The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

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redwinter101
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The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

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Title: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan, part 2
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG-13/slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: This is a story I wrote ages ago about Josef's origins. Just for clarity, Giuseppe Costanza is Josef. This chapter contains some slash themes so please don't read on if that's likely to offend - but the rating is PG-13 so there is nothing explicit.

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--- The Emancipation of Josef Kostan ---


Naples, 1648

The city was rotting; its decay permeated the atmosphere, the palazzi of the old town, the waterfront stews and the temperament of its citizens. Giuseppe had arrived shortly before the siege took hold and began the slow suffocation that was taking its toll on all who lived within the city confines and now left him stranded here. He probably could have made his escape if he were so minded, but he had no particular reason to leave. The city still offered no lack of diversions, paid or otherwise, and he had a full purse and the appetites to match.

The Spanish forces that controlled supply lines into the city and the flow of souls outward had misjudged the mood of the Neapolitan masses; the peasants' revolt of the previous year had been suppressed but they had overplayed their hand with the bombardment that followed. Now unrest had turned into something far more and the city had defiantly declared itself a Republic. The municipal grandees had been foolish enough to assume that the rest of the world would quietly acquiesce and allow the second largest city in Europe to keep its riches to itself. Anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the ebb and flow of history knew how foolish this was and the grip of the siege grew ever tighter. The proximity of previously distant armies engendered a hothouse atmosphere, exacerbated by the swelter of late-August humidity. To the residents it felt like history was holding its breath and the normal routines of daily life had been suspended in favour of an orgy of lawlessness that kept the priests in their vestries and virgins under their fathers' watchful eyes.

Giuseppe loved it. Brawlers, drunkards and cutpurses could be found in every tavern and there was no shortage of citizens offering their bodies in payment for a meal, a drink or a roof over their heads for the night.

It was late into the meat of another sultry night and the stench of unburied bodies mingled with rotting fish on the dockside and the occasional pool of vomit as Giuseppe made his way through the Santa Lucia quarter to his newest haunt. Ale and the local limoncello were a heady combination and he was soon enjoying a bawdy conversation with Ornella, his new favourite. The alcohol coursed through him and filled his mouth with sufficient flavour to distract him from the taste of poverty that lingered on her. He had unlaced the front of her dress, enjoying the encouragement of his audience, and begun to explore the treasures within when a brawl spilled in from the street. A flash of steel, a spike of blood in the air, the thud of well-shod boot on soft flesh, before the tavern owner and his henchman unceremoniously bundled the combatants back out into the street. If the casualty of this assault had been seeking assistance, he had been sorely mistaken. But something about the apparent victim's demeanour had caught Giuseppe's attention; he was obviously on the losing end of this particular fight, four on one weren't exactly fair odds, but he had, if anything, seemed to be rather enjoying himself. On impulse, Giuseppe set Ornella aside, promising more later, and headed out into the street. The fight was continuing in the alley behind the tavern, but it looked as though it would be over soon. With his blood up, Giuseppe stepped into the fray, sword drawn; that caused the four thugs to take a step back as they were armed only with daggers but they obviously still figured that victory was theirs, and a fool with a sword invariably meant a rich fool. They closed in.

Giuseppe positioned himself back to back with the man, circling, waiting to see from which direction the next sally would come.

"Giuseppe Costanza. So lovely to meet you. Isn't it a pleasant evening?"

That drew a hearty laugh. Giuseppe had been right, this man was enjoying himself.

"And what brings you to my aid, Giuseppe Costanza?"

"Oh, you know, I didn't really have anything more pressing to do so I thought a little exercise might be soothing."

"Soothing indeed." With this, the man raised his arm, a flash of metal catching the corner of Giuseppe's eye, and lunged for his nearest assailant. A cry, followed by the clatter of a knife dropping to the cobbled street. The attacker doubled over in pain, cursing, and inciting his comrades to finish the job. They gave it their best shot but they were no match. Amid the chaos, Giuseppe had caught scent of a particular decay that explained the man's apparent lack of concern at his predicament. He was a vampire. No wonder he was looking for amusement with these poor dupes. They kept the fight going for as long as they could, but the cut and thrust was soon over. Leaving the four men clutching various wounds, the two new friends ran off towards the heart of the old town and across to the main square, almost deserted apart from a couple of young lovers, oblivious to the furore, with thoughts only for each other. They halted and Giuseppe finally had the chance to meet his accomplice face to face. He stuck out his hand.

"Good evening, friend. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Will you give me your name?"

The older man brushed greasy hair from his hooded eyes and looked him full in the face. He returned the gesture and was about to make his introductions but Giuseppe beat him to it. It was a face that he had seen before, the face of Goliath.

"You're Caravaggio!" he blurted out.

From welcome to suspicion in an instant, his knife was at Giuseppe's throat a moment later, faces so close they were almost touching.

"That's a name I've not heard in many years. I would know who you are, vampire, and what you want with me, before I separate your head from your body."

In spite of his somewhat precarious predicament, Giuseppe couldn't stifle a giggle. The knife pressed closer.

"I'm glad that I amuse you. I doubt you will find anything funny with your head rolling in the gutter."

That was enough for Giuseppe. With gales of laughter ringing out across the piazza, he flipped the older vampire onto the ground and disarmed him in one swift, smooth manoeuvre.

"I'm sorry, my friend. It's just melodrama always has the same effect on me. You seem to be taking yourself a little too seriously. And the idea of you being able to get the better of me in a swordfight, with enough alcohol seeping through your skin to make me drunk on the smell alone, well, it is just laughable. I meant no offence." If this was meant as an apology, any sincerity was lost as Giuseppe continued to laugh, still pinning the struggling vampire beneath him.

With a lengthy sigh, eyes closed, Caravaggio stopped wriggling, took a deep breath and Giuseppe felt a deep, rumbling guffaw that started in his belly, worked its way up his body and eventually erupted into the quiet of the night air. He laughed so hard that tears ran down the sides of his face. They were laughing together then, at the ridiculousness of their situation, laying on top of each other in the piazza, at the release of tensions following their escapade, and at the joy of finding a kindred spirit in this godforsaken city. Eventually they recovered themselves and Caravaggio was the first to speak.

"You are right my friend. These wild years have left me with a quick temper and a tendency to flowery language. I thank you for reminding me of that. Now help me up before any more of this street soaks into my tunic." They faced each other, hands clasped, grinning. Giuseppe felt the older vampire's eyes searching his face, taking his measure, deciding how the evening would continue from here.

"Well, I think another drink is called for, don't you, my young friend?"

"My house is not far from here, if you would join me?" Giuseppe had a thousand questions; there was an intrigue and mystery here that he wanted to uncover. The memory of that day in Borghese's study still loomed large and the opportunity to talk with the great Caravaggio in private was unlikely to come again.

*****************************

It was only in the cool, candlelit interior of his rented palazzo that Giuseppe realised, with a certain measure of disgust, that his guest was absolutely filthy. Not just scuffed and sullied from the street fight, but ingrained with what seemed like a year's worth of grime in every pore. Servants were summoned from their beds, instructions were given and they set about their tasks while Giuseppe busied himself with his guest. Caravaggio cast a surveying eye around the room and let out a faint whistle of admiration.

"This is a grand residence. You must be wealthy, although I could have surmised as much from your finery. Have you always lived here? I would have thought our paths might have crossed before now."

"I am only visiting the city; the house is rented from a nobleman who saw the siege coming and decided to spend his summer in cooler climes. But it has the advantage of a private cellar, which is beautifully chill. I had heard of the caves and tunnels beneath this city but no-one warned me that they were as hot as hellfire so it was a relief to find a property such as this. How do you find somewhere cool to rest? The siege must make it difficult."

"When you have lived in a place for nearly forty years, on and off, you acquire whatever knowledge you need to survive."

"But surely you are renowned in these parts? Your death was widely reported throughout the whole of Europe; Borghese fell into a state of mourning that caused consternation at the Vatican and the whole Maltese nation held festivals in your honour. As soon as I saw you, I knew that you were the same man whose face I saw in the Cardinal's painting all those years ago. You must be recognised every day."

"You might think so." A wry smile crossed the painter's face. "In truth, people have short memories and new favourites. A change of name and a short period in exile ensured that I enjoy the privacy of anonymity, here and throughout Italy. Mention the name Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio in this city and you will find few who even remember who I was. My work remains, enjoyed by some, but the new styles have replaced my vision." There was no bitterness, which surprised Giuseppe, just a sadness that spoke of talent thwarted and passion strangled.

"Besides, I have other pleasures to enjoy. I still paint, to suit the vanity of various patrons with little taste but plenty of money and to suit myself, with images the rest of the world will never see. And as long as there are beautiful boys and plentiful taverns, I am content. After all, only a city so filled with sin would require so many churches." With this he cast a sly glance at Giuseppe, gauging his reaction, sensing opportunity.

Giuseppe was filled with an unfamiliar confusion. Caravaggio's reputation was legendary and although he had told himself that it was the opportunity to talk with the great man that had prompted him to extend an invitation to his home, in truth, there were other discoveries that tempted him. He had walked this earth for nearly fifty years and only ever enjoyed the carnal pleasures of the fairer sex. He adored women and had long since stopped keeping count of his conquests; he was not aroused by the man he now faced, but intrigued nonetheless.

His musings were interrupted by a soft tap at the door.

"Your bath is drawn, master. Will that be all for the evening?" The girl was enquiring about more than whether or not her domestic duties were concluded.

"The others can retire, Maria. Wait for us in the drawing room. My guest will have need of you."

He turned back to face his guest.

"Well if you're going to stay here tonight, the least I can offer is a bath, clean clothes and a willing maiden."

"Is that all that is on offer?"

"Well, it's a good place to start." Giuseppe beckoned him to follow to the drawing room, where the steaming bath awaited. "I shall leave you in peace. There are clean clothes there. Please choose whatever you wish. I have a few things to attend to but I shall not be far. Maria is here for anything that you need in the meantime." He turned and left without giving Caravaggio a chance to respond.

Wandering out onto the terrace, the humidity hit him, making it hard to focus on what had been a most unexpected evening; he was unsure what to make of it all. The vision of Goliath that had so shocked him as a boy, now walking, talking and fighting beside him was thrilling and he felt a connection that he had not realised he had been missing. In the years since his turning, he had almost exclusively avoided prolonged or close contact with other vampires. Once he was freed from the need to remain close to his sire, he had determined to make his own way in the world, living by his own rules. For the first time it occurred to him that his rules were not really his own; he had been blessed with a wondrous gift and perhaps he was squandering it within limited horizons and a failure of his parochial imagination. He had adapted his immortal life to conform to the strictures of mortality but now that he had been presented with a moment, an opportunity to take a leap of faith and discover something new, did he want to grasp it?

Grinning to himself, mind made up, he turned away from the heat of the night and marched back to the drawing room, arriving just as Caravaggio was stepping out of the bath. A sweep of the room and the sated look on his guest's face told him that Maria had served her purpose and they were alone. Their eyes met, glazed. Giuseppe shrugged off his clothes quickly and without ceremony.

"In my experience, convention is sorely overrated and only in choosing to shed its bounds can you truly begin to discover the power and the glory of immortality. Is that a choice you are making, my young friend? I am many things, but I am not wise; I can attempt to be your guide, but not your teacher."

"How did you know?"

"When you have seen as much as I, you know. You just know." Caravaggio took a step forward, grasping Giuseppe by the shoulders, searching his face for understanding and agreement, and finding it.

The sensations were the same, but not. The familiarity and strangeness of a body that responded in the same way as his own. The alien feeling of his body being penetrated, experiences new and magnificent. Giuseppe surrendered himself to Caravaggio's unrefined but surprisingly tender attentions. He could sense the longing for a connection, deeper than sex, not made in desperation or in trade; the loneliness of a vampire's existence, unknown, unmissed, no longer mourned, and it moved and frightened him. They found a rhythm together, moving, touching, fulfilling until neither could tell who was the guide and who the follower.

As their bodies separated, sated and languid, they lay side by side on the cool stone floor, each lost in his own thoughts, sharing a brief, silent moment of companionship. The sun was starting to throw shadows across the room and the cooling embrace of the cellar beckoned. They descended, together, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.

Giuseppe awoke in the cool darkness of the cellar, instantly aware that he was alone. A slow smile spread; it did not surprise him in the slightest that Caravaggio had taken his leave without ceremony. There were other pleasures to be explored in this magnificent, decadent, ancient and modern city and their paths led in very different directions. He rose to face another new night with a refreshed sense of expectation and yes, perhaps even joy. And that was an emotion that, he only now realised, has escaped him in the twenty-two years of his second life.

Entering the drawing room, he could still smell Caravaggio and feel his energy. He threw open the terrace doors, the sound of vespers floating across the humid air from a nearby monastery heralding the sunset. For Giuseppe it was more than that, it felt like the start of a new adventure, an adventure where the possibilities were limited only by his imagination.
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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by darkstarrising »

Ah, so the head of Goliath has come to life in the form of the master himself - Michelangelo.

Love the rich descriptions of the moral and physical decay of the city. Giuseppe himself has gone from the naive,easily shocked child we saw in the first chapter to a vampire who has sampled all the decadent favors the city has to offer. Giuseppe offers his home to Michelangelo to better understand the man who supposed died decades ago and finds a side of the master he didn't expect.

The other interesting aspect of Giuseppe's existence is his solitude or lack of desire to acquaint himself or keep the company of other vampires? Why, I wonder. How did Giuseppe get turned?

Off to the third chapter.
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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by redwinter101 »

I deliberately didn't cover the turning as I wanted this story to be as much about Caravaggio and the painting as it was about Josef. But who knows? Maybe, some day...

BTW, this is the painting in question:

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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by darkstarrising »

thanks, red, I was about to google it......

lighting is interesting with David half in light, half in shadow. I see what you mean by David's expression - truly there is no triumph on his face. Disdain is what I see. He doesn't raise the severed head in victory, rather, he holds it down and away from his body, another gesture for his contempt of his victim.
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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by redwinter101 »

Here's a link to the Borghese museum, where the painting hangs, with a little more history: http://www.galleriaborghese.it/borghese ... vicara.htm

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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by Phoenix »

He could sense the longing for a connection, deeper than sex, not made in desperation or in trade; the loneliness of a vampire's existence, unknown, unmissed, no longer mourned, and it moved and frightened him.
That's so sad.
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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J/OC)

Post by redwinter101 »

Thanks, Phoenix. In many ways this was Josef's first introduction to the downsides of immortality - and hence the realisation that it was time to start making his own way in the world.

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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J

Post by librarian_7 »

An interesting portrait of the artist, turned vampire...of the Renaissance artists, Caravaggio seems like a natural to take to the, uh, "life" of an undead. And Josef is maturing, coming into his own as a vampire, too. Fascinating stuff.

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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J

Post by redwinter101 »

I agree about Caravaggio - he was perfect for this story, not just because of his notorious lifestyle and, er, authority issues, but the mystery surrounding the precise nature of his death. He was a truly remarkable man.

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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J

Post by allegrita »

I love your description of Naples during the siege. The rankness permeating the humid air, the explosion of vice in anticipation of who-knew-what that was lurking outside. Given those surroundings, it makes total sense that Giuseppi would contemplate and then accept the idea of expanding his horizons, so to speak. But lord, I'd definitely make Caraveggio take a bath first. Maybe two baths! 'Cause, yuck. :snicker:

And I love the fact that you just kinda casually sprung it on us that Giuseppi's now a vampire! It makes my mind whirl with questions, but I understand your wanting to keep the focus of the story on Caraveggio.

And speaking of the man himself... the painting is amazingly beautiful, and kind of scary... and I find it so apt that it features Caraveggio's own severed head. The best way to kill a vampire... created while he was still human.
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Re: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 2, PG-13/slash, J

Post by redwinter101 »

allegrita wrote:And speaking of the man himself... the painting is amazingly beautiful, and kind of scary... and I find it so apt that it features Caraveggio's own severed head. The best way to kill a vampire... created while he was still human.
Gah! I'd never even thought of that!!! Perfect. Thanks, honey.

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