[Seeing the priest pause was enough to earn a delighted chuckle out of Mukuro, amused that the ploy was even working. This one was gullible, or at least, fun to tease. It was a direct contradiction to his outwardly normal, almost boring exterior, and the juxtaposition was entertaining. He had been correct after all. This mortal might be worth some of his attention.
Mukuro canted his borrowed face to the side, lips curling up.]
Of course not.
[His grin widened, and he actually had the audacity to wink at Chikusa.]
[For a quiet moment, Mukuro only stared at Chikusa in wide eyed shock. No one had ever dared be so blatantly disrespectful to him before, and for a moment, he was tempted to act out on his short-sighted sense of pride and kill the priest and all he loved for that transgression.
Then, despite himself, he burst out laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth, his head tipped back as he laughed for a good long while, a few 'kufus' escaping his lips as it wound down.
He looked up at Chikusa's face, still snickering with laughter.]
You don't need holy water to make me wet, Chikusa.
[Fuck is this the terrible pick up lines meme again whoops.]
[He's well aware of what he'd done. An insult, a dismissal, something to act as a reminder that this is a confrontation of wills and that the creature wasn't wanted. For a second, he thought that the point had been reached as he had stared down into that shocked expression.]
[Yet instead of curses or swears or incomprehensible horrendous noise, there's.... laughter, of all things.]
[What can you do in the face of something like that? All he can do is go back to the ritual, reciting St. Mark quietly but firmly beneath the torrent of laughter. Reaching the end of the passage and the demon's laughter quieting seem to go in sync. It's something he's willing to overlook, up until he speaks again.]
[Most demons he's come into contact with have offered sexual services in one of two ways: the first being just crass threats more than anything, and the second being honeyed words.]
[This is... He's not sure what to make of this.]
[The long bland stare he directs down into the demon's gaze is just as blank as all the ones before it, with a hint of bewilderment somewhere in the undercurrent.]
[As delicious as the young priest's confusion was, he was correct. As sturdy of a vessel as Chikusa's teacher was, he wouldn't last long with a demon of Mukuro's caliber possessing him. While it would be a small task to kill him off by just staying, it would also behoove him too. The whole point of this exercise was to get to learn more about this capable priest, and his curiosity had only grown stronger. He could be patient and generous. The ends justified the means, after all.]
Perhaps I should make you a bargain, priest.
[He tried his best to shake some of the holy water out of his face, annoyed at the steam that was continuously sizzling off of him, at the itching at being in an unaccommodating vessel being made all the more inhospitable.]
Let me visit you again and I will leave your teacher be.
[While it might not show so obviously, something in Chikusa relaxes. There, this is what he's more used to. Deals, a silver tongue, promises. It's not... whatever he was talking about before with being wet.]
[Still, what a strange request. He tilts his head ever so slightly as he stares down at the demon with an analytical tint to his gaze. Is this simply an attempt to leap from one member of the clergy to the next to harm their number? Chikusa doubts he could fight against a possession so well as his teacher, but he can at least say he won't give permission.]
Kufufu if I wanted to possess you, I would have done so already.
[It was said in an almost bored tone, Mukuro leaning his borrowed body back in his chair to cant his gaze up to meet Chikusa's fully.]
I haven't met a human of your caliber in quite some time. I'm curious about you, Chikusa Kakimoto. Nothing more, nothing less.
[Which wasn't the half of it, of course, but since when were demons straight forward? And Mukuro was known as being one of the wiliest of the lot. Still, it was enough of the truth that it might pass for sincere. For all of Chikusa's great achievements, he was alone. No one had made the effort to understand him, only to use him. At least Mukuro would have the decency to do both.
He let his eyes slide halfway shut, exhaling slightly. Being in this restricted body was an annoyance, and he longed to be out of it.]
I would suggest you decide quickly. Your teacher is nearing his limit.
[Especially not with the reputation demons have culminated over the many long centuries. They're the kind of sweet promises that have made legions of people fall prey to sin and into hell before him.]
[Even as he says that, however, Chikusa is weighing over the pros and cons hastily in his mind. It would be for the best if one of the Church's patriarchs could be brought back instead of perishing. They can't afford to lose anyone, not really.]
[Besides... This could be a test. A way to strengthen himself against demonic forces. That was why the Lord tested people, after all, to make themselves stronger. Perhaps this was a similar opportunity? To learn if nothing else. Wetting his fingers with holy water, he traces the cross over his teacher's forehead.]
...Leave this man alone for the rest of his life and afterlife, and you may visit me once in exchange, Mukuro.
[Even if demons go back on their words, this is worth a try. If it fails, well, he can stay here for as long as necessary for this exorcism.]
Kufufu who said it was flattery? Demons are able to tell the truth.
[But it was a foreign thing in their mouths, as distasteful as a bitter lemon might be to humans. Still, the fact that Chikusa wasn't succumbing to his ~charisma~ as easily as others had. It was as admirable as it was vexing.
He kept quiet for once as Chikusa weighed his options, more interested in getting the young priest to agree of his own free will. Small concessions could be piled up over time, and Mukuro was counting both on his curiosity and his bond with his teacher to get him to agree.
So when Chikusa leaned forward to trace the sign of the cross on his host's forehead, he could see it for what it was. An opportunity.]
Don't forget the 'sama' next time, and we'll have a deal.
[Still, he released Chikusa's mentor as promised, glad to be out of that feeble flesh sack, stretching in relief. He would stick around unseen and unheard to see the aftermath of his work, though.]
[So vain. Maybe if he feels like being a liar, he can use that to his benefit later.]
[Still, he will give the demon this: it's prompt. Almost immediately he can see the difference in his teacher as the steam from his skin starts to fade away, and his face goes slack. This time instead of steady slowness, Chikusa's words quicken for the closing prayers and blessings so that he can drop down to kneel besides the older man. All of his vitals, he checks immediately before the Bible snaps shut.]
[Chikusa is by all means religious. Incredibly so, in fact. However, he's not the type to be so blinded by his faith to think his book is going to be a suitable replacement for first aid.]
[Predictably, his teacher is dazed and tired from his purely human body having been mistreated and malnourished while used as a puppet. Demonic possession and its after effects aren't the only thing to worry about. Chikusa acts promptly, finishing up the cleansings before calling for assistance. Other priests and nuns hurry in, helping where he can't on his own. Chikusa stays nearby, for a while, until they've helped the man into a car to get him to the nearest hospital.]
[Chikusa doesn't go with them.]
[Instead, as composed as when he'd first stepped into that room, he returns to the church. That's out of his hands, now, and the Lord knows just how much he needs to put into his prayers today especially. Bowing his head at this point and clasping his hands in prayer is almost as familiar to him as walking or breathing by this point in his life.]
[It's been one of the only stable things he's ever possessed.]
[What life he could have had was robbed from him long ago, after all. A single child to first generation parents in a foreign country, left on his own after a disastrous accident... The row of foster homes that had come after had left him adrift, unanchored, until finally one worked out for longer than only a few months or meager year. So much religious fervor in one household could have probably kept a hundred demons out, or at least that's what it had certainly felt like to a child. The other children in that home had never cared for such strictness, but Chikusa had welcomed it. It had moored him when he couldn't find any such thing with his peers, too quiet and distant to easily make friends.]
[There's something reassuring in knowing that merely bowing his head and believing will have his words heard to someone who cares. Anyone.]
[After prayer, he spends the rest of the day making sure he's cleansed of any sin and given whatever blessing he can receive. Will it stop a powerful demon from taking his body? Of course not. The day's exorcism has proven it can come for him whenever it wants and not be stopped. However, that doesn't mean he has to make it easy for it.]
[Prayer, cleansing, blessings, and then helping tend to the church... It takes up the rest of the day easily, and, by the time Chikusa leaves, night has fallen. He doesn't let it worry him as he sets off for his home, a rosary wrapped around his wrist and palm with his thumb rubbing at the beads. He recites verses in his head the whole way home. Usually, it's only half devotion, and just as half something to occupy his mind.]
[However, making a bargain with a demon makes things seem a little more relevant than usual.]
[It's that same thinking which has him bless every inch of his apartment when he gets there. There's not much ground to cover. He's never wanted for much, and that includes living space. The decor is plain, too, but that just leaves less for him to worry over, right? It's what he often tells himself whenever he's fixed a plain dinner and eaten by the window. Tonight, however, that's not what's on his mind. Instead, as one hand helps him eat, he sketches lightly in a small journal. Its pages are filled with a lot of things, often idle sketches from a particularly noteworthy individual he'd seen at the church, or a scene from outside his apartment.]
[Today, it's of his teacher- expression twisted into a smug smirk, one eye distinctly different from the other.]
[Heterochromia. It's a notable trait. Perhaps if he does run into it again, he'll be able to take notes for the church. It may make future exorcisms of it easier.]
[Despite how he's perfectly prepared for his humble abode to be turned upside down... Nothing happens for the rest of the night, and Chikusa recites his evening prayers with a slight frown. His mind is elsewhere. Was it just a bluff, to hide weakness that wasn't immediately apparent? Perhaps he just needs to be patient, and not let his guard down.]
[For now, however, he turns out the light and thinks of it no longer as he drifts to sleep with a cross resting over his chest.]
[Really Chikusa, imaging that Mukuro would visit him so soon was what bordered on vain. There was a thrill in anticipation, in building up apprehension, and Mukuro was more than content to follow Chikusa with quiet steps. There were ways of masking his presence even to someone who was looking for him so carefully, and he watched curiously as Chikusa didn't follow his mentor to the hospital. Ah, so perhaps sparing him wouldn't endear him to other man as well as he had previously believed.
As he shadowed Chikusa's routine, he took in everything, missing nothing. The lack of people who checked up on him after exorcising a powerful demon. No one who took him aside to tell him to be careful. No one had accompanied him home to make sure he would be fine. Curious. Did people fear him as much as the demons did?
He followed him home on light steps, looking around his small home and seeing a lack of personal items that spoke volumes. This could have been an apartment he had just moved into, not a place he had lived for years. Mukuro had been in ruins that had more personality of its owners, and that was after treasure hunters had stripped everything dry.
With an unabashed amusement, he watched Chikusa sketch his eyes with great care, settled on the edge of his bed when he fell asleep, before turning away from him. There were others to pursue after all, even if Chikusa was his current preference, and he didn't want to be too predictable after all.
Mukuro would wait a week before appearing to Chikusa in his dreams, molding it after the priest's apartment, nestled near the windows, the moonlight streaming in to frame his distinct pineapple hair in a silver sort of halo, a thin ponytail draped over his shoulder, reaching his waist easily. To play favorites with favorites, he'd chosen the form he liked the most, a youthful looking man with fair skin, a wicked grin, and mismatched eyes. Many a mortal had found the appearance beautiful, though he doubted such petty tricks would be effective against Chikusa. Still, it couldn't hurt.
He was humming softly as he flipped through Chikusa's sketch pad, amusement curling his lips upwards.]
[It's hard to explain. At some points in his life, he's felt similar: like the world is only half there, foggy and distant. It's a side effect of particularly adrenaline filled moments, he thinks, but that's not something he wakes out of bed for. Carefully, he removes the covers from his legs and gets him, trying to shake his head. Nothing. It's all very confusing until he shuffles out from his bedroom into the rest of the apartment.]
[Ah.]
[Things make sense now.]
[Removing his hand from his messy hair, he observes the man sitting at his window. The shine of mismatched eyes doesn't escape him.]
I suppose it's not surprising, considering how you were when we first met.
[Even as he makes his way into the kitchen area, he keeps an eye on the demon cautiously.]
[It was asked almost idly, Mukuro still leisurely flipping through Chikusa's sketchbook. Even if it wasn't real, he had taken great pains to recreate it, right down to the minute details in each talented sketch.
That astute observation made Mukuro look up, amused, gaze sharpening. This one was an intelligent one, but not one of the humans who boasted about it like it was such a great thing. No, this one seemed to know the price of what intelligence brought. Isolation. Loneliness. Nothing but trouble. Though, perhaps Mukuro was contributing more to the last than anything else.]
Is anything you know real? That book you cling to so fervently, those prayers you know by heart, the god you supposedly pray to?
It's a bit late to try that when it worked so well on you, isn't it?
[At least, if nothing else, it had certainly shut him up more than regular water would have done.]
[Coming to a stop, he rests his hands on the counter overlooking the little room. Never before has he had to deal with this kind of dream. What kind of protection does he have? It's hard to say, but treating it lightly can't be an option.]
Are there any other kinds you know how to have? You didn't seem to like flattery or flirtation.
[It was said dryly enough, the sting of holy water still memorable after a week's worth of time. Mukuro closed the sketch book decisively, getting up to stretch. It had been a while since he had tried to walk in a human's dreams, and while it wasn't as stifling as possessing one, it was still constraining. He wandered a bit closer, canting his head to the side as he smirked.]
Or have you been isolated for so long you can't remember how to have a proper conversation?
[But it's fine, he reminds himself firmly. He's still living a good life. For now, he focuses on the demon on the other side of an imaginary counter space.]
I'm simply disbelieving that a demon wants to talk and nothing else.
Are you so certain? Despite agreeing to be visited by a demon, there are no other priests to accompany or protect you here. No one has come to check up on you since the exorcism. Your apartment has little sign of anyone coming here but you.
[Mukuro paused, leaning against the counter, smirk curling at the edge of his lips.]
Well, except perhaps me.
[How does it feel priest, he was curious to know, to have a demon as his only visitor? Though for now, he would tread carefully.
He let out a small chuckle at Chikusa's ( well-founded ) disbelief, propping his chin up with an upturned palm.]
Are there other things you are willing to offer me then, Chikusa Kakimoto?
[Having the utter hollowness of his life picked and prodded at draws an immediate reaction out of him. Nothing obvious, more subtle- a tension gathering in his shoulders, pale eyes seeming to darken, and his arms crossing over one another. It's an attempt at seeming authoritative but it's only half successful. Instead, it more gives off the impression that he's holding himself together.]
...Everyone has been concerned with Father Morgan's condition, and I can tend to myself.
[But it's not something he truly wants, no. Admitting such weakness to a demon, however, is asking for trouble.]
[As much as he wants to distance himself from the creature, Chikusa stays where he is on the other side of the counter. He's not going to be chased off in his own home, even if it is a shadow of such.]
The only thing I agreed to was to let you visit me. I have no desire to give you anything else.
[Earlier, when Chikusa had assumed his teacher to be weak, Mukuro had wondered what sort of weakness he had seen in the man. And what sort he saw in himself. That shallow posturing screamed weakness, cracks in Chikusa's armor that Mukuro could slither into and extort. Maybe he would, gently and almost lovingly. Tearing a person apart required a delicate hand, especially if Mukuro wanted to piece him back together. So, he only let out a small chuckle, leaning back away from the counter to saunter around the room, taking it in.]
We both know that your mentor will make a full recovery. Though it is admirable of your clergy, knowing full and well that a demon has taken an interest in you, are trying to distance themselves further still from you. I hadn't thought it possible.
[He turned back to face Chikusa with an amused smirk, red eye glowing ominously.]
Do you really value your company so little? [As for 'no desire' well. That would get an almost fond chuckle out of him.] Liar.
[Demons lie. Demons will say whatever they need to in order to drag humans down into sin. Believe in nothing a demon says.]
[They're lessons he's listened to and committed to heart for years. He knows this. Still, the words dig in like nails on the back of his neck. As the demon walks off, Chikusa finally lets himself close his eyes and compose himself. Hail Mary, full of grace... That's right. Slowly, his shoulders straighten out, and he opens his eyes again to meet that eerie stare.]
It doesn't matter if other humans distance themselves from me.
[He has someone who will never leave him.]
Can a demon of all creatures really go around calling others "liars" and believe to be taken seriously?
[Also known as the most difficult ones to get to. They would suffer in eternity with a damnable smile on their faces, and Mukuro could never bring himself to want to deal with them. Understanding them was bad enough, but comprehending them. Well.
He should have known really, since Chikusa Kakimoto seemed to find his peace rather quickly despite Mukuro's barbs, and with a light sigh, he turned away from him, heading into the bedroom. This place was far to small for his liking. Anything man-made typically was.]
Shouldn't that be taken more seriously than anyone else's word? A demon would know a liar better than anyone, wouldn't they?
[This time, it's his turn to scoff, a quiet huff of air that's directed down to his chest than to the demon.]
I'm hardly deserving of a title like that.
[All he does is his duty, and he tries not to complain. Sometimes it's not completely successful, but that's just a sign of how young and inexperienced he is, isn't it?]
[As the demon starts to drift towards his room, Chikusa finally makes a move to follow after him with a slight frown. Dream this might be, and demons don't exactly care about privacy or personal space, but it doesn't mean he has to like it just snooping about there. Especially since, in comparison to the rest of his apartment, there's a little more there. Sketchbooks that have been filled to the brink are nestled inbetween holy texts. A small shelf has its own collection of psychology books, studying the mental health of a person. Near the door, even, a rarely touched small rack of varying hats.]
And a demon can't be relied on to tell the truth, so accusations from one such as yourself are inherently untrustworthy.
My, my, then what do you feel you deserve Chikusa Kakimoto? To be ignored by your unhearing lord? Shunned by your fellow man? [A small pause as Mukuro turned back to smirk at him, lashes lowered.] To be haunted by a demon?
[As if he was unaware or unknowing of Chikusa following him, Mukuro entered in the bedroom casually. He ran his hands gently over the spines of each of the books, taking in the titles and how many sketchbooks there were.]
Because all men are known to be completely honest? [He turned to look back at Chikusa Kakimoto, mouth curled up in amusement, though his eyes were sharp.] Or are you just picking and choosing what to believe, like so many of the faithful? So quick to label us as beyond saving but forgetting we were angels once, too.
[He plucked out a sketchbook at random, settling down to sit on Chikusa's bed.]
Please don't act like you inviting yourself into my life is by any means something I requested, thank you.
[Following after him, he frowns and ignores the rest of the statement. It's becoming more and more obvious that humoring such a thing merely encourages the creature.]
Perhaps you were once angels. However, that does not get rid of the fact that, whenever your kind interact with humans, you attempt to drag them into sin. That is the difference between believing you, and believing a fallible human.
...And thank you, I suppose. [Even if he's wondering at the sincerity of the compliment.]
Didn't you? [Mukuro paused in his perusing of the sketchbook to look up at Chikusa Kakimoto, one eyebrow delicately raised.] You have dispatched more of my brethren than any has in your generation. Yet instead of being hailed as a saint or savior, you're feared and shunned.
[He let the book snap shut as he stood at Chikusa's retort, stepping close enough to him that he could reach out and touch him if he felt like. He resisted the urge for a moment, leaning forward with his lips quirked slightly at the corners.]
I merely help grant wishes that are held quietly in the human heart. Most were grateful to know that someone had heard their prayers and cared enough to respond. Are you sure it's not in human nature to 'sin' and be forgiven in endless cycles? What joy is there to be had to be alone and righteous?
[That being said, Mukuro only let out a small laugh, going to return the sketchbook to its rightful place, instead plucking out a textbook.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
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Mukuro canted his borrowed face to the side, lips curling up.]
Of course not.
[His grin widened, and he actually had the audacity to wink at Chikusa.]
You forgot the 'sama'.
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Then, despite himself, he burst out laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth, his head tipped back as he laughed for a good long while, a few 'kufus' escaping his lips as it wound down.
He looked up at Chikusa's face, still snickering with laughter.]
You don't need holy water to make me wet, Chikusa.
[Fuck is this the terrible pick up lines meme again whoops.]
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[He's well aware of what he'd done. An insult, a dismissal, something to act as a reminder that this is a confrontation of wills and that the creature wasn't wanted. For a second, he thought that the point had been reached as he had stared down into that shocked expression.]
[Yet instead of curses or swears or incomprehensible horrendous noise, there's.... laughter, of all things.]
[What can you do in the face of something like that? All he can do is go back to the ritual, reciting St. Mark quietly but firmly beneath the torrent of laughter. Reaching the end of the passage and the demon's laughter quieting seem to go in sync. It's something he's willing to overlook, up until he speaks again.]
[Most demons he's come into contact with have offered sexual services in one of two ways: the first being just crass threats more than anything, and the second being honeyed words.]
[This is... He's not sure what to make of this.]
[The long bland stare he directs down into the demon's gaze is just as blank as all the ones before it, with a hint of bewilderment somewhere in the undercurrent.]
...You've been in that body for too long.
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Perhaps I should make you a bargain, priest.
[He tried his best to shake some of the holy water out of his face, annoyed at the steam that was continuously sizzling off of him, at the itching at being in an unaccommodating vessel being made all the more inhospitable.]
Let me visit you again and I will leave your teacher be.
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[While it might not show so obviously, something in Chikusa relaxes. There, this is what he's more used to. Deals, a silver tongue, promises. It's not... whatever he was talking about before with being wet.]
[Still, what a strange request. He tilts his head ever so slightly as he stares down at the demon with an analytical tint to his gaze. Is this simply an attempt to leap from one member of the clergy to the next to harm their number? Chikusa doubts he could fight against a possession so well as his teacher, but he can at least say he won't give permission.]
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[It was said in an almost bored tone, Mukuro leaning his borrowed body back in his chair to cant his gaze up to meet Chikusa's fully.]
I haven't met a human of your caliber in quite some time. I'm curious about you, Chikusa Kakimoto. Nothing more, nothing less.
[Which wasn't the half of it, of course, but since when were demons straight forward? And Mukuro was known as being one of the wiliest of the lot. Still, it was enough of the truth that it might pass for sincere. For all of Chikusa's great achievements, he was alone. No one had made the effort to understand him, only to use him. At least Mukuro would have the decency to do both.
He let his eyes slide halfway shut, exhaling slightly. Being in this restricted body was an annoyance, and he longed to be out of it.]
I would suggest you decide quickly. Your teacher is nearing his limit.
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[Especially not with the reputation demons have culminated over the many long centuries. They're the kind of sweet promises that have made legions of people fall prey to sin and into hell before him.]
[Even as he says that, however, Chikusa is weighing over the pros and cons hastily in his mind. It would be for the best if one of the Church's patriarchs could be brought back instead of perishing. They can't afford to lose anyone, not really.]
[Besides... This could be a test. A way to strengthen himself against demonic forces. That was why the Lord tested people, after all, to make themselves stronger. Perhaps this was a similar opportunity? To learn if nothing else. Wetting his fingers with holy water, he traces the cross over his teacher's forehead.]
...Leave this man alone for the rest of his life and afterlife, and you may visit me once in exchange, Mukuro.
[Even if demons go back on their words, this is worth a try. If it fails, well, he can stay here for as long as necessary for this exorcism.]
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[But it was a foreign thing in their mouths, as distasteful as a bitter lemon might be to humans. Still, the fact that Chikusa wasn't succumbing to his ~charisma~ as easily as others had. It was as admirable as it was vexing.
He kept quiet for once as Chikusa weighed his options, more interested in getting the young priest to agree of his own free will. Small concessions could be piled up over time, and Mukuro was counting both on his curiosity and his bond with his teacher to get him to agree.
So when Chikusa leaned forward to trace the sign of the cross on his host's forehead, he could see it for what it was. An opportunity.]
Don't forget the 'sama' next time, and we'll have a deal.
[Still, he released Chikusa's mentor as promised, glad to be out of that feeble flesh sack, stretching in relief. He would stick around unseen and unheard to see the aftermath of his work, though.]
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[Still, he will give the demon this: it's prompt. Almost immediately he can see the difference in his teacher as the steam from his skin starts to fade away, and his face goes slack. This time instead of steady slowness, Chikusa's words quicken for the closing prayers and blessings so that he can drop down to kneel besides the older man. All of his vitals, he checks immediately before the Bible snaps shut.]
[Chikusa is by all means religious. Incredibly so, in fact. However, he's not the type to be so blinded by his faith to think his book is going to be a suitable replacement for first aid.]
[Predictably, his teacher is dazed and tired from his purely human body having been mistreated and malnourished while used as a puppet. Demonic possession and its after effects aren't the only thing to worry about. Chikusa acts promptly, finishing up the cleansings before calling for assistance. Other priests and nuns hurry in, helping where he can't on his own. Chikusa stays nearby, for a while, until they've helped the man into a car to get him to the nearest hospital.]
[Chikusa doesn't go with them.]
[Instead, as composed as when he'd first stepped into that room, he returns to the church. That's out of his hands, now, and the Lord knows just how much he needs to put into his prayers today especially. Bowing his head at this point and clasping his hands in prayer is almost as familiar to him as walking or breathing by this point in his life.]
[It's been one of the only stable things he's ever possessed.]
[What life he could have had was robbed from him long ago, after all. A single child to first generation parents in a foreign country, left on his own after a disastrous accident... The row of foster homes that had come after had left him adrift, unanchored, until finally one worked out for longer than only a few months or meager year. So much religious fervor in one household could have probably kept a hundred demons out, or at least that's what it had certainly felt like to a child. The other children in that home had never cared for such strictness, but Chikusa had welcomed it. It had moored him when he couldn't find any such thing with his peers, too quiet and distant to easily make friends.]
[There's something reassuring in knowing that merely bowing his head and believing will have his words heard to someone who cares. Anyone.]
[After prayer, he spends the rest of the day making sure he's cleansed of any sin and given whatever blessing he can receive. Will it stop a powerful demon from taking his body? Of course not. The day's exorcism has proven it can come for him whenever it wants and not be stopped. However, that doesn't mean he has to make it easy for it.]
[Prayer, cleansing, blessings, and then helping tend to the church... It takes up the rest of the day easily, and, by the time Chikusa leaves, night has fallen. He doesn't let it worry him as he sets off for his home, a rosary wrapped around his wrist and palm with his thumb rubbing at the beads. He recites verses in his head the whole way home. Usually, it's only half devotion, and just as half something to occupy his mind.]
[However, making a bargain with a demon makes things seem a little more relevant than usual.]
[It's that same thinking which has him bless every inch of his apartment when he gets there. There's not much ground to cover. He's never wanted for much, and that includes living space. The decor is plain, too, but that just leaves less for him to worry over, right? It's what he often tells himself whenever he's fixed a plain dinner and eaten by the window. Tonight, however, that's not what's on his mind. Instead, as one hand helps him eat, he sketches lightly in a small journal. Its pages are filled with a lot of things, often idle sketches from a particularly noteworthy individual he'd seen at the church, or a scene from outside his apartment.]
[Today, it's of his teacher- expression twisted into a smug smirk, one eye distinctly different from the other.]
[Heterochromia. It's a notable trait. Perhaps if he does run into it again, he'll be able to take notes for the church. It may make future exorcisms of it easier.]
[Despite how he's perfectly prepared for his humble abode to be turned upside down... Nothing happens for the rest of the night, and Chikusa recites his evening prayers with a slight frown. His mind is elsewhere. Was it just a bluff, to hide weakness that wasn't immediately apparent? Perhaps he just needs to be patient, and not let his guard down.]
[For now, however, he turns out the light and thinks of it no longer as he drifts to sleep with a cross resting over his chest.]
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As he shadowed Chikusa's routine, he took in everything, missing nothing. The lack of people who checked up on him after exorcising a powerful demon. No one who took him aside to tell him to be careful. No one had accompanied him home to make sure he would be fine. Curious. Did people fear him as much as the demons did?
He followed him home on light steps, looking around his small home and seeing a lack of personal items that spoke volumes. This could have been an apartment he had just moved into, not a place he had lived for years. Mukuro had been in ruins that had more personality of its owners, and that was after treasure hunters had stripped everything dry.
With an unabashed amusement, he watched Chikusa sketch his eyes with great care, settled on the edge of his bed when he fell asleep, before turning away from him. There were others to pursue after all, even if Chikusa was his current preference, and he didn't want to be too predictable after all.
Mukuro would wait a week before appearing to Chikusa in his dreams, molding it after the priest's apartment, nestled near the windows, the moonlight streaming in to frame his
distinct pineapplehair in a silver sort of halo, a thin ponytail draped over his shoulder, reaching his waist easily. To play favorites with favorites, he'd chosen the form he liked the most, a youthful looking man with fair skin, a wicked grin, and mismatched eyes. Many a mortal had found the appearance beautiful, though he doubted such petty tricks would be effective against Chikusa. Still, it couldn't hurt.He was humming softly as he flipped through Chikusa's sketch pad, amusement curling his lips upwards.]
Everything you imagined, Chikusa Kakimoto?
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[It's hard to explain. At some points in his life, he's felt similar: like the world is only half there, foggy and distant. It's a side effect of particularly adrenaline filled moments, he thinks, but that's not something he wakes out of bed for. Carefully, he removes the covers from his legs and gets him, trying to shake his head. Nothing. It's all very confusing until he shuffles out from his bedroom into the rest of the apartment.]
[Ah.]
[Things make sense now.]
[Removing his hand from his messy hair, he observes the man sitting at his window. The shine of mismatched eyes doesn't escape him.]
I suppose it's not surprising, considering how you were when we first met.
[Even as he makes his way into the kitchen area, he keeps an eye on the demon cautiously.]
This isn't real, is it?
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[It was asked almost idly, Mukuro still leisurely flipping through Chikusa's sketchbook. Even if it wasn't real, he had taken great pains to recreate it, right down to the minute details in each talented sketch.
That astute observation made Mukuro look up, amused, gaze sharpening. This one was an intelligent one, but not one of the humans who boasted about it like it was such a great thing. No, this one seemed to know the price of what intelligence brought. Isolation. Loneliness. Nothing but trouble. Though, perhaps Mukuro was contributing more to the last than anything else.]
Is anything you know real? That book you cling to so fervently, those prayers you know by heart, the god you supposedly pray to?
[Gdi Mukuro this is why you have no friends.]
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[At least, if nothing else, it had certainly shut him up more than regular water would have done.]
[Coming to a stop, he rests his hands on the counter overlooking the little room. Never before has he had to deal with this kind of dream. What kind of protection does he have? It's hard to say, but treating it lightly can't be an option.]
Is a theological discussion all you came to have?
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[It was said dryly enough, the sting of holy water still memorable after a week's worth of time. Mukuro closed the sketch book decisively, getting up to stretch. It had been a while since he had tried to walk in a human's dreams, and while it wasn't as stifling as possessing one, it was still constraining. He wandered a bit closer, canting his head to the side as he smirked.]
Or have you been isolated for so long you can't remember how to have a proper conversation?
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[Just... on his own.]
[But it's fine, he reminds himself firmly. He's still living a good life. For now, he focuses on the demon on the other side of an imaginary counter space.]
I'm simply disbelieving that a demon wants to talk and nothing else.
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[Mukuro paused, leaning against the counter, smirk curling at the edge of his lips.]
Well, except perhaps me.
[How does it feel priest, he was curious to know, to have a demon as his only visitor? Though for now, he would tread carefully.
He let out a small chuckle at Chikusa's ( well-founded ) disbelief, propping his chin up with an upturned palm.]
Are there other things you are willing to offer me then, Chikusa Kakimoto?
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...Everyone has been concerned with Father Morgan's condition, and I can tend to myself.
[But it's not something he truly wants, no. Admitting such weakness to a demon, however, is asking for trouble.]
[As much as he wants to distance himself from the creature, Chikusa stays where he is on the other side of the counter. He's not going to be chased off in his own home, even if it is a shadow of such.]
The only thing I agreed to was to let you visit me. I have no desire to give you anything else.
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We both know that your mentor will make a full recovery. Though it is admirable of your clergy, knowing full and well that a demon has taken an interest in you, are trying to distance themselves further still from you. I hadn't thought it possible.
[He turned back to face Chikusa with an amused smirk, red eye glowing ominously.]
Do you really value your company so little? [As for 'no desire' well. That would get an almost fond chuckle out of him.] Liar.
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[They're lessons he's listened to and committed to heart for years. He knows this. Still, the words dig in like nails on the back of his neck. As the demon walks off, Chikusa finally lets himself close his eyes and compose himself. Hail Mary, full of grace... That's right. Slowly, his shoulders straighten out, and he opens his eyes again to meet that eerie stare.]
It doesn't matter if other humans distance themselves from me.
[He has someone who will never leave him.]
Can a demon of all creatures really go around calling others "liars" and believe to be taken seriously?
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[Also known as the most difficult ones to get to. They would suffer in eternity with a damnable smile on their faces, and Mukuro could never bring himself to want to deal with them. Understanding them was bad enough, but comprehending them. Well.
He should have known really, since Chikusa Kakimoto seemed to find his peace rather quickly despite Mukuro's barbs, and with a light sigh, he turned away from him, heading into the bedroom. This place was far to small for his liking. Anything man-made typically was.]
Shouldn't that be taken more seriously than anyone else's word? A demon would know a liar better than anyone, wouldn't they?
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I'm hardly deserving of a title like that.
[All he does is his duty, and he tries not to complain. Sometimes it's not completely successful, but that's just a sign of how young and inexperienced he is, isn't it?]
[As the demon starts to drift towards his room, Chikusa finally makes a move to follow after him with a slight frown. Dream this might be, and demons don't exactly care about privacy or personal space, but it doesn't mean he has to like it just snooping about there. Especially since, in comparison to the rest of his apartment, there's a little more there. Sketchbooks that have been filled to the brink are nestled inbetween holy texts. A small shelf has its own collection of psychology books, studying the mental health of a person. Near the door, even, a rarely touched small rack of varying hats.]
And a demon can't be relied on to tell the truth, so accusations from one such as yourself are inherently untrustworthy.
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[As if he was unaware or unknowing of Chikusa following him, Mukuro entered in the bedroom casually. He ran his hands gently over the spines of each of the books, taking in the titles and how many sketchbooks there were.]
Because all men are known to be completely honest? [He turned to look back at Chikusa Kakimoto, mouth curled up in amusement, though his eyes were sharp.] Or are you just picking and choosing what to believe, like so many of the faithful? So quick to label us as beyond saving but forgetting we were angels once, too.
[He plucked out a sketchbook at random, settling down to sit on Chikusa's bed.]
You're rather talented.
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[Following after him, he frowns and ignores the rest of the statement. It's becoming more and more obvious that humoring such a thing merely encourages the creature.]
Perhaps you were once angels. However, that does not get rid of the fact that, whenever your kind interact with humans, you attempt to drag them into sin. That is the difference between believing you, and believing a fallible human.
...And thank you, I suppose. [Even if he's wondering at the sincerity of the compliment.]
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[He let the book snap shut as he stood at Chikusa's retort, stepping close enough to him that he could reach out and touch him if he felt like. He resisted the urge for a moment, leaning forward with his lips quirked slightly at the corners.]
I merely help grant wishes that are held quietly in the human heart. Most were grateful to know that someone had heard their prayers and cared enough to respond. Are you sure it's not in human nature to 'sin' and be forgiven in endless cycles? What joy is there to be had to be alone and righteous?
[That being said, Mukuro only let out a small laugh, going to return the sketchbook to its rightful place, instead plucking out a textbook.]
You're welcome. Have you shown these to others?
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