Aces with Love
Episode 5 - The Last Waltz Arc [I] 3-3
TRIUMPH
“You see how it is then.” Father Mori nodded toward Cecilia. It had been a few minutes since she woke from the projection. The two masked and beaked Church-fellows sat in silence on the floor as the candles began to be snuffed out by unseen wind. “Your report is… very interesting.”“I wish I could recount more, but it did genuinely just end up… being mostly that first part.” Cecilia was afraid to admit. The dream-projection was a very experimental and introspective experience for her. There was a lot to reflect on and internalize. “But, I learned about lust… and I know now it is more than just sex and sexual desire. Honestly, the deadly sins were easier to understand in their most neutered and simple forms.”
“That is always the case. But, as you told me, you have learned greatly and you know you are able to fight this creature now.” A closed mouth cough behind the mask rattled Mori’s entire head. “Ghhrhk… Lust… isn’t just the body trying to escape the all rational control of the soul - a disregard for morals of the body. Nor was it ever just a physical thing.”
“Does this lust affect the Holy Orders in other ways than physical as well…?”
“It does. Novelty and comfort - the lust of theologians, I believe. But yes, lust is merely about mind over matter… The saints have said it for so long - the baser appetites that get the better of us will consume us instead.” His mouth tasted of blood. This truly was the last contribution he would ever grant to the world, unless he did something drastic. “The demon, as you saw it in the dream… it loved the sacrilege of what it did to your body. The heretical humiliation. There is a proverb, ‘The corruption of the best is the worst’.”
“I see.” The masked Cecilia nodded. She cocked her head, concerned for Mori’s condition. There was so much she wished she could do. “A disorder of the soul… even though I lacked one, I am not free of sin either. Curious. The price of free will is to be drawn to the possibility of sin…?”
“Those we surround ourselves with are the surgeons of our morality. When we are sick, we sometimes forget to seek out a doctor. The spirit is like a bone. It can only be made better with treatment and not just time.” Unlike himself, where treatment for his ailment was impossible. Mori did not dare let her know that his vision had faded more and more in the past minutes alone. “Human dignity… is tied to our health. If we drown our behaviours in temptations, we are bound to flood the body with all kinds of ills.”
“Father Mori… before you mentioned novelties?”
“Novelties… comforts, self-seeking activities… These cravings, if we allow ourselves to be goaded by them, these cravings… it makes us like vampires.” Ironic. It was a shame that he would not see the warrior that Cecilia was bound to become. She would soon face this demon again and a literal vampire. The witch and the doll would be hardly a stone to stumble over, but Cecilia would have her hands full with the other two. Mori had to trust in himself that he prepared her properly. “Our desire… will always try to affix itself to nature and away from God. The laws of man and God are not too different. If only we understood more often, that these laws teach us how to live…”
Father Mori collapsed backwards. His cane had been laid down as he sat, but now he unknowingly kicked it away. Cecilia, wordlessly came to his rescue, his defense. She grasped him and held him up again. Never before did he seem so fragile. So weak. Yet, he continued to preach.
“Sister… Cecilia. Novelty is a disorder. A desire. We know better, but we do things for ourselves, our egos… we let our imperfect souls triumph over God’s plan. But… we are not the authors of this life. If you fall into novelty and lust, you will not be made full. You will always hunger and like that beast… you’ll never find satisfaction from that hunger, no matter how much you devour - even if you were to devour yourself!”
“Mori… you don’t have to struggle on. I can cradle you until you pass.” His head rested in her grasp.
“As if! This isn’t a movie! I’m not going to die after saying something cryptic in your arms! I have months left to live! I am just weak as of now!” Mori could be as bitter and stubborn as an old man for someone his age. But truly, his spirit was filled with that of wisdom. “Listen… Don’t second guess anything. I believe you can have a soul, Cecilia… replace your egoism and selfishness with an infinite craving for spiritual goodness. You, like His creation, were made for the infinite. Do not be left with infinite emptiness, go into this fight with infinite good in your heart…”
“Are you really going to die on me? What am I going to do without your guidance?”
“Cecilia. You still lack discipline. If you are not satisfied with God, your empty shell will echo the serpent, Satan…” A gloved hand rested just above her heart. This was the first time Father Mori ever laid his hand on a woman in any way, shape or form. “Everyone wants to rewrite revelation, redefine God. Make His anger your own. But you… you just have to take his anger and fight with it. Leave your human self behind and be… the tool you wish to be. But you have to choose to be God’s blade, Cecilia.”
“This… isn’t fair.”
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” She lied. Her tears were visible even through the mask lenses.
“I have taught you what is holy and what is diabolical. The thrill of defeating evil will recede quickly as you age. Greater and greater doses will be needed to satisfy your will - over God’s. Hold onto the truth and do not become a wicked spirit. Those that hunt monsters… don’t need to become one.” Was this his vice? Comfort in the hands of someone like her? He felt weightless. If he had to die, one day soon, he did hope it was to be like this. That was very unlikely. His fate would be lonely and in seclusion. “When the war against the Dark is over… don’t pursue what remains between the shadows. You will achieve less and less each time. Like an addict. In this life, once God’s will is fulfilled… any excess is merely wrath. And with the vicious cycle of wrath - one must stop - or one must die.”
“I won’t falter, Father. I won’t falter!” This was the worst night of her life, so suddenly. She had hid her cruel smile behind faith for so long. Has her tail finally shown? Has her wickedness finally become apparent? Father Mori saw that her lack of spirit risked making her into the filth she was bound to slay. She had to be better. Cecilia knew she had to overcome this and without his help ever again. She would never be able to return to this Church, this country even. Exilement - where her only cathedral will be a shawl over her head as she prayed in closets for the rest of her life. “I won’t falter…”
This was far too much to put onto one girl’s shoulders. Mori thought that what the Watchers subjugated the Slayers with was cruel enough. But Cecilia, she might as well not even have a life at all. Or a chance at it. Doomed. Created to do evil, forced to do good. There was no Heaven nor Hell for her.
“Cecilia. Head off now. Purify yourself with holy water and prepare for the fight to end all fights on this night. Be fed by the Revelations and Triumph! Be fed and be nourished. Or yield to the cravings and demands that never rest of wickedness…” Mori’s hand returned to his own side. Even he had to fight, actively, the urge to feel her womanhood. To validate it. And his own manhood - long suppressed for the vows he had taken. “Let us pray. And let us work to yield the truth. There is no point in trying to be its master. The truth is what leads us and prevents us from going astray.”
And so they did.
Cecilia prepared to leave Father Mori. She was sure to get him back into his seat to continue his stupendously large workload - for a man damned to agony and death in solitude. Often, Cecilia knew not what the Holy See thought about how it treated its warriors. They were work-horses of the working-class war against the Dark. But to what benefit, other than the salvation offered to all those that believed? A salvation she did not even have.
Before she headed off into the night for this holy war to take place at the university, she absorbed the atmosphere of the Cathedral study. Every wall was littered with shelves of books. Endless books.
Growing up the way she did, books were the only comfort she had - the only gift she was given. To understand humans, to understand the natural born organics. Everywhere she knew, all her life - was full of books. Drawing rooms, studies, cloakrooms, shelved layered two books deep - every landing another book case. In the bedrooms, high as her shoulder. Books of all kinds. Readable and unreadable. Terrible and perfect. Fact or fiction. Study or non-sense.
Were the books of war and history necessary for her? There was no literature ever forbidden from her. She was a manifestation of humans as written through those words. Now - she felt just how empty she was.
Before she left, she took volume after volume of several random reading materials. She knew that Mori would not judge her.
She just wanted to read something new, for once.
For as many books as she read, it would be like trying to find a new blade of grass in a field - as someone who walked in fields day and night.
Cecilia wondered - if she had a soul, what sort of book would she write? And what would it be like?
“Books are quiet friends.
They never leave you behind.
They are wise.
Surgeons of your soul - treating you for all sorts of illness and sick.
They are counselors and patient teachers.
Reading is a form of political action - knowledge is a weapon
Books are a reflection
And written words of prose or poetry have this wicked ability to change your mind
To read as I do is a blessing
It is like talking with the dead or living among a time that no longer exists
To be relaxed, to be invigorated
Writing can help you set aside worries of life
And trust me friends, there are a lot of things to be worried about
Friends come and go, allies may die and families may become cold
But the company of a good book? Lasts forever
While it is important to taste the sweet, richness of life
Like blood and chocolate
Reading grants wealth to the spirit, even if you don’t have one
Create beautiful images from chosen words
I cannot imagine a world where I am not reading or being read
I am sure many will hate my words
Just as I hate how the words do not come simply because I place my quill into some ink
Regardless of it all
I hope that what you have read of my own
Is as sweet
As Blood and Chocolate”
British Poet William “The Bloody Awful” Pratt
Excerpt From:
“Blood and Chocolate” - Rejected By Publisher
They never leave you behind.
They are wise.
Surgeons of your soul - treating you for all sorts of illness and sick.
They are counselors and patient teachers.
Reading is a form of political action - knowledge is a weapon
Books are a reflection
And written words of prose or poetry have this wicked ability to change your mind
To read as I do is a blessing
It is like talking with the dead or living among a time that no longer exists
To be relaxed, to be invigorated
Writing can help you set aside worries of life
And trust me friends, there are a lot of things to be worried about
Friends come and go, allies may die and families may become cold
But the company of a good book? Lasts forever
While it is important to taste the sweet, richness of life
Like blood and chocolate
Reading grants wealth to the spirit, even if you don’t have one
Create beautiful images from chosen words
I cannot imagine a world where I am not reading or being read
I am sure many will hate my words
Just as I hate how the words do not come simply because I place my quill into some ink
Regardless of it all
I hope that what you have read of my own
Is as sweet
As Blood and Chocolate”
British Poet William “The Bloody Awful” Pratt
Excerpt From:
“Blood and Chocolate” - Rejected By Publisher
Editor’s Note:
“William! You cruel fool, how often are you going to revise this with little to no changes under the misguided perspective that it will somehow be printed? I appreciate your enthusiasm but – there is nothing to be enthralled by here! This is bloody awful, frankly. I needed to read this like I needed a spike in my neck. Please, get yourself together and perhaps rethink your career. I don’t think this even counts as poetry.”
