tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Rating; G?
Characters; Abel Nightroad (

sing_my_faith)
Summary; Abel keeps Kyrie company on a grocery run. In exchange for brownies.
Log;

It wasn't that she was short, it was simply that Abel was exceptionally tall. Could anything be out of reach for him? Thus far nothing had been, not that too much had been out of Kyrie's reach. Still, it was nice to be shopping with someone that could see the top shelf clearly and find out if any of the items that appeared to be sold out were merely pushed toward the back and out of her line of sight.

And he was good company--he didn't seem to mind going with her on the errand. The extra pair of hands came in handy. Kyrie didn't have to stop and wonder how she was going to get everything back to the apartment.

The only snag came in trying to pick which kind of brownies she was going to make for Abel, in return for his help. The variety was a bit daunting--chocolate fudge, or the ones with chocolate fudge chunks? Or maybe the caramel swirl brownies?

"What do you think, Father?" Well, they were for him, after all. It only made sense to ask.

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If the first thing anyone realized after spending any significant time with Abel was that he was tall and built with all of the imposing characteristics of a weeping willow, the second thing was that he was a gab. He talked, and he talked and the talked more. He was easy to get started and just as easy to ignore. He was nearly impossible to stop without dropping a metaphorical block in front of his train of thought.

The habit had been at times described both as mind-numbing and head-exploding. It was a wonder Kyrie could stand for him, but perhaps she just had more patience than, say, Sister Esther.

Abel had been getting ready to start up talking again when Kyrie asked him a question, and paused and stared down owlishly at her. Abel felt cowed, suddenly. What was she talking about, again?

"Um. About what?"

The chatter didn't bother Kyrie, even if it was leaps and bounds different from anyone she'd known prior to the priest. Credo hadn't been a chatterbox by any stretch of the imagination, and it's certainly not a label anyone would attach to Nero. Still, it's a kind of pleasant background noise, even if she does occasionally feel bad about tuning him out. She's never sure if he expects her to listen the whole time, or if he's simply talking to fill up the spaces between actual conversation.

Though it's clear her question caught him off guard, so she smiles a bit sheepishly when she replies, motioning to the rows of brownie mixes they're standing in front of.

"About what kind of brownies you might want?"

He leaned over when Kyrie clarified her question, one gloved hand wrapping around her shoulder as he moved to peer at the shelf in front of them, the other hand still lightly holding the 'for your convenience' basket. Abel was still embarrassed over having not really been paying attention to Kyrie, and hopefully she wouldn't notice the cringe in his expression if she could only see the bottom of his jaw.

Kyrie, of all the people he knew, could use to be listened as of late. Especially seeing as the one person she was closest to was currently missing in action.

He cleared his throat.

"Something simple. Don't bother with fancy things with me, it's like buying expensive chocolates for someone who's just as happy with a jawbreaker. You really don't need to go to the trouble at all, actually. Everything considered."

"It's no trouble." And she meant it. Adding water, oil, and eggs and mixing barely could be constituted effort, though she supposed it was a bit more than simply buying the brownies, pre-made, from the store. Those never tasted as good, in her opinion.

She plucked one of the boxes from the shelf--traditional chocolate fudge, as requested. Something simple and uncomplicated, which seemed to fit for the priest. It was a choice she would have made for him, eventually, had he not been here to give an opinion on the matter.

"Besides, you were kind enough to come with me. It's the least I can do."

His hand gave her shoulder a soft rub before removing itself and taking the box from her, sliding it into the plastic basket. Abel took a few long steps away from Kyrie but remained facing her as he stared over the rims of his spectacles, mulling over how to respond (although it was clear he wasn't even considering not accepting her offer.)

It was so very easy for him to fall into an overly-familiar companionship with her, possibly because she treated him herself very much like one of Caterina's attendant nuns would have, were he back in Rome. At times, Abel worried it was almost too easy to be close to Kyrie. He worried for her.

The heavy spectacles creeped down more, and he reached to slide the back up the thin bridge of his nose.

"Not that I consider you an obligation, miss Kyrie, but I never feel right a young woman wandering around town all alone. And I've been meaning to talk to you a little more intimately about certain things."

She appreciated the touch. In truth Kyrie was always a bit more prone to touch people than Nero was, or her brother had been; she wasn't sure if it was because it had been necessary, growing up, in order to compensate for Credo's mannerisms, or if it was simply a female trait.

"Have you, Father?" Her strides weren't as long as his, but then neither were her legs. One of his steps was two of hers, and so she had to quicken a bit in order to catch up to him. Once she was even with him she turned for the next section, the material of her long dress brushing over her ankles.

"What about?" She wouldn't hazard a guess--it was an effort to purposely not try and guess what he might be getting ready to say. If she was wrong, Kyrie didn't want to be left to dwell on the things her imagination had conjured up.

Abel slowed his pace as she caught up with quicker strides, falling into something more suited to keeping up with an Esther Blanchett than a Tres Iqus. He silently hemmed and hawed over whether or not to actually bring up the topic he had been wanting to, the lines around his mouth growing darker. Women like Kyrie made him feel old with worry. He could feel the blood in his temples forming the onward blush of frustration.

"Ah--"

He paused clumsily.

"Well. Nero."

She looked away from him immediately, busying herself with stopping to look over the contents of a display. A certain cereal was on sale, the box bright and colorful against the dull cream of the shelves. The corners were hard against her palms, though Kyrie wasn't aware that she'd picked one up. She stared at the lettering without really seeing it, not processing anything as her mind churned.

Nero. The worry she was trying to keep at bay swam up behind her eyes and made her feel, for a second, dizzy. She ducked her head and closed her eyes, trying to settle her world into a steady position again. Telling herself not to worry didn't help; it hardly mattered if Nero would want her fretting over him or not, because even telling herself that he wouldn't (and she knew he wouldn't, he'd only feel worse for it) nonetheless couldn't keep her from doing so.

"Ah." And, because that wasn't really a response, and because Father Abel only had the best of intentions, Kyrie shook her head slightly and put the box back where it belonged. Rubbing her palms over her thighs she turned back to him, hoping she didn't look quite as worried as she felt. "Have you...heard anything?"

Truthfully, a grocer was a bad place for such a conversation, but Abel had been holding off on actually speaking up and asking what he wanted to ask for long enough. He grew quiet, two long, aristocratic fingers picking at his collar until it looked messy, like he'd been dragged out of his sleep. His tread dampened as he turned around and moved behind Kyrie, negotiating a kind of privacy from the rest of the brightly-lit store with his black robes.

He wondered why he'd started the conversation this way and realized, after a very loud sort of silence, that it was so he wouldn't rue having not started it. But you've got to finish what you started, Nightroad, a voice chided him.

His hand hovered over her shoulder again, spread wide, waiting to comfort her.

"I'm sure he's fine. What I really mean is, how are you? Everything considered, and I don't mean to belittle your strength of character, Kyrie, I've known my share of very strong women. But be honest with me, how are you?"

Honest? Kyrie curled her fingers into her palm, then forced her fist open and pressed her hand into her thighs. If she was honest, she'd have to admit that she was worried. And she wasn't sure why she didn't want to admit that. Saying it out loud would make it more real than merely thinking it. And if she were going to be perfectly honest, Kyrie would have to admit that she wasn't used to doing that kind of talking to anyone other than Nero and Credo. They'd been such an insular unit for so long.

She'd had friends, of course; some she'd grown up with, some from the choir at the church. She'd been friendly with them, but it hadn't been the same. She'd trusted Credo, and Nero, in a way that she hadn't let herself trust anyone else.

Could she change that now? She didn't have Credo anymore. In a circumstance like this, he'd be the one she would turn to. Kyrie felt her throat close momentarily, missing him so sharply that her eyes prickled. When was the last time she'd let herself cry over him? Over anything?

"Honestly, Father," and she paused to clear her throat, thick with the things she was holding back, "I've been better." It wasn't really an answer, but it was a start.

The hand finally came down on her shoulder, and he leaned forward and down as the leather around his ankles creaked, brushing his front against her back in an attempt to reassure. When Abel spoke finally, it was with trite rationality.

"I can understand why. You've been put through extraordinary circumstances, and then Nero leaves without giving you explanation or room to ask questions which need to be asked, one way or another."

He cringed at the sound of it-- there he was again, speaking from what everyone must believe was experience without agency or effect without cause.

She, of all people, Abel wanted to speak honestly with, perhaps because he knew how it felt, in some ways, to be in Nero's place. He knew that instead of telling Kyrie what she really needed to hear from him, he would give her comforting platitudes and send her to Esther. Esther could tell his truths for him. He tucked his bangs behind his ear.

"I just want you to know that he's probably just giving you the time to be able to think about what happened without flinching. He's probably ashamed."

How to express what she was thinking? Kyrie kept her head down, trying to sort through her thoughts as if they were notes jotted on small cards, shuffling and ordering them into a neat stack. If only it were that easy. Maybe if she'd had time and a pen she could manage it, but lacking both Kyrie felt a bit like she was floundering.

"No, I know." She did. This wasn't the first time he'd done something that he hadn't been proud of, though Kyrie knew that this was much bigger than him accidentally burning breakfast so thoroughly it stuck to and ruined one of their pans. Much bigger, and it had taken him some time to feel like he could look at and talk to her again. He'd never stayed away this long, but nothing like this had ever happened, either.

She looked at Abel, who was suddenly so close that her vision blurred--or maybe, embarrassingly enough, for another reason entirely. He looked nothing like Credo; she wasn't sure she'd be able to pretend he was, even if she were blind. But he was a friend, someone that she knew cared about the people she cared about, and she needed someone.

"I can't tell him not to feel bad. What he did--" She stopped and swallowed. "It doesn't matter. That wasn't him. We all do horrible things, but he...he never would have done that if he could have stopped himself."

"It's all right," he muttered as she gathered her thoughts, a tinny smile in his voice. "I know you know. Of course you know."

Her eyes were on him then, and he tried to keep his own blue ones on hers, but eventually his look shied and wandered away to the side, maybe because of how familiar she was to another woman he knew, maybe because it was just a typical masculine behavior. Don't look at me, don't show me your eyes. People's souls were in their eyes, supposedly.

'Anima' in Latin.

He looped an arm around her shoulder protectively but carefully, in lieu of his gaze.

"How very right, miss Kyrie. We all of us feel...ways that we shouldn't, and think things that we shouldn't, in moments of weakness. Whether or not it was his behavior, it wasn't his real sentiment, was it? This place just took away his humanity momentarily. It could happen to any of us."

Edited 2008-05-22 18:52 (UTC)

"I think that's what he's afraid of." Abel was so very tall. With his arm around her shoulders like that, it was a point that was emphasized even more than it had been. It was meant to be a comforting gesture and it was; it brought to mind her brother, and the way he used to be able to make her feel so small and protected, when she'd been younger.

Odd how, in her mind, he never aged--he was forever and always an adult, while she moved from child to teenager and beyond in his wake. The only hint that he'd been following the years with her had been the gradual progression of his hairline, ever backwards.

"This place can so easily take away our free will." There was a certain bite to her words, if not her tone. This last curse had been hard on her, but in a way she supposed she should be grateful for it opening her eyes. Kyrie hadn't really thought badly of this place until now; it was one thing to hear people talk about the things that could happen, the things the deities could or might do. It was quite another to see it, to experience it. "It's frightening."

One hand reached out, as she spoke, and palmed a small jar of strawberry preserves. He dropped the jar at length into the basket and moved away, reluctant. He was prone to physically comforting himself, but he knew from experience that it could be taken the wrong way. The last thing he wanted was for it to get back to Nero that he'd been hitting on his girlfriend.

His pace quickened and he smiled back at her, ministeringly.

"It is hostile, isn't it? And frightening. But you shouldn't worry, fear not. There's only one city, and you have a lot of friends. The odds are in your favour. Nero would never let anything happen to you."

Upon the absence of Abel's arm Kyrie was left to stand, for a moment, the air feeling just a bit colder where he'd just been. She had a feeling he was trying to relay something, with his body language, and perhaps it wasn't even conscious. Not that it mattered if it was or not--Kyrie knew that the truth of the matter was, he was right. She needed to be stronger.

So she lifted her chin and brushed the ends of her bangs out of her eyes, following after Abel.

"It's not that I'm worried about myself." Because she wasn't. Even if trouble found her, she knew that Nero would be there. Besides, it wasn't natural to worry about herself--Nero and Credo had always been the ones with the dangerous jobs. Being concerned for their welfare came almost naturally for Kyrie. "I'm worried about him."

"It's good that you worry about him," he said, voice wistful as he turned to look at Kyrie over the high collar of his cassock's mantle, free hand moving to toy with his ear-cuff. It didn't work in the city, of course, but it was a strong reminder of Abel's connections-- to Caterina, to Esther.

He stopped walking abruptly, heavy, armored boots squeaking on the flooring.

"He worries about you. You can worry about one another, and shout and cry and stamp and anything else. It's a very human reaction. Very human. And worry will keep you from being afraid. I'm sure that Nero is afraid of himself, after what occurred. Possibly even afraid of you, which is why he...can't face you."

Kyrie took a moment to wonder if that was true; if being worried did keep someone from being afraid. But how did you answer such a supposition? She'd been scared, yes, but perhaps she would have been more so, if she hadn't also been so anxious for Nero at the same time. If it had been someone else...but then, if it had been another friend, she still would have worried. And if it had been someone she didn't know, would she have even been aware of what was going on? So much happened within the confines of this city; Kyrie knew that she missed a lot of it.

She'd stopped when he did and was watching the tips of his long fingers, but it was quickly turning into staring. In deference to his comfort--even if they were friends, it was still rude to stare, despite the fact that she was thinking rather than looking--she turned away and moved down another aisle.

"I...yes. The thought had crossed my mind." Maybe there was some irony there--that Nero would face down demons that wanted to kill him, horrible monsters straight out of someones nightmares, all seemingly without fear. And yet now he was possibly afraid. Of himself, and perhaps of her.

She'd laugh if the thought didn't break her heart.

He heard, more than saw, Kyrie move herself over another aisle, but he lingered in his insistence to not meet her eyes. He knew well enough how easily his own gaze gave away his emotions during conversations such as this. He did not, particularly, want to lead her to believe he spoke from experience, rather than in platitudes.

When she was a yard away, he followed after her, clearing his throat again.

"I won't press the topic any further, miss Kyrie. I know how mortifying it can be to have an emotional conversation in such a public place. But I do want you to know that Nero will come back soon enough. And that what he did that night is not all of who he is."

Abel paused, examining the ceiling with unnatural fervor, considering his next words very carefully. When he spoke, it was with a voice pitched to be deep and not travel, speaking just for the young woman.

"Our life is a narrative, whose past does not define but rather explains the present. In this way, whenever it seems that we know the least about a person, we actually know them the best."

It wasn't what she'd call amusing, having Abel assure her that Nero would come back. She wasn't sure what to think about the fact that people felt the need to reassure her. Perhaps it was merely the only thing they could think to say in the situation; Kyrie didn't want to to think that they thought it was something that she needed to hear. She knew he'd be back.

She just wished it was sooner, rather than later.

Then again, she never had been that good at hiding what she was thinking. Abel was a good friend--what else could you say to someone you cared about, when it was so obvious they were scared? Worried? When there was nothing you could do, except offer kind words and attempted comfort? Were the situation reversed Kyrie might be doing the same thing, telling Abel things he could very well already know simply because speaking the words was the only thing left to do.

"I know it's not who he is." She looked at him, then back at the shelves of items for sale, picking up a can of soup and rolling it between her hands. "But does he know that? Does he know that he's a good person? That he's a human, no matter what this city makes him do?" She looked up at Abel, all of her thoughts etched over her features, heavy on her shoulders and deep into the tense line of her mouth. "Anyone could have...that curse could have affected anyone. But it was him, and he'll--"

She put the can back on the shelf and picked up a different kind, cradling it in her palm.

"He'll carry around that guilt for a long time."

Edited 2008-05-23 02:31 (UTC)

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Log; Ongoing

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