Hot for Preacher
Summer 2021, Week 5
Sunday midday
St. Peter's Light Cathedral, Old Towne
Storyteller
It had been a full house for this particular Sunday service, just several days after the carnage that occurred at Henry, the shell-shocked citizens turning to their priest for words of comfort and strength. Anything to help them process the violence that shook their city, a place they once thought safe from such heinous acts, and how to proceed forward from here. Some of them had lost a loved one that night or they knew of someone who had. There would be sounds of quiet sobbing and sniffling from the crowd as Father Cal attempted to console them, but oddly enough, today’s service had been heavily focused on the singing. The choir and the organist were definitely getting their time in the limelight. Perhaps it was that music had healing qualities and it was a way to uplift a person’s spirit. It seemed fitting for today. But now service was over and the cathedral was nearly empty of people, except for a few contrite parishioners that had stayed behind for confession. Among them was a pale, dark-haired woman dressed all in black and sitting in a pew that was closest to the confessional booth. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, a rosary wound around her fingers. Furtive glances were given to the dark box from time to time as she tried to calculate how long it would take for her turn to come up.Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
Every muscles, every movement. Hell's below even the act of breathing was a painfull effort fit for a titan. Cal could barely stand. on his own two feet for his short service. Never has he been more thankful for his lectern then he was today. Nor that h was graced with a above average choir who, with some protest understood the healing power of song and devotion. Singing out their hearts and souls to the lord above in hopes to bring their people clarity and peace of mind. Tears stream down much of the crowds face this Sunday morning. Many having found what they were seeking. Yet those left once the it was all over sought more. Cal stood alone atop the pulpit for a moment or two. Dreading what came next. He feared no evil, but hearing all of those he had guided having failed. This broke his very heart. Sitting in the darkness of the confession both he muttered out another slow prayer and offered hailmaryes to the poor soul asking forgiveness. For her son...For being gay...Like God Honestly cared. Thankfully for them it was not his job to judge...These souls. As the women moved to leave he gave a slow sigh waiting for the sound of his next child coming to confess, "Good Morning my child."Evangeline Moreno
It was Eva’s turn now. She waited for the gay son’s mother to leave and when it was her turn, she quietly slipped into the booth. There was a soft rustling sound as she got comfortable within the booth and then she cleared her throat, making the sign of the cross. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was a month ago. These are my sins..” The woman’s voice was quite soothing, melodious and very soft. There was pause as though she were thinking about what she should say and then a deep sigh. “I’ve been having serious doubts lately, Father. I don’t know. I don’t understand what is happening. I know that I should have faith and trust that God has a plan, but terrible things happened last week. A lot of people were hurt, killed even. And I don’t understand how that would fit into His plan. Why would he allow those innocent people to get hurt? I just need, I don’t know.. I just need reassurance or something. This is a test, right? I don’t want to fail this test. Please help me, Father. I need strength and courage. I don’t want to falter and I hate having these doubts plague my heart and mind....” There was a desperate tone in the woman’s voice, which had broken towards the end of her confession as she pressed her fist to her mouth.Father Cal
The deep trouble that echoed from this girl brought a small tremble to Cal's legs. This did not come off as a child coming to wag their finger to seem better in the eyes of their father... But rather a sheep endanger of losing there way. Cal sat up a small bit leaning forward so to open his airways a bit. Not wanting to cough more then he needed to while he spoke to her. "I see my child.. Strength courage and conviction. These are things needed to serve the Father above. These are thing it sounds like you have in spades.. You are correct child this is a test...but perhaps not for you, but us all. Many have been called home, many would say before their time.. But this isn't true is it we know it is hard to think of... But we do not know Gods plan. We can not see his guidance. Perhaps this is but a way for god to show us how far we have strayed. This is what I want to say, yet who speaks like this when so many have perished and his people are in hiding in fear. We are being tested my child. Do not think otherwise, but do not think you are alone. Remember there is but one footprint in the sand, not for we walk this long road by ourselves, But for our father carries us. Doing all he can to hide us from the horrors of sin. The Devil is here, spreading evil to this land. It is not our job to run and hide in fear my daughter. But to smile and let the light of god above flow filling us and covering us like armor." Cals voice was melodic, calm, much like the moonlight on a still lake at dusk. Even as he ended his small soliloquy with a heart deep chested cough.Evangeline Moreno
The woman tilted her head in the direction of the priest when she heard him cough, though her concerned look would have been masked behind the privacy screen between them. Facing her eyes forward once again, a lick was given to her lips before she continued. “I hear your words, Father, and I believe them to be true. I do know that there is evil upon this land, in the form of corruption and greed, hatred and violence in the hearts of men and women. And I’ve tried to do what I can, the best I can, to combat such evil. My free time is spent helping out this community, my community, in any way I can.” The woman clenched her fist anxiously, her rosary beads clicking in protest. “But Father, I do not know how to fight against that evil. I fear that I do not and will not have a strong enough armor to do so.”Father Cal
"Those who do not fear are ignorant to the enemy. This is a truth that is indisputable child. Yet do not believe you are without weapons. You are a strong, both in yourself and in your faith. We all have a part to play. A way to help further this battle against evil. Even the smallest foot soldier has a purpose in a war." A deep breath was needed for the good father to continue. His Lungs were refusing to listen to his commands to draw in air. He was sure he didn't puncture a lung, but it sure felt like he was only breathing with one. " This evil, Will not stop because of the strength of a few yes. BUT all evil will cower in the might of the lord, and of his many servants and fallowers." A soft cough, and Cal smiled. Rolling his cross between his fingers. "Your Community, our community thanks you for all you do, for all you show because with every step you fallow you show that evil hasn't won, that you still stand strong and proud to be on the side of righteousness, that those with good i" Cal couldn't hold it back any longer. The coughs were deep as he bent over with pain Speckles of blood covering his hands as he quickly covered his lips.Evangeline Moreno
Even though she was listening to his words, close attention was also paid to the breathing of the holy man positioned on the other side of the barricade. It would cause her own breath to hitch in her chest every time he took a deep draught of air into his lungs and Eva restlessly shifted in her seat, though she kept her head bowed and her hands clenched at her chest. Somewhat intimate with agony, the beautiful woman knew that this man was suffering the moment she had stepped into the cathedral for service. And now with her being so close to him? It was obvious that he was not well and she was so curious on what happened. “Father?” Concern for his well-being had her ignoring some decorum of the Church and she abandoned her pose of penitence, a hand pressing against the wall between them. Her face would draw close to the screen, brows furrowing in worry. A hushed whisper fell from her lips. “Father? Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
Cal wish he could respond. Wished he was alone in this small booth. Wished he could tell the kind soul that nothing was a mater. But that would be a lie. His body was broken, less then 48 hours ago his chest was caved in by a mad man possied by the devil himself. He could barely stand, never mind preach and he was at the end of his strength. His fingers tore at his collar, desperate to get a better gasp of air. Doubled over he set a hand, slightly blooded on the screen to better balance himself as he spoke between painfull gasps. "I'm..I'm fine child... Just ..Just a bit of a cough.. ..Do not fret...God will keep me strong to guide his children.*Evangeline Moreno
Eva murmured something unintelligible under her breath, and then she quickly exited her side of the booth. There was no way she was going to just sit back and watch him struggle for air, especially a holy man in church. Father Cal would hear the door to his booth yank open and a pale hand would land on one of his shoulders, as well as the scent of lavender and vanilla. “I’m very sorry, Father. Please forgive my transgressions.” Her other hand, the one with the rosary wrapped around it, gently slid around his torso, and she would begin easing him out of the booth. She was thinking that maybe if he weren’t in such a cramped spot, it would be easier for him to breathe. Plus, it would enable her to give him a once-over and see if there was anything life-threatening that demanded emergency services.Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
The lavender was hell on his nose, the strong scent while lovely, was miserable his painful attempt to breath. Cal offered no resistant to the small pale women who pulled upon him. The large mountain of a main all but fell into her arms, then to the floor as he did his best to fall gracefully. He couldn't breathe, his body responding long before his mind. Tearing at his neck he yanked off the thin piece of clothe ignoring how it tore with a sickening rip. The Butten atop of his shirt fallowed shortly. He was bare beneath his robes... well barely wrapped. His chest was a patchwork of white and red. Thick white bandages covering his sculpted pecs. As soon as he tore the top of his shirt the wrapping undid a small bit, giving the father a relived gasp of air.Evangeline Moreno
Realizing she was not going to be able to support his weight for much longer, Eva did her best to help cushion his descent to the ground, but that meant she was going down too. Legs splayed, her long skirt pooled around her on the ground. Ignoring the appearance of impropriety on her part, another apology was mumbled under her breath for what she was about to do, and she helped him loosen up his shirt. A few more buttons were undone after the top one, but no further than that. First, she wasn’t going to strip a man of his clothes on the floor of the church. And second, her hands had frozen in place after she’d seen the bandages. She appeared visibly agitated. A moment passed, and then finally she was able to look away from the wrappings and back up to his face. The furrow in her brow grew deeper. What on Earth happened to him? Who would attack a man of the cloth? This looked recent, too. Finally she was able to speak up. “Who did this to you? Do I need to call someone?”Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
"Ochi Ochi...eímai kalá" He never realized her swapped to his native tongue. Having not spoke it since he was but a child. Memory's of white sand and warm summer water was al he had of the times when he spoke this tongue. "I swear, I'm Fine just... Had a small.. Carr crash." He wasn't even lying well. Not that he truly could with the way his chest struggle to rise and fall. Truthfully he was fine. His ribs while broken would heal. They pierced no long, and tore little muscle. They just hurt, aching unbearable so at the moment. Rising up slowly he didn't bother to hide himself any long. His shirt falling way own his shoulders much like a discarded toga. The wraps were from his upper abs to his armpits. Hiding some of the his , warmest skin. Dark lines covered what should have been a perfect form. Ugly long and deep scars marred crossed from just below his collar bone down to his hips. Clear signs of a deep slashing wound. This was not the body of a old priest but one of a well worn hunter, Hard sculpted down to near perfection, a predator in sheep's clothing. Casting his gaze left and right slowly its as if the façade of the incent old man faded away. A sharp piercing gaze swept the room to make sure they were the only one still in the chapel. Thankfully they were. "Thank you child truly. My breath refused to return. As odd as it seems I am beyond in your debt."Evangeline Moreno
Eva somehow knew it was a lie, but she wasn’t going to accuse him of lying. Not right now. Not when..-Oh what is this? It was inevitable that her eyes would drift away from his handsome face and ‘accidentally’ landed back on the bandages as he sat up. No. Correction. His exposed torso. She was definitely not appreciating the planes of his body, nor was she questioning how far down those scars went on his body. Her cheeks flushed with color. Don’t you dare lick your lips while staring at him, Eva. He is not a piece of meat! He is a man of the cloth! It took everything she had to be able to tear her eyes away from him and onto a safe place. Her hands. The ones that were fitfully playing with the beads of her rosary. She was going to take on the role of a humble person, while she continued to silently scold herself. “No, Father. There is no debt between us. I only did what needed to be done, what anyone would have done.” There’s a special place in Hell for someone like you. How could you ogle him?Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
'No, Darling...Child. There is much a debt between us for many things perhaps you do not...yet understand" He didn't mean to hang onto the word darling. It drifting from his lips like a starving purr, but he simple couldn't hold the breath in his lungs. The pain blinding as he spoke. Pushing down on his knees to rise up slowly. Letting the taunt muscles on his back streched and groan in protest. Long taunt lines of steel etched every curve, every twist, every indent of his skin. Bare arms flex a deep olive skin. Kissed by the sun, No kissed by the gods covered in small scars crisscrossing across them. Each imperfection twisting, shrinking and enlarging with every small flex of his skin. Cradling his chest he stood with his back to her waiting for her to comment on him. He could hide many things with his cloth. But no priest looked like this. He wasn't dumb, Nor was this the first time he had been found out.. Perhaps this time the death wouldn't hurt so much.Evangeline Moreno
Hazel hues darted up over to the man as he spoke, her breath catching in her throat when he said ‘Darling’ –No, how he said it. There had been pain in the sound, but it didn’t stop the multitude of intense sensations that rushed through her, starting in the pit of her stomach and radiating outwards. A kaleidoscope of want, need, and lust burning throughout her body. It had her worrying, the anxiety bubbling up from underneath her perfect, pale countenance as she watched him stand. The woman bit her lip and stared at the man’s back for a moment. Just a second or two to take in the lovely, forbidden sight and to also make up her mind about some things. Not a single word was spoken as she picked herself up off the ground, looking somewhat more composed than when she was on the ground, and gave a shake to her skirt to remove any dust or specks that may have clung to the fabric. She was already standing close to him, so it didn’t take much for her to reach out to him. Both hands tentatively landed on the scraps of his shirt at his waist and she slowly started dragging it up his back. Attempting to cover him up. “Excuse me, Father.” Another belated apology, whispered once again. Fingers would barely skim across the flesh of his back and with those faint touches, she would start siphoning some of the pain that afflicted his ribs. Though she was oh-so-careful about how she did it. Not wanting to alert Father Cal that it was her alleviating his pain, nor was she wanting to take on too much that she would put herself in jeopardy, Eva only took a bit of it. Just enough for him to breathe a little bit easier. The woman gasped a little as she felt the discomfort in her own ribs, a light spasm of pain racked her body and her visage grew even paler. Once she reached the tops of his shoulders, her hands fell away and she turned away from him. “I must go.”[Interactor, x1 Minor, 9/10]
Father Cal
Shoulder's broad like a ox. Rolled back slow. Streaching the ruined skin of his back so to better hold onto the clothe. Atop of the fact it was suddenly slightly easier to breath. Adrinaline ... Finally my body was fighting back. While he didn't feel the normal racing heartbeat, there was little else it could be. He turned ever so slightly, those pale brown eyes seeming to drag from the bottom of the women running from him to the top. Slowly drinking in every inch that she was, burning her into his memory with a starving intensity. His shirt, now resting on his shoulders hung loosely atop him as he tried to compose himself. But he couldn't pull that mindset back, all of his training was screaming now. He wasn't a weak quiet preacher, he was a predator. A hunter for the lord, a injury wolf found alone in his den. "I told you little one, there is no need to be sorry." His voice a deep rumbling growl as he reached for her. Heavy fingers slowly wrapped around her arm as he stared a harsh sidelong glance dragging his gaze across her as he stopped her. "I hate to ask this... But you are the only one who knows.... I have no one... and neither of us believe this was a car crash do we" His eyes sought the answer. He needed to know if she was going to lie. He already revealed to much. He needed to know if she was worth leaving alive. "Will you help with my wrappings.Evangeline Moreno
The touch upon her arm had the woman freezing in place as she took in a delicate, yet ragged breath into her lungs. The psychosomatic pain of her uninjured ribs were becoming quite a nuisance and even though she knew that her body bore no physical damage for the pain she felt, it didn’t stop it from existing. Eva needed to get rid of it, but she wasn’t going anywhere at the moment. Not with that hand wrapped around her arm, his warmth penetrating through the thin sleeve of her dress and onto her skin. The woman moistened her dry lips and once she was able to regain some of her composure, to hide the pain she felt, she then turned back to Father Cal. The woman’s exquisite, delicate beauty held a strength that mocked the vow of celibacy that was imposed on most Catholic clergy. Dark lashes framed eyes that seemed to change according to her mood, shifting from amber to green and then back again, with promises of making a person’s dream come true swirling within. Nude lips, now pink from all the biting she had done to them earlier, a temptation that patiently demanded to be tasted. Her looks were a resource that she could use to bring a grown man, or woman for that matter, to their knees and have them beg to worship her. Fortunately for most, Eva went out of her way to minimize her allure the best she could, with black attire that modestly covered her figure and no makeup upon flawless features. For vanity, which falls under pride, is one of the seven deadly sins, and Eva was quite serious in her faith. She met his gaze fairly, her eyes unwavering and filled with reassurances that this would stay between them. “Whatever you need, Father.” There was a demure nod of her head, a gesture reminiscent of a nun.Father Cal
Once stood a man of clergy,Now stood a predtor.A beast that walked with long loose steps. Desicive yet strong.Whos grip waa firm yet a bit soft, a hidden strength that one would find if the resisited. Gazing down theEvangeline Moreno
As the man walked away, his back turned to her, an artful smile gently curved her lips. She hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, becoming a confidante of the holy man, and her tentative plan on how she was going to have to find a way to gain his trust was discarded. It was fate that brought her into the booth just when his pain was about to overwhelm him, and for that, she was grateful. She would not squander this chance; she was going to know what his intentions were, more than likely corrupt. He didn't know it, but the reason he was even tending this cathedral was because of her actions. No, her solution. The last father proved to be greedy, and just like the one before him who had used his superior position to take advantage of others in disgusting ways, she had gotten rid of them. One could say that their evil deeds had burdened their hearts so heavily, they couldn’t take it anymore and left the parish. The former on a long-term sabbatical and the latter, well, he was currently located in a sanitarium baffling doctors on where his pain was actually coming from. It was a sad circumstance to befall him, but she was very dedicated to visiting him twice a week to check in with her former church leader. They believed it stemmed from his mind and last she heard, they were thinking about moving him into a psychiatric hospital. The smile disappeared just as quickly as it came, and she hurriedly followed after Father Cal, stepping into his office with a quick look given to her surroundings. It was simple, unadorned, and it told her that he didn’t lead an opulent lifestyle. At least, that was her first impression of him based on this room. She took a step to the side, so as not to be in his way. “I am experienced in first aid, Father, and will help in any way I can.”Father Cal
Spartan was a easy way to describe the good fathers rooms. His little officer was nothing to speak of. From the well worn desk that clearly was about as old as cal perhaps older. Most likely from the Father of this parish before him. To the slightly yellowed brown couch that he had found at goodwill shortly after he arrived in the city. The most expensive thing in the room hung on the wall. A simple signed document framed with the last popes name signed in the corner. Nothing more then Cal's right to be a preacher legally. "There is fresh Bandages in the next room on the bedside table" Callixtus sank into the old couch with a grunt and began the slow panful process of undoing the wrappings. Ugly purple lines began to appear as the cloth slowly fell away bit by bit. The next room was just as spartan. Perfectly clean without a speck of dust in it. A computer sitting on the far wall next to a closed wardrobe and a single twin bed sitting adjacent. A bedside table pressed against it with a large white firstaid kit wide open upon it. Torn apart the kit was the only thing that could be seen as out of place. Cal clearly had been rifling through it right before service and didn't have time to put it away. She could find the clothe wrapping easy enough but if she looked to hard she may find more. Beneath the lid of the open kit was a solid black FN5,7 a single golden cross carved into its handle.Evangeline Moreno
The dark-haired beauty moved on his command and entered his private chambers, quickly spotting the first aid kit. With stiff movements due to her still ongoing affliction, she gathered any loose items and stuffed them back into the container, which was then clutched to her chest. What is this? Eva stared fixedly at the gun that was uncovered with her actions, a frown upon her face as she contemplated her next move. Hmm. This one might be dangerous. Truth be told, she had never used a gun and neither was she comfortable around them. But this man, Father Cal, had one in his bedroom, and it looked to be a belonging of his -what with the golden cross and everything. She needed to be careful. And with that thought, she hurried back to the priest in the other room. “I found them.” A fingernail tapped against the container, the hint of a smile on her face, but when she saw him struggling with the bandages it disappeared. Eva rushed over to the aged couch and placed the kit on the cushion next to him, a muted groan barely held in check as she dropped to her knees in front of him. His hands would be lightly swatted away as she finished the job of unwrapping him. Seeing the myriad of bruises that covered his chest had her gasping in surprise, their odd shapes and lines confusing the woman on how he obtained them. What could cause such damage? She wanted to ask him, but honestly, she was afraid of the answer. “It would be best to put ice on them from time to time. And loose wrappings, so you’re not impeding your breathing.” Her deferential tone had shifted to something more detached, much like how she was at work when examining corpses, and she leaned in for a closer look. One hand held fresh bandages and the other was unwittingly reaching for him, her fingers itching to poke and prod at the bruises. She was able to stop herself in time, but just barely.Father Cal
Stop all she want. It didn't change what happened next. Cal wouldn't fight her as she stopped him from taking off the bandages. Rather he relaxed as if letting down his guard. Shoulders sloping ever so slightly, Letting his shirt fall away completely. giving full access to his torso. Every twist around his body removed a layer of the heavy white bandages. They were clean, not a speck of blood. But beneath was a odd sigh. Like a shotgun blast of pebbles his chest was covered in tiny purple marks. Some deep and swollen, others light and already healing. The worst of them was dead center on his breastbone. A deep black mark the shape of a hand.. Well It was a hand print but at this point none but a professional who had seen marks like this before would understand that. Of course the black and blue was only part of the story. Ever bit of bruising his perfection. A chest carved out of marble. Pectorals that flexed ever so slightly with every movement, carving out a form from his hearty shoulders down to his abdomen. Laying back once the wrappings were taking away he tossed a arm over his head and stretched out like a cat. Aching his back and pushing out his stomach. His body flexed unconsciously as he did. One arm falling behind his head. His left arm falling out dragging his fingers across her dress and down her side. before falling loose at his side. Leaning on the arm of the couch he would slowly open his eyes. Out stretched was a injured tiger. Full on display waiting for his stomach to be rubbed. Old battles wounds crisscrossing sculpted abs of steel. Even in a relaxed state to drag a nail down them would be like touching iron. Ending in a dull black trail marked V which disappeared between his dress pants and his skin. His pants hung lower then a priest should every let them ride having undone his belt to pulled out his shirt before letting it fall away. New bruising marred his near untouched chest and nipples. The only would that ran that high was the one that started at his left armpit and dragged down his body in a thick purple line to his waist band disappearing down below. "Forgive me. stretching helps the pain. Tell me sister. Be honest. Do I frighten you." He spoke in a soft almost husky voice as his dark eyes washed over her. His gaze never left her, but slowly drifted up and down her body as if he was devouring her. Truthfully he was making sure she wasn't preparing to attack him. Ever one guard. He understood how he looked having used his body a few times for infiltration of different witches' dens. God had given him many tools to enact his will. This form was one of them.Evangeline Moreno
Oh Lord, give me strength. Eva gave a sudden gasp at the feel of his hand brushing across her body and she froze in place. It would be quite some time before she remembered how to breathe again. The thin material of her dress had yielded under his touch, pulling tight against her body and temporarily revealing the outlines of the soft curves she hid underneath such chaste clothing. Her silent plea had been said in vain, thrown into the universe for anyone to listen and her praying for an answer in return. She would get none. She was on her own at this moment, having walked into the lion’s den with no thought given to her safety beforehand. It wasn’t until he spoke that her lungs decided to work again, drawing a ragged breath in and sending tingles of relief throughout her oxygen-starved body. She was becoming aware of her nails digging into her palms, they would have surely left behind crescent-shaped indents. Ever-changing eyes shifted away from his torso, from the bruises she had been inspecting, and up to his face, trying to process what he was asking of her. The dazed woman’s pupils were dilated. She could feel the heat of the flush upon her pale face and how it slowly crawled down her neck, embarrassed with how her body responded to him and betrayed her in the process. Her next words were picked carefully. “Frightened? Should I be, Father? You aren’t like other priests, which troubles me a little bit, but I don’t – you haven’t done anything to cause me to fear you.” Yet. Clearing her throat, the woman reached for a set of clean bandages, intent on finishing the job she had been invited to do.Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
"Fear often leads people to the lord. Fear of the unknown, fear of nothingness, Fear of death. For the lord will alleve all of our fears, and will guide us in our hour of need to his light and out of the darkness." Cal spoke as if everything was completely normal, like his eyes weren't drinking in every tiny sight In front of him. Like he didn't notice the chaste almost nun like girl IN front of him was hiding a body clearly more made for sin then gods work, yet with his own body as a example. Perhaps at times sinning is what was needed to further gods work. He wouldn't stop her from moving her arms around him to wrap the bandages properly. Perhaps giving a pained groan as she pulled them tight. But even as he leaned towards her, his slightly ragged breath, both from pain and constantly talking with fucked up ribs. Slowly breathing against her shoulder/neck. Depending on how far up she would pull him to get the job done. He spoke continuing his little... Confession. "Your faith is strong so you trust him, You let him guide you no matter the path it takes you. With hyenas of the devil snapping at your ankles. Driving you ever close to his blinding light and safety. Tossing yourself into his arms begging for mercy in his grace. Yet, You are not blind your faith wavers, for you are not idoitic. You know believing takes effort on all ends. You know these wounds are not of a car wreck as I said. You know there was a gun in plain few in my room. More importantly." He leaned up now on his own accord whispering softly in her ear. "You know you couldn't escape right now if you tried." He would pull away if she let him staring into her eyes with a controlled intensity. "Tell me little one. Are. you. Afraid. Of. Me. Or do you trust the lord that his servants are true no matter the path they are forced to take."Evangeline Moreno
That confession of his had almost earned him a breathy moan from the woman, who in the middle of it had to bite down on her bottom lip to prevent such shameless sounds from leaving her mouth. A combination of his words, his proximity, this intimate situation was having a dizzying, drugged effect on her and she could feel herself slowly getting lost. Then there was the reminder of the gun and then the presumption of her being trapped. Fingers twitched, an accidental tug to the end of the bandages that swathed his torso as self-discipline made a slow recovery and she was able to pull herself back into the light, inch by inch. It terrified her, how she could lose herself like that. This priest, this tempting man, was going to be a problem. And she needed to come up with a solution. And quick. As he pulled away, his look was met with the same energy, though hers wavered once as they dropped to his mouth for just a fraction of a second. It couldn’t be helped. For she was still feeling the lingering effects of his breath against the flesh of her neck, his whisper had caused goosebumps to prickle along her skin and leave her entire body sensitive and wanting. Though it was fading fast. Her gaze was still heavy with the remnants of desire. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding.” Her words came out low and sweet, even a bit hoarse. There was a pause and her attention dropped down to what she was doing, to give proper care to securing his bandages in place. Though she continued speaking, and for every word that passed, she sounded to be more and more in control of herself. “There are some that believe themselves to be servants of the Lord. They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny him.” The bandages were now secured, but her hands had stayed in place on his body. Eva looked up at him from beneath a fringe of dark lashes. “Father, what are your actions?” He’d feel a pull to want to answer her. There was no need to, nor was there a demand. It just felt right and perfect, that wanting. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. To maybe open up to. To help relieve the weight of burdens and expectations, worries and fears that had accumulated over the years. Who wouldn't want that? She had been (a) good (girl) so far with helping him when she saw his pain and not questioning him about the details of what happened. She had shown trust in his by entering his office and doing these things for him. So why wouldn’t he want to open up to her?[ Enh. Charisma, x1 Minor, 14/15]
Father, Callixtus VI Summanus
"Some think themselves prophets for his name when they are nothing but mouthpieces for the devil. Speaking the word of lucifer, spreading lies and deceit. Instead of spreading the good word." He needed to speak. He was right, he had found a sister to help him on his quest. To tend to him when he was wavering, to heal his wounds when he fell. One who would defended his heart when his thoughts wavered and he thought himself wrong doing the lords will. His gaze never flinched not as he spoke in his slow molasses like voice, His "American" accent slipping away slightly as his mind became muddled. It was so ingraining in him to keep his duty secret. To serve in the shadows to further the light. Was she ready to share his burden to stand at his side while the world burned all in the name of their chosen god. Should would have to make that choice. " I am a inquisition sister. My orders, my will is not my own I serve The father above in routing out sin and those who would worship the devil. I am witch hunter ordained by the pope and his cardinals." Even as it left his mouth it was a relief. Having held in who he was for so long burned him down to his core.SO long he stood alone in the darkness. Perhaps now he could stand side by side with one who understood his cause. Coughing a bit as the bandages tightened around his chest he took a slow labored breath before placing a hand against her and slowly rising to his feet. What came over me... Did I just make a great mistake. God above. Will I need to silence a faithful.Storyteller
High in the sky, thunder rumbles as if a higher authority is looking down shaking his or her head and readying a lightning bolt.Evangeline Moreno
An inquisitor? Of all the things she expected him to confess about, being an inquisitor was not one of them. The word conjured up images of old world history; holy men riding into town on horses and looking for heretics and sinners, forcing them to repent or face execution. But that was a long time ago. There was no way the Catholic Church would resort to such barbaric practices, probably having refined what an inquisition was and following the governance and laws of the land. But he said Witch Hunter. That is an old term. Unless he’s crazy. No, the Church sent him here. They wouldn’t send a madman… Right? Confused with this startling a bit of information and with so many questions she wanted to ask and not knowing what to do, she was at a loss for words. The weight of him pressing on her shoulder, him using her body for support, had roused the woman from her thoughts. It was then when she made up her mind, slipping a hand over his to help steady him as he stood and letting the warmth of her hand remind him that she was there for him, both physically and emotionally. She, too, looked for wrongdoers. Though on a much smaller scale than him, it seemed, only keeping to her small community. The temptress would play it safe and bide her time in getting more information from him. Today was enough. She still needed to process all of this, to make sense of what was going on. “That is a heavy burden to bear, Father. You must be a great man, a devoted servant of the Lord, to be trusted with such an important task.” The woman was still kneeling before him as she said this, her hand slowly slipping away from his. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she stared up at him almost expectantly, a fervent glean in her eyes.Father Cal
Standing up on a pedestal is never something the holy father wanted. He wasn't meant to stand with people kneeling before him worshiping him. He was a man of god. No matter whatEvangeline Moreno
Eva took in the picturesque sight of the half-dressed man standing before her, with his striking features and commanding pose, and the lighting doing him all the justice in the world. It was akin to those harlequin romance covers you’d find stuffed in your Aunt’s bookshelves or behind the cushion on a couch. Her eyes were shining with something close to awe, and when he told her to stand, she did. “Thank you, Father.” The woman straightened her dress after she stood and, with a bow of her head to him, she started turning for the door. There was a pause in that motion as she rattled off some instructions for him, ticking them off on her fingers. “I wouldn’t keep those bandages on for too long. Maybe, when you get the chance to relax, put some ice on them for the swelling and take something to dull the pain, like ibuprofen or acetaminophen. And please, I would suggest not doing anything strenuous until they heal.” Seemingly satisfied with her advice, Eva gave another nod and then left the backroom. Of course, she was going to come back. Whether it was for the ‘hunt’ or for more observation was left to be seen; he had definitely caught her attention. She still had so many questions rolling around in her head, and that was fine, because she had all the time in the world to figure this one out. Barring any interruptions, Eva would stroll out of the cathedral with a small smile on her face and unknowingly leaving a possession of her behind. Her rosary, made of black glass and bronze, laid forgotten on the floor by the sofa.Sunday evening
Father Cal
To your Holiness, Father Pope Paul VII. I write you now in a time of darkness as the light that brings God's wrath and love. I have suffered a great loss for the first time in my career as the lightening of His love. I feel I have become lost in this case. Thousands of hunts and a year as the sole remaining inquisitor and now I have failed? I do not understand this feeling. Was I wrong this once? Did I get steered wrong? Was His light not leading the way for me to my target; the witch and devil worshiper that dared soil God's great light with powers beyond this world. Attached is the video from my rifle. This isn’t the best quality footage and, for this I am sorry Father, but it is all I have of this hunt. I managed to remove one of the devil worshipers, but not only did the other allude to me but managed to resist the power of Barachiel as well. Taking the full force of His light and guidance and managing still to not only deliver a blow fitting of one who worships the hideous serpent but defeated me. Crushing my armor, and then myself under his fist. Even as I write to you, the pain is great and only modern medicine and the love of God keeps me upright and ready to continue God's will. I seek guidance on this matter, good father, as I am a bit lost. In better news, perhaps this defeat was ordained as it led me to a follower I believe is not only a believer of the quietly that is needed to further God's great will. Determined, Bright, and burning with passion for the lord often only found in young children. A devout woman wanting all she can to serve God. I believe she will make a good sister in the inquisition you have tasked me. Perhaps my defeat was to show me I can no longer perform this hunt alone. While I understand my mission is secret and only I am to take this path and serve in the shadows to further the righteousness of God. I ask humbly to be allowed to ordain or bring her to be ordained as a sister in our cause. Let me bring her into the fold so she may help me wipe out the cult of darkness that has overtaken this entire city. I am filled with His grace and glory, ready to bring justice to all those who have strayed or dare walk against His grace. But I am just a man, ordained and filled with purpose to erase the enemies of The God. I ask now for some help doing God's will. I am fighting a coven unlike any I have faced just far. Bullets, swords, and as I have just learned perhaps even the light of Barachiel has limited effects on them. They are strong in the enemy, this is but a truth. I have done some research and perhaps I have a solution. Well a few. One such is allies. Perhaps I have spent too long hunting, alone. As stated before I seek to bring this sister into the fold of the inquisition officially with your ordainment and grace, but I ask to let God send me to others. Have him guide us both to others who will help serve him. Just a select few all vetted through you and your cardinal and the light of god himself of course. As well as a supply of arguments to arm them. This as well as a higher caliber rifle for myself. I have recently looked into the S.W.O.R.D international’s Mk-18 Mod 1 Mjölnir. I do believe this will without a doubt be able to put down the heathens that are plaguing this city. I understand violence is not something you both study, nor approve of, Father. Yet we both know this is the task I have been assigned and must fulfill within God’s grace. Do have a cardinal look into this weapon of war, to be made into a weapon of god. I stand in God's grace as a proud soldier of his army, his word fills my form, and his light shines from me always. It is good to write to you and I pray you return my words post haste. Forever Faithful,
Reverend Callixtus VI Summanus. Semper fidelis
Type
Record, Historical
Medium
Digital Recording, Text
Authoring Date
July 18, 2021
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