WHEN: 1943 MAR 7; late evening
WHO: Naoki Sato, an unlucky Fr. Malcolm, some unfortunate missionaries... and The Great Deceiver
Major NSFW warning
[18:29] Churches were not as a matter of course a difficulty for Luke. The ostentatious trappings of a belief only weakly held were of no impediment tot he first among the fallen. And yet, on this speck of land wrenched from the sea floor he found himself wavering at the threshold before turning away. Faith, Real Faith, was a rare thing in these debased times, but here on Callisto it seemed to have been kindled. He turned away as if he'd forgotten something important before he could be accosted by the parishioners or worse yet clergy. Though... He paused and watched as the young missionaries emerged to spread the good word and approached with silver tongue and ancient wiles to plant a seed to grow. "The poor thing is all on her own I fear... No idea about the Father... If anyone were in need of the gospel...."
[18:44] The missionary arrived at the ominously inscribed XIII bookshop and approached the young woman behind the counter, he'd barely have noted her condition had it not been revealed by the gentleman on the street. He approached complementing the store and it's neat shelves asking after her husband, the Father, a tale he'd seen to many times a young lady taken up by a dashing rake only to be left in her state with no one. "... So many lovely books miss but only one holds Salvation..." the Bible meaningful verse marked by pamphlet on the churches home for unwed mothers pressed into her hands. Born by those hands up to the castle among the clouds. The master dismissed it, "Petty men trying to steal children from foolish young mothers." It might have been nothing more than an amusing anecdote of her day if not for a dark power beating in the blood of that not so absent father. A threat implied by such Proselytism stirred that darker heart, fluttering in the breast of the beast straining against it's cage.
Of course he perhaps intended to merely steer them clear, maybe scare them a little, these petty men of petty faith. But as he drew nearer to that holy place there was the burning reminder on his forehead of exactly why they might wish to keep the babe from him.
[19:02] Naoki Sato was driven by passions that were unrelenting. They drove each step forward, bearing him through the streets in a fugue. The Morningstar's mark burned, more visible the closer he drew to the doors. When he reached them the pamphlet was crumpled in a white-knuckled fist. It was rare for any emotion to flare up so strongly in him but he didn't question it - there were priorities in his mind and he wasn't about to let the church doors bar him from them. Naoki laid a hand on one and hauled it open, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. Blood slid from the palm of his free hand, entwining around the handles, sealing them shut.
They were going to take the child from him. Perhaps they'd take Thirteen too... or try. Why else would they have spoken to her? Conflated stirrings of possessiveness, protectiveness burned in his chest. The first one to approach him was caught by the throat. He found fingers curled around his trachea and half-dead blood seeping into his veins, forcing an excess of pressure that strained his heart and lungs and began drowning the poor priest until Naoki felt the drive to rip his trachea slowly from his throat.
[19:12] The missionaries were clustered in the middle of the room a few turned to explain services were over for the day, the confessor approached to hear the newcomers sins and became Naoki's most recent for his troubles. Panic clawed at the others as violence came to Gods house. One fell to his knees in prayer, the words making the mark on Naoki's head throb. Others tried to gather to hand what candlesticks or snuffers might serve as rudimentary clubs as they rounded on the murderous entity drawing its dark retribution on the faithful.
[19:24] The gut was a lengthy thing. Esophagus to intestines, Naoki's blood surged through the missionary's body, severing connections until he could pull the thing mostly whole out of the hole in his throat. The pain in his head made his lips twitch. Those with the clubs were less of a priority then. The entrails whipped out, bladed and barbed - not to wrap around but stuff itself into the praying missionary's throat. Any blows swung at him landed, breaking skin, making him bleed... but blood was a dangerous thing when it seeped from the Jikininki. It coated their makeshift weapons, locking their hands to the handles before piercing into their skin.
[19:31] When the mans prayers were silenced by the barbed entrails the throbbing in the Jikininki's head subsided the hungering wound sated by a sacrifice of the faithful. Blows rained down on the monster in their midst strikes sticking and clinging to weapons and drawing up the crude clubs to bind them. It was then the screaming started...
[19:42] Naoki Sato left the screams to ring out in the church's interior and his blood to slowly tear its way through the praying missionaries. The Jikininki attacked the ligaments in their wrists, severing connections to disable their ability to swing the weapons before sending the blood elsewhere, tearing up the skin of their arms to sever muscle fibers around their elbow joints and swim up into their shoulders. Naoki reached directly for the nearest one, going for the softness of the abdomen and tearing downward to rip a hole from just beneath the sternum to out above his pelvis. He tore his way to the center, leaving people mangled and dying, choosing to let them bleed and crawl.
It wasn't enough. Growling he grabbed at the chest of one, curling his fingers in between the supplicant's ribs and grasp her by the sternum. The movement of blood, magically manipulated, helped to swing the priestess and pin her to the confessional walls. Claws and teeth tore at her clothing, her arms, leaving her bare as he eviscerated her body and feasted on her face. He left her torso hanging there, entrails dripping, then turned towards the remaining few cowering behind the altar.
[20:28] Weeping missionaries cowered in terror behind the altar one man hiding within it's confines int he vain hope that this demon set upon them would somehow miss his presence. On their knees the faithful looked up at Naoki faces in a rictus of terror, "Bbb-bbb-but wuh why?" one begged. Another simply rocked in place murmuring the rosary though his shattered faith no longer answered the call. As Naoki approached the door from the rectory flung open an old priest looming in the doorway full of righteous fury at the destruction wrought up on his flock.
[20:49] Naoki Sato tilted his head at the weeping faces behind the altar. Fear released things into the air, smells that his nose could pick out of the piss and tears and blood. The pamphlet was somewhere forgotten in the mess behind him, stuck to someone he'd torn apart - or in someone perhaps. "You want the child inside her?" he asked them, accusatory, anger seething quietly in his voice. Any confusion only worsened the irritation and without rounding on the man he shot a tendril of blood from his back, soaking the fabric of his shirt to spear him through the back, lift him into the air and slam him back and forth across the stones, painting them red. "My child? Do you think you can handle a child like this?"
The mark on his forehead throbbed - dull as the utterance of prayer called a weak pulse of divinity through the air. Malcolm's Faith had been shaken by recent dalliances... it did not have the stopping power it should have. Naoki turned to him, popping the head off of the missionary in his grasp and hurling it at the older priest. He used the distraction to charge at the man, engaging the sword cane he wielded with his own blood-formed blade. This was no duel. Naoki had no qualms allowing the man to cut him, stab him, and used that opportunity to pull his arm into the gaping wound forming in his abdomen, letting his insides crunch and consume the old priest's flesh, letting his blood drip to spoil the ground.
[20:55] As he drove the old priest was driven to his knees the skin on Naoki's forehead split along that old scared wound never quite healed the black ichor dripping from it no blood to answer the Jikininkis call. Where it dropped upon the old priests face it burned like acid peeling away the skin in sizzling pops. One of the braver of the remaining missionaries at the sight of the inquisitor dispatched so quickly leapt at Naoki's back trying to wrestle the fiend to the ground.
[21:04] Naoki Sato growled again as he felt the weight on his back. He disengaged from the old man, stumbling back to slam the well-meaning missionary into the pulpit's edge, then reach to throw him into the altar itself. Hands and teeth found him this time, no blood, no weapons - just the Jikininki's body tearing into flesh. He turned to the rest of them. These he would consume, cracking necks and ripping out organs to paint the altar itself in their viscera. When he was finished there were piles of parts around him, his clothes and skin painted in their gore.
[21:16] One of the confessionals creaked open and a lithe and long limbed form familiar to Naoki emerged to daintily pick his way across the viscera some how managing not to drag the hems of his tailored pants nor the fine leather of his shoes through the gory gobbets festooning floor and pew alike. "I love what you've done with the place." He announced as he approached with a dangerous smile touching the corners of his mouth.
[21:20] Naoki Sato looked up from the lobes of lung he held in his hands, black ichor from that open mark trickled down his face to mingle with the blood. Vaguely he could feel that he was wounded... and now that he'd stopped moving to eat, beginning again was jarringly painful. Impact injuries, cuts, and puncture wounds dotted the Jikininki's body as he rose to his feet and swallowed the left lung whole. Once the large bolus of that swallow moved down to disappear into his abdomen he licked his lips to reply. "...they wanted to take what belongs to me," he explained, eyes focused on the approaching devil.
[21:26] "It is in the nature of man to covet." Luke replied looking at the ruin wrought upon the church with satisfaction. Father and Son alike did appreciate when a plan came together. "You've outdone yourself dead boy." he praised lightly as his gaze fell back up on the jikininki. "I knew you were the right choice to desecrate this place..." he stated almost fondly and looked at the gore covered altar with a pleased smile, "But you have exceeded my expectations." He stepped closer picking a stray fingernail hanging from one blood soaked lock of Naoki's hair. "I perhaps begin to see what he sees in you."
[21:41] Naoki Sato twitched and looked away. What he'd done was typically enough to arouse him and he was hard in those pants but the praise was something else, something that stabbed through the bestial needs and to the mind of the man that was trained and taught and bent to another's discipline. It brought clarity he didn't want in that moment as he considered the state of the building. "...you sent them to speak to her?" he asked with far less remorse than he should have had. A bloodied hand reached up toward Luke's tie, moving to grasp it and tug the man closer.
[21:49] Luke looked down at the bloodied hand on the red of his tie and raised a brow he didn't budge at first pull asserting that when he leaned into Naoki's grasp it was by his own will. "They would say my maker sent them to her and I but the messenger." he replied with a smile. "They had such concern for her sad story. A pretty lost lamb to collect for their pathetic flock to debase themselves for a vainglorious aeon that cares not for their plights." He met Naoki's eyes as his power seeped into the bloodied stonework, "Shall we finish it then mark this place as I marked you?" he whispered like a velvet promise of forbidden pleasure.
[21:55] Naoki Sato didn't realize how quick his breathing had gotten. He noticed, vaguely, that he stopped breathing when the Morningstar leaned in, his actual words meaning less than the temptation they bore. Slowly he turned to look at the bloodied altar, letting out a little huff as he walked toward it to put a hand on the stone. "...you're going to fuck a building?" he asked with such lack of tone that it was anyone's guess if he was being smart or incredibly dense.
[22:09] Letting out a low laugh Luke pulled himself upright once more lightly tugging his tie free from Naoki's grasp, "Wouldn't be the first time." he replied and looked around the structure only to shake his head, "But no telling where this one has been." he joked in reply looking down at the ruined priest at Naoki's feet, "Well perhaps I'll have to investigate alternate means."
[22:16] Naoki Sato returned to his feast, for the moment ignoring the urge to be taken by the devil so close at hand. It was easier when Luke's goals were elsewhere and his compulsions weren't driving the yokai's already difficult to fight desires to impossible strength. He found muscles of chest wall and loose ribs around the altar and began to devour them, silent as the post-massacre clarity settled into gnawing hunger. He chose not to consider how easily he'd been used; he cared nothing for the church or the people within it.
[22:30] Luke poked a the near dead inquisitor and searched through his vestments seeking what he needed and pulling the ancient reliquary key first then the swordcane from the pile of nearly meat. "Hmm I think I may ultimately require your further aid dead boy." he intoned softly as he approached once more shaking the gore from the blade as he fed it enough Aether to recharge the failed faith of the priests blessing upon it. He waited for Naoki to turn before he slammed that blade home through the Jikininki and into the altar pinning him there like one of Lex's butterflies. The blessed blade suppressing the yokai's power to just enough to keep him alive.
[22:42] This was familiar. Naoki shuddered as he felt the blade slide through his abdomen, taking some divine retribution for the rent viscera of the missionaries. It sliced through his stomach and exited to the side of his spine, narrowly missing nicking the lower lobes of his left lung. Naoki grabbed at it, hands bleeding as he gripped the blade in increasingly weakening attempts to pull it out of him. He couldn't budge it, not in his current state - not that it did anything to soften the stiffness in his pants.
[22:58] Luke stared down at his handiwork to ensure it took. "On the plus side as the only survivor you'll be able to lead the trail away from yourself." he intoned quietly and reached down to give that hard cock a squeeze, "Hmm perhaps next time." he mused to himself and with a gesture Malcolm's body lurched upright and staggered over like a meat marionette. "For now we'll settle for a faithless priest and an unrepentant sinner." He declared as he jerked Naoki's trousers open to free that freakish cock. The old priest was positioned to fellate the monster and Luke took a step back to admire his work. "That should do." he agreed with a pleased smile and ducked behind the altar to retrieve the reliquary from within. Relic acquired he turned and vanished leaving Naoki and the near dead priest in the blasphemous tableau.
---
WHEN: A little later that night
WHO: Thirteen, Naoki, and a smattering of constables
[09:44] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) had waited outside with inhuman patience until the screams had faded and the fell sigil holding the door closed had faded. Thirteen stepped up to the doors and pushed one hand against the gothic wooden panel to push her way into the bloodspattered and desecrated church. The long hem of her dress pulled through the tacky puddles at the entrance, turning the white silk crimson with spreading splotches that crept steadily up the fabric of her dress. By the time she was moving past the front pews, the stain on her skirts had spread up to her calves though the construct gave little concern for the mess as she made her way to where Naoki was trapped on the altar. "Naoki," she said softly, reaching out to touch the fringe of his bangs and push them aside with a gentle hand. "We should go."
[09:57] Naoki Sato had not stirred since his impalement but for weak attempts to dislodge the incapacitated priest from his cock. The warmth and sensation of a mouth around the sensitive organ and the pain of being impaled had kept him hard... not something that helped poor Fr. Malcolm's situation considering the tip of his dick was lodged in the man's throat. When he finally did get him off with a kick of his foot it was only enough to pop the heft of his cockhead from his esophagus, giving the elder priest a not-so-occluded airway and a slightly better chance at surviving the ordeal. Thirteen's touched fluttered his eyes open and he looked at her, pupils dilated. "I can't move it," he admitted quietly. His hands were scored and lacerated from his attempts to do so manually, any effort with his blood magic dying quickly upon contact with the blade.
[10:02] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) hummed softly, the sound meant to be soothing. "It's magical. Here, let me," Thirteen murmured, reaching out with the hand that wasn't on his skin to touch the hilt of the blade. She wasn't strong enough to shift it certainly. But the arcane sigils on her fingertips turned black and even at a distance, Naoki could feel the way her body sucked at the ambient Aether before she closed those fingers around the blade and began to pull its holy magic into her own body. Only a slight crease on her brow made it clear the effort that it took to keep it so tightly focused a band but their practices had paid off as she continued to draw its magic into herself to render it inert long enough that it could be shifted free. "Can you, now?"
[10:04] Naoki Sato || The difference was palpable. Blood from the wound coiled up around the blade, covering the metal in his body and closest to it. The weapon shuddered and Naoki grunted, groaning as he shifted it back and forth to dislodge it from the altar itself. Slender as his figure was Luke had been able to lodge it ridiculously deep. "....trying," he grit out as the blade eventually came free, sliding slowly out of the wound with a gush of black and deep red and a sharp gasp from the Jikininki.
[10:12] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) dropped her hand from the blade the moment it slipped free and pressed her palm over the deep wound. Thirteen ignored the way Naoki's blood mixed with his victims, splashing down the front of her skirt and soaking it. For the first time, Thirteen wished her powers extended beyond the metaphysical into actual healing as she pressed her now glowing palm over that wound. "I have you," Thirteen said softly, moving in to support his weight and uncaring of the gasping priest on the floor or the many other victims. "It's alright. Without the blade embedded in your skin, you should recover in time." Thirteen murmured. She frowned slightly at the head sitting next to Naoki's hip on the altar and reached out to shove away to bounce along the stone floor with a wet, crunching sound of meat and bone hitting pavers. "Just catch your breath."
[10:18] Naoki Sato let the blade clatter to the floor with little regard for where it landed. Malcolm was lucky it didn't end up replacing the sword that had previously occupied his face and instead skittered across the stones of the church floor. Aside from the abdominal wound there were other more minor injuries - dark bruises and scratches, cuts and scrapes and burst vessels from being beaten with candlesticks and other assorted church accoutrement. More notable was the freshly-split mark on his forehead, dried black ichor dripping from it and over his face to mix with the mess of red from his victims. "He sent them to you," Naoki explained as he slid from the altar to let Thirteen assist him in standing. Abdominal muscles cramped around the hole through his musculature and stomach and he shuddered, bending over and gritting his teeth- inhuman, sharp, even if the smile wasn't split like it typically was. He was regaining the ability to play human slowly. "...he know I would come for them."
[10:30] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) shifted a little to provide what support she could. Thankfully Naoki was only slightly taller than the construct. If he had been Lex-sized, she'd not have been able to help carry enough weight to make a difference. As it was, she was not overly strong for her size and Naoki's weight was enough to stagger her before she regained her balance, one hand around his back, the other pressed to his front. "The constables are coming," Thirteen said quietly. Her calm gaze flickered around the carnage before going to the doors. Her gaze flicked down to the still living priest on the ground and with a light touch, stripped the memory of Naoki's face from the carnage of the night in his mind. Small changes were easier than large ones. "Don't heal the injury, focus on your features," Thirteen murmured, reaching out to touch the thoughts of the first constable reaching the doors and begin to twist his perceptions of the scene that he was about to walk into to paint Naoki as one of the victims. "Please, help, there are survivors here." Naoki might note that even as the construct skewed the reality of the situation to her whims, she never uttered anything but truth. Naoki was a survivor, and Luke's victim. He just also had been the devil's weapon as well. Omission was not the same after all, as deception.
[10:37] Naoki Sato looked up as she mentioned constables. There was a patter of boots in the street outside, figures obscuring the windows, (living) bodies moving as officers kept ogling passersby from getting too close. Already there were gasps and mutterings from outside and Naoki sighed at the thought of having to navigate questions, people, and fighting the urge to bite at things to further fuel his regeneration. "What do I do with my features?" he asked in a murmur. He was not, after all, particularly good at lying with his face. He looked impassive and tired when the constables stormed in, guns pointed until they found their thoughts altered by Thirteen's efforts. A couple tended to the priest, employing field kits to attempt to stabilize him as another came to assess the damage to Naoki himself. "....there's a hole," he said as if the man needed direction to the gaping wound in his abdomen.
[10:45] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) was similarly not good at lying with her features but the genuine worry for Naoki and the aftermath of this episode went a long way. / Don't try to force them. Let them make assumptions. I am... knitting together what I can. / It was, however, a lot for Thirteen to manage and the slight strain of the effort to nudge thoughts away from channels that she didn't want them to take took effort that left her shaky and spent. "He's hurt," Thirteen agreed simply, "I'm not. I was meeting him here after I was done with work," True. All true though it painted a very different picture than the actual events. It was fatigue, certainly, from draining the sword that had her hitting a wall when the officer began barking orders to take the survivors to Eumenides for treatment and care. Once the words were out, there were too many thoughts for Thirteen to alter, too many moving parts and not enough energy after draining the sword and the work she'd done. Thirteen frowned, tipping her head in towards him, "Should I try again?" Thirteen wanted to know softly, clearly willing to wipe them all and try to start from scratch even if she was already well beyond taxed. Her arms tightened around him, turning her body into his and away from the constables as if they didn't matter. They didn't, really, not to Thirteen.
[10:56] Naoki Sato could only nod to agree with Thirteen as she explained the... situation as they needed the constables to understand it. Even through the mess on his face he saw the strain plain as day on her own features so when she asked about another attempt Naoki shook his head, the typically-impassive nature of his own features and the mess hiding little twitches and tells making it easier for him not to seem apprehensive. Thirteen, even exhausted, could likely tell the thought of going to the Sanitarium was not a pleasant one but Naoki seemed determined. His head was a mess, a jumble of arousal and contemplation, hints of guilt that came with having let himself be used. The anxiety was growing but the concern he felt for Thirteen was greater, as was his reluctance to let her over-exert herself on his behalf. "Go and tell the professor," he instructed her as the constables went to fetch stretchers for him and Malcolm. "It will be easy enough to come find me."
[11:03] Thirteen (aimee.frakture) reached out to catch his jaw between her pale hands, pressing a tender kiss to his lips that cared nothing for the sharpness of his teeth or the fact that his mouth was still gory with the blood of his victims. The red smear on her lips when she pulled back could almost have looked like smudged lipstick but for the way it glittered. Her tongue darted out absently to clear the mess from her lips. The copper tang of blood on her tongue did not arouse her but after so much time with Naoki, she had no inherent distaste of it either. If anything, she associated the taste of blood with his skin and that was more than enough to make it palatable. "I will come for you." Thirteen promised softly. "Don't push me away this time. Please." His thoughts. She likely meant from his thoughts when she visited his thoughts in the asylum. Thirteen hovered at his side until the stretcher arrived, the expression on her pale features nervous and concerned. Thirteen didn't like the idea of him going sanatorium either but her options were limited.
[11:28] Naoki Sato shut his eyes as she kissed him, the flicker of a smile on his lips as she pulled away. Despite the blood having little effect on the construct the sight of her licking it put a throb in the erection still slowly waning in the Jikininki's pants. He swallowed, nodding at her to affirm he wouldn't attempt to keep her from his mind. He did not anticipate this being a *trying* stay at Eumenides in the mental sense and the more banal trials of the place were things he could weather easily. Once the stretcher arrived he reached for her hand, giving it the slightest squeeze before letting his palm sit against her abdomen. "Don't come alone," he said insistently. Naoki felt more comfortable with Lex accompanying the construct into that place. He allowed her or a constable to help him lay down onto the stretcher, not moving much as they lifted him up to bear him and the priest away.