father abel nightroad. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodsugar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-02-20 09:53 am
bloodsugar) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-02-20 09:53 am
Entry tags:
[008]
A): phone - mid-morning.
[OPEN;]
[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]
...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.
[...a pause.]
It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--
[...]
Eh? [wait for it.]
AH--
[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]
[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]
Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]
...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]
[filter to Esther Blanchett]
Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]
[filter to Django]
How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]
B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.
[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.
...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.
NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]
C): action; around town - afternoon.
[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...
...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]
D): action; church - evening.
[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?
...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]
[OPEN;]
[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]
...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.
[...a pause.]
It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--
[...]
Eh? [wait for it.]
AH--
[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]
[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]
Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]
...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]
[filter to Esther Blanchett]
Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]
[filter to Django]
How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]
B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.
[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.
...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.
NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]
C): action; around town - afternoon.
[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...
...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]
D): action; church - evening.
[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?
...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]
D... BECAUSE I TAG WHICH BIT I WANT TO LIKE A REBEL!
Sneaking in this evening, treading lightly in case anyone is engaged in prayer, he looks about for his brother... Wait a minute, is that--?
Really? Really?
He smiles slightly and slips into the other side of the confessional, clearing his throat and doing his best to mask his voice, just to see how long he could fool Abel for.]
Father..?
oh my god no /never forgives for this outrage...
he clears his throat. ...and then again. straightening, and playing it cool. yup. cool. TOTALLY COOL.]
A-ah. G-- Good evening, my son. [YEAH HE'S TOTALLY HERE AND WAS WAITING FOR YOU WHAT NOW.]
/rebels off into the sunset... rebelliously
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filter;
he's not even bothering with a pretense of being EXTREMELY MANLY AND AWESOME this time, simply keeping his tone curt. people being permadroned is about the only thing that can get to him anymore, and he just took a couple big hits on that front.]
filter;
...Are you alright?
filter 5ever;
5ever and ever...
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filter;
What is it?
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Do you have time to take a walk?
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filtered;
Abel! I apologize for that; it took me a while to get re-accustomed to things, but I'm much better now! Mayfield decided also decided to throw in a punchline by returning my solar gun, but at least I'm no longer defenseless.
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...Your solar gun? You mean from the post office?
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ignore that previous comment tab key is evil sometimes
1/2; damn you tab key...!! /shakes fist at
2/2
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how did that y get there... /squints LMAO
I thought that was for dramatic effect, honestly.
oh let's roll with that. yeah totally on purpose.
But of course.
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C
Sorry, I didn't see you there.
1/2
...oh, dear. he's sitting up from eating sidewalk winter mush, making a face as he does -- well that's just gross.
that is, until he notices, uh. that his bag has... and your head, ah. has a...]
...Ah.
2/2
he'll just go ahead and pluck that off your head bro THERE ALL BETTER...]
Re: 2/2
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Could Granny BE any less Neville?
LMAO that was beautiful.... granny neville, so sweet...
They're, you know, SO SIMILAR AND ALL
look there's no telling them apart. you might as well just tag with their accounts willy nilly.
I know, I can't believe the mods let me app two almost identical characters
LMAO okay i can't even find a witty response to that, almost spit out my juice
/Bows. I try
you owe me a new cup of juice!!!
I'll squish one through the internet
...well, i guess that's acceptable... /tsun
Oh, man, I never thought about that name before. It's rather... dwarvish
ROFL it's beautiful, is what it is
At least his first name isn't Jolly?
LMAO jolly... longbottom i can't even
d
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so, Dizzy, there's a sleepy-eyed priest poking his head out of the confessional. hm? what's this, now...? none of the drones play or sing like that...]
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A
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...OR EARS OKAY EARS IN THIS CASE]
Y... you-- I don't know! Really! Who said anything about-- h... haha-- about, ah. [you know what, he can't even repeat it.]
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D
on the pulpit.
He's been here for a while. DO YOU DARE FALL ASLEEP WHILE MEREM WATCHES?]
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he's slumped in the booth behind the closed door and snoring away. y u p this is how we roll around here, apparently... welp]
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B
While it is no business of mine how you intend to destroy everything you touch, if I find that even the tea is included in this mess, there will be severe punishment.
dat face...
M-- Miss Rachel!! U-uh, I didn't... think anyone was home yet...
don't fuck with her tea man...!
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C
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what just
he is turning quickly and almost dropping the bag in his arms, blinking dumbly behind his glasses before there's recognition at the car driving alongside him. ...wow, he really ought to be more aware of his surroundings, huh?]
M-- Mr. Jolt!
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sorry for the horrendously late /screams... at self alskjdf
C
usually Ed is out of the way if Abel happens to trip, sometimes he's there to catch the bag when it falls, but today neither of those were true. The bag's contents falls to the ground. Ed tries to duck out of the way, but ends up tripping on that same stupid crack in the ground and falls flat on his ass.
Oh and the doughnut? it lands frosting side down on the top of his head. because really, who doesn't love vanilla frosting in their hair?]
Damn it! Have you ever tried paying attention to where you're walking?!
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heh.
...pardon him, he's just. going to try not to snicker, now. it's not working so well.]
O-oh. ...Oh. E-Ed. Hello! H-haha.
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D
Almighty and most merciful Father, we have erred and strayed from Your ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.
[It's only a murmur, her good eye half-lidded behind her spectacles as she lowers the match. The flame licks hungrily at the wick, which lights with a gentle crackle.]
We have offended against Your holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and we have done those things which we ought not to have done; and there is nothing good in us. O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders.
[A whiff of sulfur comes when she blows out the match, a curl of smoke evanescing from the blackened tip. It's dropped in the small receptacle attached to the stand.]
Spare those, O God, who confess their faults. Restore those who are penitent; according to Your promises declared unto men in Christ Jesus our Lord. Grant that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life; to the glory of His name.
[Integra is quiet for a long time after, watching the dancing flame in still contemplation. There are names she chooses to lift up in her private thoughts, friends and allies, Bless them and keep them; shine Your face upon them and be gracious to them; give them peace in this wretched town. Save them from this place.
Another moment passes, and she squares her shoulders.]
Amen.
[Integra breezes into the sanctuary a moment later, her mouth in a line. Where on earth is the vicar?]
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...
uh, just... hold that thought, would you? you see, this particular member of the esteemed clergy of Mayfield is currently engaged in the most holy and, ah. dutiful practice of his own -- but he would have been moved by your prayers -- truly! that was, um.
if he had been awake for them.
he's slumped against the Confessional's grate behind the (closed) door, and by the time her procession has led her away from the newly lit votive, he's dozing in earnest. why, in the quiet, it would certainly be audible to someone so perceptive as the almighty Sir Hellsing... right? that is the Good Book draped over his face, isn't it...]
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