[ time means absolutely nothing to kuya. creatures like himself have the luxury of knowing that eternity is at their disposal, and with that knowledge comes a certain unfettered pace. olivine can take all the time he needs to put the proper words to his thoughts. after all, a need can be expressed so much more succinctly when one has the option to truly consider it.
while olivine dithers, kuya attends to his pipe. the methodical motions could be hypnotizing under the right circumstances. there's an aesthetic contrast of deep green beneath his lavender nails, pinching bits of sticky herb from the jar to pack into the bowl of the pipe. even the way he holds it speaks to poise and elegance, long handle cradled delicately at his fingertips while he works on filling the chamber. and when he strikes a match to light it, the bowl sizzles -- crackles like kindling beneath a fire -- around the first slow pull that fills kuya's chest.
he holds until olivine finally explains. or, more accurately, until he confirms the suspicion kuya was leaning into from the very start. with an indulgent smile, kuya passes the pipe to olivine, and then sits back to take more thoughtful stock of the priest. ]
And what gives you the impression that pain will teach you acceptance?
[ smoke curls lazily from between kuya's lips with each word. ]
Don't take me wrong, I'm quite happy to torture you if that's what you'd prefer. But I'm curious how you think this will teach you what your sabbatical from the temple has not.
[ a difficult question for a devout human. but these dogmas twist them wretched; kuya's seen the evidence of that, time and again, and the entertainment inhernet in that hubristic downfall never wanes over the years. but this logic is new. kuya could connect his own dots -- link pain to pleasure and then both become penance -- but olivine's take may be far more illuminating. ]
You must know by now, at least logically, that pleasure is no sin. I might go so far as to argue that pleasure itself is a divinely-gifted thing. So is pain your atonement, or your salvation? Or perhaps simply rebellion? Defiling the body that was devoted to God despite your wishes?
Is it really as simple as controlling the terms of your helplessness? Are you tearing at your very seams for something else? What a beautifully fascinating mystery you are, Your Holiness.
no subject
while olivine dithers, kuya attends to his pipe. the methodical motions could be hypnotizing under the right circumstances. there's an aesthetic contrast of deep green beneath his lavender nails, pinching bits of sticky herb from the jar to pack into the bowl of the pipe. even the way he holds it speaks to poise and elegance, long handle cradled delicately at his fingertips while he works on filling the chamber. and when he strikes a match to light it, the bowl sizzles -- crackles like kindling beneath a fire -- around the first slow pull that fills kuya's chest.
he holds until olivine finally explains. or, more accurately, until he confirms the suspicion kuya was leaning into from the very start. with an indulgent smile, kuya passes the pipe to olivine, and then sits back to take more thoughtful stock of the priest. ]
And what gives you the impression that pain will teach you acceptance?
[ smoke curls lazily from between kuya's lips with each word. ]
Don't take me wrong, I'm quite happy to torture you if that's what you'd prefer. But I'm curious how you think this will teach you what your sabbatical from the temple has not.
[ a difficult question for a devout human. but these dogmas twist them wretched; kuya's seen the evidence of that, time and again, and the entertainment inhernet in that hubristic downfall never wanes over the years. but this logic is new. kuya could connect his own dots -- link pain to pleasure and then both become penance -- but olivine's take may be far more illuminating. ]
You must know by now, at least logically, that pleasure is no sin. I might go so far as to argue that pleasure itself is a divinely-gifted thing. So is pain your atonement, or your salvation? Or perhaps simply rebellion? Defiling the body that was devoted to God despite your wishes?
Is it really as simple as controlling the terms of your helplessness? Are you tearing at your very seams for something else? What a beautifully fascinating mystery you are, Your Holiness.