✞4th Wall Day ☦ Part Duae✞

[13th_crusader]

...Oh no.

OH NO!

NO NO NO NO NO I REFUSE THIS! ASSOLUTEAMENTE RIFIUTARE!

ANDERSON!! BLOCK THE DOOR NOW WITH WHATEVER YOU CAN FIND!

AND ESPECIALLY DO NOT LET IN ANY FLEA-BITTEN CATS!!

Comments

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

No, Grazie.

Grazie mille~

[Taking the weapon graciously, he admired it's craftsmanship... It looked like something beyond his years, a true work of art.. and with it's markings.. a trademark Vatican issue he had never seen before...]


How strange... I thought I knew of all who came into my faction.

Were you anointed at the Reconquest in Midian?

[So many had come under his wing when war was declared, he was sure to have missed someone... Yet it seemed ever so unlikely.]

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Please I insist. You needn't bother...

[Oh yes. It was of beautiful make, to be sure.]

...A-ah...N-not exactly, no. I-I'm sorry....I do not mean to keep myself such an enigma, I just hardly think that I could be interesting to someone of your caliber.

Merely a Servant of the Section. That is all.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Oh, no.

No no no no, that will not do.

[Slipping up to him like a cobra, cold retractiles touch the stranger's chin to lift it up till his sharp gaze meets those languid eyelids.]

What is your name, Servitore~?

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Wiry bangs frizzing out like a pair of antennae, cheeks aglow with all the spark of small Roman candles.]

A-ah! I pray you...

[Paralyzed under that gaze, he was pleased of course that the other should desire to know his name.]

...M'quve.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Mouthing the name in a leisurely lush purr.]



[The gelid pad of his thumb runs over the jawline he clutches, brushing the very base of that deep scar, before slowly drawing it away.]

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Left with only a sense of yearning the timid Patriarch shrinks, unflinching yet undoubtedly unable to suppress a bout of shivering.]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

As is my own.

[Fluidly as the waves of his mane, he bows cordially, flitting that dark gaze up to him. Such fealty.

Such meekness.

If only his most well known subordinates were like this...

Speaking of which, a quick glance behind M'quve would tell him, his certain oaf of a servant was still out cold and as useless to him as ever.]

Il'crociato M'queve.

[Turning then with a vibrant sweep of gold tresses, he raises his hand with a graceful gesture to follow him.]

Come with me, we'll procure you a glass of tea and let you settle. . . You've had a long journey away from Rome.

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Oh...Oh my. Maxwell. Such finesse. See those cheeks darkening just about now.

As for the third party, he was blissfully unaware, considering he had no knowledge of another's presence.

Looking all the while like a lost little school boy M'quve took no more than a fleeting second to meet him, a little more tentative than he wanted to be around this...Regal Prince.]

A-ah...T-that's hardly necessary...I'm sure you're quite tired yourself.....

[From earlier.]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Tè di mandorle...

[A short pause in his step. Swift enough to allow the flustered fanatic to nearly slam into him, Maxwell halted at the threshold of his quarters in the back behind the alter. A smooth smile etched his viperous mouth.]

...Helps me to relax.

[Those wintry eyes bid M'quve no refusal as he left him cautiously inside. Within those stone walls was a room nearly baren, save for the bed, make-shift desk, and table in the middle. The kettle was off to the side, nearly always kept lit as much as they could manage with the wood Anderson would supply.]

You must excuse how Medieval things are here. We're in times of tribulation, one might say.

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Which he promptly did with a soft squeak, scarred visage all aflutter as he instantly backed away.]

M-mi scusi, Arcivescovo!

[His voice climbed in pitch and he skittered back several feet as though he might have offended the other by mere touch alone, however incidental. Given the expression on his face one would have thought he had performed an offense on God himself.]

A-a....Tè di mandorle...I-I have n-not tried it....

[The timid creature stammered and slowly trailed behind, careful not to disturb what surely must have been Sacred Ground. Maxwell's chambers . . .]

It is . . . Perfect.

[Simplistic, yet refined. Clean...Orderly. Everything he would have attributed to the meticulous personality of the Section XIII Bureau's founder.]

T-that is...O-of course...You deserve only the finest...

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Well, we are men of poverty, as it were. I have no place to lament.

[A longing sigh left him, absolutely taken by the servant's humble and tremulous demeanor as he filled two chipped porcelain cups and fished into a small hole in a drawer where he hid a few of his little pleasantries he could pilfer.]

Yet I admit.. I long for Rome like no other.

[A piece of himself was left there, he was sure... he wondered grimly if even his ashes had been brought back to St. Peter's... or had his body been left to rot in Midian and be swallowed by that Hellbeast.

A small shudder tingled his slender shoulders as he set the two diluting cups down on the table and wafted his amiably towards the seat across from himself.]

Sit.

I insist it, soldato mio~

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[An Italian's hospitality was said to be greatly warming to a person, were they blessed with the fortune to receive it. As per the general belief, once one became a guest in the house of such a man, it was said that the familiarity he would gain would rival even that of family. Of course, given the bounds M'quve already shared with Maxwell, that wasn't all that far off.

And so he would sit opposite the other with legs crossed, hands folded politely over his lap.

Gloved fingers outstretched to graciously receive the cup and bow his head, murmuring a soft blessing over the steaming liquid. The smell wafting was delicious. No doubt he'd chosen the very best quality for this very occasion.]

A-ah....Almond....Was it?

[He took a tiny sip, thoroughly looking surprised.]

O-oh....I-it's......Very.....Delicious.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Mmn~

[A soft sound of regard rippled the steam from his own cup, half-lidded eyes sinking in disinterest for the drink itself as he took a morsel-full. There was a sense of peace in this sanctum he hadn't quite felt before. As if all in the world had come full circle, and he was staring right at the bright curved path before him.]

M'Quve.

[The cup clinked like a little chime as he set it down, and lifted thick black lashes above misty viridian irises.]

When.. did you say you joined Iscariot?

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[The refreshment tickled the tongue with pleasant aftershocks, offering a full-bodied flavor almost bordering on saccharine...The Archbishop certainly had good taste, even if he was forced to endure a perpetual state of poverty.

A minor flick of deep green and he finds his head is swimming under that gaze, finger coiling around a warping bang.]

Ah, Amico mio...

[An almost sorrowful look darkened his kindly features and he thought out his next words carefully, reaching out to gently touch his familiar's hand.]

....I...T-thirty years....Post-Midian.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[The pads of his fingertips stiffened so hard beneath that graze that the table shuddered with a small clatter of their cup and saucers.

So.

The presage this man gave off was true. 30 years his senior.. or was that the other way around now? Looking to M'Quve with a deadpan as cold as the long forgotten corpse he was in his time, he uttered just as breathlessly.]

Capisco. I see. . . and. .

. . .Your position, caro a~mi~co?

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[An electric current seemed to pass through their joined touch to where he instantly retracted, unable to quite stomach that withering look.]

...Please do not be alarmed, Arcivescovo. I assure you, Iscariot is in capable hands.

[The avoidance would not go unnoticed, but to placate him M'quve tilted his head, seemingly as harmless as a queer sort of bird.]

While I am merely a servant to the Vatican My title is...Patriarca M'quve, Section XIII Iscariot Bureau Director of the Tenth Crusade.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Patri..ar..ca..

[A demeanor of solid tektite glass, within his fleshy frail heart was beating against the walls of his ribcage like a frantic dove. Taking up a hankerchief to cover his gasp for breath he had not realized he had been holding, he tore his sight away.

Iscariot still reigned after he fear it's dissolve with the 9th Crusade's failure. There was relief as well as a black hollow feeling in his gut.]

You.. could not be embarking on the Tenth so soon.

[It took every ounce of his own indomitable will to pacify himself, remain placid and undeterred before a man who would succeed him. Who would take his creation and tend to it, make it grow, and his creed flourish amongst the ranks of God's Earthly Agents.]

Have you truly that sort of manpower?

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

...I'm afraid to strike just yet would be very....Foolish on our part.

[He had hoped their meeting wouldn't lead to this...Yet, knew somehow that the Archbishop would have to face the inevitable reality of his passing.]

You are...A great inspiration to me, Arcivescovo. Please allow me to offer my most humble servitude...

[The wriggling-lipped Director rose and circled around behind, fingertips lightly brushing his shoulders.]

Let me put your fears at ease, amico mio.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Having found an empty space to stare into whilst his heir recounted, his mind wandering into dark passages he had been avoiding since Anderson had brought the bitter truth to light. Everything he built. Everything he lost.

Alone in birth, alone in his toiling, alone to carry the yoke of the Vatican's burden, and to die alone. He was searching for where he had made the mistake that cost him everything...

The sultry touch pulled him from his disdainful memories, a quiet start gasping from him.]

Ease me then.

Tell me then...

Tell me everything you've done. Tell me my creed still lives.

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Sensing displacement in his Prince M'quve gentle rolled thumbs into thoroughly knotted sinew, wanting nothing more than to placate the man whose doctrine he followed with an unshakable faith. Iscariot's ideologies were owed to this one man..And for his genius, the only thing that he had earned in return was his downfall...A downfall attributed to personal failings..

While he was much more level-headed than that of the former Iscariot, the Patriarch did not believe that Maxwell's methodology had been wrong, exactly.]

We are rebuilding anew, Your Grace. From the ground up....We must gather what little resource is left to us. Yet, you would be surprised to learn our influence has spread to the far corners...Our Section grows steadily, and our favor with the Papacy is considerable.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Che-che cosa--A-hah~!

[Stringy threads of tightly wound muscle unraveled in such a strange methodical touch, he had reached to stop, till the relief spread over his shoulders like an assuaging blessing.]

Patriar..ca.. That's really not--

[A visible shudder quivered his lips, unable to truly fathom what had become of the legacy he left behind.]

I would.. imagine the high priests threw us under the tracks.

[Threw his name into the gallows and tarnished it till it could never become clean. Branded a maniac, a heretic, genocidal.

His knuckles were whitening. Quivering at every insidious little outcome...]

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[A firmer, more endearing squeeze, fingers trailing up to his neck and kneading in slow, circular motions. To him, he was paying homage as a Disciple to his Teacher. A softening gaze and he lowered just enough to let his nose press to the other's cranium, whispering into his ear.]

You mustn't think of such things, Your Grace. While there are those who would defame you, I profess my loyalty to you.

I do have a small favor to ask, however.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[The porcelain serpent of a man was molded into a sense of lull, the sibilant breath at his ear stilling every baleful thought.]

Aha.. favor, Patron..?

[His voice was about as distant as his mind at that moment, cradled in placation.]

There is.. not much I can give now.

[Stripped of his vestments and diadems, he was a bare and naked soul before this soldier who would go on to carry his torch with such nobility and without shame.]

[10th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Please keep your gaze on me, Arivescovo. I promise you you'll feel much better.

[And his arms are sliding around the jaded Prince, fingers splayed as he gently pulled him back to stare into his eyes.]

I'll take you to Paradise, if only for a little while.

[Hypnosis was something of his specialty, so when green locked on green his soothing voice began to draw the other into a dreamlike state. He spoke softly, and trilled deep into his ear, mesmerizing with a stare.]

Relax, amico mio. Relax.

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Che..?!