Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Revo (Sound Horizon), save for Cortés whose character I have collected from history and a friend's roleplay interpretation.
When they were together, he rarely heard the other make a sound of difference. His body always had been responsive and honest, but only dead breaths escaped his lips. He understood that pillow talk was no agreed privilege, leaving it at that and whatnot until curiosity secured its place in the farrago of his poor record.
One night, he languidly made a question, expecting no answer in return. Being a navigator, the other man might have had interesting objects to collect, other than sachets and pomanders of many kinds. Those gave his busy cabin a calming impression, quite contrasting with the mendacious guise he wore everyday. He awaited shrug and sneer, like always.
To his surprise, the other spoke. The beginning of his story made a genuine painting with thousand patches of colour, if not a fairytale far from their daily migraine in blood and sweats. He felt like a child, enchanted and immersed. Odour, in the other's say, was one kind of voluptuous ink imprinted onto remembrance. He traversed many lands, and the best to buy would be those collective tokens of momentary pleasure. For his beloved ones who had waited in trust, for his cosy dwelling that had fled from wealth and schemes.
However, at mercy of misfortune, stench of blood arrived.
And they killed her
Now he came to notice, the shade in those eyes resembles reflection of crystal clear sky onto vast sea, seeming lushly cold and spellbound until the beholder leads himself straight to darkness and knows its charms. He gripped his cross, mumbling sworn beliefs against this newfound devil. Words continued nonchalantly, darkened with discord and blasphemy.
Good God, protect your child
The man so thought it was the voice of salvation from within, not from the embodiment of heresy before him. He wants it to be, thus his eyes shut tight. Unfortunately, in place of sight forsaken, other senses stroke a vivid blow against his shield of ignorance. Reek of lust, ungrateful warmth, delusional aroma. Choked with loss, he groaned and awoke, still hung limp at the stake of faith.
The devil greeted him with a bright smile, beckoned him into his arms.
Hush, good God won't save you
It was when the shattering sound echoed underneath. He obeyed. He had to obey.