Cerillium wrote:
Collab w/Cer
"I'm an old time bible preacher," Fred glared at Swith. He'd already jumped to conclusions about Fram. "I'm not the antichrist Catholic church. I'm Baptist. And that foul creature is nothing but a fag. God hates fags."
Swith narrowed her eyes. "He's not. He's all genders. Orientation doesn't mean anything to him. But he's a god and doesn't hate himself."
"Which god hates me?" Fram interrupted.
"God," Swith and Fred said in unison. She stamped her foot for emphasis and added, "Elohim. The Abrahamic God."
"And his son, the Lord Jesus," Fred professed.
"Who?" Fram was never one to look too closely at humanity unless it was to corrupt their carnal sides. He was mildly irritated at some unknown being hating him for no reason.
"Jesus!" Fred and Swith said in unison, although Swith's statement was more of an expletive.
Fram wrinkled his nose. "You needn't shout. I'm not deaf. I just haven't heard of this hateful man."
"Ugh," Swith rolled her eyes. "He's not hateful. How can you not have heard of him? Honestly Fram, you need to sober up at least once a millennium. Hebrew prophets spoke of a messiah's coming. Christians believe Jesus is the Messiah. And don't you even try to weasel out and say "who?" to the Hebrews. It wasn't my damn golden calf those Hebrews were dancing around!"
"Thank you," Fram bowed his head demurely. "But I still don't see what this man has to do with it."
Fred, on the other hand, tilted his head towards Swith. "You're a god of chaos?"
"Yes."
"And you know of the Lord Jesus?"
"Well yes, doesn't everyone? Your chosen pantheon is so pervasive... no offense to Elohim... that very few people haven't heard of Him. Except Fram. Fram is a moron."
The pastor's face reddened, mostly from frustration and anger. "How can you, a demon false god, know anything about my Lord and Savior? How can you claim to know-"
Swith held up her hand. "It's dae-mon, not demon. I'm not a false god. I'm just not your god. As for Jesus? I was there when they nailed him to the wood. Many of us were there, representing our various pantheons. I'd thank you to speak more respectfully lest I smite you. You assume nobody outside your pantheon knows about him. You assume we don't even acknowledge Elohim. Let me tell you what I know."
She tipped her chin up to stare into Fred's eyes, and held up her hand to hush Fram (who was about to interrupt with yet another silly thing that Swith's handler insisted on removing during collaboration efforts.)
Fram raised an eyebrow. "You honestly believe that?"
"I was there."
"And you don't believe in God?" Fred interrupted.
"Ass. Didn't I just say Elohim is real? I don't follow Elohim. I'm a god. I'm in my own pantheon. Elohim didn't make a new covenant with other pantheons, or with demons and angels or other deities. The whole gig is yours. You, a human being. He's all about you. You want to condemn people because you feel Elohim hates them. He doesn't. Nowhere in the bible does it say he does. You're free to believe people's actions are sins, and you profess to know that Elohim hates sin. However, all the world was in sin when they nailed Jesus to the cross, and yet he still died for humans. So hush with the "God hates fags" nonsense.
"God hates fags!" Fred reaffirmed.
"Excuse me," Fram interrupted, "But this brings be back to my question. What the fuck is a fag?"
"A homosexual man," Fred and Swith replied in unison.
Fram snapped his mouth closed, irate at being accused of having an orientation.
"Now you've pissed him off," Swith whispered Fred. "He hates it when humans misunderstand his nature. He's fully male and fully female, you see, but also neither."
It was Fred's turn to raise a surprised eyebrow. "Fully? But neither? That's an abomination!"
"No, it's just Chaos. He and I are the same thing. Hedonism. The emotions of lust, carnal desires, delight in excess, pure perfection, you know. I chose to take female form. He just looks male. If you pull down his pants, you won't find any genitals. He forms them to suit his needs, and to suit whatever species he wants to frolic with."
"That's DISGUSTING!" Fred growled.
"Not really. You see, you're judging him because you're assigning human attributes to him. He's not human. Also, this train wreck of a conversation has taken us off the tracks. You're here to exorcize him."
"I get plenty of exercise," Fram huffed.
Swith snarled. "Ex-OR-cize, not ex-ER-cise. I want you gone."
Fram looked around his beautiful new Lair, and at his minions (who had actually woken up and were listening to the entire conversation.) He'd perfected the place. It was now worthy to be home to She Who Thirsts. It was fabulous. "You want me gone?"
"YES. This is MY lair. I formed it. Ogoti binded it, Elohim blessed it. It's sacred and holy ground. I said you could stay the night, not take my place. You're only allowed to be in the material plain when summoned, but you figured out you could stay in here because it's sacred. Fram, I've asked very politely for you to leave. Go set up your own Lair somewhere. Your actions in here upset Ogoti, and offend Elohim. You're going to cost me business contracts with Him. Please, just... find a new place to dwell. I'm sorry, but you know the rules."
Fram was crestfallen. He did know the rules, of course. He also knew long before now that he'd overstayed his welcome. He'd been squatting on purpose just to see if Swith would Manifest and challenge him. But this? A funny preacher from another pantheon who turned out to not be the Reverend Henry Kane? Charumati didn't need to manifest - she had connections. Not only that, but his own daemons had perked up their ears in interest when they heard the testimony. They hadn't attended the crucifixion. They were curious about Elohim's offering to humanity. Oh, enough! He wasn't about to let his hosts be corrupted by absolute heresy.
"Alright," Fram said at last. "I admit I was in the wrong. I'll vacate and return to home. Can I still visit?"
"On occasion," Swith replied, "with invitation. Maybe Christmas?"
The pastor pulled himself from his stupor. "Christmas? You celebrate Christmas?"
"Yes. Naomi taught me about it last year. Lovely holiday. I still don't understand about the barn, but the plastic sheep were tasty."
"Christmas!" Fram cried. "Oh, that messiah! Why did you just say so in the beginning?"
"Oh, enough!" Swith was quite finished with the bantering. "Just go. NOW!"
A loud pop heralded the disappearance of Fram, his minions, the opulent decorations and tapestries, the statues of himself, the statues of male genitalia, the various beds, the decadent food, the alcohol and all other Fram-related items. Swith was left with an empty Lair. She sighed happily. "Finally!"
"What the fuck is this?" Fred's head was beginning to ache.
"A bad dream. You won't remember any of it tomorrow." With that, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder and they vanished. True to her word, he'd wake up the following day with nothing to show for the events that night... except for a very sore shoulder which he'd assumed happened because he'd slept on it funny.