Death day of Janus / Gio | 17/11/24
"You look like something is bothering you, or was the whiskey too rough for the morning?"
“ . . . both . ”
a reluctant response but he will do it anyway . The glass wasn't satisfying and it had barely helped .
“ — what are you doing here at this hour? ”
he can't help but ask the other priest, hand picking the half- empty glass from the mahogany table of his office; his nest.
Peter hesitated for a moment, looking at Gio and pointed at the glass with the golden liquor.
"I didn't find any sleep. What keeps you awake?"
“ — the day . ”
he stared down at his glass; tiredly, and yet there was an evident distaste in his eyes. he needed a rest ; but like every other day, somehow, he keeps himself chained to the rage.
It's the only way that he has to recall.
he'll impulsively pour himself another glass and drink. He'll just stare with a frown at the window, taking yet another sip from his comforting drink.
“ They took him, Peter . ”
he exhales .
Maybe he wasn't prepared for this, like this again. But he knew when said "him" who was meant and Peter felt a knot in his throat. Now he went on is own to the little bar in the office, and got himself a glass and poured himself some of the whikey.
"You never told me how they took him. You never told me how they took your life. We never spoke about it, and I am sometimes afraid that the watch will lead me to the day of your death or his." He spoke, feeling his emotions intensify, and he sat down on one of the chairs and took a large sip from his drink.
He'll take a sip from his, all while he blankly stared out watching men in red robes walk in silence from afar. Cardinals. and he's supposed to be downstairs joining them outside.
“ — He was supposed to be with Dürer. A ship was arranged, they held me arrested in our home. Of course I had to make sure they'll find me first. I bought them time. But that ship never sailed to Germany. He — ”
he paused to think.
rather not utter the traitor's name for his own peace.
“ . . . we were sold, Peter. "
Gio adds with a stoic voice; almost sounding like he wasn't interested at all in hopes of masking his grief. It's been ages and it still never fails to make his skin crawl.
“ Made them kneel infront of me and -- , ” he shrugged. “ -- one slice across their throats and they're gone. ”
He faintly chuckled.
” I was a doctor and I couldn't stop them bleeding. That night, I lost two sons. ”
He exhaled.
“ The blood was too fast and they only allowed me to crawl close to see how good of a surgeon I am . They say if I didn't opposed god, my hands will do miracle.
I . . . never opposed god . ”
Gio looked down, returning to his bottle to pour himself a little more before sitting himself on his chair; there was a sense of detachment present on his face. pain, yet all at the same time numbness. He'll take another sip.
he never hated god.
surprisingly not even in the present. Quite ironic if to be compared with his actions against the church. “ Dürer was not supposed to be there as much as Janus was not supposed to be there. I promised his father I'll protect him the way I protect my own.
I failed twice. ” he chuckled.
“ — a sunrise later, I'm kneeling to have my neck axed while having to stare down at a bucket full of all Apostle's bloods. ”
he'll keep his eyes shut, relying on the whiskey's comfort if, it still has any of it to offer his lips.
“ . . . I woke up in a ditch. they didn't even buried us. ”
enough for now.
he'll glance at him tiredly .
“ Cheers. ”