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"He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."
Hysterical; the call of malice to the creatures of the night fills the crypt. Bloodied magic sweeps the room in search of its tribute. An unseen watcher lurks, taking in this waking dream rapaciously.
He wakes in a manic frenzy. A sudden wash of blinding light sends slivers of pain stabbing into his eyes. With something akin to a rabid hiss, he throws himself from the stone bed to hide from the sharp glare. Raging blue eyes flash incandescent in the still shadows. His chest heaves as lungs gulp down stale oxygen. A useless tactic since his heart long stopped beating. Had it ever started? He can scarcely remember. Long limbs are ensnared in the moth-eaten fabric of his burial shroud. Pain ebbs at the lower half of his body like a slow rising tide from the harsh contact between himself and the hard floor. A faint echo bounces off the weathered corridors; taunting him, reaching out to him. Bones, long at rest, creak and crack with the movements of the shadowed figure.
He rises like a nightmare from the depths of ones own subconscious; glorious and terrifying among the darkness. Cerulean depths seem to glow with an archaic power. He feels energy wash over his panting figure and senses the very shadows around him creep forth, contaminating his trembling figure and surging through his veins. He brings up his hands; elegant fingers draped taut with bronze flesh. The man, no, the creature can feel it dancing around his hands, tapping out a beat like a pulse. It filled the cavity of his hollow chest. What was it? He stared hard at the almost foreign extremities, concentrating on what he could not see. In the pit of his gut he could feel something sparking to life and fueling his very essence. It was a thirst unlike any other. His razor-like gaze was drawn to his own reflection in the dim and oxidized tributes laid around the forgotten tomb. When his eyes connected in the reflection, an odd sensation filled his breast, as if he were looking at a different person. Brows drawn down in confusion and pain lacing his features, he could only gasp out one word to that stranger staring back at him.
"Help."
Then, with a crack of thunder and a bone-chilling scream, the monster was brought to his knees. There was nothing to tether this creature, so hungry for life, to the darkness in which it dwells.
It seems it dwells no longer.
Jason awoke with a start. Heaving a weary groan, he ran a hand across his face. He hadn't meant to fall asleep and his back was yelling at him now in the way it ached from his hunched posture. He sighed as he looked down at the chipped table with bills scattered across them. Sure, maintaining the church could be boring when it came down to the menial stuff but he didn't think it'd be so mind-numbing he'd fall asleep sitting at the table in the back room. With a sigh, he attempted to pick up where he left off. That proved to be a difficult endeavor when his heart thumped almost painfully in his chest at the memory of his...dream? It felt too real to be called such a thing, but there was no way it was anything else.
The pain and horror that tainted the man as he looked upon himself was something Jason would never forget. The agony that rippled through him in that last parting moment, that scream, it would haunt him for weeks to come, surely. Another deep roll of thunder had the priest startle in his seat. Reflexively, he looked to the window to see the storm rolling in. It must have been what awoke him. He wasn't sure whether he was grateful or not.
The person in his dream had been beautiful - achingly so - but so utterly distraught. There was something else about him that Jason couldn't quite place. Clearly, he'd been something inhuman given the way his eyes lit up the darkness. But that wasn't what had drawn his attention. 'Help.' There was a deep, unwavering need to find the troubled being and aid him however possible. But there was a gut instinct that drove him back. Something in his aura had the holy man backtracking, even if it had just been a dream. As glorious as the man had been, there was something decidedly profane about him. Something that caused Jason to grasp the rosary around his neck and whisper a silent prayer to ward off evil.
With every pious word that passed his lips, Jason felt a little calmer. Soon, he went to let go of the necklace but he hesitated. Doubt lingered around him like a shroud. It wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares but this felt like so much more. It almost felt prophetic. If there was one thing he's learned, it was that his gut was usually right. At the moment, it was telling him that this wasn't simply in his head. So, he heeded his instincts as he let the beads drop back around his neck. Cautiously, he rose from the uncomfortable seat and grabbed his coat. This was a feeling he just couldn't shake.
Every step made from the back room to the front door of the cathedral was measured and anxious. He shifted his gaze wearily around the shadows as he walked like he was waiting for something to leap out at him. The memories of that all-consuming darkness replayed in his head, making him jumpy. Going outside was no better. There was no light to be seen thanks to the heavy storm clouds rolling in that blotted out the moon and stars. Perhaps the only thing that didn't cause the priest to shift with unease was the heavy scent of petrichor that filled the air. Just about anywhere else, it'd be a pleasant smell but in Gotham it was sickly. The dirty, polluted streets only seemed to intensify in stench when the storms came through.
Jason hesitated on the concrete steps, unsure of what he was doing. Doubt crawled through his veins as he looked around. He wasn't even sure where he was going. All he knew was that he felt something beckoning him this way. He should go back in to work on the bills he's been falling behind on. If he was lucky, he'd be able to finish before having to get ready for the day. But that dream wouldn't stop haunting him. The desperation dripping from that one word pulled at his heart. That tugging sensation kept pulling him forward. Could this be a test of faith? Even if it wasn't, he still wanted to check. Jason felt deep in his soul that someone needed his help. Who was he to ignore that call? Steeling himself, he took a step down to the small, cracked pavement. A bolt of lightning lit up the night. The crash of thunder that trailed behind covered up his horrified gasp.
Illuminated by the flash was a man sprawled across the stairs. It wasn't just any man. Laying there was the being from his dream (premonition?, he'd have to think about it later). He wasted no time rushing down the few steps and crouching next to the naked figure. Just like in his not-dream, the man was devastatingly beautiful yet radiated an evil so profound that Jason faltered in his steps. Rivulets of black ran down the steps and splattered the creature's bronze skin. If he looked closely, Jason could see how he trembled like he was in pain. Going by the soft, almost soundless pants that punctuated the quivering, Jason knew it to be so.
Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on the bare skin of the man's shoulder. The flesh was unnaturally cold under his touch. The contact dragged a gasp and flinch from the injured being. Jason reeled back immediately, afraid it hurt him. Slowly, the man turned his head and gazed up at Jason with the widest, most pained eyes he'd ever seen. It caused the priest's heart to twist pitifully. Black ichor dripped from those beautiful, trembling lips in a sluggish trickle. It took him a moment to realize that the way those eyes were shining wasn't just from the glow of the iris but the welling of tears as well. He was overwhelmed with the urge to hug the man and chase away that which was hurting him.
When cool drops of rain began to fall upon them, Jason made the quick decision to scoop the man up. It was more difficult than he anticipated. Contrary to the his sleek build, he weighed as if he were made of stone. With a huff of exertion, Jason took the first step up to the church. That's when the man let out a pained keen and writhed in his grasp. The priest nearly dropped him as he wiggled around. Jason stumbled to the side and leaned against the ornate stone railing to keep steady as the man thrashed. He had to grit his teeth to keep his hold on the injured stranger. If he listened carefully, he could hear soft a 'No, no, not there' being whispered through soft gasps. That only caused the wrong feeling to intensify. Few creatures would reject shelter in a holy place. The ones that did were abominations.
Still, Jason couldn't find it in himself to abandon him, no matter what he may or may not be. Looking down at those angelic features twisted in anguish, he knew he couldn't reject him. If all demons were so enchanting then he could understand why so many fell to their charms. With slow, uneasy steps, he backed down from the church. Each bit of distance had the man calming in his arms. That worried the priest deeply, yet he never put him down. It went against everything he stood for to leave another to suffer alone. If there was a chance he could help, even if it was an unholy beast, then he had to take that chance. For a moment, he let his eyes slide back to the spot he found the man. Rivers of black now ran down the steps as the rain washed it away. Jason swallowed thickly when he looked back at the blood now coating his clothes.
There was a brief moment where he stood on the sidewalk just looking up and down the streets. Jason had no idea where to go from here and the man (demon?) in his arms wasn't getting any lighter. He definitely didn't want to bring this possible demon into his home. If this was all a ruse, that's all the invitation it would need to destroy Jason. With a huff he decided on a location. It wasn't the most legal of areas, but it was for a good cause as well as safer for him and that should outweigh the bad in his opinion. The priest began to walk through the darkened streets and prayed nobody would look out their window to see them. It may be around three in the morning, but it was Gotham and Jason had notoriously terrible luck.
Just across the street and a few buildings down was a boarded-up old grocers. Breaking in wouldn't be difficult, but it was certainly against the law. After placing the man down and murmuring for forgiveness, Jason pried off some of the rotted boards. He only needed to move enough to get the stranger through. Leaving him outside for everyone to see was a decidedly bad idea in his current state. For a moment, Jason debated on dragging him in but figured it'd probably hurt him even more since he was stark naked. And boy, was it difficult to ignore that when he was supernaturally beautiful. The only thing stopping him from going down that sinful rabbit hole were the small sounds of torment coming from the stranger. Quite frankly, it was getting a bit worrisome.
With a little effort and a mental promise to start working out again, Jason got the being safely inside and laid out behind the counter. At least there they'd have some semblance of privacy should anyone decide to peek in. It wasn't the nicest place to put an injured person, the pungent stench of mildew clogged the air and dust was everywhere, but it was better than the cathedral steps. The priest sighed heavily as he looked at the blood-soaked body. As much as he tried to deny it, the dark liquid smeared across his naked form only added to the ethereal beauty. Jason had to remind himself that it was blood from injuries to stop from marveling at the sight. He internally berated himself for a moment before going to stand.
"I'm gonna find som-'
He didn't even get half way through his sentence before a firm grip on his forearm halted him. Those blue doe eyes had his heart stuttering in his chest.
"D-don't."
It was soft, almost lost to the sound of the storm, but so imploring that Jason didn't even bother to get back up. Then, that hand slipped down to his own and tugged him just a little closer. He had to bite his tongue at the sensation of their joined hands; cool and slick with rain and ichor. The priest kneeled next to his chest as he looked into those incandescent blue eyes. It was easier to ignore the divine body and the thoughts that came with it if he was only turned toward the man's face.
"Alright, what do you need? What's wrong?"
Jason watched as he parted his lips to speak only to close them and swallow thickly. His gaze was drawn to the bob of his adam's apple and the black tracing it enticingly. Immediately, he closed his eyes and tried to ward off the mounting temptation of the unholy being. When he looked at the man again, Jason noticed he closed his eyes and went eerily still. A surge of panic flitted through the priest. Had he just died in front of Jason? Can creatures like this even die? As nervousness ate at him, Jason leaned a over to get a better look at his face.
As he did that, the rosary once tucked under his coat slipped out. The cross landed softly on the wounded man's neck. As if he'd been lit on fire, the being began to thrash and cry out. Jason stumbled back on his heels in shock at the outburst. Sure enough, where the cross had touched was smoking ever so faintly and what looked like a welt in the shape of his cross was seared into the skin. Jason stared in horror at the mark. Whatever this beautiful being was, it was definitely evil. Sure, Jason had surmised that much since that volatile reaction back at the church, but seeing that only made it all the more real. The urge to flee rose in spades. The whimper coming from the man now curling in on himself begged him to stay.
Jason tucked the rosary back under his coat with shaking hands as he observed the trembling figure. The way he was acting made it seem like he was just an innocent, injured person in need of aid. But could it all be a ruse? Demons were tricky things indeed. Would that excuse him if he left the other here to his fate? There was proof that it was unholy in the brand on his neck. That didn't assuage the guilt he felt at just contemplating abandoning the man. He let out a torn sound as he ran a hand through his hair, effectively slicking it back with inky blood. As gently as he could, he spoke.
"Hey, hey it's okay. I uh, I'm sorry? I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm Father Todd. Please, I only want to help."
The soft words seemed to be the right trick because sure enough, those glowing eyes were peeking back up at him. With trembling lips, the man spoke. The soft words twisted with an accent that Jason couldn't quite place.
"What happened to me?"
That was a question Jason wasn't prepared for. The earnestness in his voice led the priest to believe that maybe something else was at work here. If he truly didn't know how he came to be this way and if that dream was real, then maybe...maybe something changed him. But what and why? He felt like he was in way over his head here. Demonic possession wasn't something he was qualified to deal with. Still, he'd try his best.
"I don't know. What do you last remember?"
The man's brows drew together in thought. He seemed to struggle with his memories as the silence stretched on. Finally, he spoke in stunted sentences, like he was piecing it all together with every word.
"I remember...fighting. And...and soldiers. Our kumpania had to..to leave. I remember the Queen and our exile."
Pained grunts punctuated every other word, making it clear that even talking was difficult. That contemplative expression twisted into something fiercer. As the memories began to resurface, anger began to overtake him. That hellish look had Jason's hair standing on end. His fight-or-flight instinct was kicking in and screaming for the 'flight' option. Unaware of the terror his wrath caused, the man continued on.
"Thirty days to flee or face execution. We could not-'
He had to take a moment to suck in a shaky breath. Even with the wrath fueling his tale, he still found himself worn down. After a moment of pained breathing, he continued.
'-make it out in that time. When her soldiers found us..."
This time, the lapse into silence seemed to come from the thickness in his throat. As the memories hit him rapidly, he was overcome with bone-deep devastation for the fate of his family. Jason watched that anger fade into anguish and his heart broke for what torment he'd been through. That odd accent made it a little difficult to parse some of the words, particularly those dripping with rage and despair, but Jason was able to understand him for the most part. What he said, however, confused him greatly. But, he bit back his questions as he felt it'd be rather insensitive to grill the afflicted being, evil or not.
As the quiet stretched on, Jason struggled with what to do. Every single one of his instincts told him to flee. To leave this monster bleeding on the floor or vanquish him in his moment of weakness. But he couldn't bring himself to do either of those things. Seeing the heartbreak in those blue eyes and knowing there might be something he could do to help, Jason felt compelled to stay. This was how it'd always been and one reason he devoted himself to the church. He was a bleeding heart hidden under a rough exterior, always aching at others turmoil and searching for a way to help. This was just another case of that need, albeit a bit more of an extreme case. If this really was an innocent man who's been possessed or cursed, then how could Jason leave him to suffer?
Without realizing it, Jason began to nod off as he sat there in thought, one hand still entangled in that arctic grip. The rush of adrenaline at finding him began to wear off, leaving lethargy to tug the priest down. Before he knew it, his eyes drifted shut. This time he dreamt of nothing but deep, unending black. All the while, the creature watched him with a hungry stare. That thirst rose in him like a tidal wave, washing every former thought away. He found it hard to hold on to the feelings of rage and sadness, like they were made of sand slipping through his fingers. Hunger. That's what it always came back to since he awoke. Deep, undying hunger. It eclipsed every other emotion, leaving him almost mindless with desire. The pain of his memories, the hate of his injustice, it was crushed under the weight of his need until nothing but the tempting sight of the priest was left. That white-hot gaze was fixated on the steady pulse of Jason's throat. His mouth ran dry.
It was a raging desire like nothing he'd ever felt before. He felt feral under its clutches. Fire burned through his veins, urging him to act. To leap upon the man and take what he craved. Dick didn't know how long he laid there staring at Jason but every passing moment only fueled the inferno within. Soon, he shifted to his knees, ignoring the way his body ached and wounds tore in protest. Cold hands skimmed across the broad torso of the priest before settling on either side of his face. Even in his sleep, Jason tried to draw away from the touch. That thirst burning his throat would not allow it.
Blood-stained lips hovered over Jason's slightly open mouth. The soft breaths coming from him made Dick hunger something fierce. He wanted to steal those breaths away and suck the air from his lungs until he could do nothing but gasp and pant for reprieve. Never before did he have such hellish thoughts. Never before did such damning desires taint him. Ever since he awoke in that tomb, he felt nothing but a growing avarice for things no man should covet. Each passing moment found it harder to resist those temptations.
He ran the tip of his tongue across Jason's lower lip and delighted in the taste of him. The soft nip he administered was enough to rouse the sleeping priest. The fog of sleep was swept away with the feeling of cold lips upon him. His eyes shot open only to see those impossibly bright blue eyes staring hungrily at him. Any protest he might have made was swallowed down by those greedy lips. Jason pushed his hands against the hard planes of his chest in an attempt to get some room but it was like trying to push a statue. He began to panic, not only because he awoke to this monster kissing him but because he found himself enjoying it. A coil of desire wound itself in his gut just at the touch of this monster. Something tugged at his inhibitions, whispering sweet words to let go.
While Jason might not be the textbook priest, he had his limitations. Making out with a demon? Definitely a no-no. That was easier to rebuke when there wasn't a beautiful, lithe body pressed up against him and a talented mouth teasing him. This man was every sinful delight Jason had been trying to ward off since taking up the cassock. When those lips shifted and he felt a tongue swipe into his mouth with expertise, Jason had to stifle a moan. He probably would have found himself welcoming the ministrations if it weren't for the way the man tasted so strongly of death. It was enough to startle him back to reality and break whatever unnatural hold had been over him. He pressed more fervently away from the demon with no result. Finally, as if realizing that Jason was trying to get away, Dick shifted back. Jason was left gasping in his wake.
"What...are you doing?"
The words came out ragged as he sucked in air. Jason hadn't realized just how badly he needed to breathe until they were parted and that worried him a lot. A slight frown tugged Dick's lips as he looked at the panting man. He shifted a bit closer and Jason tried to scramble further away. It proved fruitless as the wall behind him kept him trapped by the demon. Those tempting lips ghosted over his skin and Jason held back a tremble.
"I need you, Father."
There was such dark yearning in that intoxicating voice that Jason knew it'd lead him to nothing but ruin. Even still, he found it hard to resist when he felt that tongue lick a stripe over his throat. His hands slipped up to grip the man's shoulders and he wasn't quite sure whether it was to try and push him away or pull him closer at this point. Oh, how easily he fell to temptation. When he licked his lips, Jason couldn't help but scrunch up his features at the repugnant taste left lingering from the kiss. It helped to clear his mind of the haze surrounding him. When he felt teeth pressing dangerously over his pulse, he was able to fully pull himself back to reality again. One hand fumbled for his rosary as he twisted and writhed away from the teeth on his neck.
"Get. OFF!"
He thrust the cross at the demon with enough force that he nearly snapped the cord from his neck. There was a pained sound as the man threw himself backward. His back hit the counter and cracked some of the wood. A hiss flowed steadily from bared teeth and those vibrant eyes were narrowed angrily. Jason shook in his spot at the sight of the beautiful, enraged monster. If he really wanted to attack the priest, would Jason be strong enough to fend him off? He sincerely doubted it. While a great deterrent, the cross seemed to do little more than aggravate the creature.
It was the fear in Jason's eyes that really got through to Dick. The snarl that rumbled in his chest froze once he realized exactly what he was doing - what he tried to do. Wide eyes looked from the panicked expression to the black smeared on Jason's lips and finally to the purplish bruise on his throat. The defensive way Jason curled away from him, rosary in hand, was just the final point. Dick stared at his ichor-stained hands with growing terror.
"What am I?"
There was no denying the horror in his lilted voice. Jason almost felt sorry for the way he stared at his own hands like he didn't recognize them. It only reinforced the idea that maybe something more was going on. That still didn't calm his racing heart or still his shaking hands. He stayed pressed against the wall as far from the demon as possible. Jason thought about leaving again, but part of him still wanted to help. The other part told him that if he left this creature here, he could be condemning innocents to its throes. The thought kept him rooted in place.
"I don't know."
He had some theories, sure, but nothing concrete. Those watery blue eyes snapped back up to him. Jason's breath caught in his throat at the look of desperation and despair coloring his features. Could a demon even feel such things?
"Help me. Please."
The words cracked with emotion, pleading with the priest for salvation. Jason didn't even know where he'd begin with helping this man. Was there anything he could even do? The thought of abandoning him to whatever darkness consumed him left Jason feeling guilty. Not only because he'd go against his promise to aid those in need - and this one clearly needed help - but also for all the rest that might suffer.
"I'll try."
There was no confidence in his voice. That spark of hope that brightened those blue eyes made him feel a little more sure of his decision. The overpowering wickedness radiating from the man had him clutching his rosary a bit tighter. A silent prayer was sent up that he didn't just damn himself.