Saintsmourn

[giveanything]

"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."

Comments

[eblouissant]

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.

[giveanything]

"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.

[eblouissant]

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.

[giveanything]

"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.

[eblouissant]

"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?

[giveanything]

"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.

[eblouissant]

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.

[giveanything]

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.

[eblouissant]

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.

[giveanything]

"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?"

[eblouissant]

"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."

[giveanything]

"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?"

[eblouissant]

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?"

[giveanything]

'I'm the sugar baby of a demon who spoils me for ruining lives and being a good hate fuck when he's bored or feeling mean.' Those were the words that sprang to mind first and foremost, but probably not the right ones to say out loud. So instead, after another sip of his coffee, he smiled at the priest across the table from him. "I'm half tempted to tell you I get by solely on my charms. But I work for an antique store, do a lot of appraisals, visit a lot of estate sales, do restoration work. That's the part I like best, honestly. I'm pretty good with my hands, especially working with wood."

Liam tilted his head to the side slightly, considering. "Rural explorer, huh? I like that. I know the area like the back of my hand, if you'd ever want a good tour guide to the best spots around."

Let him show you the highlights, Riley. He'd like to think he was excellent company.

[eblouissant]

"It does indeed sound like interesting work, there is value in history so perhaps I will stop by. I like items with a lot of character to them, nothing that is mass-produced; if you find a small bookcase when you are working through antiques, let me know-- I have a few books and as of yet no where to put it."

That would not be so bad. And Riley could feel the pull of wanting to accept-- for all that this man had convinced that he was a vile and evil sinner, well-- wasn't that what everyone thought of themselves? Or perhaps Riley's evil sensor was hopelessly broken and he neither saw nor sensed it. Instead he smiled and ducked his head a little bit.

"If you would not mind, though I am a fan of 'off the beaten path' and places that have been forgotten by man." he was going to tentatively accept the offer. "Though you are being kind and I do not have a way of ah, giving back unless you want more chances to confess to which point yes, that is a talent that I willing to give." and Riley was a good listener.

[giveanything]

Liam reached into his pocket and with a little flick of his wrist pulled out a business card with an address not too far from the cafe. It was indeed an antique store, and ostensibly, Liam did work there. Hell, he had been completely honest about all of that part. When he wasn't collecting souls, he was working with antiques and restoring old furniture. He even had a bit of a talent for it.

"Drop by anytime, Father. And I'll keep my eyes out for a bookcase." He knew, for a fact, that there was a three stack oak bookcase in the back of the workshop that he'd been meaning to refinish. Looks like he had a next project. ...because he was entirely too interested in this priest. This was not like him. Liam made it a point not to get close to people. He was not a good man, and anyone who got close to him, well, wouldn't he just wind up tainting them in the end? He confined himself to casual acquaintances, people who knew his name and that he was easy to talk to, quick with a charming smile and a playful flirting, but not much beyond that.

Still here he was, and something about this soft spoken priest with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen had gotten under his skin, and he felt himself drawn towards him, more and more with each passing second.

"Oh Father, you don't want to offer something like that. I've got way too much to confess for anyone to have to listen to. Besides, I'm not offering anything I won't enjoy either. Off the beaten path is definitely the way to go."

[eblouissant]

And then Riley smiled in Liam's direction, the blue eyes seeming to sparkle even more-- even underneath the reflection of fog just outside the window. He looked impossibly cozy there in his oversized sweater and holding a mug between those long slender fingers. The thing though was that just over the sweater peaked the symbol of his calling, a white square slashed through black.

A reminder of who he was and perhaps just how 'off limits' he was.

Regardless, there was a warmth to Riley in this moment. Blue was always a cool color but this moment as he regarded Liam, it felt like the warmest and truest colour in the world. "No one is perfect, remember that."

It was spoken earnestly and then because he felt perhaps it would help if only a little bit, he rested his hand just lightly and for a brief second over Liam's wrist, a flutter of warmth from skin and mug.. before he removed it.

[giveanything]

Was a smile supposed to feel like a blessing? Because this one did, a wash of warmth through him that for the briefest moment seemed to banish the shadows that always clawed and tore at him, and Liam forgot how to properly breathe. That warm, gentle touch did not help. A blush raced over his cheeks once again, and he ducked his head to hide it.

A laugh and he nodded. "That's true, yes. But some of us have fallen farther than others."

Some were still tumbling.

He turned his hand as Riley's withdrew so that his fingertips could graze along the priest's, though he did not try to stop him from withdrawing, just a stolen little returned touch. "You have warm hands."

[eblouissant]

"Oh do I? It is likely the tea." he said as he resumed his hold against the mug and then to illustrate it-- he raised it up. "Still a bit of warmth there clinging to to the drink."

Did he feel the slight jolt of awareness at the fleeting touch, like fingers that wanted to cling and hold onto the moment before it became a shadowed memory of the past? Of course he had felt it and it reverberated strongly, that pull once again evidencing itself. It was a slow honey-like sinful feeling, only honey would feel this good-- the whisper of temptation.

If he was being honest, he could have twisted the feeling and poured it right into his tea. But it would've been too indulgent and he.. he could not allow that, could he. Best to play it off as if it had not attempted to rewrite his entire world, with the focus and center being a pair of mesmerizing dark eyes. "Have you ever heard the story of the One-Winged Angel? Perhaps I will tell you one day.. on one of our walks."

[giveanything]

God he'd be the worst thing that could possibly happen to this pretty priest, wouldn't he? He'd stain those cerulean eyes with clouds they'd never truly clear. He should walk away now before he ruined a beautiful, warm thing. He should for once in his goddamned life do the right thing.

But he was too weak, maybe. Whatever magnetism had manifested itself between him and Riley had Liam so firmly caught in the field that there'd be no real escape. He'd only wind up further tangled the more he struggled.

"Ah right, the tea. Must be. Of course, that doesn't explain your smile, so I think there's something more than chai going on with you."

The question earned a shake of his head. "Can't say that I have. I'd like to hear it, Father. On one of our walks."

[eblouissant]

"You mentioned my warm hands, not warm smile. It appears that you have tossed yourself into a lake of your own making and you need help fishing yourself out." and then another smile before he brought the tea to his lips and then he downed the rest of it-- but honestly? There had not been that much left.

Which meant that their time together was growing far shorter.

He tapped his fingertips on the table. debating the wisdom of giving this man his phone number.

But honestly, one could not make arrangements to meet up for a walk unless they were given some form of communication. This may be his first mistake, or perhaps his second-- it was hard to keep track at this moment. He wrote his number on a slip of a napkin then and then passed it forward.

"Whenever you are interested in a walk, here is my number."

[giveanything]

"You've got me. Always in over my head. Story of my life." And god that was true.

Maybe Liam watched a little too closely at the way those lips met that cup, but he realized his focus and shook his head at himself before sipping at what was left of his own latte.

He reached out to slide that now very precious napkin closer to himself. Well now, this felt like an accomplishment. "Well, this will be quicker than going to the confession booth to find you anyway. Thanks for the company. I've enjoyed our chat."

[eblouissant]

It was sad but true that Riley had things to do, and also perhaps he had to go to confessional himself, confess that he was having thoughts about smouldering eyes and a roguish smile that played on his mind and brought to the forefront exactly why he had entered the priesthood, to control thoughts like this.

Perhaps if he had not certain inclinations, he would have married. But his family was not accepting and he had thrown himself into the seminary as a way to curtail those sinful desires.

And now he was being tempted. But he could not take his invitation back-- better that he would have to fortify himself against whatever this; it was a test and he would be stronger for it.

Right?

"I should head back, but it was a lovely meeting, thank you for the Bearclaw." And then he turned and perhaps walked a bit too quickly away.