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Dio’s eyes glow gold in the dark, predatory and captivating as flames to a moth; and when he moves it is with a leonine grace. Once Enrico had shared the fleeting thought with his friend, and Dio’s lips had curled back into an indulgent smile, his fangs catching the light from the cheap lamp on the desk.
“A lion, you say,” Dio muses from his sprawl across Enrico's bed. “Then what of its strange bedfellow? For they say the lion shall lie down with the lamb.”
“Isaiah chapter 11, verse 6,” Enrico replies absently, gaze lingering on Dio’s fingers caressing the spine of the thick leather-bound book in his hands. “A misattribution, but captivating nonetheless.”
There is a sudden hush in the room, and when Enrico looks up Dio’s eyes had narrowed in contemplative scrutiny, centered on him. The tome in his hands snaps shut. “Go on, my friend,” he says, enunciating each word in the timeless cadence that only an immortal could achieve. “I would like to know more.”
Enrico swallows once, twice, feeling heat creep across his cheeks unbidden under the weight of Dio’s full attention. Shifts in his seat; recalls the glory and majesty of God, and how no mortal could withstand His divinity unscathed. “It is a wolf who dwells with the lamb,” he begins, “and a calf with the lion.”
Dio hums, a non-committal noise; strange, how such a small sound can multiply the perceived dimensions of a room. “A wolf, a calf, so what? Make your point.”
“Patience, my friend. As I was saying, the lion and the lamb are the most evocative symbols of the Peaceable Kingdom, regardless of the text in actual scripture.” He spread his hands, noting the way Dio’s golden eyes flicker in interest. “Isaiah himself had proclaimed that no lions, nor any ravenous beasts, shall enter the world to come. Yet he had elsewhere referenced such formerly ravenous beasts as become peaceable, for the redeemed roams freely in the Kingdom of God.”
“Redeemed? Tamed, you mean,” Dio sneers, contemptuous of the self-righteousness that is part and parcel of conventional morality. “Neutered, defanged, made helpless.”
Enrico shakes his head, a small secret smile on his lips. “Ah, but the lion’s majesty was never diminished.”
“Oh?” Dio’s intrigue is an indulgence, and Enrico strives to earn his penance.
“Indeed. Far from helpless, he is in control the entire time. He holds back from slaughter not because he must, but rather because it pleases him to do so at that particular moment. He holds the leash to his own fury, secure in the confidence that he could rain down destruction the instant he grows weary of restraint. For he is the king amongst beasts—” and here Enrico catches Dio’s eyes, lets his smile widen to mirror his friend’s satisfaction— “and there is none who could sway his will.”
“My my, Enrico, what dangerous tastes!” Dio’s amused delight courses through his veins like heady wine. “Does it please you to picture flocks of innocents mangled in the lion’s rampage?”
“A lamb who endures death may yet still devour it as a lion. But I must admit,” Enrico says, voice demure and without shame, “The juxtaposition of docile innocence against raw magnificence, the violent vulnerability inherent in the phrase…” An imperceptible sigh, skittering across the stillness that had draped over them like a heavy mantle. Enrico allows his eyes to slip shut for a moment, savoring his next confession. “…It holds a certain visceral appeal.”
For a moment it feels as though the world had stopped. When he opens his eyes again, he finds Dio looming before him, strong elegant fingers resting on his shoulders, cool breath caressing his cheek. “Will the lamb lay with the lion tonight, then?” His dear friend murmurs, and oh, there is a tenderness in his tone that makes Enrico ache all over.
Every servant of the faith must confront the question at some point: does God love virtue because it is virtuous, or is it virtuous because God loves it? (A third option arises; namely, God recognizes virtue, but does not love it. He simply laughs at the concept and does what He will.
This is something Enrico understands, watching Dio watching him.)
“As you wish,” he tilts his head so his lips could brush against Dio’s, even as a distant corner of his mind speaks of sin and hellfire in low murmurs. “But I am no innocent lamb.”
Dio’s fanged grin on his skin is wicked, which suits Enrico perfectly fine. “My dear, that I already know,” he purrs, slipping an arm around his waist. When he pulls, Enrico follows. He will follow this man forever.
Dio is not safe, and most certainly not good. But the lion has roared; who can but prophesy? He trusts with devout certainty in Dio's destiny, for Dio is the king amongst kings, and his glory surpasses all men, mortal or otherwise. Gravity had landed him by Dio’s side, and by his side he would remain—
To Heaven, and whatever comes after.