Log;Complete

[snarky-padre-v.livejournal.com]

When January 29th costume switch curse day
RatingPG for kidnappy scariness
Characters; Father Vincentsnarky_padre_v, Walter Sullivan holy_assumption
Summary; Sauntering about in Rosiel drag, Vincent finds himself assailed by a mysterious attacker in Henry's clothes.Chaos and 'Room'-y doom ensue!
Log;
and this is my first attempt to use that Semagic proggy, so bear with me...


IN spite of his initial dismay at realising he had, in one drunken afternoon, pissed off Rosiel, repulsed Lacroix, and snarked at a good many other citizens, Vincent had been more upset to realize this particular curse day had wound him up dressed in an outfit that seemed likely to belong to Rosiel on top of all else.
He griped around the network for awhile about it, but to no avail.
Everyone else was experiencing wardrobe malfunctions this day, implying the whole thing was another of the City's wicked little curses.
Resigning himself to his fate, Vincent took his red-velvet clad self out of the house and down the road to the coffeehouse.
---

Something was wrong. Horribly, tragically and abysmally wrong. In addition to being unable to access the Otherworld, and indeed, many of his other Gods-given gifts, Walter was stuck in Henry's clothes. To reiterate, he woke up in the clothes of the very same man who had 'killed' him (again) and separated him from Mother. Insult added to grave injury. To make it worse, the damned things were too tight on him, anyway. It kept getting better and better...
Perhaps another audience with Vincent was in order. The priest's words had weighed heavily on Walter's mind in the days since their first meeting, and there was still so much he needed to learn. And surely Vincent would tell him everything he needed to know. After all, what would Vincent stand to gain by lying to him?

Vincent was, of course, unaware Walter was anywhere out there looking for him. He continued on his way to the coffeehouse.

Walter had taken to seeking the relative safety of the wild when he had no need of a terminal to access the network. Having spent most of his childhood and teenage years in Wish House, which was in itself located in the heart of the Silent Hill forest, he felt quite at home in the wooded terrain and certainly knew how to to take advantage of the cover it provided. It was just too bad that a certain red velvet-clad individual did not; indeed, the man wasn't even bothering with stealth, as the sound of broken boughs would attest. This would be fun... Walter had not had a chance to 'hunt' since his arrival in the City. He barely breathed, barely blinked as he crept forward, dry leaves and twigs silent under his feet.

Vincent knew these woods, and liked them; he could walk here with confidence knowing that altho Alessa's 'children' roamed here too they were much shyer here than in the tunnels. Less likely to molest him, anyway...strangers need watch their step. It did not occur to Vincent to move stealthily...the city was where the danger was, not the woods.

Walter shot from the shadows, slamming Vincent to the ground with one hand, pinning him down with the other. Instinctively, his now free hand slid down to close around the other man's neck. The message was clear -- move and I take your throat out. Or at least it was until Walter paused, drinking in the sight of the man's eyes widened with fear and surprise, and recognized him for who he was. "Vincent," he said dryly, releasing his hold and rising to his feet.

Vincent, by his own admission was by his very nature a pretty jumpy guy. Like Walter he'd seen all manner of monstrosities during his stint in Silent Hill; since coming to the City he'd faced death with no little infrequency as well. His fighting skills, tho improved, were still lax, ditto what small amount of power he'd amassed. What Vincent DID have was a pretty quick recovery rate, and enough of a quick tongue that he ~sometimes~ managed to talk his way out of danger...Walter did manage to get something out of him few people in the City had, so far- a startled little shriek before his air supply was cut to almost nil. Luckily, Walter recognized him before he had to start trying to gasp out a plea for clemency. He stood up awkwardly after Walter let him go. "Walter," he said, voice a little hoarse now, "fnacy meeting you here."

"I didn't recognize you... like that," Walter's comment directed, rather obviously, at the rather flamboyant red velvet ensemble Vincent was presently decked out in. Of course, Walter had no room to talk. Greasy blonde hair rested on the collar of Henry's very own pale blue shirt. Worn over the same white undershirt. Tucked into the same blue jeans. Which ended just above the same nondescript black leather shoes. "I wanted to talk to you again," he added, not even a hint of an apology for the case of mistaken identity.

"Well, you certainly have an interesting way of initiating a conversation," Vincent quipped, brushing himself off, "a simple 'hello there. got a few?' would have sufficed.What's on your mind? I was about to get a cup of joe. Join me in one?"

Fortunately for Vincent, Walter chose to ignore that initial quip. Normally he would have taken Vincent's head for such an infraction, but it was worth more where it was for now. He would have to find more subtle ways to ensure that Vincent knew his place. "About the other night... you said that you had more to discuss with me." And... coffee? Now that was something he had not had since his days at Pleasant River University. All the pretentious psuedo-poet fucks used to hang out in coffeehouses, but otherwise, they were fairly private. Walter didn't particularly care about the location, and nodded his assent.

"I do, actually. I just hope I don't bore you too much with the fine details," Vincent. was secretly pleased ~someone~ had an interest in the traditions and things he'd been taught in seminary. Granted, it might have been better if that someone wasn't a known priestkiller, but he couldn't exactly be fussy...he considered saying something about Walter's clear discomfort with Henry's clothes, but chose not to. it would only leave an opening for Walter to note that he was in fact dressed in Rosiel's getup, and that was something he was hoping to forget.

Walter sat in perfect attentive silence as Vincent droned on at length about the finer points of rituals, ceremonies, invocations and evocations that even he, despite his extensive research in all things metaphysical, had no prior knowledge of. Walter was already privy to most of the basic truths of the hidden world and prided himself on his ability to recognize blatantly false sources from all of the dross, and so far Vincent was impressing him. He hadn't even touched his coffee as he stared at the priest,as if hanging on his every word.

"...took over a week to even begin, what with the purifications and so forth..." Vincent was telling what to him was a funny story, anyway, about a thing that had happened to him in seminary. Walter was staring, with seemingly rapt attention, but he didn't seem to laugh at the funny parts. "anyway," Vincent finished, warming his hands on his coffeecup, "I have most of these things memorized. and I'll teach them to you. You can be glad to have saved yourself the two months of abstinence I had to put up with."

"I'm sure that was quite hard for you," Walter finally remarked, extending a calloused hand to touch Vincent's lips, effectively silencing the priest. "And as fascinating as this all is, this really isn't the place." Which it wasn't. Vincent's knowledge would prove invaluable to his cause, but first Walter needed a place to stay. And what better place than the newly abandoned room 302 of Building 11? Joseph claimed that it had become 'infected' upon his arrival in the City, and while Walter wasn't sure how much of that he believed, there was no harm in investigating. Hell, he could almost appreciate the irony of it all. Walter rose from his seat, and without giving Vincent so much as a moment to react, curled his arm under the man's armpit and hauled him up to his feet. If the priest was smart, he'd trust Walter's lead and put his feet in autopilot. Here's hoping.

Vincent was still sort of surprised by the sensation of Walter having put a finger to his lips; he had touched his own mouth absentmindedly tryng to figure out if it meant anything, when Walter sort of started to scoop him up. "Where are we going?" he asked, no little startled by this, but knowing better than to fight back. He'd been in the presence of dangerous people enough by now to know- if they meant to kill you, you were already dead, and that was that.Better to just play it cool and see what this was all about.

"I will need some assistance," Walter replied, as if he hadn't even heard Vincent's question. His arm remained locked, vicelike, with the other man's. The expression on his face all but dared any passersby to make a comment as he escorted Vincent to the Square, where the apartment buildings were located.

Vincent wasn't sure what to make of this turn of events. It might have been a little less shocking if it wasn't what it was; that here he was, out for what had been meant to be a leisurely stroll, and now he was being all BUT frogmarched by Walter Sullivan, of all people, to some unknown location...it might have helped, also, if in this already surreal, frightening and yet ridiculous sitation he wasn't dressed in skintight red velvet, and Walter wasn't dressed in some dorky combo that looked like something Henry would wear.

Walter crossed the threshold into the eleventh building, and was not surprised to see that it looked nothing like South Ashfield Heights, the only apartment that he had any interest in whatsoever. He muttered an incoherent curse under his breath and ascended the stairs to the third floor, with Vincent toddling along at his side. This was proving to be an utter waste of his time, until... ..Mother...? She was calling him. She was here, even if it was in a weakened state. Walter all but dragged Vincent down the hall and brought him to an abrupt, bone-jarring halt at the door to room 302. A trembling hand circled the knob and he looked down at Vincent, the faintest hint of trepidation in his eyes.

Vincent wasn't in the best of shape to begin with, as he wasn't a very action oriented guy, so being made to scuttle along at Walter's pace had him winded, not to mention climbing the flights of stairs. room 302. Vincent should have seen this coming. he was going to mention something about how the hauntedness was probably some sort of psychosomatic thing on Joseph's part, but then he noticed that Walter had paused. the look on his face was nervous, reverent even. was there something to Schreiber's allegations? Vincent had figured the writer for being no little bit overexaggerative, but if even Walter was sensing something....Vincent waited to see what would happen next. not like he had a lot of choice; if he bolted Walter might harm him- shoot him in the back, or something. he WAS actually curious though. all this talk of what Walter had done in Ashfield...now he was going to find out a little about it.

Comments

[snarky-padre-v.livejournal.com]

(())

Walter paid no mind to the panting priest at his side. Indeed, he was squeezing Vincent's arm so tightly it would be in danger of snapping or pulled from its socket were either of them to make any sudden moves. But of course, this was done more out of nervousness on Walter's part as opposed to any conscious desire to harm Vincent. His body language should have been enough to tell him that; the man was all but shaking with both anxiety and religious fervor.
Just one turn of the knob and...

...there it was. Room 302, perfectly restored just as it had been before the Third Sign, when he had claimed his final victims. Same white walls, same carpet, same furniture...everything down to the finest detail. Joseph had been right all along. Walter would know his Mother anywhere, and She was here.

"Why has she chosen to show this side to me? Is it because I shamed Her by failing to complete the 21 Sacraments?" Walter mused aloud.
---

Vincent looked at the apartment. it didn't look like much to him. little walk in kitchen attached to an equally small living room. there was a short hallway that seemed to lead to a few other doors, but so far he wasn't sure what was so damned special about this apartment that Walter, Henry and Joseph all had this big to-do going on about it...
he sighed.rubbed his arm where up til now Walter had been clutching it. followed the man in.
"so. home sweet home, huh?" he said, without much enthusiasm. "is this the apartment you had wanted?" It did seeme strange to him though that the whatever-it-was that made this apartment so special had managed to manifest in the City. people got flung here willy nilly form myriad universes, but this was a room. how on earth had a magic room from near Silent Hill made itself over here??
---

"Yes..." Walter replied, although he looked for all intents and purposes to be gazing off into another world. "I brought Her the hearts of ten sinners, I performed the Holy Assumption here. She would have been reborn... there was only one Sacrament left, and I failed..."
---

"You failed to kill Henry." Vincent said, having heard something of this from, well, Henry. "I was led to understand it was sort of a mutually assured damage. I mean, he killed you, but he's under the impression he died shortly thereafter. I guess that's not quite good enough, huh? these rituals are so fussy...everything has to be to the letter. was there a time limit to your doing it? I mean, if not, maybe all you'll need to do is kill someone else. happy ending after all..."
---

That was certainly a tempting proposition, and Walter did consider it. Granted, Vincent was the only one in his immediate vicinity, and he could have easily exsanguinated him on the spot, but the Final Sacrament was the Receiver of Wisdom and Vincent was definitely more of the 'Temptation' type.

"You spoke of other rituals... and that two are needed. Perhaps I've just been doing it wrong..."
--

Vincent shrugged, as he continued looking around the place. "That's likely. I mean...no offense to you or anything, Walter, but there are so many things the clergy may have kept from you. I understand your rage at them, however. still...in your shoes I'd have at least bled them for information before you bled them for...well..." even as he said this, Vincent had to start worrying...was this what Walter was doing with him right now? a bit of advice the killer had already taken to heart? and if it was...how likely was he to be able to go from here? "I...have some books back at the house," he said, "I could always...I mean, now that I know where you're planning to stay I could go do some research for you. Come back when I have some ideas of what we can try..." Vincent smiled hopefully. now was the moment. was he Walter's prisoner or not?
---

"You sound so eager to leave, Vincent. Does my presence disturb you that much? You are under my protection, so what do you have to fear from me?"
---

[snarky-padre-v.livejournal.com]

"No, no, I just..." he just what? Vincent couldn't think of a reason that would be likely to appease Walter. It looked like he was going to be stuck here for as long as Walter wanted him about.