Chapter Text
Politics never actually bothered Faustus in any way, but watching people in power could be fun sometimes.
They stood by the window Mephistophilis had just conjured and looked at the king of the Great Britain and his lover.
"These two are definitely going to hell," the devil made a casual remark.
"Because they are both men?"
"You mean sodomy? Well, I personally don't consider it that much of a sin. But of course, my opinion is far from orthodox," Mephistophilis pointed at the sky.
"So what then?"
"I thought you knew the answer, my dear scholar. Treachery. The deepest of sins," the devil smiled for some reason.
Faustus shivered. He only met the Seven, and it was terrifying.
"It's sad, though, that he will only be remembered by how he stole money from his people and wasted it in the name of his love."
"Yes," Faustus said under his breath.
"Will I be remembered?" he reflected that night. "Do I deserve it in any way?"
He didn't want to pose this question to Mephistophilis, obviously. Why ask something that you already know the answer to.
The thought didn't leave him for the entire night, together with a feeling that another thought was trying to break through to the surface.
"Can we watch Edward again?"
Mephistophilis raised his brow.
"This is the first time in many years I heard you asking to watch something more than once. Especially on the very next day."
Faustus shrugged, hoping that his face didn't show any emotion.
"However, your wish is my command," the devil drew invisible symbols with his slender fingers, and a window appeared in front of them.
The man opened it, and Mephistophilis hummed, surprised.
"Why are your hands shaking?"
Faustus ignored the question.
Behind the window, Edward and Piers were standing and holding hands.
"Oh, I think I know what will happen next," the devil grimaced.
The men on the other side of the frame said words about anointment and power, dedication, belonging to each over, God as their witness, love. Simply put, these words were vows, and vows borrowed from a very particular place and time.
Faustus felt discomfort - as if his face was too close to fire. He wasn’t supposed to confront anything holy.
“Hm,” the devil said. “That was unexpectedly ancient.” He brushed ash from his jacket with his left hand and raised his brow again. “You look strange, my sweet Faustus.”
The doctor didn’t hear that – his eyes were browsing through long forgotten pages of the Bible and articles he read a lot his first year in the university, when he hadn’t yet decided what field attracted him the most.
The page he was looking for smelled of rye and wind carrying heavy rain clouds. He felt the same – inside he felt reading it for the first time. That day he discarded it, shoved deep inside his mind, because Science, Knowledge were more important than any emotion, were the things he wanted to dedicate his entire life to.
Only three years into the Deed, he realised that it should have been Wisdom instead.
He came to his senses when his fingers hit the glass of the window.
“Are you attempting a spell?” Mephistophilis asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Now, I was just… flipping through pages.”
“This day is unbelievably confusing to me,” the devil said, sighed and leaned onto one of the bookshelves in Faustus's studio.