Pelle was somewhere in there, but he wasn't stronger than the veins of god's he'd tried to live off - his aunt, her Father. Daniel was no help, with all his old love never being realized, poisoning him now, and Marie, who was kind but had lived a life before her pious, which had been fulfilling the way jumping off a cliff can be. They were all human, with their beautiful mosaic of memories that underlined why they could never be divine, if not everyone was.<br/><br/>Father Daniel kept painting her shoes with his unholy, crimson product. It was too much pleasure for him, and it was draining him. He didn't know how such immense release could warrant more. It was like drinking saltwater when you were parched. His hand continued to handle his sorry excuse for a limb, while his other barely reached around Pelle's monument of flesh. He wanted it. He wanted to be worthy of the demon's seed. He believed it would changed him. He was ashamed to see it, but he believed it more than he believed in the book that had chained him away from a life as himself.<br/><br/>The Amphithere swam inside the boy. All ages have their own connection to evil. Pelle had the flavor that came with his youth, far from infancy's monochromatic sweetness, and not yet the complex watered-down concoction of wiser blood. It was through this in-between palled that the winged, scaled thing saw the other two. Filtered through green eyes, they were gods themselves to the boy, and the sky serpent reveled in the blasphemy of that love.<br/><br/>Both the priest and the sister wanted. This was heart-felt prayer. This was a new religion that they had invented. Pelle was seared by their desires, and the boy didn't mind it much. He suckled and let himself be sucked. Perhaps Pelle thought this was the happiest he could be, wrought in the intersection between Daniel's weakness and Marie's bravery. Isn't all great pleasure to be torn apart in some sense. Being destroyed is also going back to the universe.<br/><br/>Pelle's hand was strong when it held on to Daniel's hair, and the small, inhuman, needle-like sprouts on the limb in his throat tickled him. It remade his cartilage rings into conductive bone, that rung like the organ in the great halls during sermon. Daniel was confused to be  given this sensitivity, but embraced it, manically shoving his head against Pelle's hips to please himself. He forgot about breathing, he only cared about two things now, and they were his own cock and Pelle's. By some measures, two lengths crossed and great adherence make faith.<br/><br/>But Hillie offered something more interesting than self-choking. Pelle was excused, because the question hadn't been for him. The black was in the veins on the white of his eyes too, now, and he stared at his aunt, moving up her body while her blood turned black, too, dripping from his teeth and mouth. The shadows moved like daylight does through painted-glass windows, and told centuries of sinful catastrophes by the demon's hand. The monastery that had become a prison, the deciet between the sisters that weeded out the weak. They'd always find women as his feet, bled out and with unholy smiles. In the end their own lust and jealousy had burnt their home and freed him from Therese's body.<br/><br/>It was with this dark face that considered her demand to know his weakness. Pelle's hand stroked up her thigh, which was parted from the other, and then visited two fingers into her waiting cunt. She'd feel electrified, every synapse that could possibly cry pleasure did. What was it's name? He inhaled to build her anticipation. "My name is Love, Hildegard. And I have come to save you all." he answered as Daniel fell to the floor, hand still clasped around his now purple limb, mouth agape and lungs stale.<br/><br/>"And you send me back by rejecting me, Sister." Voice like drums, faraway but eloquent in their cadence. "Can you do that? Unlove the boy. Unlove your lord. Pry the dead son from the wooden cross." he challenged. "Say my name then, like those demons your Padre displaces with his faith. What will declaring Love do, when you're chasing evil?" he laughed and then turned the boy's body, to position his hips between her legs. "Comon, then. Call my name." But the result wouldn't be an expulsion of the demon. It would be a unholy, pagan, trainwreck of a fucking that her quim had begged for the moment The Amphithere had set foot into Pelle in the clearing.