tagCelebrities & Fan FictionUno Poenitentia Ch. 02

Uno Poenitentia Ch. 02


Mephistopheles was a creature of means. He was industrious, cunning, and above all, persuasive. From the moment he appeared, wearing the skin of a shuck, and followed Dr. Johannes Faust into his study, there was no going back. Indeed, the deal was done long before the wily creature had ever made eye contact with the doctor. He stood before Johannes now, in the veneer of human maleness, a tall man with wide and opaque eyes. There was little readable sensibility or sensitivity within them and they reflected no apparent mood. To Johannes, it was almost as if his little familiar had deliberately taken the form of a man of intelligence to mock him. He bat his pretty lashes and grinned widely at Johannes and bowed dramatically.

"Well then? " Johannes asked hurriedly...

"Is it done? You gave her the present?"

Mephisto giggled, a tinkly little sound that smacked of something otherworldly.

"Do not mock me, you animal."

"Oh calm yourself. All in due time, my lad. Yes, yes, I have handed the gift over. Pretty little thing it was, and your girl isn't half bad herself. "

Johannes sighed loudly, the tension in his body leaving one moment, but returning just as strongly. He squinted, scrunching the fine features of his face in thought.

"How long will it take?"

"Like I said, all in due time. The world beyond works as it will. We are at the mercy of Fate and God now."

"Don't speak to me of God, Mephisto."

"You'll soon be calling me your dear, sweet Mephisto, once the full moon of the month sinks below the horizon. Then, and only then will our little trinket's magic have its spell fully cast. First she has to wear it, for it bears a stone that must meet with the flesh of her breast."

"You speak in riddles you know."

"Maybe. But that's why you called me is it not? To learn. To quench your mind's never ending thirst? "

It was all well and surely done now, wasn't it? Johannes pondered the man before him before answering. He felt the gnawing ache of it every minute of the day. Sunlight had begun to irritate him, and moonlight even worse. He'd been old and retired from working directly with the patients of the city. He spent most of his hours when he wasn't lecturing(and God what a drudge that had become) locked away in his study, staring wanly at the dog-eared and frayed edges of old textbooks. Worthless dross it all was. Just mindless chaff written to massage the egos of privileged men. It meant nothing. He'd been a doctor like his father and apprenticed in the same schools of logic and medicine but when the great sickness had struck, he'd realised that it was in vain. Their potions and serums, poultices and salves had no basis to them and more patients had likely died of poisoning by doctor, than of the plague itself. Johannes had quit tending patients and retreated to the cold comfort of books and lecture halls then but it all seemed a wasted effort now.

In his desire for peace, for something to quench his ever-growing thirst for knowledge, for more, for love, for anything that relieved the dull, grey ache of numbness inside him, he'd turned to the magic books. He was sure it was nonsense and he felt more than foolish, as a man of books and science. But, really, he thought, what is the difference between magic and science? It seemed that the only difference, when all seemed left to chance and God's will alone, was what mortal men in lofty places decided. And of what use was the mind of mortal men, always bound to abase themselves and be blinded by their egos?

Doctor Johannes Faust had seen the rise and fall of many an abased mortal man. Whether by ego, or by pride, each and every single one seemed to lap up from the dish of misery, leaving them perpetually unhappy and always begging for more. This doctor could not allow the same fate to take him. And so, by the light of the full moon, bright and pale, Faust had opened the book, a dusty and worn tome with faded ink written on velum and bound with sinew. Perhaps it was even as old as the first plague. Within its pages, wrapped with fluorishing sigils, Faust had found the key. It was not until he set his eyes upon Gretchen, that he'd begun to feel the real power and weight of his choice. The way she had filled his mind and made his pelvis ache so bittersweetly began to torture him. The sweetness of the glow of her skin in the sun, and her unassuming and gentle carriage, all beneath blushed cheeks and full lips.

His charge, bound to him by sigil work, and a blood-wet signature now stood before him, all pride and cunning. Mephistopheles took three long-strided steps around Faust's cluttered desk, his coats swishing with the breeze that caught under him. The corner's of his paled lips turned up sharply.

"I told you that I could bring you anything you so desired." he cooed then,

"But I ask for your loyalty and a favour in return. "

Faust pondered the devil. Mephistopheles was oddly thin, the skin of his fingers stretched like a drying pelt over the bones. He was all odd angles, a hint that he was something not of this world. It was especially noticeable in the flat blackness of his eyes but now they came to life and sparkled in the candlelight. Faust felt a shiver move through him like a ghost flitting through the wall of an ancient fortress.

"Johannes??? "Mephistopheles purred, urging Faust to answer.

"Yes, yes. Whatever you ask just as long as you bring her to me as you promised once the full moon passes. "

He found it impossible to deny any request of Mephistopheles'. He held some sway over Faust and he found it a heady fog to wade through, especially when he looked into the demon man's eyes.

"Then, let me out of this stuffy old room. These parchments stink of death and the dust clogs the lungs of this inferior pastiche of a human form. "

Faust then remembered the sigil at the door, locked and sealed the full way round with salt. He stood up and strolled to the sigil and lazily kicked an open pathway through the salt with the toe of his shoe.

"Is that all then? "he asked

"Assuredly for now. Unless you summon me once more I shall return the night of the full moon."

A puff of black smoke with green sparks rose up in the air, obscuring the hellspawn. When it dissipated, he was gone, leaving the doctor to his lonesome, and to ponder his decisions, and to think about the sweetness of Gretchen's moist, peach-ripe lips.

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