𝑭ume | Joseph x Aesop

Episode 2 : Certain Morals

The clock struck midnight...

Certainly, Aesop had begun to feel a bit woozy, the still air had felt cold to the touch. He was getting impatient, the tapping of his shoes became almost of a rhythm. The hum of the winds outside had crept underneath the doors, the chill engulfing the room in a frigid swift. Among the folded papers and inked pens, the nicely printed signatures of previous patients had been laid on top one another. The desk was full of old letters from families appreciating his hard work, how their deceased loved ones were delicately treated for the day of their department from earth. He had no feelings around it, and rather, Carl had questioned how could these people even find appreciation for an embalmer. But perhaps ignorance is bliss.

The tapping from branches hitting the glass had began to sound annoying, every tick might as well be rocks as it sounded no different. A small light lit the office, and even with working lamps, the glow of the fire had been more pleasing to the eye. The flame had danced in place, the warmth of a tiny spark had closely ignited the feeling of comfort. A certain knock had disrupted the quiet however, and as the knuckles made contact with the door, the soft pounding had left an eerie feeling. like a ghost, the sound had vanished after the entrance had opened, leaving but a silent whisper. Mist was seen across the empty streets, like a blanket covering everything underneath. From afar, you could see dim lights of the lanterns, some flickering as moths gingerly got closer. It was all empty.

Aesop's eyes had darted from side to side, mind racing with the curiosity of the letter's sender. His heart beat had almost increased, anticipation of a said stranger was already late. It was midnight, and yet it seemed no one had appeared. His gloved hands still held on tight onto a metallic but cold knob, and as his fingers twitched, he had doubts of anyone coming. He had held his breath before opening the door, along with shoulders tensing. The mist that formed was becoming less dense, and soon after, the sight of presents had suddenly appeared on the doorway. To his surprise, a litter of those wrapped presents had shaped familiarly like bodies, shoulders had been clearly seen broad on some while others had been more slim. On each one, had different coloured bows, but had similar styled patterns- such as the red liquid that had been staining and making the wrapping paper soggy.

A little grunt had escaped Aesop's chapped lips, frown hidden away as his silky mask hid away the arrays of disappointment. He wasn't a fool to notice that the letter had indeed delivered the packages, in rather obnoxious ways however. He was not impressed, and rather disgruntled by how his new canvases were treated along the way. If he was to work on the bodies, wouldn't it be more fitting for them to be clear of bruises? Corpses were like fruits, and every bruise had left an obvious mark that no one would like to eat- and in this case, the dark marks would make his paint be harder to show. It would take another layer of makeup to patch some areas, and honestly, Aesop had rather have a clean canvas to work on already without needing to even rework it.

Seven bodies had laid on the front porch, and as the letter fulfilled its promise, all that was left was the man himself to appear. Of course there was a possibility that this was all some joke that people had wanted to pull, or perhaps, had other people found out about his works? Had they simply sent this letter to mock the pathetically hidden secret? In all the the years Carl had been in this business, no one had suspected too far, and even if some did- they'd die anyway. Why let him continue this if they had knew about his job? What benefit do they get by letting him continue? That may have been a rather stupid question, and yet Aesop had formed more similar questions that had hindered his attention to the live man standing just behind.

With the sudden grip on the shoulder, Aesop had jolted from the touch. He spun around in an attempt to shake off the hand that settled onto his shoulder, every inch of his body had made a brief spasm as the stranger's fingers let go. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, and as the familiar chill slowly slid from head to toe, he had moved a little bit too much and instead of regaining stable posture, his left heel had stepped onto one of the present's limbs. His breath hitched, and as Carl widen his eyes the blurred figure of the letter's sender had managed to hold onto his waist. Like some cat, he had his back tensed when the stranger held him back in place, every fiber of his body reeked of alert.

"I didn't realize you would fall for me this early, but nevertheless I wouldn't mind," the stranger's accent had made his sentence even more provocative, the french tongue had made it easy to find his voice rather rimmed with sultry. It was hoarse, but even with the edges, it had been smooth to the ear. Like some sweet apple, the voice was easy to take in.

Aesop stood in silence, almost as if his voice had been completely stolen. What had happened was not a scenario he had been prepared to take in, and never had he even thought of something like this to happen. But his face betrayed what his mind wanted to say, cheeks swollen with the pink tints of embarrassment- both from almost tripping and from the sudden comment. He couldn't find a response, or a proper one at that. All he knows for sure, is that this was certainly an unusual entrance. "Who-" he started, only to be cut off.

"As promised, I did say I would deliver the bodies," the man had become more clear, a smirk present on smooth lips. His hair was platinum white, almost as pure as snow, whilst eyes vibrant cerulean that had complimented his complexion. He was adorned with blue attire, golden linings following the center of his vest. Shoulders broad, and arms wide open, he bowed as to show respect. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Aesop Carl."

Furrowing his eyebrows, the silver-haired male scoffed at the other, a strand of hair covering an eye. "And you must be the man I was supposed to meet according to the letter you sent, I presume?"

"Correct, my muse! But where are my manners? I must apologize-" the man tilted his head, hand reaching towards the embalmer, "-Joseph Desaulnier."

Annoying, Aesop sighed. Nonetheless took the man's hand. Upon contact, even when covered with gloves, did he feel the warmth that resided along the palms. There had been a weird spark after their fingers touched, a strange wave coming from the fingertips towards the chest. It hit like a tidal wave, strong currents of uncertainty had sheathed away another unfamiliar feeling. All he knew however, was that the new emotion should be left to rot and be unbothered. A need to back away, Aesop could only stand awkwardly, silver eyes narrowing to the side. Despite the mask hiding any physical evidence of his hesitations, anxiety began to boil under the silk sheet of fabric. This man was clearly a bit too obnoxious for his taste, and even with a passable smile, this Desaulnier man was still a stranger. But that makes him one too.

"Are you not afraid I've seen your face? Whose to say that I wouldn't tell on you?" Aesop calmly stated, and even with his alertness fumed with anxiety, he proceeded to take the risk.

"So? I trust that you'll keep this dirty secret between the two of us, because you know very well that before any words escape from your pretty little lips, a blade would kiss your neck first," smugly, Joseph continued to pester the other, a satisfied grin settle on his lips. They had already let go from shaking hands, and even when he too, felt that strange spark, nothing could be more interesting than how the embalmer had rather soft palms. It had felt nice, but that shouldn't be said outloud.

"Touche, although your trust in me will wither without any details on why you would want me specifically to deal with your murders." The embalmer pushed, almost as if getting ready to attack when the wrong answers were said. He wasn't exactly raising his voice, but rather his tone had begun to produce poison, words rolling off his tongue whilst a flood of deadly invisible malice seeped through gaps.

Chuckling, Joseph cleared his throat thereafter. "Well, isn't it obvious? I'm not exactly here to just gift you these corpses, rather I need something more.....enticing from you."

Episode End