Their treasure in the window, pressing her heart against the glass and trying to send it out to everyone. It was a beautiful sentiment with the girl they'd acquired long ago for tomorrow's purpose. Stunning Charlotte - hadn't that been her use, always? Here she was above it all, it was no wonder that she looked at them like this. The way she'd been told her own story, they were her destiny. Kell knew better. The sunlit nymph by the clean pain was meant for him. He'd learned it when he tugged her along by her wrist to whatever games he wanted to play, and when father took her back.<br/><br/>Kell let her look at him. With the way the others thirsted for him and the approving glances he collected even outside of their inviting but stoic fence, the youngest Ovrem was not lacking in confidence. He thought it was a reason why he had more claim to her, even. It was his turn to remake her after his own tastes because Jarek was becoming obsolete with his age, harboring tender illusions for a being that should be used as a weapon. Like a spire with a heady head to hammer the flock into rows.<br/><br/>One corner of his rich lips lifted when he recognized the woman's eyes in the girl beauty. Kell stayed where he was, basking in that desire, and studying her sudden intentions, taking over her like the shadow of a cloud does the merry fields. She was a well of new things, a statue spewing gold into a fountain pool, and now she was showing the potential he'd recognized in her before, that father liked to be blind to. They intentionally forgot she'd come to them through incredible amounts of blood, because they couldn't reconcile the crimson spill with her alabaster veneer. Kell wanted her because of that evil, and he'd felt it reaching back at him from inside her. Her true selves.<br/><br/>He grinned knowingly when she became the Charlotte that the people had worshipped when she stepped out of the car. There'd be plenty of time to see her later, his own Lotte. And share her. They'd listen to his suggestions then, because they'd be funneled through her. He nodded and listened carefully to what she said. It was as important that she clean herself. The beginning of both Ovrems rituals were the same - ready the mind with purity, and keep the body spotless.<br/><br/>It was more pleasing, though, to see her obey seamlessly. His harder voice could make almost anyone into a servant. Charlotte did it out of a belief, though. He gave a long breath for her beauty. Admittedly, she was otherworldly with her innocence. He knew father had taken distance from these kind of things, perhaps because the older man had an attachment to her purity, or could be he believed she should not be disturbed in her current growth by something as distracting as flesh - her own or man's. Kell, of course, meant to make her a festival of it, so that she couldn't live without it. Her awed, downcast blues were lovely, the way all submission from stunning nymphs is.<br/><br/>She saw him too, and he didn't mind that. They could be truthful when they were alone, even if she didn't understand the scope of his meaning in her life. Such a haughty lift of her chin. Not even father had seen her like this, presented for what she was. And then she let the dress fall back into place. Everyone's Charlotte, again. He tilted his head and considered all of her while she asked her questions. Kell took her hand. He didn't want her to feel rejection, even if she should know the gravity of it all. In the beginning the good doctor had known to be stern with her too, for her own sake, but he'd grown disgustingly soft with the years. Kell was the only one who could give her what she needed now.<br/><br/>"It is." time. "They think they are." ready. "Always." with you.<br/><br/>And he turned around to move her toward the door. They had wanted to carry her in, like the savoir she was, their glory on their shoulders, pelted with adoring song. But Kell had fought vehemently to bring her out himself. He knew that possessiveness could be in his way, but he was also in a position to let it. His hand was of course large around hers, and he brought her with him easily down the now empty corridors. The cleaned golden object that they had been waiting for. Down the stairs like a radiant apparition.<br/><br/>They landed behind Jarek's podium. The man already had his hands outstretched during his speech, and soft hymns crowded the air from the commune, who gathered at a respectful distance to the speaker, and around the stone table. They were spilling out the door and pressing up against open window frames. No one looked at their leader when she was coming down, lead by their dark prince. Jarek smiled where he stood but continued telling them of their future, and what parts of the book had given him alone the right to govern the words she'd spill.<br/><br/>John was there, and was the first to fall to his knees when he saw her. He was a reasonable emotionalist most of the time, but his love for Charlotte overflowed like the blood out of her mother in her last moments. He reached for her with one hand, fingers spread like he was starved for her, while he whispered prayer into his fist. The others, inspired by his devotion, did the same, one arm out for her, and one curled with a ball of fingers to their mumbling mouths.<br/><br/>It was not quite her turn to take the stage, and Kell stood with her beside his father. The man smiled widely at his son. He truly loved the boy and the girl. He always had.<br/><br/>Jarek cleared his throat to change what he was saying. "And you will always have my bloodline to lead you." he said, filled up with fatherly adoration then. He took his son's hand and brought him into an embrace. The crowd sighed at the caring display. Kell hugged his father back. Both men in black, Jarek with a white strip over his shoulders with the communes sign there - a circle pregnant with a line with one end crossing the boarder of the circle, an image of her, who could see other worlds. "My son! When I pass, everything I have will go to him. Never question it. It will be fate when it happens. It is all part of it. I said it's so and I'm your leader. You must believe it too." Jarek said at the crowd, and they all nodded, eager to obey.<br/><br/>He let go of his son then to continue his own version of the ceremonial scroll. Kell returned to the golden girl and leaned close to her with a grin that made Raker swirl in her heart and then dive right down through her stomach to her cunt. "I'll move the ritual on." he whispered to her and let a silver something slide into his palm from his sleeve. A long blade. "This is your future, Charlotte. And it's with me." he declared.<br/><br/>Jarek was just finishing preparing them for the ritual. He held his arm out for his son again. "Kell. My prince. It is time." he said so the boy would know to bring her to the stone table where they had old spices for oils, and holy water they'd brought from out of country. It would be a modest display of her body, as it all soaked into the fabric. And Then Jarek would kiss her, and they would sing loudly while he spoke into her ears, until she awoke as their Oracle. "Let us become the spearhead of humanity. Put glory on me!" he roared and the people cheered fervently back.<br/><br/>Kell nodded but didn't bring her anywhere. Instead he stood behind his father. Jarek had a puzzled expression but then smiled lovingly at his commune again, sure Kell knew what he was doing. "Glory onto you, Father!" Kell said, and it ignited the crowd to do the same. The chant became louder, and there were tears in Jarek's eyes. He whispered low that he loved Kell. Finally his son was with him in this. And then Kell grabbed the black and white hair of his father, pulling his head back to show off the aged column of his throat. The crowd sheered at the choreography.<br/><br/>"Glory." he said into his father's ear before the broad blade shot up and then back. Jarek eyes opened faster than the wound, just slightly, but the wound opened wider. Some of the believers screamed in horror, but with the loss of Jarek's voice, Kell took over. He put his knife hand to his mouth, and crossed one finger over his lips to calm them. "This is the ritual. All praise Jarek!" he said. The panic in the father's eyes didn't register as anything unusual then, and a horrible celebratory noise left the oterh bodies, thanking him for his own sacrifice. The gash over his throat prevented him to tell them he was being betrayed. "Pass what is his onto me!" Kell continued, and the crowd agreed deafeningly. They were calling for Kell by the time Jarek's arms hung, and he could only move his lips, mimicking breath.<br/><br/>Kell looked to her, and kicked over the flimsy podium. "Kneel, Charlotte." he said, and when she did, he'd bow his father by his hair, to shower her in Jarek's blood, to paint her like she'd been found the first time, after having killed her mother. This was the real her. Raker went livid inside her, tearing at her memories and short instance and introductions to a woman's heart. It bit down on her nerves and tried to jump out at the last Ovrem from her chest.<br/><br/>Go! This is who we are. This has been us all the time!