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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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)

Ah, alas. Rejected. William sighed quietly. "Nothing ventured nothing gained, Father. I would ask you to forgive me for trying, but we run right into the whole not truly remorseful thing again. Alas."

He smiled to himself and shifted in his seat. "I should stop wasting your time, I think. But thank you, for the listening ear and the kind words. I may not deserve them, but they are appreciated." Greatly, actually.

Already though, all those walls he wore around him were rising, leaving behind that moment of vulnerability that had compelled him to step into the confessional in the first place.

There was the briefest hint of a snort, and when the Father spoke next-- there was a distinct smile sound to it, as if he could not stop it despite himself. Which to be honest meant that he would be untucking this conversation for a while-- wondering about the mysterious man who had lied, cheated and killed.

Not with the intent to fix him, but perhaps ruminating on his story.

He could have gotten the entire story over coffee, but some things perhaps were best left put to sleep where they belonged, he knew his sins quite well, and in the eyes of the Heavens there was no sin greater than another, meaning that his? It was on even playing field with this nameless man's.

"Peace be upon you." he murmured as he twisted the rosary in his fingertips. But they were just words, were they not?

"Peace hasn't had any interest in me since I turned eighteen, but thanks, for the blessing."

With that Liam rose and slipped out of the confessional. The church suddenly felt too big, too much space as he stepped out of the claustrophobic booth. He glanced back at the still-shut door of the priest's side of the confessional, allowing himself a moment to imagine the unseen man on the other side, the owner of that soft, gentle voice.

He sighed quietly and headed for the door, out into the waiting afternoon.

The Cathedral was so large and full of echoes that he heard the footsteps, the door opening and closing.

Perhaps he ruminated on it as he sat there in the confessional, twisting his beads. Thought about the peculiar things that had been stated, and yet he also knew that this place was filled with mysteries and strange benefactors. He rather thought that he may have jumped out of the pan and into the fire, but those were thoughts for another time.

This was not a time for confessionals, and after another hour he was relieved by another Father who took the nighttime watch. Another Peace be upon ye and then he stole quietly out the door and back to the dorms to take his nighttime watch.

Did he think about the Nameless voice? Of course he did, but after a few days, it was relegated to a part of his mind that would not obsess over it, after a week-- the conversation retreated backward, after two weeks it was something dim and hazy like the mist that floated around him on this afternoon.

Riley walked into the campus coffee shop, he had not lied when he said he enjoyed it occasionally. The chill seemed a bit more biting today and so he went up to the counter where he was greeted by the barista. "Good afternoon, Father Riley-- would you like your usual?" Already they were getting out the espresso and preparing the order.

"Ah yes, I would." he said as he folded his hands in front of himself and leaned, watching as the barista set about his order.

The conversation had lingered in Liam's mind as well, turning it over and over, the words themselves and the voice that spoke them. What a strange thing to note get out of his head, but there it was. In his head, though as the days passed it did grow quieter and drift to the back of his thoughts.

The front of his thoughts right now? Caffeine. Coffee. Immediately. Gregory had been worryingly quiet recently, so Liam was between souls, a brief respite that he was grateful for, though it also had him aware the shoe could drop at any moment.

In any case, he'd ordered himself a latte and a bear claw and was waiting for the former while nibbling on the latter -- minding his own business, thanks -- when that voice suddenly turned up. Liam's head jerked up and he turned to find himself looking at an absurdly attractive man. Father Riley, huh? This man was a priest. This man was walking temptation on two legs. What the fuck.

"Latte with a double shot for Liam?" Liam stepped forward to claim his drink, which brought him right up to beside the good priest. "Come here often, Father?"

His own chai latte was being worked on and he almost did not pick up on the other man; normally he did not especially when he had things on his mind (such as keeping the boys in the dorm out of trouble which was easier said than done. He watched this with as if it was lulling him into a state of contentment, where he could almost feel the heat with the steam.

Then he looked up from his wanderings at the tone of voice.

Familiar-- very very familiar.

Riley glanced over to his right and there was the singular most beautiful man he'd ever seen, dark hair and distracting eyes-- a bit of scruff. Taller than him but not by much, and the voice. It was from the confessional booth some two weeks ago, he mentally counted it down in his head.. indeed, two weeks in which he'd allowed it to move even further into the shadows of his mind. And therefore came the conundrum, did he feign recognition or did he pretend that he did not remember. It would bring his sin count up to a few, to lie.

But perhaps a hazy half, as if he could not precisely recall.

Even though he did-- vividly. He'd dreamed of that voice. "Only when I find a suitable need for coffee that I do not make myself." he said with a smile and a raise of his brow. "The running of a dorm eats up quite a bit of time so I make due with a simple french press most of the time." one of those little things that his grandmother had sent him, put the coffee in, pour hot water over it and then squeeze until something approaching drinkable was obtained. "And you?"

Liam smiled at that frankly inscrutable response. But he was good at reading people, and he was certain the priest recognized his voice, was certain that he was remembered for as short as their interaction had been that day. He looked over at the other man, a lift of his eyebrows. "Oh wow, the college kids. You need at least a double shot in that drink there."

He'd been one of those college kids -- at Saintsmourn, matter of fact -- several years ago now, so he knew all too well how much mischief that particular cohort could be.

"Yeah, I'm a frequent flyer. Dunks will do in a pinch, but I've gotten a taste for the fancy stuff when I have the time for it."

He shifted his coffee cup to his left hand and held out his right. "Liam Leary. We weren't exactly properly introduced the last time we spoke."

That was a very good call for Liam, and well-- he would give credit where it was due in the persistence department, the roguish good looks though. Yes, he was fairly certain that the other man plied his charms on anyone and everyone so he had to remind himself that he was absolutely not special, that those dark eyes were not sparkling just for him.

"There is a double shot in there." he said as he glanced over to where two handles of espresso were being brewed even as they spoke, and then he cheated toward Liam on the counter, one arm remaining on it and then the other one crossed over his stomach.

"As for the introductions, I would say that the anonymity of Priest and Confessor is considered sacred so.." which was one of the many reasons why he had not accepted even the idea of going out for coffee with this man-- now confirmed to be dangerous in more ways than one.

"Father Riley Walsh." he said as he took the hand and gave it a firm shake. "Responsible for keeping most of the boys in the dorm out of trouble, though as you pointed out-- easier said than done." and then Riley gave Liam a smile, it tugged at the side of those full lips before finally bursting into something that crinkled his eyes and pulled at both the corners to reveal teeth.

"Pleasure to meet you face to face, Father. You're definitely not Father Mullins." Bless the old man, but even in his heyday he was not drop dead gorgeous. Liam wondered if being this handsome was a benefit or a burden for a man of the cloth. Did he have to dodge admirers who wanted to test his vow of celibacy on a regular basis?

Or was Liam the first brave enough?

Either way. He sipped tentatively at his latte -- hot, too hot -- and looked back to the priest just in time to be hit full force by that smile. Holy fuck. That was not a fair smile for anyone to have without a license to carry. Liam, embarrassingly enough, could feel his cheeks heating in a blush as he was caught by that smile.

"I... yeah." Snap out of it, Liam. "Way easier said than done." Smooth as fuck. Pull it together.

This man was extremely dangerous and yet there was a charm to him, he thought perhaps the man knew the charm that he exuded, so he would not comment to it, instead taking a sip of his own latte, though after the smile died down-- he blew on it first, the steam wafting from the top of it and carrying a spicy cinnamon scent.

Once he took a nice long sip of it, he regarded Liam with something that he hoped was a bit of neutrality. He honestly struggled with his own nature most of the time, especially when the man was far too handsome for his own good. And it seemed to be a sort of type, the slight scruff did appeal in quite a few ways.

Ah yes, even Priests had their struggles. "I happen to have a few troublemakers in my dorm so overtime kicks into gear."

Was he referring to Patrick and Nicholas-- of course not. "But I am not entirely comfortable talking about myself, it goes against what was taught at the seminary-- humility." he said with a wry smile. "Perhaps that is why I was only filling in for Father Mullins."

It was because he was still getting used to his role, it was after all recently acquired.

Edited 2025-05-16 02:53 (UTC)

"Well, filling in or not, I meant what I said. The kind words were appreciated, even if not at all deserved." Not even remotely deserved, but the priest had still spoken them, even after hearing the start of his sins.

And here was Liam looking at Riley with something sparking in dark eyes, interest that he wasn't bothering to hide. "If one of those troublemakers is named Patrick, I'd like to apologize on his behalf."

Because yeah, Trick could be a handful when he got something in his head. Not that Liam would hold that against him. His baby brother was a good man, far better than Liam could dream of being.

"Ah Patrick and Nicholas." because their names were quite synonymous with trouble; there had been warnings about the two of them attempting to escape curfew, but he had it well under control.. there was no need to get the other man involved. Riley liked to think that with a gaggle of brothers, he knew how to reign them in and he had been the eldest.

As for the look of interest, he would've been a fool not to have noticed it. He did, and it was flattering even if part of him did not know what to do with it. HIs own blue eyes, fringed with lashes attempted to glance downward at his own coffee cup as if he felt he could not look into those eyes for any period of time without giving himself away.

"I can imagine you were a dose of trouble yourself?"

And then he quickly ammeded, "Probably are is more like it.." not an allusion to the discussion in the chapel, he was not going to bring that up and this evil. Fighting any sort of conflict with compassion, that was the way-- wasn't it?

"Me? No, I was an angel. All studies and books all the time." Like hell. Liam did well in classes, but not because he was studious and dedicated but because he was reasonably clever and good with words, spoken and written. It had gotten him through his English Literature degree well enough anyway.

Well yeah, he was still trouble. That was certainly true.

"There's a table by the window, Father. This conversation would be better if we sat, don't you think? I'll let you have half my bearclaw."

Bribery. Why not.

Not to violate Priest and Parishioner trust in which he would not bring up what was spoken in trust, but he did seem to recall lies coming into the entire conversation. However, for all that Liam's looks were giving him cause for an inner sort of panic, it seemed that the bearclaw was forcing his hand.

He did enjoy a good Bearclaw, especially the ones sprinkled with almonds. "Well if you are offering a Bearclaw." Oh no, a weakness was sussed out. Could it be that the Priest had an inexplicable fondness for doughnuts? It appeared that he did, and while he could not indulge in the suitable appreciate of Liam's visage (until later, of course)-- he could reasonable enjoy a treat to go along with his chai.

It also did mean that he got to look into those sparkling brown eyes, hopefully he could do so without utterly disastering on himself.

Liam wiggled the paper wrapped pastry. "Looks like we have a deal then." Not to worry, Father. It wasn't a deal with the devil, really, just a deal with one of the devil's favorite pets. So it was probably fine, wasn't it?

With a wink and a deliberate beckoning gesture of his fingers, he turned to go head to the table he'd eyed earlier, not looking back and simply trusting that the priest would follow him. He probably ought to be a little less blatant about the flirting, but uh, he wasn't going to. He'd already leapt from that precipice, and here he was in freefall.

He settled into a chair, setting the promised bearclaw down in the center of the table and sitting back to sip at his latte.

As of right now, Riley had not heard of any deals being made over bearclaws, especially the ones topped with almonds, and so he followed after Liam-- holding his own chai cup in his hand before he slid into the chair right opposite. The window had a view though with the ever present mist, it gave the shape of the street outside but barely above roof level.

He'd never lived in a place where this entire mist was so cloying.

Though he was not going to reach first for the bearclaw, he decided to open with a question of sorts. "Have you lived here all your life?" he said with a tilt of his head to indicate the world outside the window.

"More or less, yeah. I grew up here as far back as I can remember anyway." And when he'd been a kid, for the most part, everything had been fine until that one day where everything was so far from fine that his world had felt like it was shattering, only to be put back together at a cost that he would not understand for years to come.

He unwrapped the bearclaw and nudged it towards Riley. Eat, Father.

"But you're new around here. Enjoying the weather? Do you remember what the sun looks like?"

"Barely." The hint of humor to those sparkling blue eyes, even as he took the bearclaw and then tore it in half. He was precise with how he did it, mindful too to make sure that he was not taking too much. It was second nature and he was used to doing this because he had five brothers-- his parents believing of course that 'every sperm was sacred'.

Finally he pushed the remainder back at Liam.

"I am from Bedford, Virginia-- we have misty mornings, but the sun does usually come out fairly often.. and there is less mountains than I am accustomed to though I have been told by the locals that the further west I go, the more mountains I will find."

"More sunshine and more mountains as you go west, yeah. Fewer people though. And old unseen things that speak in whispers on the wind." Not that Saintsmourn wasn't full of ancient things as well, eldritch creatures that hid often in plain sight, never noticed unless they chose to be, or unless something had gone very wrong.

In his line of work, Liam had learned to spot them. Hell, he was half sure he was on his way to becoming one, more and more darkness than human with every day that passed that saw him walking his path. That was a morose thought, and now was not the time for morose thoughts. Now was the time to look at those blue eyes -- the color of the sky beyond the shroud of mists -- and pretend he wasn't already half drowning in them.

He tore a piece of his half of the bearclaw, chewing thoughtfully. "But despite the gloom... there's definitely some positives about this place. The people, mostly." Even though New England had its reputations of a particularly unkind sort of population. That assessment wasn't really true. It got a subtle but important nuance wrong. New Englanders were, by and large, deeply kind people. They were not, however, nice. A proper New Englander would pull over to help a perfect stranger dig their car out of a snow bank without hesitating, but would spend most of that time informing the poor stuck soul how dumb they were to be out driving in the weather in the first place.

"You think you'll stick around here a while?"

Riley was certainly coming to understand it, there were pros and cons to wherever one grew up-- and that included little places like Saintsmourn with the haze of fog and the chill that managed to creep just underneath the sweater. The tea though was helping to warm him, as well as the unexpected company which was.. surprisingly pleasant? He had not expected this when he had initially turned down the invitation to coffee.

This was not really a coffee date though, a haphazard meeting drawn on by the breeze of serendipity.

But Perhaps there were no mistakes here in this moment. He picked up the bearclaw and chewed, though still aware that Liam was watching him. He should not feel so self-conscious eating a pastry in front of a man who had no rights to look that good and yet here he was. Double panic because he was not 'supposed' to feel anything about it in particular. "The area I have explored a little bit, and I intend on doing more so.. I am a bit of a rural explorer you could say." him and his old man walks through the country when the entire dorm was in classes.

"I think that I shall probably be here through the term and the next-- I unfortunately do not have a five year plan, if that is what you are asking>' A laugh then, taking another bite of the pastry. "What do you do around here? I mean job wise?"

Saintsmourn

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