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— looked like a fresh mark of cut on his neck. a breathing corpse in his arms. Two dead lovers in his presence and Gio seem to dissociated to even notice Janus. who seems to share the same, thin scar on his neck.

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— blinking. each weak breaths sounding like crumbling porcelain in it's faintest , tears tiredly leaving his eyes. He'll stare out blankly at nowhere while being held. and -- paler . lifeless eyes of exhaustion , tiredness in his face while his collar barely hides what seemed to have —

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— a little louder. from his breathing . from his chest. as his breath became slower, hazel hues stopped to blink, browns slowly fading into the same lifeless grays of his son. what's going . . . on ? an apparition ? a delusion ? Gio remained in his hold, seemingly to have stopped —

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— and Janus, for the first time in awhile, sounded . . . kind . he meant not to mock the cardinal. a truth, that's all . a truth with concern . While Janus seemed to have spoken ( ? ) , the same coldness can be felt from the cardinal's breath before one can hear the crumbling glasses. this time—

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— The man offers him a kind smile . . . . 𝑱𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒔 . . . ? but unlike the common, the man was rather more calmer; paler, eyes in hues of pale grays like ice. lifeless. still, Janus sat there while Peter held his father. “ —𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔...” —

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— his bones and skin. Then, a gentle hand gently rests on Peter's shoulder. Oddly cold, seemingly... ghostly. “ . . . 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕. ” a gentle voice utters as a familiar face sits just by the corner of the bed, close enough to the younger priest. —

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— and yet he made no noise. it felt like crashing down; waves from a stormy shore... more soft crackings . . . where is it coming from? almost like as every breath he made, a single little sound of glass resonates faintly. . . . almost like it was coming from deep his chest, muffled beneath —

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— heavier, breath trembling as he tries not to make yet another noise. Fingers gripped on Peter's clothing as his eyebrows furrowed, the cardinal shakily exhales. Then, the faintest noise of a cracking glass. delicate porcelain seemingly crumbling. he can't -- ( breathe ) -- —

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— living what he couldn't in the present. yet still, here they are. is it inevitable right from the start? He weakly held on to Peter's clothes, sniffling softly... . . . but- Why does it feel like it has happened ( before . . . ? ) ( This . ) the smallest kiss made his chest —

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— time he touched... sunlight? Daylight burns. Peter never hurt him. He is his —- ( moon ) . Hence, the watch . the only way he can let himself linger close without taking Peter's light away. He thought, he could keep his walls higher. He thought the watch was enough; another part of him —

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— He didn't want to be seen like this. Barely fixed, barely kept in proper shape. He had always been wretched deep down. Giovanni had always been in ruins. but can he deny that he always . . . wished to be near him? Peter is luminous. perhaps a ray of sun in his nocturnal lair. When was the last —

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The cardinal silently allowed himself to crumble, tears rushing to leave his eyes . All that he did was let the other hold his broken pieces while he refused to make a sound . This kind of moments were those that the priest refused to share ; not because he hates the man. . . he merely is scared. —

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— the coldness and haze that surrounded the light from outside the window. Giovanni's mind palace. finally . a door opened .

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— his long, brunette hair was poorly held together by a loose ribbon to tie it. bruised lips, and signs of beating present on his neck and cheek. The doctor stood there wearing the black robes of the . . . Sistine ? it felt like a hallucination; the doctor and the priest merged in one — ah. —

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— was holding. a strong scent of rose and summer breeze, and a silent cardinal in his hold. “ . . . after all this time? ” a nervous question came from a gentle voice. pale, lifeless eyes stared down at him, strands of hair misplaced and covering his eyes while—

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— did. He can't help but to allow a tear to roll from his eye. And all this, from a harmless joke. He never thought Peter would still be serious, after all those years he tried to push him away. and now he failed to. Maybe, just— maybe, Peter might get an odd shift of the presence he —

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The cardinal didn't spoke but his gaze remained soft. An unusual sight, it is. But as his lips was favoured, he couldn't help but softly exhaled and allowed the other. He'll lean in to his kiss, reciprocating the gesture himself; his other hand carefully slid to his back, holding him close as he —

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— then , the wolf was pulled close without another thought. Gio leaned close, pressing their lips together again, his eyes shut. But then he politely inched away his face, eyes opened to search his cerulean hues. He didn't had to stop. He wanted to know that-- the doctor was there, too.

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— he can be there for him the way that Peter is there for him in the present. Maybe, somewhere else. he too, had always loved the wolf. but then , an interruption . Peter's words were interrupted as a firm hand held on his arm with an unusual gentleness from the cardinal. —

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Peter always cared . . . oh, he knew he did and yet he's still so scared of ever admitting he did cared ( too ) . He always . . . wanted to let the other know him ; see him . Hence, the watch . He knew pulling Peter closer to the gravities of his present will hurt him . Maybe , in the past , —

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— . . . he was silent . w- what . . . did they just -- did ( they ) just -- ?! The cardinal's lips parted but did not uttered another word. Blinking several times, Peter surely would see his surprise . He was too . . . stunned .

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— to his little. . . present . he uses the watch . . . Peter uses the watch . . . . . . he really cares ? maybe, somehow, Peter had brought the doctor out and not the priest. He wasn't wrong; after all, hes just nothing but a dead doctor behind that holy facade. —

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He was babbling words out of the small surprise. Then , his voice faded to silence when he heard what he said. then, he felt his... lips . he wasn't fooling around... . . . . . . ? the cardinal was too stunned, hazel hues staring; dumbfounded, he is. he didn't even know how to react —

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— haha— ” he stupidly chuckled, looking down in shyness. But is he kidding? Peter is fooling around, yes ?

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He furrowed his eyebrows, pale cheeks gaining a faint hint of red . How did he knew...? “ . . . I never told you that. ” who told Peter it's his day? He's staring curiously as much as he is becoming more shy . such rare occasions of him being humane. . . “ I- I don't think I ever told you -- ah,

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Oh no , well — the french in him suggests he will eat anything with berries in it. how did she knew ?

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(🦈) if she wishes to see the siren, then he is doing fine . He's been learning how to turn on and turn off the faucet in the bathroom. Though he mostly sleeps in the tub a lot . . . it's comfortable . he is comfortable . how is she though ?

000

That was rather unexpected-- ? Gio was staring , unsure of what to do. Well, when was the last time they had a proper interaction without the worry of everything they're involved with ? who would've thought the cardinal can be bashful? He chuckled again . nervously . “ i- . . . ahm . ”

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⊱ Lucy Smith ⊰ Parody @ivorypelops.bsky.social · 20/11/2024

a stare with widened eyes will meet the other . Of course he was fooling around but - the question caught him off guard . oh, w- well . . . he'll nervously chuckle .

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Reposted by 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑Ø𝐒𝐄

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— out, even. He's grown so used in silence that even when seen, he refuses to be heard. Maybe Peter was right; somehow, he still have a heart. a soul. when was the last time he allowed himself to be vulnerable? he's tired. curling up, he'll sniffle faintly.

100

— he just felt - tired . If he was a wolf like the man is, he would've been a bleeding one from somehow escaping hunts and spears. He'll just shut his eyes and shakily let out a gentle exhale as he leans weakly into his touch. The cardinal was silent; refused to speak, refused to let a whimper —

100

He quietly stared, soon his gaze looking away while he remained still on where he is. He can't help those tears now, can't he ? The smallest of affection — the smallest gentleness — can make him crumble in silence. How long has it been since he let someone gravitate this close ? —

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— all Apostle's bloods. ” he'll keep his eyes shut, relying on the whiskey's comfort if, it still has any of it to offer his lips. “ . . . I woke up in a ditch. they didn't even buried us. ” enough for now. he'll glance at him tiredly . “ Cheers. ”

010

— “ Dürer was not supposed to be there as much as Janus was not supposed to be there. I promised his father I'll protect him the way I protect my own. I failed twice. ” he chuckled. “ — a sunrise later, I'm kneeling to have my neck axed while having to stare down at a bucket full of —

100

— sitting himself on his chair; there was a sense of detachment present on his face. pain, yet all at the same time numbness. He'll take another sip. he never hated god. surprisingly not even in the present. Quite ironic if to be compared with his actions against the church. —

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— sons. ” He exhaled. “ The blood was too fast and they only allowed me to crawl close to see how good of a surgeon I am . They say if I didn't opposed god, my hands will do miracle. I . . . never opposed god . ” Gio looked down, returning to his bottle to pour himself a little more before —

100

— masking his grief. It's been ages and it still never fails to make his skin crawl. “ Made them kneel infront of me and -- , ” he shrugged. “ -- one slice across their throats and they're gone. ” He faintly chuckled. ” I was a doctor and I couldn't stop them bleeding. That night, I lost two —

100

— sure they'll find me first. I bought them time. But that ship never sailed to Germany. He — ” he paused to think. rather not utter the traitor's name for his own peace. “ . . . we were sold, Peter. " Gio adds with a stoic voice; almost sounding like he wasn't interested at all in hopes of —

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