[008]

[bloodsugar]

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...]

Comments

[encored]

[HE'S SUSPICIOUS BY NATURE so suspicious, everything has an underlying motive and the things that don't will end badly anyway...!

but after a moment of mock-contemplation, he waves a hand to indicate his approval.]

I'd like to hear one, though I doubt you're as good a story-teller as I.

1/2; god all the tl;dr in the world i'm sorry

[bloodsugar]

Somehow, I imagine you'll forgive me for my failure at exceeding the expectations set by your... wondrous delivery, hm? [he grins a little, before clearing his throat.

AHEM.]

Once upon a time-- as all good stories start, for your information-- there was a boy. A misunderstood hero of sorts, if you would...! He was rather adorable, you see -- with dark hair and refined tastes and mannerisms; if one didn't know better, they might peg him as some kind of nobility, you see. He had an air about him.

Ah, but -- our mysterious hero one day befell some tragedy... He had been under the curse of a wicked witch for quite some time, and while he was no stranger to the occasional woes this curse brought upon him, from time to time... this curse coupled with life's turmoil made our poor hero become... dare I say -- downtrodden? The woe in his eyes was visible for miles. They say the clouds grew darker over villages he passed by in suffering, weeping for his pain.

But one day, in his travels... he met a cleric. An extremely handsome and dashing cleric, actually -- one who was most likely the hero of his own story somewhere, who sweeps damsels off their feet and leaves broken hearts in his wake. Absolutely. --He probably rides a really cool horse, too? And has long hair that flows in the wind, and--

--Ah. Um-- but, I digress! [ahem. he adjusts his glasses.] This cleric met our troubled youth bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, and despite their differences... they became rather good friends. It turned out that their paths were leading them in the same direction... and so, they traveled side-by-side as it was easier than going it alone.

It didn't take long for the cleric to notice his new friend's troubled state, yet when he asked him what was on his mind... that boy refused the offered hand. Why should he accept the help of a stranger, even if it's a well-meaning one? He's a creature of pride and has always bore his burdens alone. ...No, beyond that... what good would it do? The cleric couldn't remove the curse nor the source of his woes, could he? It was a useless, fruitless effort. A waste of time.

But as days... weeks... months went by, the boy was worn down by his fate. The cleric was at his side, yet he could not be more alone; he had cut himself off from the world, in a way. If he keeps himself apart from it... he can't be hurt by it, can he? If he fails to trust, then he can't be betrayed. If he refuses to have faith, his expectations cannot be met with disappointment. So, despite keeping the other man's company for so long... his heart felt empty.

Eventually, they reached the end of their journey together. As things sometimes go, their paths were destined to split from that point forward -- they had found the fork in the road and their worlds were not one in the same any longer. They shook hands, and parted ways. The boy had been alone from the start, hadn't he? Despite walking beside the cleric daily, he had never let him in. Never trusted him. Never allowed himself to falter in his resolve for what he believed to be good reason.

So... he could not understand why he felt far more lonely and tired than he had before. He couldn't understand why, despite knowing how very justified he was in his choices... his pain had only become more a burden to him. Was it not the opposite of what he had wanted from the start? To protect himself from pain and misfortune?

[Abel's expression becomes saddened, as if feeling regret on the youth's behalf. that poor soul.]

2/2

[bloodsugar]

[oops it doesn't last long what]

--But, as luck would have it, God was smiling down on that very creature who believed he had been utterly forsaken! His path and the cleric's met once again. The cleric found his woeful companion through the storm, and he held his hand out to him. In a very manly and completely heroic fashion, he draped the smaller in his coat and he said...

"I'm your friend, and you're not alone."

...Then they hugged, and our dear little youth found that the path he walked, however troubled... was not quite so terrible when it wasn't so lonely. The pain he caused himself by pretending his heart was hardened to the world was eased when he let it in again.

[though he's grinning idiotically with the stupidest wink ever, there is something sincere in his eyes as he says the last of it.]

And he realized the only reason he was so afraid of being hurt was because there was still love left in him, or he wouldn't have felt a single thing at all.

1/2 holds your tl;dr close.....

[encored]

[just quietly listening to this entire story and visibly going through a whole range of emotions, yep... pride at Abel's oh-so-very accurate depiction of his noble nature, amusement at his own clearly inaccurate description of himself, indignation at his assumptions, hesitation, irritation, fret...]

[encored]

[by the end of it he just looks... tired. very, very tired.

but there's a certain measure of appreciation in his expression that Abel will surely be able to catch if he looks, despite the fact that he tries to cover it quickly.]

...As I thought, your story telling is sorely lacking.

1/2

[bloodsugar]

[...ah.

that look, is...]

[bloodsugar]

[he gives him a little softer smile.]

I make no claims to being as grandiose at you about it, but... it's the thought that counts, you know.

[encored]

[the slip in his expression doesn't last long at all, but at least he seems in slightly better shape now. not quite so 'hovering on the edge of having a mental fit and possibly killing more things in the process', at least....]

I suppose so, though that sounds vaguely like the self-reassurance from one who knows they simply can't do better. But they do say practise makes perfect, so perhaps that's all you need, hm?

[bloodsugar]

[Abel will keep the little glimmer of hope to himself; he wouldn't want to spoil it, after all. this wasn't the reaction he was expecting -- really, not at all, but...

it's progress, right? it might not happen overnight. it might not happen for a long time yet, but... at least he knew how he stood on things. now down the line, Abel's got his hand out for Charles to take when he's ready. sometimes, knowing someone was there was necessary.]

Practice? Is that your way of saying you want to hear another...?

[encored]

[it is a relief of sorts to know someone is willing to offer support despite his clear warning, even if it's one Charles won't admit to himself.

in the meantime, deflection is as good a tactic as any for saving face! his pride and the sore nature of this particular problem make it difficult to tackle head-on just yet. ...which is why he'll just stew quietly with it until he eventually snaps and pisses Ciel off enough to start a fight in the process whoops]

Do you know of any others? It must be difficult for you to thread ideas together into a coherent story without any base examples to work from. Doesn't your world lack fables and fairy tales?

[bloodsugar]

[that's always healthy. you know, pissing off nuns. especially when they're Ciel.]

Eh? My world has plenty of fairy tales and fables, actually. Um-- Grimm's tales and the like... You know, princesses and knights in shining armor? Evil witches and goblins, trolls... Dragons! [hand motions! for dragons! or fighting! who the hell knows.]

[encored]

[yes exactly, what kind of vampirish creature wouldn't want to go toe-to-toe with someone that hunts them for a living

but oho arching a brow at that.]

They're lovely stories, aren't they? I'm quite partial to the original Grimm's tales myself, and their true endings. [IN ALL THEIR HORRIFIC GLORY...] Ah, but it's strange. Cain seems unaware of them. He didn't recognise any of the fables I mentioned when I visited him earlier. [yes let's just slowly guide this conversation in a much different direction...]

[bloodsugar]

[it's a general rule of thumb that nuns are frightening, nevermind nuns who hunt YOUR PARTICULAR BRAND OF CRAZY for a living back home... good thing Charles exercises such sound logic amirite...

...ahh, god damnit. he scratches his cheek.]

Really? Well, I guess we were a little sheltered growing up. I didn't know much about them myself until I met Caterina. She had quite a fondness for fairy tales.

[encored]

[it's times like now that his totally stable and sane thought pattern saves him, yes......

he tilts his head to one side because 'a little sheltered' isn't how he's heard it worded before, but he's not going to question that just yet aren't you lucky you've escaped the grill for now.]

At least you've managed to catch up since your childhood. It would be a terrible shame for you to miss out on so much. [and then, in a curious tone:] Caterina?

[bloodsugar]

[rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully, he chuckles -- oh, it's obvious he's speaking of someone he's quite fond of when he answers this question.]

Caterina is my boss! And, my best friend at home. She's the Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan and the head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A real mouthful, right?

[encored]

[the amount of affection is duly noted, but oh, boss? give him a second, give him a secooond...]

...Is this the one who you said would drive you bald eventually?

[bloodsugar]

The very same~! [yes... yes......... looking touched and wistful as he talks....] My demonic boss also happens to be my incredibly adorable best friend -- can you imagine? Yet despite our friendship, she has absolutely no problems abusing me within an inch of my life in service to her and the Church. Can you believe that? I suppose they don't call her the "Iron Lady" for nothing...

[encored]

[he feels like he should find this relationship a little troubling...]

It seems those involved with churches are highly questionable individuals. That, or you personally just seem to attract highly questionable individuals. [charles do you realise that includes you] She sounds an interesting person, at the very least.

[bloodsugar]

...I'll take that as a compliment, considering my current company.

[but, you know, this is a good segue...]

You know, you haven't told me much about what you do at home, Charles.

[encored]

[NO THAT'S A VERY BAD SEGUE home is just about the last thing he wants to talk about when he's in a foul mood! of course, none of this DNW shows outside of a slight tensing in his shoulders.]

I don't do much, really. Certainly nothing that could compare to the extensive world travels of a wandering priest of the Vatican.

[bloodsugar]

Then it should be a rather short story to tell, right? And since you've gotten such a flair for it, no trouble at all!

[you just kinda walked right into that one, bro.]

[encored]

[why. he clicks his tongue in annoyance and just kind of... gives a pointed stare. but he can word things carefully when he feels like it!!]

I've the flair to tell it, naturally, but it's still rather dull. I enjoy reading in my free time, and I work for a pharmaceutical company. [...well it's true by the slightest of technicalities!]

[bloodsugar]

...Pharmaceutical company. [well, he didn't see that one coming -- the arched brow saying as much.] In... what capacity?

[encored]

[see it's surprising but so bland, the perfect cover]

I lend aid to an acquaintance that works on staff when it's needed. [the laziest shrug...] More production than shipping or counter work. It's not like a person that appears my age would be able to hold a full-time job if it requires being in the eye of the public.

aslkdjg forgive my fail!late... /crawls on...

[bloodsugar]

[it really would be if it wasn't also SO WEIRD AND RANDOM CHARLES WHY.]

Really? So... you're just working there as a favor to a friend? [HEART OF GOLD?]