gremlinhaus | Saintsmourn

Saintsmourn

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," the words tumbled past his lips, ingrained in the well worn pathways of his memory from the years he'd spent in catechism and as an altar boy. Not that Liam was devout anymore -- how could he be, given what he'd become, given what he did and continued to do. The confessional booth was small and dark, light filtering in only dimly through the door and its screen that kept him hidden from the sanctuary beyond and from the priest he assumed would be on the other side.

"It has been... a very long time since my last confession."

What was he doing here? This was ridiculous. He couldn't possibly expect forgiveness and absolution. There had to be true repentance for that, real contrition, and Liam knew he couldn't manage either. He hated what he did, despised every moment of it, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. The price for disobeying was far too severe, and he would not be the one to pay it. The price for his disobedience and his failure would be paid by his brother, and he couldn't live with that.

So William had made his choice, made it again and again, putting that one life ahead of so many others. And oh he was good at what he did, talented at ruining people, in shattering whatever it was in a human being that kept their souls in place, until they were ready to throw it away. His watcher commended him for it, in a sick and sadistic sort of amusement.

Today's lost soul had been... fuck. It had been hard. She was young, barely nineteen, and her road had already been a hard one. He'd played the game with her for the past few weeks, insinuating darkness and doubt into the cracks of that already-battered soul. Today. Today she'd shattered, and there would be no recovering from it. Another soul for the demon who owned him.

He could feel the panic rising up in his chest, cold and hard and threatening to freeze his lungs so he couldn't draw in enough breath. In the dimness and silence of the confessional, all the carefully constructed walls and facades trembled and fell away. Gone were the easy smiles and quite literal devil-may-care attitude, all the charisma and charm that he relied on in his cursed excuse for a job. It was him and his breathing and the silence and the faceless priest in the chamber beside him. Liam wondered if he could hear the panic in his breathing.

"I... sorry. This was a mistake. I should go. I'm sorry, Father, for wasting your time."

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Here within the sacred halls of Saintsmourn, Father Riley was the type that kept for the most part to himself. He walked the halls and the grounds regularly, he oversaw a bit of what went on in the dorms while he acted as a guiding influence on the young men who passed these halls and offered advice. It was very rare that he stepped into the Confessional, it was not his usual to listen to the sins of others.

So perhaps this was not the usual kindly old priest who would listen. Never say that Riley was not kind, but he had too many burdens of his own and he had no true power to forgive sins. Not really, he struggled with his own issues but they were kept quietly just as much as the beads that were held lightly between his fingertips.

When the voice came, he straightened considerably.

This was not the normal and yet he was not one who would brush off confession. He would listen as he ought; he sensed the doubt in the voice but also something far deeper, a tenuous thread of heartbreak. His fingers clutched his beads and then he rested his head against the wood paneling.

"Your steps lead you here so that you may ease whatever is lingering upon your soul and I would listen, speak and worry not of judgement." It was not in his place to judge, his voice was far younger than the Priest who resided here, a soft timbre that seemed to hold the silence in reverence and invited the other man to speak within this sanctuary.

William stopped halfway into standing up. It was the voice that did it -- it sounded like it belonged to a young man, yes, but that wasn't it entirely, it was the note of something he couldn't quite place. He fell motionless and stayed seated, looking at the screen between them that obscured all but the faintest outline of the man beside him.

"I don't think my soul can be eased. Or saved. And that's as it should be. I've done terrible things, Father. I've done terrible things and so many people have paid for them. I've lied and cheated. I've killed."

He'd never actually pulled the trigger or wielded the blade, but the people he hunted inevitably wasted away, eventually lost what was left of their lives, and he was the reason for it. "Do you believe in true evil?"

There was a considering pause that drew on for the space of several moments, he believed in true evil, he had seen it evidenced though in places one least expected-- he had seem avarice, green, power grabs and all for the sake of people's souls; whitewashed sepulchers as they were.

"I do believe in true evil, I would not be a member of the clergy if I did not however..."

He realized he should not be talking ethics with this faceless voice, it was neither his place to do so nor was it likely appropriate. But he spoke anyways; "True evil can come from anywhere, not merely where you would find it the most obvious. You lied, cheated, killed-- but no one is without sin, not even those on golden holy thrones."

He was not precisely sure where he was going with this, but something was guiding his words carefully.

"I will not trivilize your words, but the fact you are here speaks remorse."

"Remorse or desperation, maybe..." Liam laughed, but there was no humor or joy in the sound, just a weariness that had taken up residence in the hole that his own soul had left when it had been bartered away, when he'd been a child, when he hadn't known better.

He knew better now.

"I... I am remorseful. I hate all of it. Every time, I do it, I hate it more. But I know I will do it again. The only thing that will break this pattern is my own death, I think." And that was the one thing that he did pray for, when he was desperate enough to pray. He couldn't simple stop what he was doing. The demon would dissolve the contract if he did. Patrick's life would be over. He couldn't do that. But if Liam were stopped, if he were killed, then really it wouldn't be his own doing, just a consequence of the business. Patrick could live his life and the world would be a better place without him and his sins in it.

A soft sigh, so tired, as if the air itself was too heavy to breathe, pressing down on him beyond what gravity could possibly be blamed for. "You're not Father Mullin." A topic change. "I didn't know this parish had more than one priest."

Death.

His knuckles clung to the rosary as he heard that word; it felt tired and welcomed to it, but also resigned. There was no way that he could even begin the quantify those words, understanding the weight of pressure and the burden of the unalterable. Another thread and he grabbed it up, wrapping it around his fingertip only figuratively so that he could go through something that may be helpful.

"Father Mullin is not here currently; I do not normally listen to confessions though I do have my duties elsewhere, I am only here to find a bit of quietude myself."

There were no sins that could be fully absolved, no platitudes that he could offer. "Father Mullin has heard your confession often?"

"Not since I was a child. He's been here... a very long time. I was an altar boy at this church, when I was young." A lifetime and a half ago, when things were different, when he didn't know the full extent of the shadows in the world.

When he wasn't of those shadows himself.

"I haven't been brave enough to confess in ages. Not sure what brought me in today, honestly. I know it's pointless. Maybe I just needed to talk. To hear a kind voice."

He ducked his head into his hands, fingers mussing already disarrayed dark hair. "You do have a very kind voice, you know." Maybe that was part of the problem too. He did not deserve kindness or absolution. He deserved derision and judgment, deserved to be driven out of the church like the monster that he was.

"What are your usual duties, if not taking confessions?"

And there were such shadows in the world. Riley knew this without a doubt whatsoever, and there were some shadows that could not be cleansed-- they would seep into your soul. He'd felt that ever since coming here to Saintsmourn; he was a recent transplant, this was not his natural soil-- and he'd heard stories of such things, and perhaps it was the chill in the air that nurtured such things.

"I will not lie and tell you that there is much darkness in the world, for there is-- but there is also threads of kindness there too, it is just getting harder to locate." and then even more softly, "I will endeavor to be kind until my last breath, it is not just my duty but it is also what is right."

The last statement caused him to laugh just a little bit, the voice carrying a soft warmth to it much like a blanket against the cold world. "I am just a humble Father who normally works on the University side but found himself in the Confessional Booth since Father Mullin had some things to take care of-- but this is not about me as I recall."

This place was a magnet for that sort of shadow and darkness, though Liam had not realized it when he was younger. Now though, now he saw the shadows everywhere, lived in them and knew them intimately.

"You're right, Father. There is kindness left, and it deserves to be protected."

From people like him.

Liam laughed at being called out on his subject change. "I suppose it isn't. But curiosity isn't a sin, is it? Because I have that in spades as well." A natural inquisitiveness that could get him in as much trouble as some of his more unsavory activities.

Was this nameless face really flirting with him, a man of the cloth?

Well he had not quite expected it but then again he was still getting a feel for Saintsmourn, for the mist that was cloying as it danced across the scenery. Almost as if it was it's own separate reality from the material plane. The chill in the air that just barely got underneath one's skin, the way that it filled one's lungs.

Bringing to mind that the wet that he felt with each breath was almost like he imagined one would feel like if they were dying from tuberculousis. But that was a dark thought that he shoved to the little cage in his mind that was reserved for those such vagaries of thought.

"Sometimes curiousity is a sin, I suppose what matters is the intention behind the curiousity."

Whether one use it for good.. or evil.

In Liam's defense -- he had no defense. Flirting was in many ways his mother tongue, something that came as naturally as breathing. And this priest had a very intriguing voice, not to mention the things he was saying.

He leaned back against the wall of the confessional, another quiet laugh. "No ill intentions at the moment, Father. I promise. Scout's honor." This time, this moment, he was only wanting to know more about this priest, who was definitely not Father Mullin, who was a very genial old man, but also content in his homily writing and gardening.

It was probably not the best idea to say what he said next, but it came out anyway. "Do you like coffee?"

Oh, this man was absolutely trying to pursue something which did not horrify him precisely, but he also was quite cognizant that this was probably not appropriate when it came down to it; first of all there was the vows that he took and secondly well-- this was someone who had admitted to killing someone.

His mind was scrambling to understand.

"I do enjoy a good cup of coffee, as well as tea from time to time."

Now, did Liam have the balls to ask a man of the cloth out on a coffee date, that was the million dollar question.

Hell of a meet-cute story, wasn't it? Really, Liam should know better, should leave now. This priest deserved better than the monster that he was sniffing around. And yet, with that answer, which seemed to leave that door open. Liam had never been good at passing by an open door.

"Would you like to join me for a cup? We can debate the merits of good and evil a little more, and I can indulge my curiosity about what's brought you to Saintsmourn of all places." Who did this guy piss off to wind up here? It had to be someone.

So yeah, asked the priest out. Call his bluff, Father?

Father Riley Walsh knew instinctively that this would he a comflict of interest as well as highly inappropriate to boot-- as much as the idea of debating good and evil was tempting.

That was not the only thing that was tempting and he had to be strong, even if perhaps the sinful part of him wanted to accept. The thing was that men in power often times did what they wanted.. and he could not be like that, he had to be an example.

A light in such a world as this, a world that he knew was hideously fucked up.

"I will have to respectfully decline the invitation, lovely though it sounds I still have much to do this evening such as continue this vigil and then go back to my duties."

Edited 2025-05-14 03:35 (UTC)

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