stillness was gone. Copia saw the flash before he heard the shattering of gold and stone, or before he could seek refuge from loose debris that STRUCK his temple, smearing black paint in grime ( and, Copia would later realize, a trickle of blood ). A great DREAD clutched his chest as he peered over his arms, having instinctively flew to his face upon being blinded. When undead eyes met his own, pure, unbridled WRATH greeting fear in a moment that felt so distant, so surreal, the Fourth felt his body go cold. This horrific sight... the familiarity of it all. It was the NIGHTMARE that plagued his mind, vivid and relentless---- it haunted him well before The Unholy Three had been BANISHED into the soil, and well before Copia’s long awaited anointment. Now, here HE stood, the culmination of aged fears... here to take back all that was STOLEN from him, Copia could only imagine.
❝ You... ❞ The man echoed in a breath that QUAKED and faltered. With the Third’s step forward, Copia’s elblows DUG into the Earth and dragged his body back an equal length. It took far too long for the words to reach him, longer still for Copia to process them with a brewing... scowl. He recognized this feeling. Feeling so much smaller, so much lesser than he was, beneath the Third’s merciless stare. It was all he knew---- as the cardinal, as HIS shadow. In a moment, he reminisced on years of BITING his tongue, taking the humiliation of HIS remarks in stride. Hell forbid the cardinal disrespect or, worse, CHALLENGE the young and most beloved Emeritus’ authority... but there was no cardinal here, not anymore. Only the leader of his EMPIRE, who EARNED his place through blood and grit... and the deceased that stood before him.
❝ And---- And then what? You kill me anyhow and take your place again? As Papa? Is that how this plays out, mio amico? ❞ The last of his words were GUTTERAL, newfound bitterness nearly replacing the tremble in this throat ( nearly ). With veins of hot wire, PAPA made his way to his feet---- with less certainty and... elegance than the Third had, sure, but with eyes of challenging HATRED that refused to let go of his predecessor’s nonetheless... The WALL that wouldn’t stay dead.
❝ In case you haven’t noticed, asshole, your reign is over. I do not answer to you anymore, and neither do they. Look at yourself, just a dead man barking orders! ❞
STARTER FOR @xorcists —- THE THIRD.
Three monuments TOWERED over the man—— each adorned with bouquets of black flora, both wilted and newly bloomed, along with gifts of wine and personal… relics from the nunnery. With a degree of bitterness, Copia noted how FITTING it was, being forced to physically look up in addressing his predecessors, even in death. So he didn’t. His eyes remained level with the names carved into gravestone, straying away only to escape what… felt like his priors glaring back at him.
A COMPULSION summoned Copia to these eternal slumbering grounds. He wasn’t entirely sure what divine power coerced him to make this journey. Hell, maybe divinity had little to do with it. The urge to reconcile with souls that had no ear to listen, no mouth to offer forgiveness—— wasn’t that innately HUMAN? … Forgiveness. As if he had done anything wrong. As if he had anything to do with this. As if the overbearing GUILT that filled his lungs and SUFFOCATED him in black smog were somehow founded. Chest heavy, Copia stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground with a huff. He was sitting next to one of the monuments now, muscles relaxed, as if the soil and stone were an old friend he had not seen in a long, long time… Although in this case, friend wasn’t exactly the word he’d use.
❝ Resting well? ❞ With jaded eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly to the stone beside him. Copia was speaking to him now. The one whose reign was cut short, life STOLEN in its prime. The shadow to fill. The Third.
❝ I think you’d be happy to find they have not shut up about you. Well, maybe not so happy, since you’re… you know. ❞ A pause. He didn’t expect anything to come of this, but to speak it aloud—- to speak as if He were here with him now, it was the closest thing he’d ever get to CLOSURE. Make peace with the dead before joining them, right? The morbid thought left Copia’s throat dry, and he felt compelled to face a truth he had refused to acknowledge up until this moment. ❝ … Not that it matters much to you now, but this… had there been another way, I would not have wanted this for you. ❞
#xorcists#( this is good :) brothers need to fight like this sometimes. it's bonding! )#( please. reading 'the RAT' made me scream. it also made Copia scream. so good! )#( I am cradling this thread. cherishing it. Copia is not. he is afraid. )
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group photos in the impera age dont look like an important church figurehead being surrounded by lackeys and servants. this looks like a man being guarded.
they aren’t dressed for just appearances anymore.
they’re being outfitted for war.
Papa had fought for this position for years, of course he will not give it up easily. The question is, who is he arming against? Is the threat coming from the outside or within? Or is it all in Papa's head? His behavior is becoming increasingly erratic and bizarre. Showing confidence one moment, then running off the stage crying - that’s not like him. Perhaps the realization that his fate is already sealed is slowly creeping up to him. He tries to drown it out, but the madness within grows.
#ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴇᴘʜɪꜱᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʟᴇꜱ. (MUSE)#( alright. alright hey now. )#( hey let’s just. sit down and relax. hey alright hey listen. )
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important reminder that the Copia I portray is very much pansexual :) sinfully gender indifferent, attracted to a wide variety of peoples and identities ! assuming they are near his age range. unless they are an ancient, timeless being that bore witness to the birth of the universe, and sighed a jaded breath before the sands of time began their descent... in which Copia is very attracted to this. and also extremely intimidated by.
#ɪɴᴄᴏʜᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ. (MUN)#( any suaveness I portray him to show is a front. I refuse to stray too far away from his dorky nature. )#( with the exception of long established relationships. in which he will still fumble. as he is Copia. )#ghost rp#indie ghost rp#copia rp#papa iv rp
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[ HOLD ] -ladysuperior (touch starved smol)
@ladysuperior
Haunting eyes STRAINED in concentration, fixated on paperwork that creased audibly between gloved fingers ( having to decipher smudged ink that only loosely resembled Latin, made the task all the more TEDIOUS, and Papa’s temples were beginning to throb ). So much done, yet so much shit still left to do... Papa recognized the WARMTH immediately. The shape of the hand so tenderly cradling his own, fingers delicate yet yearning. In turn, a soft smile soothed the worried folds of his face---- a chuckle, so gentle and full of love, echoing from his throat. Papa knew of a few certainties, one being that nothing escaped the fatal grips of time. His life and title here at the ministry, for instance, were FLEETING. It was a truth he still struggled to accept, and in the few moments of clarity that he did, it was with a heavy heart. That is, until he met Her. His beloved. His Lady Superior. The comfort she gave to him, just from her being there ---- this was ETERNAL. He could only hope he did the same for her.
❝ Well, hello to you too, cuore mio. ❞ Well, hello to you too, my heart.
Papa returned the touch with a gentle squeeze, before lifting her hand up to his lips and leaving a painted mark on her fingers. He had long abandoned the documents that now lay scattered on the dark mahogany of his desk---- his other hand reaching for his Lady’s elbow in a delicate caress, as he would often do when urging her to join him on his chair.
❝ You would tell me if something was the matter, yes? ❞ Now, with a degree of worry. ❝ ... Is something the matter? ❞
#the-anointed-one#ladysuperior#( in love with your response from the DANCE prompt <3 )#ꜱᴀᴄʀᴀᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ. (ANSWERS)
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