thebrigantine_tlv

WHO: the Hell Priest and you
WHAT: one of the Brigantine's more unusual Initiates takes a walk around
WHERE: deck, hallways, congregation hall, deck
WHEN: middle of august
NOTES/WARNINGs: All of them. If you know, you know; I'm not tagging out with him so if you want to play ~~with fire~~ him, feel free to say hello.

The Hell Priest has been on this ship for a long time. He had come as an Novice, and he had had created... quite a stir among the inhabitants of this place at first. His promotion had taken many years, many difficult times and much great reflection, but he had graduated, even if the title of 'Initiate' grated on him on occasion.

It was better than some of his other titles, but the less said about those, the less hooks ended up in people.

The demon has felt no need to return to his collection of worlds, however; this place suits him for all that he often has few who interest him. And yet those few are greater than none, and the very secrets of this place continue to entrance him enough that he will no doubt be found still roaming the deck or the hallways, gliding effortlessly along even the most uneven and overgrown terrains, for some time to come. He can be found often in the Congregation Hall, meditating one might assume, or possibly just thinking on a scale others find perplexing. He avoids the Grotto, except when he needs to drop someone off there.

Sometimes, revelation comes only after long explorations, after all.

He is... polite enough, though unwilling to tolerate disrespect. Willing to discuss philosophy and metaphysics and everything inbetween, though his view is understandably dim when it comes to people. His great 'truth' did not change that, at least...

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For the most part, Trevor is one of the few ex-Barge people who took this new change of scenery in stride. He's got no love for the Admiral, and honestly the Brig feels far more like home to him. He misses some of the people like a wound, but it's a familiar wound and one where he can easily pack it down.

All this to say, he's taken his first full week in stride. All that changes when he gets a whiff of something entirely demonic.

It's not exactly a sixth sense or anything to do with magic. But most Belmonts are trained to sense when things go quiet and there's a stench of terror around. He sits up on deck, on top of a capstan watching the nets for anything worthwhile while carefully turning a large spit: a grill he concocted with some help, to cook the fish that seem to be the main diet for most people here.

He stops, looks up, and goes still. A hand moves towards the whip at his side, as he eyes this creature that looks like it was sent from Hell itself.

Trevor waits for him to speak, or to attack. Plenty of ways this could go.

The Hell Priest's attention is not difficult to get, and the presence of a whip on the man's hip helps more than hinders that. There's a glance up and down the Belmont, taking in his clothing and his stance.

His fear.

He doesn't smile but there's something satisfied in his countenance.

"You wish to duel? Or do you seek the enlightenment I offer?"

He feels a bone-wrenching tiredness as he gets up off the ledge, not wanting to be an easy target for a well-placed strike if this thing has a decent arm. It's always chilling when the dead speak, or the demon looks more human than not. Trevor prefers the ones who most resemble animals, for good reason.

Trevor's not very practiced at small talk or conversation, but he'll try; it's good for stalling while he sizes him up, analyzing strengths and weaknesses like the monster hunter he was trained to be.

"I don't think I'm allowed to seek enlightenment from any church." He calls back, walking away from the grill and keeping a distance from the demon. "I've been told I'm a pretty shite apostate. What's your name?"

Most demons won't give their true names in his world, but it's always helpful to know who he's dealing with.

"I am known as the Hell Priest. I have had many names. Some are more welcome than others."

He has no intention of offering the name he had as a mortal. He has even less to offer the nickname he had been given, the one he hates. He offers nothing but what he has offered.

He's stopped moving, though.

Ah. Fuck. Two good reasons right there to despise someone on sight. He stops moving once he can see the whole deck around them and be reassured he's not standing with his back to an open door.

"And what enlightenment can a Hell Priest give me?" He calls, to be a shithead about it all. "I've already seen your kind. Sent a few of them back to where they came."

"You have not," he says with no inflection, no movement. He just watches. He doesn't respond to the bait. He doesn't even seem to have noticed it.

He has.

"You do not bear the marks of the Order of the Gash. You do not have the understanding one of my companions would give you."

He spreads his hands.

"It is an enlightenment that can only be experienced." A pause. "And... must be chosen."

"Yeah?" He calls, unraveling the whip. God, he missed this weapon in particular.

As he speaks, Trevor scours his mind for any Order of the Gash and comes up empty. True, it could be one of a thousand different sects running around, but he doesn't think so; he'd remember a Hell Priest who looked like this.

"Chosen, or tricked into choosing?" Demons love their games. Anything from Hell usually adores tricking a hapless human or two into being their plaything. Or their snack.

If he were back at home, Laszlo wouldn't be able to set foot in a place like the congregation hall without the risk of bursting into flames, vampires of his type being extremely allergic to Christianity and all. But in this case, it would seem as though the Brigantine's religious aesthetic was geared more to give an impression rather than represent an organized creed (thankfully, or Laszlo's entire existence on the ship would be reminiscent of being in Hell—which might be fitting if he were a Novice, but for some bizarre reason, the Deacon had made him an Initiate, fuck knows why). He does however, feel just a bit warmer than usual, and Laszlo being Laszlo, chooses to attribute that currently to the presence of the man with all the nails in his head.

"Now that's an unusual look," he remarks admiringly. "Pretty sexy, actually." Yep, he's got some strange tastes.

The Corinthian is leaning casually in one of the halls when the demon drifts by and he can't help but watch and smirk softly.

"Well..." He drawls with amusement, "Look what we have here."

He pushes up off his lean and shoves his hands in his pockets, "Does Lucifer know this is where you've been hanging out?"

Demons and Nightmares tend to go hand in hand at times, despite being from different realms and worlds. He finds this one particularly curious.

One Hook

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