18 July 2012 @ 09:23 pm
A:) morning; 1648 ALRBRIGHT LANE. closed to housemates.

[ever since the Carnival, the days that Abel isn't spending watching over his little brother newly returned from the dead are instead passed by in the basement (which has been converted into something of a make-shift workroom). a workbench sits against the far wall, and there are various small parts littered atop it; he's been attempting to replicate the earpiece long-range Vatican-issue AX radios from home, but his efforts have been half-hearted as best. it's more an excuse to remain away from things down here then it is to make any real progress.

it's doubtful any of his loving 'family' have use for him, but... should you be looking for the rumpled mopey priest, it's where you'll find him.

B:) early evening; CHURCH OF SALVATION. open.

[the good Father has been absent from this familiar place as of late, it's true; those who are used to seeing his face here probably won't think much of his reappearance. it's like an old piece of furniture being back in the room, right? his cassock is missing and a keen eye might notice he's a bit less composed, a little more sleepless than usual -- but Abel is Abel, at the end of the day.

he's keeping to himself for once, and in the act of something outside the routine one would expect from him; instead of being found in the kitchens heartily devouring whatever sweets Ciel has left in sight, he's behind the altar with match and candle. once it's lit, he's taking a small step back and observing the way the little flame glows before closing his eyes to hang his head in a familiar position of prayer. his fingers are clasped loosely around the rosary that never leaves him, however much everything else might change.

it may take him a while to notice an onlooker or newcomer, but... he will, if you give him a little time. or maybe you have a prayer to offer with him? either way, the Church is pleasantly calm this time of day... isn't it? peace is a precious commodity in Mayfield, so enjoy it with him while it lasts, hm?


[though he's been reluctant to stray from his brother's side, Abel finds himself discontent to keep himself locked up in the house tonight. perhaps it's something about the sight of the moon, but... he's inevitably pining for fresh air and night sky.

hands in his pockets, he's ambling the streets in search of absolutely nothing in particular... but it must be coincidence that his feet bring him before one residence in particular with more frequency than the rest. it's the only house he halts before, as well -- to give a long and hard stare from eyes sharper than they had been a moment prior.

but it must be a trick of the light -- because they're softening again whenever his walk continues and takes him away from the Johnson's plot. yes... just a trick of the light. hopefully he doesn't carelessly walk into you in his absent journey!!
23 April 2012 @ 10:35 pm
A:) phone // open. late morning.

So! How long would you say the average Mayfield stay is before one ceases to question whether or not they've gone completely off their rocker? As in... loony-tunes -- bonkers, nuts, bananas, etc and so on and so forth! ...Why are so many foods equated to losing one's mind? This is another perfectly good question I should have been asking myself sooner...

Um... I realize it's different for all of us but completely inevitable, right? I mean, you only see so many strange things before you realize the likelihood of its plausibility is... mm, well. Implausible! Personally, I'm drawing the line at talking ponies. [no, it wasn't the town-induced mindtrips, the cracked out incidents involving twisted surgeries or nuclear warfare, or waking up married to various women several times a year

but talking ponies that did it, Abel, yes. this says a great deal about you.

The good Lord must have a perfectly good reason for denying me of such a base right as my sanity, a... ah; you think so too, don't you? Surely there's a reason for all things, and this is no exception! [is he preaching, or begging? ...you decide.]

Maybe I simply need to stop seeing all this as a... a negative, right? I mean, they do say perspective is everything! So... hm. Instead of believing we're trapped here and it's inevitable that horrible, demeaning travesties will continue to be tireless stacked upon our shoulders until our wills are crushed into dust... I should be thinking about...

[a pause.....


it is a very long pause.

...God help us all, I will need so much therapy after this.

B:) action // open. outside the JOHNSON residence.

[so! does anyone else remember the time that rather attractive redhead named... ah, what was it, now? ...Mrs. Johnson! yes, that's it, my good friends! went around playing Dr. Frankenstein meets LSD all... wily-nily with the fine folk of Mayfield? because Abel sure does.

he remembers this event rather acutely, and not because he was a part of her brand of... affection, but instead because his brother
was. normally one to preach the virtues of forgiveness and turning the other cheek, the priest is something of a hypocrite when it comes to what we can call 'family matters.' forgive and forget, they say... unfortunately for her, and perhaps... him, too -- he can't seem to find it in him to do either.

that is why today, maybe like some other days those on this street may have noticed, if they paid this man any attention... one would find the tall, lanky priest subscribing to the seemingly idle task of drawing chalk figures on the sidewalk with the drone children, and quite happily at that. at first glance, he seems rather engrossed with this task! but, a particularly keen eye would notice that his occasionally strays to the Johnson residence, looking for any sign of movement.

specifically... looking for any sign of her at all.

maybe he doesn't even know what he'd do if he spotted her. but he's here, all the same, for what good it'd do. maybe you're passing by and care to comment on his artistic prowess (is that a lion? ...or a bear with a hair growth problem? ...does that cat have an extra eye or is that supposed to be its nose...)? or, maybe you're not paying attention and trip over him where he's crouched to indulge his ~~childish whims~~? ...steal his chalk? FEEL FREE TO JOIN THE STALKING PARTY, TOO, IF YOU LIKE.

C:) action // open. church; early evening.

[he's been scarce around here the past week or two -- maybe got caught up in the daily drag of upkeeping his job, stalking looking after his brother, and dealing with the newest additions to his household. ...that, or maybe it was that he was too lazy to walk across town to get here. it's not like that's a completely plausible excuse for such a pious and dedicated man, truly. truly, truly.

EITHER WAY, Abel has returned to this most HOLY of places to perform his diligent services without fail!

which is to say, anyone who happens inside will find him sprawled rather inelegantly in one of the back pews during a quiet hour, the good book sprawled over his face and the sound of his even breathing (is that a light snore, perhaps?) leaving no buts about it -- he's conked out in dreamland.

...hurry, someone get a pen or something...
20 February 2012 @ 09:53 am
A): phone - mid-morning.


[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.]


[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]

filters to CHARLES, ESTHER, and DJANGO )

B): action, 1648 Albright Lane )

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...
26 January 2012 @ 06:33 pm
(backdated yesterday, slightly after the Dairy break-in.)  
A:) action; 1650 Albright Lane.

[there's a harsh knocking at the door a short while after the Dairy's break-in and the revival machine's destruction.]

Esther--! Open up; it's Abel! It's-- urgent, please come to the door!

B:) action; open around town.

[if you happen to be one Cain Knightlord, His Holiness, or Rachel Alucard, you might notice that Abel is hunting you down. if you aren't, then you're treated to the sight of one priest on the prowl for his little brother, the God damn Pope, and Abel's not!daughter. he's decided with the revival machine down, it might be a good time to make sure neither of you get yourself into any trouble...

maybe he runs into you, since it doesn't seem like he's paying much attention to where he's walking in the rush! maybe you're simply a kindly soul who wants to stop the priest running through the streets and ask what he's looking for. ...or maybe you just want to stick your foot out and trip him. who knows. whatever the case, he seems to be a little frazzled and jogging along intently, doesn't he? man on a mission, Mayfield.

C:) open phone.

[he clears his throat before speaking a tad tentatively down the phone line. there's concern and wariness in his voice... the usually jovial and obnoxious priest has sobered up today.]

I know... that there are some of us, here, who are familiar with machinery and technology. [a small pause.] The kind advanced far past Mayfield's standard for the era.

Some of you might be against the idea, but-- at this point, we're running out of time and alternatives. Maybe it's time anyone with any potential to lend them some help fixing the machine in the Dairy, do so. We might be turned away, but it's worth a shot... and we have to do something, or more and more people are going to end up--


[a slightly strained exhale. he's getting himself together. he does not want to see any more innocent lives senselessly taken... especially to this hellhole.]

It is worth the shot, isn't it...? ...It has to be. We have to... try.

[ooc: as a little note, to the kind anon from last week (you know who you are!!) -- thank you so much. you put the biggest smile on my face. :) i'm really grateful /throws mushy hearts at...]