is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
Certainly Rosalind had advanced under the Prophet’s gaze, but only as far as he would allow. While she had achieved international acclaim and far more wealth than a scientist ought to have. Then again, any who had an ounce of morality usually found themselves penniless and fading into obscurity. If one wished to be in the lime-light and full of material wealth, then cunning was needed; to be driven by one’s own ambitions and desires was the way to go about one’s business, and it had gotten the Prophet very, very far. In that respect, he was disappointed in his overreaching physicist. He had underestimated her. While it was not a matter of intelligence, it was a matter of morale. Upon hiring her, Comstock had expected the same outlook on life that he shared. There was to be no true attachment formed, and all that would drive them was the need for success. That had held true until Robert had appeared, and the man had felt something akin to disappointment.
Never a man to admit his mistakes, the Prophet often had to turn a blind eye to his wife’s rising sphere of influence, that was beginning to rival his own. Yes, the public loved their Prophet and Lady of Science, but neither of the two could ever compare to the public’s adoration of their Madonna. Separate religious sects, churches and monuments in her name had been erected in Columbia quickly, the Prophet found himself… Disgruntled. He cared nothing for the woman whom received pats as though she were a kicked dog. If it came to the point where the dear Lady had to be dispatched, then what would the repercussions be? Perhaps in the many tears that Lutece had glimpsed and the Prophet himself had stepped through lay a solution to their rather delicate situation, though the repercussions of such travels made him more than hesitant to take a stroll through the alternate realities in which he had glimpsed infinite lives and choices that made the future through which the False Shepherd would appear. The Lady Comstock was a variable, and he would not have that.
Loyalty was absolute, nothing more or less.
Constants, variables. Lutece often spoke of them; lecturing the Prophet as though her were a despondent child. While most of her jargon escaped him the moment it left her mouth, that lone phrase had stuck inside of him. While gender seemed to be a variable, personality was as well. Both gender and constitution had effected the Lutece siblings despite being counterparts of another. While genetically the same person, they were as different as night and day. With the power each held over the other, it was a fear of the Prophet’s that the weaker of the pair might sway the other to grow a conscious. “Image is everything, Madame Lutece. If it pleases, I will make sure to have you stationed at a farther distance than us unless protocol dictates otherwise. Nevertheless, I assure you she will not trouble you again.”
With no child to call her own, the rather sorrowful Lady Comstock had little to no use to the Prophet, serving only as a pretty trinket that would hang off his arm every so often. Nevertheless, his blunder before the woman had not gone unnoticed. She may have believed that the Prophet cared for his wife; that if there was anyone worthy of his affections, it would be her. Incorrect. She was next to nothing, and his casual approach in speaking of her demise surely proved as much. Nevertheless, he could not afford to have Lutece speak of it to anyone, lest of all Robert, the fool who was a moral man. A sigh escaped the Prophet, and meticulously did he fold his hands before him.
”Forgive me, but I seem to have… Forgotten myself. You will not mention this to anyone, understood?”“
A false facade prompted with his offer of a most favorable profession. It was fact that this lady of science did not bother herself with fictitious know how– nor would she truly mean to, no matter the progression of this bound association to a self proclaimed prophet. What he proposed may had been on account of religious purposes: creating that of a ’heaven’ like the one’s illustrated in ancient scriptures. However, Lutece had not been focused on the purpose of this undertaking. For her own selfish motives, the woman would vaguely and inadequately attribute to Christianity and what it has promised… Instead her sight had been fixated upon her very capability and whether her confidence had been for nothing. The very notion of her failure had diminished, just as Comstock had known it would. Though there had been distinguishing lines drawn between the fellow founders of this utopia, she had been sure that their union would not be severed on account of meager aspects– Rosalind had been valuable.
Unfortunately for the differing pawns atop his chessboard, worth had not been too abundant. While repentance plagued him in regards to his supposed beloved, there would be no likely form of the sentiment with Lutece. Had it not been on account of her proficiency, he would be no more than a preacher, grounded on Earth… The disposal of this fellow’s instruments though had struck minor concern in her being, despite having not been superfluous herself as of yet. No doubt he would call for her aid though which in itself made her quite apprehensive. Her talent lies in the field– not in expulsion… But then again, it hadn’t involved abduction either and yet, the very incident had transpired, by her hand.
Would devotion toward her endeavors be the likely end of her?
It did not take effort to detect distinguishable actuality. In spite of how often the Lutece woman might convince herself otherwise from time to time, there would be agreement had her benefactor made mention of the prospect… Rosalind dearly cares for fellow nevertheless and thus, gives ear to whatever he might consider and propose. For this man alone, though ridden in compassion and sympathy, had genuine sovereignty… Even if it had simply been on account of her adoration. “Thank you, I appreciate your assurance.” Finally managing, though her own psyche had been much farther off as of now.
“No. Seems a frivolous topic of conversation by my standards, don’t you think? I am not the sort to shatter an image when it is not my duty.”
No surprise he would seek her silence stead of threatening it like he would with the woman in question. It was no matter though, Lutece would abide by his regulations so long as he remained reliable concerning his end of the barter… Although, haggling with one’s own caliber had never been too wise and unless it was called for, there would be no initiation. Willfully adhering herself to circumstances as this may have been her only discomfort. What one had relinquished for opportunity had been close to impracticable.
Given the extremes the Prophet was prone to, it was safe to say that should Rosalind outwear her usefulness or suddenly revolt against her beneficiary that both she and her dear brother might be permanently decommissioned. Nevertheless, he was not one to waste any resource given to him. At his core, the Prophet was as crafty and as cunning as a snake, seeing potential in any who might offer their services to him in exchange for ‘salvation’. In layman’s terms, what they were offered was simply dollar bills. It was rather amazing to see what men - and women - would do for the money that the Prophet preached against during holidays filled with purchasing and wanting. Yet when given the choice between bribed scientist and hellish wife, Comstock leaned toward a matter he could solve with ease.
Miffed was an understatement. The Prophet, famed for his kindly disposition and paternal ways was furious. Lacking the steady, unwavering countenance that made Rosalind Lutece as feeling as stone, the Prophet allowed his already taut nerves to be grated until the man snapped under pressure. Having been lenient with his wife had allowed her room to wiggle and test his authority, just as she did now. He, like any tyrant, demanded absolute loyalty from those who resided within his inner circle. Rosalind was a given as long as her pay-cheques went through, but the Lady Comstock was a wildcard. She believed that he loved her, and he had played her for the fool. Whatever feeling he had for her - if he had any to begin with - were buried beneath desire for power. In the end, she was simply a pawn he had no use for.
Zachary Hale Comstock had never been one for liabilities.
A sigh escaped him, broad shoulders sagging as he continued to rub at his temples, utterly exhausted with both the situation and parties involved. “Nevertheless, you are a trusted employee of mine. I will not have our partnership ruined by a woman who has forgotten her place.” Glancing up from crowded desk, the Prophet’s frigid eyes spared a glance at the woman with whom he spoke on a near even playing field. Had it not been for her sex, she might have garnered a semblance of friendship from the man. Then again, he could not abide Robert; the brother lacked his counterpart’s seriousness, opting instead for a conscience. “As you wish, Madame Lutece. However I must request that you appear during celebrations, even if my wife is to be in attendance. Appearance is everything, and I assure you that she will be… Compliant in public setting.”
God forbid that the public should know of the discrepancies performed by beloved First Lady. He would be ruined, the child bastardized by more than just the unwilling mother. “It will not come to that. I have been too lenient with her, I feel. If worse comes to worse, Madame Lutece, you will find yourself quite free of her.”
Reptilian smirk twitched the corners of his mouth, full of malice and promise of deadly consequence. While he may have asked for her advice on the matter, Zachary had no intentions to follow it. It had been a mere formality, but it had proved useful; just as she was.
Although valid personification had not been made prominent long ago when ancient men retained physical strength and budding foresight, there were facets to this preacher which suggested calamity. At the time of concurrence, there had failed to be a unfavorable scenarios which burdened her mind. All that had been in her thoughts had been the progression of her endeavors and their feasible commencement. All which held priority had no affect on her prosperity– the answers of the universe had been at her doorstep and what was left to execute had been jarring the entrance.Foolish that she hadn’t confirmed this visitor had been whom she originally anticipated. Only by trials of compliance would contradictory traits derive and raise uncertainty in this pious, deceptive man.
Behind regal chancellors there had almost certainly been a place for his docile companion, an individual that might not be of the same statue but has an immense influence. More so than even they would care to admit, evident had been this factor in the Comstock’s. What this Shepard called for though, had been no more than a further extent concerning his symbol of benevolence. It had only made sense that figures as they, counterparts as their reputation’s had been perceived, that the pair find attraction and so forth. A modern dayMary, some specified in regard to the Prophet’s unfortunate bride. One might have first mistaken this partnership for fondness at first glance. Even the Lutece’s had made this mistake, but only after eyes of the civilians are withdrawn does the fellow’s composure condense. Disarmed features had not been witnessed often as of late.
Patience was slipping and so had her relevance and safety.
While there had been an animus, addressing one’s own companion in such conduct had induced subtle distress. The jurisdiction that had inexplicably been granted to the opposing sex had afflicted the physicist ever since adolescence. Ultimately though this hardship, this curse, had been what enabled the construction of this proud figure whom challenged those ‘superior’: males. With a differing gender there would not have been dedication, valor, nor fortitude. Despite these characteristics being present in the opposing Lutece, there had been more and less in them both. Sympathy plagued him. “Justifiable. I don’t imagine she would overstep her boundaries more than she had done already. Robert and I will be present at these gatherings, in spite of her attendance. Absence would only cause words to be exchanged and citizens to stir.” In accordance to this, the Madonna might revert to compel once again, as though under the impression she’d been triumphant.
Spared? This assurance proved more than just what it was meant to, for it confirmed what meager use poor Amelia had to offer and simply that. An organism, a resource, which grew disobedient in time and in turn diminished her worth and speculated 'life span’ (reminiscent to a circus elephant). Villains hold only one objective and they would be damned had their property attempted to impose on their own lives. It was monstrous, vile, and utterly horrific, no matter the identity of the victim. But this was not her matter, Rosalind had not been contracted to give input or involve herself within discrepancies between husband and wife.
To this promise, Lutece only nods her head in return. There is nothing to say about this matter.
Thick fingers absently rubbed temples, bleary-eyed gaze landing on the physicist. For once, he had no assignment for her; what the Prophet wanted was her assured silence. He paid her well enough for the abuses she suffered at his wife’s hands, did he not? It was still a valid concern, though. For all his ‘abilities’, Comstock had yet to see into the minds of man. While he preyed on fear of damnation, Rosalind did not allow such petty threats to strike fear in her heart. That alone made her dangerous, and while she was still useful; Lutece held too many secrets for the Prophet’s liking.
"You and I both know that she will do no such thing, Madame Lutece. The most I can do is keep her far away from both you and your… Brother. But I fear the damage has already been done.” A pause; icy gaze landed on the fast-fading mark on the woman’s freckled cheek. Thankfully it had only reddened the skin — “As much as I would like to, forcing an apology from her would only inflame her temper.”
Where had he gone wrong? The pains the Prophet had taken to secure his empire had been great, though he could not deny that one foolish woman would either make or break all he had built. At least Rosalind held some semblance of intelligence! The Holy Man was faced with a dilemma; one that he had never truly believed he would ever face. Would the Prophet shatter the illusion of wedded bliss in order to keep his legacy safe, or allow his impassioned bride to continue along the warpath? Nevertheless, a simple matter that could be solved had reached an impasse due to Father Comstock’s own foolish pride.
Why admit that he could not secure his own legacy?
A sigh caused mountainous shoulders to heave, and absently did the Prophet pinch his nose.
“—If you have any suggestions, I implore you to enlighten me.”
Love was a near foreign emotion to a man who could only love himself; but he was at a crossroads. Having lived with the blasted woman he called wife for some time, he had come to accept her presence, treating her as one would a fond pet. While Rosalind had the man’s utmost respect, the Lady Comstock had fallen into a grey area, with impression only worsening since her… Spat with Columbia’s Lady of Science.
Unfortunately for the physicist, the possession of such furtive know-how would call for eventual and not to mention permanent dismissal. As of this moment however, there is but meager implications that a fate would ever incorporate her use. By the will of his hand, there would certainly be actions needing to be taken but as for now, all complications rooted at the fiery disposition of his devout partner. Rosalind hadn’t much to fret over while this misconstrued Mary remained present, the unorthodox webs she’d stitched from her deception proved more than enough of a hindrance for Comstock.
Riddled in the tone of his words, it had been unmistakable: The Prophet had been miffed and regarded the circumstance as though his very wife had been that of a child. Had a spectator been giving ear as of now, they might come to assume they’d been referring to a young girl considering they way in which they spoke so belittling of her… Perhaps the fellow hadn’t meant to, but regardless, had she been aware of the very remarks, the Madame would likely flare.
"Unfortunately.“ Of all this mess, the woman had at least been thankful a paw hadn’t battered the visage of her dear brother. An enigma that she ought to transfigure. "Although I do appreciate your consideration as well as your amends on account of the Lady,” as if she had the sanity to hold a stature as great, “I would like nothing more than to withdraw myself as well as my brother from any instance which I would be expected to endure her occupancy. That, is all I ask of you. An apology from the Lady is far too unrealistic a thing to request.”
Asking advice from a woman whom clenched her teeth to keep from spilling insult-- humorous.
There is a purse along her lips. “I, myself, would be at a lost if I had the very burden. Despite her appalling demeanor and gullibility, Lady Comstock is one of your utmost devout and a symbol of maternal will.” If the public were to be informed of conflicting actions performed by this woman, what sort of disinformation would travel through the paper or by spoken word?
“If sanction is called for, emphasize all which could be stripped if she’s to break from the sculpt. It is not my business and I stress this, but since you had inquired– it would be my method.”
Eradication had been the primary objective, though it had yet to be met successfully (not that it ever would as of now). Instead what this foolish character provided was a state of being that excelled that of a natural mortal’s life cycle despite there being a perpetual reminder of the demise that Lutece had succumbed to.
Somber, though it failed to matter much by her perception. What she sought and attained in life had been enough to satisfy her— through this repose there would be but more amplitude toward universes and unanswerable mysterious which haunted an obsessed mind. What came at the cost had been her sibling’s gratification, as though it had withered along with his actual being.
What was to come of Comstock had been inevitable and undoubtedly desired, but dissolution posed as no obstacle toward the physicist. If anything, it had unlocked doors which she’d been picking locks at for years on end.
“Death consists of being lifeless, inanimate as though a fractured object that was once estimated to withstand that which had been the cause of it’s fate. Decay soon follows, beginning with brain cells and inevitably those which make up the physical embodiment.”
In short, Rosalind implied a most obvious solution. Despite having stood across the way from the Prophet himself, plausible and legitimate by anyone’s observation, there was a carcass which underwent all which she described but moment’s ago. It had been uncanny, as though that of a duplicate.
“Ihave omitted that which constitutes humanism for the likely individual, but neither have I perished by biological death or been dispatched to a fiery purgatory… Where I remain idle is among cosmos and suspended cities, divergent realities fleeting through flickering eyes.
Word travelled fast. The friction between First Lady and the Good Lady of Science had come to a head, it seemed. The Prophet found his wife, who had been compliant and weak-willed in the earlier months of marriage to be something cold, stubborn and an utter slave to her passions. It was a side that had remained hidden from the unfeeling man, and now that the woman had shown her true colours, it had caused a world of trouble behind closed doors. A rift between Lutece and First Lady followed by explosive fights from the now estranged holy couple were kept far from Columbia’s public for the sake of all involved.
Yet his bride continued to push his limits! He had been lenient thus far, but for how long?
His sole comfort in the matter was the knowledge that Rosalind Lutece, ever the epitome of sophistication (and lacking in general warmth) knew her place. Whatever ills the First Lady gave unto the physicist, she hardly batted an eyelash at his wife, which only inflamed her temper. Something had to be done; too many slights might cost the Prophet one of his important pieces, and that would not do. The tempest had mercifully gone out for the day, leaving both conspirators to meet in the Prophet’s private study.
Shadows dragged across aged visage, hollowing him out completely. Frigid gaze landed on the other, and with a long suffering sigh did he crack his knuckles experimental.
”—I must apologize for my wife’s behaviour.”
Upon catching the presence of the ‘administrator’, the physicist only returns an acknowledging gaze in his general direction. Rosalind wished not to be supplied with yet more assignments, yet it was foreseen. What other reason would he have to reveal himself? The only thing which kindled their flame of association had been stacks upon stacks of paperwork.
"Though I would prefer an apology from your wife because of that which she so foolishly accused me of. I do appreciate that you had decided to apologize on her account though, your calendar is quite filled, I’m sure… There are possibilities for the unlikely but to hassle the impossible is frivolous.“
Comstock had probably already been aware of this which would justify this encounter. His wife hadn’t been the same compliant, hushed woman he’d charmed some time ago… It had been due to a change not in their characters, but their dynamics. Wretched Amelia had grown comfortable with him, despite the evident abuse she endures on account of his deception. Having been tested on her resilience for so long, the Lutece woman had been that which finally fractured her guise.
Should be thanking her. Even if the very reveal of her nature would most likely be acted upon in the cruelest of ways. There had been no doubt about it– nothing would get in the way of the prophet’s prevail and his esteemed reputation, even the very woman who was said to be the love of his ever so pious life.
The Prophet had been blessed with a silver tongue, or so it seemed. Able to have legions of men and women blinded by thoughts of mercy, redemption and trust in him, the Lord’s mouthpiece. Yet that was only possible through Lutece, as would the continuation of his legacy. The delicate matter had been something that Comstock constantly side-stepped and ignored for the sake of his own overblown ego, something fostered by the adoration placed at his feet. Never did it truly occur to him that holy texts warned of false idols and prophets; and if it had, Comstock had ignored it to pursue his own dreams and vanity.
Consequences for the problem which now plagued both Comstock and wife so would certainly be dire if he ever truly found out what had caused the matter to begin with. The Prophet had assured himself that the entire procedure was safe, aside from the rapid ageing which had certainly cut his time on earth short. But what would that matter as long as there was a child to shape and sit the throne? Yet again, it seemed that Lutece was the answer to his prayers. Being completely dependant on the goodwill of a woman - who in turn was dependant on his goodwill and money - was disconcerting, to say the least. This would certainly give her the upper hand, and that would not do.
Silence fell at the question, the Prophet cleared his throat. A question - perhap a command - hovered at his lips, yet no words came. It was always Lutece who had to treat lightly, never the Prophet. He prided himself on being a sensible man, and sensible men did not simply speak of such things. Gaze lingered on Rosalind for a brief moment, almost unsure. Whatever it was weighed on him greatly.
“There may be. Sooner, if not later.”
Had Lutece been asked to chronicle this false idol and instructed to only express legitimate, bone fide thoughts honestly, there would hardly be mercy. This man had been that which the very Lord himself claimed to be weary of; men prophesying invalid worship. Not simply that, but he had conducted it to glorify himself rather than the word of God… Not that Rosalind had been by any means a committed Christian– it had simply been the bewilderment that was induced by Columbia and all which was found implanted among buildings and dull minds. Depictions of this player found upon memorials, paintings, advertisements, and the sorts that were sure to provoke optimism in the hearts of ‘his people’. Columbians that were so blinded by faith, they fail to perceive their Father for who he had been and what he had been.
No more than a false prophet preaching himself. Leading lambs astray.
Consequent to his silence, there as an eventual peer over that cornered shoulder of hers. As he’d come to view, what was marked upon his aged expression sparked that of intrigue. The prophet had never once been the sort known to suppress beliefs, requests, whatever apprised between them as per usual encounter. A defident Zachary Comstock had been something most ambiguous. Whatever had it been that caused such skepticism?
“Understood. When it comes time that the next ambition is inaugurated and in need of my assistance, you know where it is to find me.” Lutece Laborities, hard at work with ongoing undertaking under his corrupt command. Clefting tears in the hopes of collecting data that wasn’t needed.
That extra precaution that doubled as insurance served Lutece well. For now, she had the Prophet cornered; he was unable to operate or improve the machine without her, and she was sharp enough to know that Comstock, for all his power and control, needed her to covet the title he had so generously given himself: Prophet. Without Lutece, he was simply an ordinary man who had been given a mission from God. Lutece had been the factor that had allowed Comstock to pursue the Lord’s work - and his own; and for that, he had to respect her. But the true question remained: How long would such respect last, and what would become of Lutece should their contract be terminated? Comstock was not a forgiving man, and Rosalind knew far too much.
”You are kind to worry.” Or worried for his money. It was unlikely that anyone after Comstock would fund the woman should her employer mysteriously vanish. Comstock looked out for his legacy, the woman looked out for her name. But the contraption was rather finicky; one wrong switch, coupled with the wrong button pushed could set production back months, if not years. Though he did not place trust with Rosalind, the Prophet did put his faith in her. Many candidates had wanted to work with him, only Rosalind had proven herself worthy of his time and money. Not only that, her theories had proven to be true.
Unfeeling gaze dropped to the redhead, jaw set in irritation. That statement was false, she knew that. Glimpses through tears had proved that though there was one Prophet in this world, DeWitts and other versions of his ascended self. “We shall see if that holds true, Madame.”
Sugary words hardly held the intention they were meant and instead carried a contradictory guise. Nothing would be mentioned though, for the sake of both their endeavors, only neglected. It had been utterly trite to handle conversation this way, but it was guaranteed from both persons. Prejudice hadn’t been strong enough in their cases to set them both back from vast assets.
Upon mention of the concern once expressed, the physicist only comes to return that of a nod toward her supervisor in assurance for that which had been utter dishonesty. For the consequences that would arise had she been forthright would be far from favorable– Comstock had grown in recognition which meant there had been and will be those whom would advocate him generally, his word, and what he carried out rather than what Rosalind might claim. This position, although the first she’d had, had been set for a great deal of time. No matter the few displeasures that came with it, they would have to be dealt with, lest she’d been asking for misfortune.
Idle chatter practically dwindling, the redhead’s hands interlocked before her as though to convey completion. “Well, I’m sure we both have more than enough work we ought to be tending to.” One perhaps more than the other. “That is, unless you might have more to ask of me.” More than likely he’d just been wanting to withdraw himself from both her and this conversation, but there had been no desire to appear boorish. For this reason, there was patience. Albeit the obligation to work and the barricade-less communication between both herself and Robert bit away at her heels.
She was wise to do so. The Prophet, in some respects, was rather like a shark. Once he smelt blood, there was no turning back; and that continued over to fear. If Rosalind were to twinge away in terror, Comstock would feed off of that. As of yet, however, Lutece stood as tall as an oak, as strong a marble statue. He could respect that, albeit only just. As the only scientist willing to take on his line of work and make visions reality, the Prophet could only bully her so much before she walked; and Lutece was smart enough to know that. Threats were made between clenched teeth and with frigid eyes, providing nothing concrete yet hanging in the air. Though morality may have differed, both were naturally ambitious beings. While Comstock craved the power given to him by Lutece’s machine, Rosalind wished for money and the fame that aiding the Prophet would bring. In retrospect, it was how the Prophet saw Rosalind; but it was, in his mind, a fairly accurate depiction. “I should hope so.” For your sake hovered on his tongue, but to say as much would be too clichéd, even for the Prophet.
He should hate to become predictable.
Brows furrowed in displeasure at her words, the idea of being supervised like a mere child was both infuriating and mocking. She knew better than to trust the Prophet with the machine, of course; yet Comstock had not garnered that he would need the Luteces to operate the damned thing. Taking a quick breath, he rolled his shoulders back.
”Is that so, Madame Lutece? I assure you that I intend to use it for good.”
For the good of Columbia, for the good of himself.
Subsequently, there would come a time when the redhead would provoke revelation regarding her existence, but as of yet, she remained deferring any possible threats. What she’d possessed was not so easily seized or transferable and for that reason, the other could do nothing but negotiate. It had been rather apparent to both though that they’d accepted and moved on quite easily, only to focus on a matter that was prime in the alliance.
Quite so.
"Ihave no doubt.“ Spoken with enough sincerity to reassure, the woman had proceeded with sensible clarification. "All I’m concerned with is the machine,” harmless deceit, “ Were there to be a miscalculation, I would like to establish alternate procedures to prevent possible harm." More so for the device rather than his own being. While the woman did benefit, there had been potential for all to end in turmoil while the prophet commandeered. Likely to be infuriated with such justification, Rosalind did attempt to keep the conversation light.
She angled her visage to face the other cordially. "There is only one prophet.” At least, as of this moment. This had only been an effort to gratify, possibly escort such unfavorable speculations, though it was unnatural for her, of all folk. Suspicions were likely arise, that or blatant aggravation.
