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In the wee hours of the morning slightly before the cock crows and the only ones about are the lonesome watchmen on their patrols, Giacomo steps in to the weak torch light. The last shadows of the evening play strangely across his face and give him a lucidness yet unseen by those who drove him from the town earlier that evening.
Mere yards from the place where that confrontation had taken place, Giacomo reaches out to gently touch the stone wall of the church the had burned him just a few hours ago. A great sadness overcomes him as his hand rests unhurt against the cold stone.
~ Why? Why? I did not even want to defile this place. I was only curious. What would it have been like to walk into the scared house? But what use is it now? That damnable Old man had to ruin this beautiful place with his poor excuse for a godling presence. ~ He chuckles dryly before continuing. ~ If only he knew his true place in things. A pitiful mortal who has gained a small measure of power and thinks himself all mighty. ~ He pauses in silent reflection, and looks over to the light still burning in the rectory window. ~ Why next to the one true God he is nothing. Maybe I should go and talk to the Priest. After all we serve the same Lord--just in different ways. ~
Giacomo stared at the lighted window of the rectory for a while before finally shaking his head. ~No I will not trouble the priest further this day. What with the godlings appearances earlier, and his chortling with the very person who summoned them here. No, his plate is quite full right now without my inane questions.~
Turning back to the church Giacomo worked his way around to a window and pressed his face to the glass--the darkness within no hindrance to his supernatural sight. His eyes wandered about the building that he was still unwilling to enter. The stained glass windows depicted scenes from the Old Testament on the right, and scenes from the life of Christ on the left. Down the aisle stood two altars, both adorned by single statue, but one had a majestic stained window of Jesus pulling Peter from the Sea of Galilee. ~Must be the Saints the church is named for, Peter and Paul.~
Further down the aisle stood the communion rail and the sanctuary. And further still--his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the main altar. It was carved from a single piece of white marble, and upon its face was a relief of the Last Supper. Above the altar was a golden crucifix with angels on either side. And on the East wall was a magnificent window depicting Christ in priestly garments, with St. Paul on His left, and St. Peter on His right.
~Beautiful, utterly breathtaking. I wonder what it is like on the inside when it is whole. Is it a little bit of heaven. I remember my mother telling stories of heaven. I was one of the first born after the great war and the fall of grace.~ As his mind wanders back he unconsciously shifts forms.
The homeless drunk staggers out of one of the myriad of alleyways that leads to the docks. The church always offers a refuge to the poor souls, or at least a warm meal and a place to sleep for the evening. Resting one arm against the wall to steady him and to guide him towards the front of the church, he pushes forward. Bleary-eyed he notices an unnaturally tall figure pressed close against the church's window. The drunk rubs his eyes twice before deciding that the figure must be standing atop a ladder, cleaning the window.
"'ello mister priest sir," the drunk begins, speaking to the tall figure. "I'llin be needen a place to sleep fer the evening and myhap a warm meal. Please sir beggin your kindness I am. I be down on me luck sir............." The figure steps back from the church's shadow and into the weak lantern light, revealing a huge woman standing nearly nine feet tall with dark red skin and a tattered white gown. Her blonde hair appears to be changing to a shade of the darkest midnight. Her features may have once been kind and gentle, but now seem twisted and feral with two small horns starting to sprout from her forehead. What were once magnificent feathered wings are now molting, revealing leathered, almost reptilian wings underneath.
"IIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee......................," the drunk screams with greater sobriety than expected. Giacomo looks strangely at the fleeing form of the man who just called to him before looking down at himself. Chuckling, he returns to his 'normal' shape. ~Let my concentration slip. I have to remember this body yields easier to my will then many others, since vampires, like so many others of the nightmares that haunt the mortals' world, are the children of the Fallen.~
The homeless drunk staggers out of one of the myriad of alleyways that leads to the docks. The church always offers a refuge to the poor souls, or at least a warm meal and a place to sleep for the evening. Resting one arm against the wall to steady him and to guide him towards the front of the church, he pushes forward. Bleary-eyed he notices an unnaturally tall figure pressed close against the church's window. The drunk rubs his eyes twice before deciding that the figure must be standing atop a ladder, cleaning the window.
"'ello mister priest sir," the drunk begins, speaking to the tall figure. "I'llin be needen a place to sleep fer the evening and myhap a warm meal. Please sir beggin your kindness I am. I be down on me luck sir............." The figure steps back from the church's shadow and into the weak lantern light, revealing a huge woman standing nearly nine feet tall with dark red skin and a tattered white gown. Her blonde hair appears to be changing to a shade of the darkest midnight.
Her features may have once been kind and gentle, but now seem twisted and feral with two small horns starting to sprout from her forehead. What were once magnificent feathered wings are now molting, revealing leathered, almost reptilian wings underneath.
"IIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee......................," the drunk screams with greater sobriety than expected. Giacomo looks strangely at the fleeing form of the man who just called to him before looking down at himself. Chuckling, he returns to his 'normal' shape. ~Let my concentration slip. I have to remember this body yields easier to my will then many others, since vampires, like so many others of the nightmares that haunt the mortals' world, are the children of the Fallen.~ Hearing the alarmed cries of the watch. ~ I had best be moving on. No dout that poor fool's scream will bring unwanted attention.~
Clinging like an insect, Giacomo scurries up the side of the church to the roof. He pauses for a moment to survey Stormpoint's skyline opening around him before finally deciding where to go next.
Clinging to the wall like an insect, Giacomo scurries up the side of the church to the roof. He pauses for a moment to survey Stormpoint's skyline opening around him before finally deciding where to go next. The sight of a familiar rooftop off in the distance makes Giacomo's decision for him. Looking back at the rectory for a single second, he ponders ~It must be lonely for him to be the first to bring the Word to a new world.~
Without another look back, Giacomo leaps the impossible distance between buildings with ease, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, heading for his goal. As he draws near he can sense the wards protecting the place but pays them little mind for usually they would not hinder him. And so he speeds ahead, undaunted by the wards--that is until he slams head first into them. He seems to hang there in midair forever, his face plastered into the shield surrounding the Kuriousity Shoppe, before sliding down and hitting the ground with a loud thud.
Laying broken on the ground, Giacomo stares up into the sky. ~Ouch. Now this is embarrassing.~ The snapping of limbs returning to their sockets echoes into the alley until Giacomo rises from the ground and walks calmly up the wall and onto a neighboring rooftop. There he sits, staring forlornly towards the Shoppe, resting his chin lightly in the palms of his hands.
~Why am I here? Why is this strange woman haunting my thoughts so? True, she is beautiful, and lust is one of the seven deadly sins but this transcends that paltry emotion. No, there is something else at work here.~ The moon sets, the sun rises and moves its course across the sky and sets again before he moves. ~Ahhh, I see. Something closer than a mere attraction--a kinship, a shared heritage. We are two of a kind. I know her now. Her coming was foreseen. The Redeemer. She that will signal the coming of a new era into Hell. She will be cast out into the mortal worlds to wander to and fro, not knowing her part to play until paths draw her to home again. An exile from Hell like myself...... a sister in darkness........~