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...]
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Mr. Butler helped Shahra and I in Istvan... for what little good it did. He works for Cain.
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'Mein Herr;' 'Contra Mundi;' 'Igne Natura Renovatur Integra;' --]
...Magician. The Orden... all this time, it's been--
[the words are absent, quiet -- clear it's thinking aloud more than speaking to Esther.]
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...Butler. That man is... he's part of the Rosenkreutz Orden, Esther.
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[Her stomach sinks. He's just like Dietrich. He deceived her.]
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...I wish that was the case. 'Butler' is one of The Magician's aliases... he's one of the highest ranking members of the Rosenkreutz Orden, and--
[hngh. he's sorry to do this to her -- she is being pulled along by them, isn't she? ...pulled along... by...]
--When was the last time you saw-- [Cain...? no. it's not Cain. he can't utter that name in reference to the -creature- she saw with his face. it isn't his brother. god, how had he survived--? he's really still...??]
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Are you saying Cain is a member of the Orden too? Positively? [... Now the light bulb brightens.]
Or is he there... no. That's not possible! Cain would never!
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these are implications that he's making for 'the first time' himself -- memories of 01's involvement a price paid for what he had acquired from the town.]
It's not... Cain.
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[can't be possible, but this... proves it. if Esther saw him, then...?
no. no; it had to have been some trick by the Orden, right? if Isaak was involved, then...
...how would they have known? how would they have known about any of the things they did, if... it wasn't...]
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[She can't let this go easily. What if the real one was being held somewhere? Esther has to know. She has to remember this so she can rescue him.]
You can't just leave it at that! What if he needs help? Even if that man was a fake, the real Cain is still my friend! I can't let anything happen to him there! Not when I can save him as I am now...
[Abel wasn't the only one who felt ineffective and small at the sight of Cain's suffering.]
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...
[ahh. what... can he say? it can't be 01, it... can't, but that's... the only possible explanation, and one he certainly can't offer to her in any form of consolation. hearing that story would certainly be no comfort, would it?]
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the silence is stifling. he knows he should be filling it, somehow -- but with what, he... hasn't got a clue in the world, completely floundering.
in the end, all he can do is bite his lower lip, and shake his head. to tell her Cain is dead, or worse -- what happened afterwards was too cruel. her imagination can't be harder on her than that.]
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He's dead, isn't he? [Esther swallows thickly.] Please just tell me it isn't like the Baron of Luxor. Say he's a fake.
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sadly, it isn't much different than that, is it? just as Dietrich was a monster pulling Radu's corpse on strings, it's... Crusnik, with his brother. just the thought makes him sick.
he's supposed to be gone.]
...
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She doesn't have to think about it. Esther is moving in to wrap her arms around him. It probably looks ridiculous having this tiny woman trying to hug him in the middle of the sidewalk but, she doesn't care. He needs this and so does she.]
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...but she's... hugging him.]
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...
;(...
he is sluggish to reciprocate, but not due to hesitance -- and when his arms fold around her in turn, it's... firmly. he can feel the tremble in her shoulders that means she's crying.
...this is the first time a human has cried in grief for his brother.
Abel's feels it... right down in his bones, the single most bittersweet gratitude he's ever known.]
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It wasn't right. He was a good kid. He deserved so much better.]
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she's really... mourning.
Esther truly loves his little brother.
...he pulls her a little tighter, and his eyes sting but he doesn't seem to realize they keep watering up and over. he's fixed staring off dumbly, so utterly struck down to his core by this... surprised, and taken off his guard. she loves Cain... loves him enough to cry at the prospect of what lays in his future.
and Abel in turn could not possibly love her more for that.]
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What are we going to say to Cain? If he asks...
[What can she say? She highly suspects he's dead because Abel refuses to speak about it? That he never rescued her? That's the last thing a kid needs to hear.]
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the question that comes is one that he was dreading, and his head is a fuzzy whirl after this -- to be honest... he has no idea.]
...I don't... know. The reason I'm asking is... he was going to come to you and ask himself. But I knew it wasn't... possible, so...
[ahh. he can too clearly recall the naked hope in his brother's eyes, big and blue and almost radiating on his when he'd refused to give up, demanding to know if there was any possibility he was still alive.
even if it meant it was alive, too.]
I'll talk to him.
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[Her face falls. She would have gushed to him and made things so much worse. There was no Esther could have known better but, she feels stupid all the same. She let this stranger deceive her while wearing Cain's face.]
... Do you think he'll be okay?
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so, he finishes rubbing at his eyes and stops indulging childishness with it; he forfeited the right to be a petty kid a long time ago. to protect Cain and Esther meant to protect their smiles as much as their physical welfare.
Abel rubs a thumb over her cheek to smooth away tears. she really had been pouring her heart out, hadn't she? his lips tug in a sad but... immensely grateful smile.]
I promise you... he's going to be just fine.
[tilting her chin up a bit, he sets his other hand gently but reassuringly at her shoulder.]
...He has friends who truly love him. In the end, he'll... he's definitely going to be okay.
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