─── 〔BELTANE〕───
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VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent lingered in the shadows of the treeline, his tall, cloaked figure barely discernible against the backdrop of ancient oaks. He watched silently as the last echoes of laughter and the final strains of music from the Fires of Beltane celebration died away into the night. Once sure of solitude, he stepped forward towards the dying embers of the great fire, its glow dim but still alive, much like the remnants of his own world.
Raising his arms wide, the dark fabric of his robe fluttering slightly in the gentle night breeze, Vincent began to chant in Elytherin, his voice deep and resonant. The ancient words of the Aetheran prayer rose into the night air, a mournful melody that seemed to weave through the trees and into the very fabric of the earth. "Spirits of the lost, hear my call, return from the shadow, come forth by the fire’s light."
As his chant filled the clearing, the air around him shimmered and sparked with ethereal energy. One by one, countless spirits appeared, their forms translucent and shimmering against the darkness of the night. They spread across the clearing and into the woods, an ethereal procession as far as the eye could see, each spirit a whisper of what once was.
Vincent lowered his arms slowly, his heart heavy with both sorrow and reverence as he faced the spirits of his people. With a solemnity born of deep loss and the burden of survival, he spoke to them, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying with it the weight of centuries. "I stand before you, last of Aetheran, seeking purpose and meaning in this endless existence. Guide me, for I am lost among the living, alone among the echoes of the past."
The spirits, silent and watchful, seemed to listen, their presence a comforting blanket in the cold night. In this sacred communion, Vincent sought not just answers, but a connection to a home that lived now only in memory and spirit.
As Vincent stood, enveloped in the quiet assembly of ethereal figures, the silence was suddenly broken by a unified chorus of voices. The spirits spoke as one, their resonance booming, causing the ground beneath Vincent's feet to tremble subtly with the power of their collective voice. "Do not mourn us," they intoned, their voices echoing through the clearing. "Our demise was wrought by our own arrogance, a trait that you, Vincent, did not inherit."
Their message continued, each word imbued with the weight of ages and wisdom. "Your purpose remains unchanged, as it has always been—to maintain the balance across the cosmos. This is your divine calling, one you could choose to ignore, but have chosen to embrace." The spirits' affirmation of his role brought a solemn responsibility, reinforcing his commitment to his path.
Just as this exchange reached a crescendo of spiritual affirmation, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. A cold, oppressive presence swept through the clearing, heralding the arrival of the Unholy Mother. Her appearance was sudden and foreboding, and the spirits reacted instantly, scattering like mist before the dawn, their forms dissipating as if repelled by her very essence.
Vincent, now standing alone, faced the Unholy Mother, the contrast between the divine guidance of his people and the dark interruption stark and unsettling. The serene connection with his ancestors was replaced by a palpable tension, the clearing now a battleground of opposing energies. The Unholy Mother's presence marked a significant and ominous turn, challenging the peace and purpose Vincent had just reaffirmed with his ancestral spirits.
The Unholy Mother, her presence chilling the air around them, regarded Vincent with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "I do not understand why you seek counsel from the spirits of those whose arrogance nearly led to their extinction," she said, her voice as cold as the breeze that accompanied her. "Advice born from such folly is surely the worst sort of counsel."
Vincent, meeting her icy gaze, sighed deeply. The shift in the Unholy Mother's demeanor from one encounter to the next was as perplexing as it was frustrating. "It's curious," he responded, his voice steady and composed, "how one day you can seem warm and caring, and the next, your heart seems encased in ice. It makes one wonder which is the true face, and which the mask."
The Unholy Mother's expression flickered momentarily, a hint of the complexity within her. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "like you with your spirits, I am more than just one thing. We are all made of light and shadow, Vincent. Do not presume the light is always pure, nor the shadow always dark."
Her words hung in the air, a challenge to the simplicity of good versus evil. Vincent considered this, recognizing the truth in her observation. It was a reminder of the balance he was sworn to uphold—not just the balance between worlds or powers, but within the very natures of those he interacted with, including himself.
CLAIRE ELLIS
Concern was reason enough for her to act out of character. There were things Vincent had to do alone, things Claire simply wasn't capable of doing and she understood that. Of course she missed him when he was gone, but he always came back more or less the same Vincent. There was never need for her to worry about him, never reason for her to sneak out and follow him. While Claire couldn't teleport, she could easily pick up his distinct scent, that specific spice his magic left behind. He was different today, more than tired like he claimed he was. She wasn't some magical creature, but she was observant as hell and he was lying.
Being quiet as a mouse was another natural talent, making not a sound as she made her way towards the clearing where the festival had been not too long ago. Claire kept to shadows, already feeling guilty for what she was doing. Sometimes she worried she'd loose him to his mission, to all the universes that needed saving. She just wanted to know that he was okay, there was nothing wrong with that.
Lost among the living, alone among the echoes of the past, was about when she finally got within ear shot. It brought a frown to her face, brow knitted with concern. Maybe she should go, maybe this was none of her business. Even not quite atuned to the magic of the world around them, Claire felt rhe energy shift and a shiver ran down her spine.
She'd stay a moment longer, curiosity now mixing with concern.
He'd never gone into too much detail, but she just knew that was The Unholy Mother, without a doubt in her mind. No, this really wasn't any of her business. Yet she couldn't quite get her legs to move, transfixed on the both of them.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent's gaze briefly shifted towards Claire, noticing her presence lurking in the shadows, but he chose not to acknowledge her openly, maintaining his focus on the Unholy Mother. His words, though calm, carried a sharp edge as he reminded her of her past, "You birthed the Aetheran people. Once, you were revered as the Great Mother, before you were cast out by the High Father. Even from afar, you might have guided your children away from their self-destruction."
The mention of her former title caused the Unholy Mother to visibly flinch, a rare crack in her usually impassive demeanor. Her eyes, cold and distant, narrowed slightly as she regained her composure. "Vincent," she said, her voice low and tense, "you tread on forbidden ground. Even being my nephew does not grant you the liberty to invoke that name. It is a relic of a past I have long since washed away."
The air around them seemed to grow colder with her words, the tension palpable. Yet, Vincent's expression remained composed, understanding the depth of history and pain attached to the name he had spoken. "I meant no disrespect by invoking your past," he responded, his voice measured. "But it is history, and denying it does not change what it is, nor the responsibilities that come with it. One is bound by their actions, past and present, and one must face them if they are to move forward."
The conversation hung heavily between them, a dance of power and vulnerability that defined their complex relationship. It was a reminder that even deities and spirits are not immune to the ghosts of their past, and that understanding them requires confronting truths that might be easier left unsaid.
CLAIRE ELLIS
Damnit. That momentary glance her way didn't go unnoticed. She was losing her edge, that just wouldn't do. Either that or he was as acutely atuned to her as she was to him. Either way, there was no turning and leaving now. Instead she leaned against the closest tree and peeled her gaze away from them.
She could hear them, but the least she could do was not stand there and stare. Claire was also in no mood to interrupt a conversation between him and a goddess. There was a lot of power there, and a lot of tension.
She could distract herself with coming up with a decent explanation as to why she was sneaking around in the woods or why she didn't just voice her growing concern before he left. No, that would have been the smart thing go do. Leather clad arms criss crossed over her chest in her lean, gaze fixed on the fire and anywhere but on them.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
The Unholy Mother's gaze hardened, reflecting a mix of resignation and ancient wisdom. "It is not the place of the divine to intervene directly in the affairs of mortals, nor is it the place of mortals to meddle with the divine. Your heritage, Vincent, places you between these realms. Neither wholly mortal nor wholly divine, you occupy a unique position." Her eyes briefly flicked toward Claire's shadowed figure, her raised brow indicating a silent acknowledgment of another player in this complex tapestry of cosmic duties.
Vincent, feeling the weight of his endless responsibilities, expressed his weariness. "I am tired," he confessed, his voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. "It feels as though I am always on the move, always intervening, always saving someone or something. Why is this burden placed upon me and not the gods themselves?"
The Unholy Mother listened intently, her expression softening slightly at his plight. "You, Vincent, are a bridge between worlds, a necessary link in the cosmic balance. The gods do not intervene directly because it would disrupt the very fabric of fate and free will. Your role, challenging as it is, allows for a subtler guidance, a way to influence without dominating." She paused, her eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken affection mixed with sorrow. "Your fatigue is understandable, but your path is essential. You are the equilibrium, the one who maintains the balance that others cannot even perceive."
Her words, meant to reassure, also served as a reminder of the immense responsibilities that came with his unique lineage. Vincent's role was not merely a consequence of his birth but a vital function in the cosmic order, tasked with navigating the delicate lines that others could not tread.
CLAIRE ELLIS
Claire didn't notice the second glance, the dwindling flamed held her violet gaze intently. However, she heard every word between the two of them and some of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn't right for those burdens to fall on his shoulders alone, he was a lot of incredible and powerful things, but Vincent was also just a man. Someone who needed rest, who deserved peace when he craved it.
"That's bullshit." Now, whether she meant to say that outloud was up in the air, but had it been intentional, she didn't mean for the it to be that loud. Claire trailed off, glancing towards them again. She was fiercely protective of a man who simultaneously did and didn't it. Claire couldn't protect him from the battles he fought, but she could protect his humanity. That went ignored far too often and rarely got the care it needed.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent turned at Claire's outburst, a flash of surprise crossing his features before settling into an expression of understanding. He knew the weight of his duties could often seem overwhelming to those who cared for him, and Claire's protective instincts were no exception. "Claire," he began, his voice calm yet tinged with the fatigue she had rightly sensed, "I appreciate your concern, truly. My heritage comes with responsibilities that I cannot simply set aside, even when they weigh heavily upon me—threatening to crush me beneath their immense weight."
He sighed, a soft exhalation that spoke volumes of his acceptance of his fate and the solitude it often entailed. "It is not merely a burden but also a privilege to stand where I do, between worlds, between the mortal and the divine. I chose this path, or perhaps it was chosen for me, but either way, I must walk it. Yet, knowing there are those who would stand by me, even in spirit, lightens the load more than you might realize."
The Unholy Mother, observing the exchange, her expression inscrutable, finally spoke, her voice low but clear. "Child," she addressed Claire, acknowledging the valid point beneath the outburst, "your protectiveness is commendable. Vincent is fortunate to have someone who cares so deeply for his well-being. But understand this—his journey is not one that can be shouldered by just anyone. It is his alone, not due to cruelty or indifference from those of us who watch over him, but because it is the essence of his being, his glorious purpose."
Her gaze shifted back to Vincent, and there was a subtle softening in her ancient eyes. "However, it is crucial that he remembers—and that those who care for him remind him—to care for himself as vigorously as he cares for others. Even the strongest need respite. Lest he end up like his father—my brother-in-law who too held such a role—indifferent to men and gods alike." Her words, though firm, carried an undercurrent of compassion, recognizing the human need for rest amidst the divine call to duty.
CLAIRE ELLIS
"I've watched you sink into yourself the past few weeks, one world after another after another screaming for your help." Her gaze shifted to the Unholy Mother as she finally moved closer. "How is he supposed to rest when there's never a moments peace? I'd say that's pretty cruel."
She felt anger swell inside her chest for a moment, but she swallowed it down. Claire was getting better at self control. "When can he schedule that time for rest? Hm? Five seconds here..a couple seconds there? What scream for help can he ignore so he can drink a cup of tea before he's rushing off to fight another battle that shouldn't be his in the first place?" Alright, she was still working on the control thing.
"A little contradictory, I think. He has to do it all alone...but, make sure you rest. While the gods and goddess do what, exactly?"
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent listened to Claire’s impassioned plea, her words echoing the turmoil he often felt within himself. He stepped forward, his expression serious yet touched with gratitude for her advocacy on his behalf. "Claire, you’re right," he admitted, the weariness in his voice more pronounced than usual. "The calls for help are incessant, and finding time for rest within that chaos is… challenging. It’s not just about the physical rest, but also the mental peace, which is rare."
He paused, considering her questions thoughtfully. "There are moments, brief as they may be, where the universe holds its breath—those are my moments for respite. It's not ideal, I know, and often it feels as though it's not enough. But it is the path I've accepted, and I must navigate it as best I can, finding rest where I can."
The Unholy Mother’s gaze hardened slightly at Claire’s challenge, yet there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "Your concern is not without merit," she responded coolly. "It is indeed a paradoxical existence that Vincent leads. But know this, child—while it may seem that he stands alone, the cosmos is a tapestry woven with more threads than you can see. While the pantheon of his people is, as you surmise, idle... I am not. I cannot, however, act as openly as my dear nephew can. The High Father could, if he wanted, erase me."
She stepped closer, her presence formidable yet not unkind. "Vincent's role is solitary in its execution because it must be—he is unique among both gods and mortals. Neither above nor below having authority over him in full. However, your point is taken. Perhaps it is time to reevaluate how his burdens are managed, to ensure that his sacrifices do not lead to his undoing. I am bound by cosmic laws, but within those laws, there may be room for adjustment." Her tone suggested a rare concession, an acknowledgment that even divine structures could be reexamined in light of their impact on one so crucial as Vincent. "Perhaps we could limit his intervention to this reality alone—with rare exceptions. Nathanael has abandoned his seat as one of The Seven, after all, so his seven universal charges fall on Vincent."
CLAIRE ELLIS
Even though she'd barely seen him as of late, and missed him terribly, her only concern was for his well being. Claire could sleep in an empty bed and wander around an empty tower, but seeing him so worn and torn around the edges was too much. All she wanted to do was be that peace for him, to be there waiting when he finally came home and could lay his tired head. It had become so rare. "There would be no one to save the multiverse if all those burdens finally became too heavy."
Claire held her ground, even as she moved closer. The Unholy Mother didn't scare her in the way pit fiends and giant worms might, but she was a Goddess and Claire was putting her god damn foot down none the less. Her suggested raised a brow and Claire peeked his way, curious as to what he might think of it.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent’s expression softened at Claire’s words, the depth of her concern evident and moving. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Claire, your presence is the peace I seek when the weight of the cosmos bears down. The moments we share are the respite I cherish amidst the chaos.” His voice carried a mix of gratitude and a subtle strain of regret for the time spent apart. “The possibility of these burdens overwhelming me is not lost on me, but knowing you are here, believing in me, helps more than you might realize.”
The Unholy Mother listened to Claire's declaration, her expression impassive yet attentive. After a moment of contemplation, she responded, her voice echoing with the authority of her divine stature. “Should Vincent falter under his burdens, the cosmos would seek a new equilibrium. Another guardian would rise, as is the way of the universe. However,” she paused, her tone grave, “there is no certainty that such a successor would choose a peaceful balance over dominative balance. The path of force, fear, and conquest is a path too easily trodden by the mighty.”
Seeing that Claire’s determination did not waver under the weight of this acknowledgment, and her resolve brought a faint, appreciative smile to Vincent’s lips. “Claire’s point underscores the necessity of managing these burdens wisely,” he added, turning slightly to include the Unholy Mother in their exchange. “It is imperative that the means of maintaining balance remain just and humane, to prevent a future where fear supersedes freedom.” His words were firm, a reflection of his own commitment to a balanced and compassionate guardianship. "Beside the Fires of Beltane, perhaps a new path forward?"
CLAIRE ELLIS
Her own hand lifted to rest over his when it settled on her shoulder. His touch, as it always did, calmed her and she felt a soft smile touch at her lips. "I'll always be here." And ash she honed her skills, she hoped to be at his side in his battles far more than she was now.
"It's also imperative that you're resting and recovering for longer than a few moments." A squeeze to his hand then her attention shifted back to The Unholy Mother. "I think a new path is well earned at this point. "
Claire knew that if it came down to it, he would likely sacrifice her to save the universe. She understood that, but she would sacrifice the universe to save him without question. And she'd go toe to toe with a Goddess if she needed to just to keep him healthy and safe.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent felt the warmth of Claire's hand over his, a tangible reminder of her steadfast presence in his tumultuous life. Her soft smile and her words, "I'll always be here," imbued him with a quiet strength. "And I am profoundly grateful for that," he responded softly, his gaze conveying the depth of his appreciation. "Having you by my side, not just in spirit but also in battle, would mean more than I can say."
He acknowledged her concern about his need for more substantial rest with a nod. "You're right, of course. The brief respites are not enough. I will find a way to take longer, more restorative breaks. It’s necessary, not just for my own sake, but for the sake of the balance I strive to protect."
The Unholy Mother, observing the exchange and Claire’s unwavering determination, seemed to consider her words carefully. Finally, she spoke, her voice resonating with a mixture of command and concession. "A new path, indeed, may be warranted," she agreed, her tone suggesting that Claire’s assertiveness had made an impact. "The balance of the cosmos is not served by the exhaustion or fall of its guardian. Adjustments can be made, should be made, to ensure that Vincent can sustain his duties without succumbing to them."
Her gaze shifted between Vincent and Claire, recognizing the unique dynamic of their relationship—the guardian and his steadfast ally. "It is clear," the Unholy Mother continued, "that your devotion to each other is both your strength and your potential vulnerability. Let us find a way to make it solely the former." Her acknowledgment of Claire's seeming readiness to confront even her to protect Vincent underscored the seriousness with which she took Claire's pleas.
CLAIRE ELLIS
On the outside Claire remained collected and calm, even for her. On the inside she was panicking, her pulse a rush in her ears. Had she just convinced a goddess to do something? That couldn't be right. And yet, The Unholy Mother seemed to agree. She'd expected to be smitted, if anything. Not to be the one to bring up an obviously important point.
"I'm glad we all agree then." With her. With irrational, short tempered, volatile Claire. Another smile graced her lips, looking from The Unholy Mother to Vincent. "The real question will be whether you're truly capable of letting yourself rest. I'll knock you out if I have it." Playful as her tone was, she was being dead serious.
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent's expression softened into a smile, the weight of countless burdens momentarily lifted by Claire's mix of resolve and jest. He appreciated her blend of seriousness and humor, recognizing the depth of her concern beneath her playful threat. "I'm glad we all agree too," he affirmed, his voice carrying a note of relief mixed with amusement at her last remark. "And as for resting, I suppose with you keeping watch, I might not have much choice in the matter."
He caught her smile, the warmth in it bolstering him, and decided to lighten the mood further with a hint of storytelling intrigue. "Remind me to tell you the story of Elara and Milo one day," he said, his eyes twinkling with the promise of an interesting tale. "They were two young Lorians, lacking in physical and magical power, yet they found a way to forever protect their world without needing anyone like The Aetherwalker. It's a reminder that sometimes, the strength to protect and persist doesn't always come from where we expect."
The Unholy Mother, witnessing this exchange, felt a rare flicker of amusement herself. She was accustomed to the seriousness of cosmic deliberations and the often solitary nature of her divine interventions. Seeing such spirited interaction and the clear impact of human connection provided a refreshing perspective. "It seems," she mused, addressing them both, "that ensuring you take the necessary time to rest might indeed require vigilant enforcement. Claire, your point is well taken, and your methods, while unorthodox, may be precisely what is needed."
Her agreement and acknowledgment of Claire's role in this new arrangement underscored a significant shift. The Unholy Mother was recognizing the importance of human elements in the cosmic balance—empathy, connection, and perhaps even a little coercion for the greater good. This blend of divine oversight and human intervention suggested a hopeful path forward, one where Vincent could continue his duties without risking his own well-being, supported by the unlikely partnership of a goddess and a fiercely protective human ally.
As the shadows swirled to consume her again, she lifted a finger and pointed to Vincent. "Oh, and nephew, I liked Quenellia but she was far too soft on you. Marry this one, her boot is needed it seems." With that the Unholy Mother vanished into the shadows of The Space Between once more.
CLAIRE ELLIS
If anyone was up to the task of getting him to rest and embrace his humanity once in a while, it was her. A nod at the mention of the story, there had even been so few of those lately and she genuinely enjoyed them.
"I'm notning if not unorthodox." And she was proud of it. Claire took a step back as the shadows swirled around The Unholy Mother, her final words leaving Claire momentary unsure of what to say. Then she chuckled lightly and turned to face him.
"I-I'm sure she was joking about that last part." As she spoke she slipped her arms around him and tugged him into a hug. It felt like something they both needed at the moment. "I just stood up to a goddess." Those words slightly muffled against his chest where she'd nuzzled herself. "And your aunt."
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent returned Claire's hug, a gesture that spoke volumes of his gratitude and relief. The embrace, warm and comforting, was a rare moment of vulnerability and connection that he cherished deeply. As she nuzzled into his chest, he allowed himself a brief respite from the weight of his responsibilities, focusing instead on the remarkable woman who stood by his side.
"I have no doubt you could stand up to anyone, goddess or otherwise," he murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. The pride in his tone was unmistakable; he was genuinely impressed by her bravery and her willingness to speak her mind, even to a divine being. "And unorthodox is exactly what the world needs sometimes, especially when conventional paths prove inadequate."
Vincent smiled as he gently adjusted the hug to look down at her, his eyes expressing both amusement and a deep fondness. "I think she was quite serious, Claire. And perhaps she's right—maybe it does take someone as determined as you to ensure I take the time to rest." His smile widened slightly, acknowledging the truth in The Unholy Mother's words and the irony of their situation. "Thank you for being my fierce protector, and for reminding me—and even the divine—that my well-being matters." His words were sincere, a testament to the profound impact Claire had on his life, not just as a guardian of the cosmos, but as a man who needed, more than he often admitted, the grounding presence of someone who cared.
CLAIRE ELLIS
As he shifted she peered up at him, a loving, warm smile she reserved for only him. "Then, in that regard, I like the way she thinks." Claire pushed up on her tip toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
"I have every intention of making sure you never forget that again. Seeing you so worn out and withdrawn was..awful." One hand lifted to dust a strand of dark hair back behind his ear. "And I might not be divine, but I'm going to shoulder some of that burden for you." A promise she could keep without a doubt in her mind.
"Now, can we go home and practice what I'm preaching? It's late, the bed is calling and we're both here for a change."
VINCENT VENEFICUS
Vincent’s heart warmed at Claire’s smile, a look that he knew was meant just for him, filled with affection and sincerity. As she rose to kiss him, he felt a moment of pure connection, a gentle reminder of the simpler, profoundly human aspects of his existence that often got lost in his cosmic duties. “I like the way she thinks too,” he agreed softly, after the tender kiss they shared.
Her vow to help shoulder his burdens didn't go unappreciated. "Thank you, Claire," he said, his voice laden with gratitude. "Your strength is more supportive than you might realize, and not being divine doesn’t make your support any less powerful. In fact, it’s your humanity that often gives me strength."
He chuckled lightly at her suggestion to head home, his fatigue settling around him now that the adrenaline of their conversation began to wane. "Yes, let's go home," he affirmed, wrapping his arm around her. As the last embers of the Fires of Beltane dimmed into the night, Vincent summoned a swirl of magic around them—a comforting, warm glow that encapsulated their forms. With a soft whisper of an incantation, they were whisked away, disappearing from the riverside and reappearing in the familiar, welcoming confines of the Tower of Mysteries. Here, in this haven of both magical and mundane comforts, they could finally rest, the outside world and its demands momentarily held at bay.