Part 13 - Informal Meeting

The boy01/29/2020

-----

[

7:17 PM

]

Able was restless. He had spent more than a week up in the spire despite his efforts to go out on his own. Able spent a good portion of his time keeping his body fit, typically by using the underside of the stairs to do pull ups, the Bandaged's books to help do leg lunges, or more often by merely simple squats and crunches. He tried to mix it up by playing with the weasels and seeing if they could catch him, which he got a bit tired of due to not being able to full sprint. This was bothersome. He had to get outside. He started working on a pulley system while he kept exercises up, knowing that this would be hell on his back if he got too soft. The Bandaged person seemed to still hold some classes but responded poorly to his wishes to go outside. Able did find minor success after a romp but it wasn't enough, clearly they were adamant about this. He would wait until he could set up the pulley system, possibly when the Bandaged was asleep or drunk. For now he kept himself busy, exercise taking up a lot of space and time. He needed to take a bath, before he headed out for the night.

.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged man is upstairs in the main room, arranging a variety of wooden panels against the open window. By their side, they have their jade-cornered table with several slabs of carved wood stacked on top. Currently, they have a mahogany door propped up against the glass window on its side, hanging from the window by their hinges and held in place with Violant colored splotches all over the hinges and window.

The Bandaged: . . .a sideways door. . .yes, that'll work. Ah, but the color. . .dreadful. Charlemagne: YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

A hat propped on top of the stack of wooden doors curls its brim.

Charlemagne: DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW DOORWAYS WORK? The Bandaged: -Irked.- Yes, I've had my experience with them.

The bandaged man walks over, before smudging away the Violant ink on the hinges; the door falls to the ground with a loud THUD, echoing in the main room.

The Bandaged: -Cheerfully.- Which is why I know that they'll keep Able inside! Charlemagne: YOU'RE AN IMBECILE. The Bandaged: Oh, hush.

The bandaged man walks over to the stack of doors, and pulls on the top most rosewood door, sliding it along on the flat side slowly and laboriously. . .

The Bandaged: -Wheezing.- Yes, this should. . .be fine. . .oof. . .heavy. . .and. . .elegant. . .

. . .slowly towards the front of the room, before lifting it up onto its side.

The Bandaged: -Wheezing harder.- And. . .secure. . ! . .

The bandaged man's grip slips, and the door falls to the ground with a THUD.

The Bandaged: God! Why is rosewood so BLASTED heavy!?

The boy01/29/2020

Able hears some banging coming from upstairs, but ignores it, taking a very quick bath, merely washing himself off before drying off and getting dressed in a darker set of clothes. Still fairly raggedy but they would work for his little adventure outside. The bandaged man should be asleep soon, Able mused to himself. Certainly he'd figure out he had a small little bundle of absinthe on his desk. Enough to keep him busy for a night.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged man grabs the door again, and lifts it up; after a bout of wheezing, they have gotten the raised back up to the Violant splotches over the hole in the window, and push the hinges against it; immediately, the door adheres, hanging to it, and the bandaged man immediately pulls out their pen and splatters ink onto the hinges.

The Bandaged: God!. . .there. . .that should. . .that should stay. Damn, rosewood is so dense. Charlemagne: NO WONDER YOU LOVE IT.

The bandaged man scowls, and sits down on the ground before lying on their back, groaning.

The Bandaged: Goddd, I deserve a break. Haven't I spent enough time getting this set up? Charlemagne: YOU TESTED TWO DOORS. The Bandaged: I ought to treat myself. . . Charlemagne: YOU DIDN'T EVEN BRING UP THIS DOOR. YOU PAID TO HAVE IT BROUGHT UP BY THE DOCK WORKERS. The Bandaged: -Sitting up.- Ah, but my intellectual work in getting that money and the effort in haggling with them, isn't that worth a bottle?

The bandaged man sits up, groaning.

The Bandaged: I ought to be retired right now. . . Charlemagne: YOU'RE AT PEAK PHYSICAL HEALTH. The Bandaged: Ah, but I'm always so tired and weak. . .

The bandaged man pauses, before turning sharply to the hat, moving to stand up and walk towards the desk.

The Bandaged: . . .oy! You take that back! Charlemagne: I SAID NOTHING; WHATEVER YOU REALIZE IS YOUR OWN ISSUE TO DEAL WITH. The Bandaged: -Muttering darkly.- Why, I oughta. . ?

The bandaged man pauses, turning their head; their eyes are locked onto a green glass bottle no bigger than the smallest cask of wine.

The Bandaged: Well hello, what do we have here?

The bandaged man walks to the bottle, picking it up. Absinthe.

The Bandaged: Ah, absinthe? Well, now, Charles, I'm tempted to forgive you. Charlemagne: I DIDN'T BRING THAT. The Bandaged: -Rubbing the bottle's label; distracted.- Ah, how I longed for this taste. . .you know what? I deserve a reward.

[

8:02 PM

]

The bandaged man pulls the glass stopper off the top, before raising the heady liquid to their lips; they drink for a few seconds, swallowing noisily in the room before lowering the bottle.

The Bandaged: Pah! . . .oh, that's strong. That's good, that's very good. . .

The bandaged man moves behind the cornered desk, sitting down behind it and resting their head against a drawer while tipping the bottle back again.

Charlemagne: AREN'T YOU GOING TO LOCK THE DOOR? The Bandaged: -Between gulps.- Mm. . .guh. . .ah, you worry. It's heavy, he can't get out. . .mmph. . .now, leave me be; I'm drinking the stars!

The bandaged man leans back, lifting the bottle up and downing gulps of absinthe, the strong liquid burning his throat lightly and warming his mouth (though neither bother him).

.

The boy01/29/2020

A few minutes later, Able starts heading upstairs, as soon as the bandaged stops making sounds. The weasels were safely asleep, so now was the time. Just one night, something to keep him busy.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged man is resting lounged on their side with their back against the front of the jade-cornered desk; he's completely passed out, a spilt bottle of absinthe overturned by the desk and his facial bandages askew from (presumably) the lip of the bottle tugging on their bandages. Their eyes are closed, and they seem to be lying in a position wholly uncomfortable if one were sober. They're out cold.

Charlemagne: AH, GOOD, YOU'RE UP.

The hat on top of the stacked doors on the desk curls its brim, its stitched eyes narrowing.

Charlemagne: SUPPOSE IT WAS YOUR DOING, THEN?

The boy01/29/2020

Able was expecting them to at least go to bed, but this was fine too. He sighs, of course that was probably the most likely scenario.

Able: Of course, he's been... a bit irksome as of late.

Able moves to the door over the window. He lifts it easily.

Able: .....So this is all the security he had?

they01/29/2020

The hat turns its brim, closing its eyes and raising its top.

Charlemagne: I TOLD HIM IT WAS A PISS POOR IDEA. HE DIDN'T LISTEN.

The boy01/29/2020

Able would laugh but he was just not surprised.

Able: Well, I will be out. Enjoy your night.

Able easily goes through the door-ed window. He hooks the pulley against the side of the stairs, firmly in place by tension clamps. When he was satisfied he started down, controlling his speed with a second hand-held clamp. He picked up more speed than he'd liked, and noted this for later. It was a fairly long drop, but not so long as taking the stairs. The rope cut off too soon, and only got him to six feet off the ground. He cursed this, thinking he had measure it correctly. Able jumps down, pulling the rope before he does as to retract it back into its springed spool. He watches it climb back up and retract. At least that worked. Able heads out of the Bazaar, making a line for a building he knew was vulnerable. Hearing all the talk of such a estate being woefully understaffed for a season, that got him excited.

[

8:23 PM

]

---

The boy01/29/2020

The night was. . . Fine. Able found the place easy enough, though the hatch to the cellar was a bit of a hassle to crack open. That was the only difficult part. He walked in, and found that the staff were all cooing over something, and he could almost swear one of them glanced over at him. Able focused, his footsteps silent even with hard shoes on wood floors. He could still hear staff, laughing loudly at some joke. They seemed a bit too happy for an understaffed estate. Able managed to waltz his way into the master bedroom, a neatly decorated room that looked recently used. He fiddled with the lockbox he found under the bed. Along with something interesting. He went downstairs, loudly, and all the staff looked up at him, and cheered. Able watched at they all spoke fondly towards him, inviting him to leave through the front door. Able dropped the box, and left. The seemed to laugh as he made a very swift exit. Able didn't feel anything for a while, maybe mildly bothered? Clearly the man had more contacts than he thought. Able started to head back, but decided against it. If he head back now, he would have nothing but a smug look to come back to. He had to do something else. For a while he wandered, finding more familiar streets, sticking to ones he remembered. He found himself near the river, and took a sharp turn. He knew this area, he would be there soon. Did he want to stop there? Did he have the ability to face her like this? Able wasn't sure. He did know that she was still head mother and vicar there, but he didn't know if she would even want to see him. He left so suddenly. He didn't even go back. He supposed... better late than never?

The boy01/29/2020

The church hadn't changed in the years he'd been gone. The floors were still clean and the pews were still lacquered. Able knew the doors would be open, he knew no one would be here until morning. He sits on one of the benches, looking under the seat. Same scratched name on the inside leg Thomas had dared him to do so many years ago. It was quiet. He looked at the pedestal, behind it a wood and steel tub in the back. A tin and steel organ installed in the white walls. It seemed so uncomfortable and yet fairly comfortable. Familiar, but not his home any more. That was an odd concept to think about. The windows having been boarded up and painted white way before he was born kept the light in. He sighed, laying back onto the bench, this would be a fine place for a nap.

they01/29/2020

-------

The boy01/29/2020

The morning does come, and so does the weasels. The stairs have made them more bold in exploring other rooms, especially with Magenta's choker telling them if something is too dangerous. This time however they are jumping all over the bandaged, and one(Winter) seems to have somehow gotten on top of Charlemagne, much to his displeasure. The rest of them are licking and patting the bandaged's face, and the choker is screeching.

A choker: FOOD! HUNGRY!!!! MORNING!.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged man jerks awake, squinting and lifting their head a bit.

The Bandaged: Hm? Eh? . .ough, what. . ? Charlemagne: GET OFF ME! VERMIN!

The bandaged man winces, lifting a hand up slowly.

The Bandaged: Nngh. . .don't. . .stop. . .stop screaming. . . Charlemagne: VICIOUS VERMIN! GET OFF!

The bandaged man groans, propping themselves up and sitting with their back against the desk and tilted at a slant.

The Bandaged: Ughh. . .please, shut up. . .

The bandaged man is absentmindedly brushing aside the weasels, their head throbbing with pain.

The Bandaged: . . .what're. . .what're you all doing up here. . .? Charlemagne: OFF!

The brim of the hat ruffles violently, trying to shake its guest off.

The Bandaged: -Groaning.- Agh. . .stop! Stop yelling!.

The boy01/29/2020

Winter is grooming Charlemagne, holding tightly, as if he is a fussy pup. Magenta gets down tugging the bandaged's clothes. The choker speaks up.

A choker: FOOD.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged groans.

The Bandaged: Wh. . .you're. . .you're a choker, you don't eat. . .

The bandaged man stands up, shakily getting up with their hands curled weakly around the edge of the jade-cornered desk.

The Bandaged: . . .a. . .agh. . . Charlemagne: GET OFF! OFF! The Bandaged: -Groaning; keeling over a bit.- Please! Stop yelling! . .oh God, I feel ill. . .

The boy01/29/2020

A choker: WEASELS. FOOD.

Winter jumps down when she feels like Charlemagne is properly clean, happy with her work she heads down stairs.

they01/29/2020

The hat on the brim shudders violently, fluttering its brim.

Charlemagne: I'M COVERED IN ANIMAL SPIT! I'M GOING TO BE DISEASED! The Bandaged: -Groaning; falling further.- God, just. . .

The bandaged man grabs the hat, pulling it down to the ground with him.

The Bandaged: -Waving Charlemagne.- Hey, you guys like chasing things, right? . . Charlemagne: LET GO OF ME!

The bandaged man tosses the hat towards the center of the room. . .

Charlemagne: NO! HOLD ONTO ME. . !

. . .before sliding on the floor and falling down the open stairway hole with a loud, leathery shriek.

The Bandaged: There, go. . .go play with him. . .ugh. . ..

The boy01/29/2020

Magenta jumps onto the desk, staring at the bandaged, the choker perking up again.

A choker: FOOD. THEY NEED TO EAT. FOOD IS NOT IN BOWL.

they01/29/2020

The bandaged man groans, sitting up a bit and rubbing their temples.

The Bandaged: Okay, o. . .okay, fine. . .

The bandaged man groans, lying back onto the ground. Meanwhile, the hat screams downstairs, its false-mouth facing down against the bottom-most step of the stairs.

Charlemagne: PUT ME BACK! IT'S FILTHY DOWN HERE! The Bandaged: -Ignoring.- . . .what. . .what do. . .do you buggers eat, then, huh? . .I got. . .I got fruit, somewhere. . .

The boy01/29/2020

----

The boy01/29/2020

Able wakes up to a familiar voice and a thwack in the face from a ruler. He jolts up, hissing. He rubs his forehead, sitting up.

Catharine: Get out, we don't take in drunks. You should know that, Abner.

Able groans, standing.

Able: I don't drink. Catharine: Then what possible business could you have in the church? You made yourself very clear when you left.

Catherine was an old, fairly small woman. Her hair black with thick greying streaks in her hair. She was holding a sturdy looking wooden cane, looking gnarled to the point that it looked more like driftwood than a proper cane.

Able: Oh, feeling a bit homesick, I suppose.

Even Able thought that sounded like nonsense. Catherine narrowed her eyes, and Able stepped out into the middle of the pews, along the walkway.

Able: Ahh.... Well. I'm sorry.

Catherine snorted, heading to the pedestal, pulling out a book to slam it heavily onto it.

Catharine: You had many years to say this, and only now you are getting to it? What's next? You'll be telling me you've been consorting with devils? Stealing from children? Honestly, Abner, you think I've been blind to what you've been up to? Able: I didn't think you would check.

Catherine opens the book opening to a page before stepping down, lighting all the candles around the room.

Catharine: I know you and Thomas have been messing with dangerous people, stealing and lying. Causing all sorts of trouble!

The boy01/29/2020

The doors open and a priest walks through. Able had never seen this man before, though he suspected that they would have to replace the old man since.... Well it wasn't pleasant. He looks young, his robes only slightly too small for his large body, which even though he looked like a giant, looked barely older than Able. Able looked confused as the priest thanked Catherine for her services, moving to the pedestal to plan out his sermon.

[

10:01 PM

]

The priest: Ah! Young man, you're here early! Good, your faith will shine bright...

Catherine snorts, lighting the rest of the candles.

***

they01/29/2020

As the priest continues his sermon, the door opens slowly; a deacon steps inside, closing the door quietly without nary a squeaking hinge. With their presence, the candlelight hanging over the pews dims, their robe growing heavier. The deacon turns around, adjusting their collar while black-tinted lenses tilt down towards Able.

Virgil: . . .ah, Able. Is this visit a part of your usual constitutional?.

The boy01/29/2020

Able had sat down, not yet ready to head to the spire yet. He looks up at the deacon, confused, but didn't get anything out before Catherine interjects.

Catharine: Oh so you are consorting with Devils then, Abner.

She moves around and towards the deacon, scowling.

Catharine: And you. What business do you have here?

Able shrunk down a bit into his seat.

they01/29/2020

The deacon lightly adjusts their collar.

Virgil: Come, there's no need for animosity. I was invited by your priest to observe today's attendants to the church; as I understand it, you've been having loose hands among those in the pews. I'm merely here to keep a careful eye.

The deacon lowers their hands from their collar, adjusting their crooked cross.

Virgil: I'm sure you also understand that I'm faithful to the church's mandates to restrain my more upsetting habits.

The boy01/29/2020

The priest looks very sheepishly from the stand, not really willing or wanting to interfere. Catherine scowls, not convinced, and storms off to wipe down some of the pews, griping about how the church might as well move to hell if they were letting devils in. Able looks very nervous, but nods to the deacon.

Able: ah... Hello deacon.

He wondered, was this normal treatment? He figured possibly not, as Catherine had always been very.... intense...

they01/29/2020

The deacon tightens their rosary; they raise an eyebrow as their glasses peer at Able.

Virgil: Evening, Able. I hope you aren't the thief responsible for this church's missing inventory?

The boy01/29/2020

Able seems to smile a bit, amused.

Able: I steal a plenty, but not from the church.

they01/29/2020

The deacon lowers their hands.

Virgil: While I applaud your honesty and for voicing your crimes to a deacon of the church, I implore you to think the same of London as you do of the pew.

The deacon moves to the back, moving around Catherine with rustling her own hem, and moving to seat himself by the organ.

.

The boy01/29/2020

Able doesn't seem very phased by this, instead waiting and watching as the more common church goers fill the benches. Some people he knew, some he didn't, though it was majorly consistent of young kids, or youths of various ages. The priest gave a rounding sermon about the virtues of honesty, and of the sins of coveting what someone else has. The sermon seems to go without much issue. Able did catch a sight from the corner of his eye, of a young man, probably no older than 14 or 15, fidgeting with something under his shirt. They had a short break in the sermon when hymns where sung by the group. Able took this opportunity to go outside, slipping out the door. He waits for the sermon to end, watching as people start flooding out of the door. Able watched, and then gripped the young man by the arm, a little pile of things falling out of his shirt. He looked so shocked he forgot to yell. Able looked down, a book, and some brooches, pins, and jewelry all spilled out. Able looked unamused.

Able: So, using the church to pick pockets. Clever.

The young man tries to get away, pulling and trying to bite Able's hand, but Able's grip doesn't loosen.

.

they01/29/2020

A moment, and then the opening of the church's door; the deacon stepped outside, adjusting their rosary.

Virgil: Ah, Able. I see you've gotten our light-fingered pupil.

The deacon steps around, moving to the front while their glasses peer at the thief. They stop in front and to the side of them, crouching a little so they're level with the kid, the black lenses of their glasses reflecting the young man's face back at him in the candlelight glare.

Virgil: Now, my child. I hope you understand that this. . .

The deacon reaches down, tutting as they pick up a book from the pile on the ground, and holding it up as they stare at the young man again.

Virgil: . . .is rather unacceptable. Tell me, for how long have you been nicking from the church, and from your fellow parishioners?.

The boy01/29/2020

The kid struggles, but Able's grasp is steady. Firm but not painful, at least he hopes not. The kid stares at Able then at the Deacon. He looks away, scowling.

Kid: None of your business.

Able Looks at the deacon briefly, not saying anything, but not amused, clearly. He sighs, looking back at the kid.

they01/29/2020

The deacon sighs, lowering the book.

Virgil: Child, please. Surely, you know about the vice of dishonesty, of jealousy, and of thievery. Perhaps you're aware of envy, and the punishments of those who submit to it received: on this earthly world, as they're shunned by their friends; at judgement, whereby they fell from Heaven with the sin of envy heavy on their shoulders. . .

The deacon tilts their head down and lightly lowers their glasses, letting a thin sliver of amber-orange peek out from the top as they stare directly, visible only to Able and to the young man due to their proximity.

Virgil: . . .in Hell, where the devils took joy in toying with the sinner..

The boy01/29/2020

The kid looks at the deacon, and seems to have a sudden change of heart. Convenient, Able thought, trying not to laugh.

Kid: I... I wanted money for...

He looks nervous.

Kid: for my friends and I we were going to.... leave and live together and...

The kid starts to mutter, looking at the little piles of treasures. Able wanted to pity him, but he didn't say anything.

Kid: Someone was... willing to pay a lot for old books... It's not like anyone would miss them anyway!

they01/29/2020

Virgil: Ah, I see. I believe that your friends may not be the best influence on you. . .certainly, running away and living together is primarily how one ends up an urchin on the rooftops.

The deacon tsk's, lifting the book.

Virgil: As for your plan. . .well now, they're certainly old books. I'd be willing to suppose that perhaps the church would overlook some books. . .but, as I understand it, you've been nicking from the church for quite some time. Certainly, someone noticed; otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Furthermore, even if the church didn't miss it, or any of the other books you've stolen. . .

The deacon reaches down, lifting a handful of jewelry and brooches; some of them prick into his skin, but no matter: he stares the kid in the eye, jangling the jewelry lightly.

Virgil: . . .you mean to tell me that your fellow man would not be saddened by the loss of what was theirs? That they wouldn't miss what they had earned by their own hard work?

The deacon stands, dropping the jewelry onto the ground before standing up.

Virgil: Lastly. . .have you stopped to think: why? Why someone would pay so well for old books? And why church texts, especially? Much as it saddens me to say, holy scripts aren't popular books to read; even slanderous newspapers are more popular than the evangelical texts. . .is your "someone" actually going to pay? Or were they merely going to con you? Perhaps, expose you?.

January 30, 2020

The boy01/30/2020

The kid goes dead silent, not sure what to say. He looks at the deacon, and then at Able who is only there to hold him there. Able can see that this kid was probably a bit coerced into this, but he only looked sort of guilty. The kid doesn't respond, but it does look as if he's thinking. Good. Able thought.

they01/30/2020

The deacon lightly puts a hand on kid's shoulder, holding the stolen book into view.

Virgil: My child. . .go and give this back to the priest inside. He'd be glad to have it back, I'm sure.

The boy01/30/2020

Able lets go of the kid, who gripes, holding his wrist. He stares down at the kid, who looked like he was about to bolt, but takes the book. He basically storms inside, saying nothing to either Able or the deacon. Able sighs, looking at the scattered items on the ground, scooping them up, careful not to hurt himself.

Able: Lost and found is over here, follow me, if you'd like.

Able starts walking to a small shed next to the church.

.

they01/30/2020

Virgil: I suppose it's for the best; your headmistress doesn't seem partial to me.

The deacon follows along Able, tightening their rosary.

Virgil: Not entirely novel to me, but the first time I've had it upfront rather than in the subtle turning of a cross towards me..

The boy01/30/2020

Able laughs a bit, though it sounds tired.

Able: She's always been up front about how she feels.

He opens the shed door, remembering this shed being bigger. He deposits the items into one of the small trays. Most of them are empty, but there are scarves and hats, a selection of coats hung up neatly. Some toys and board games. Some of which he knew had never left this room since he had lived here. Most of it was fairly new, and well organized, clean, dusted. Things kept changing.

Able: Hm.. They fixed the roof...

they01/30/2020

The deacon looked up.

Virgil: I'll take your word for it. . .

The deacon looks down at the bin.

Virgil: . . .I have reservations, however, about leaving jewelry and the like in a public bin.

The boy01/30/2020

Able turns to the deacon.

Able: The headmistress handles these affairs. She'll likely be here soon, if we mess with anything else....

Able sighs.

Able: Well she'd be fairly more upset..

[

12:33 AM

]

Able tilts his head.

Able: Do you drink coffee?

they01/30/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow.

Virgil: As a necessity, or for general enjoyment?

The boy01/30/2020

Able: Enjoyment. If not there are other places, that is if you'll join me.

Able didn't want to go back yet. He was still upset, embarrassed. He would go back later.

they01/30/2020

The deacon muses.

Virgil: While my more infernal associates enjoy coffee, I'm more inclined to a scalding tea. Why do you ask?

The boy01/30/2020

Able: Tea then.

He pauses for a second.

Able: Well, I'd much prefer your company right now.

Able wasn't lying, but he was certainly keeping certain information as to why. The deacon likely wouldn't care about such matters anyway.

they01/30/2020

The deacon moves out of the way, permitting Able to leave.

Virgil: Now, that sounds unwise. Your headmistress would claim you're consorting with devils, after all.

The boy01/30/2020

Able nods, moving towards the entrance to the shed.

Able: You aren't just any devil though, are you?

He looks back.

Able: Come, we can discuss it over tea.

[

12:52 AM

]

----

The boy01/30/2020

Caligula's was as busy as it ever was, people ordering and yelling above the ambient crowd sounds of others, which only made it more loud. Able had paid for their drinks, and waited for them to be ready, sitting at a table with the deacon. Some people seemed to notice the deacon, even seemed to make comment on it, but the overall sound was difficult to make it out. Eventually their drinks had come, Able's looking as if he'd mostly gotten milk in his tea, it was hard to tell if it was tea at all. The deacons was a boiling hot cup with no milk, and the young lady who had brought over the drinks set down a saucer of sugar cubes and left them be. Able took a great deal of sugar in his tea, stirring in five of ten of the little cubes. Able sipped, a little disappointed it was still bitter.

January 31, 2020

they01/31/2020

The deacon looks at their teacup, tilting it back and looking at the bottom of the cup before lifting it to their lips, sipping briefly.

Virgil: -Slightly quiet.- Mh. . .they left the leaves. . .

The deacon lowers their teacup, setting it on the tray.

Virgil: . . .I believe that any benefit you could've gotten from the tea is more than counteracted by the amount of sweetener you've put into it.

The boy01/31/2020

Able smiles a bit, but it fades quickly.

Able: Well, fair is fair, I don't particularly enjoy tea.

He set his cup down, warming his hands with the heat of the cup.

Able: How have you been?

they01/31/2020

Virgil: Well, let's consider.

The deacon makes a non-commital lifting of their head as they speak. . .

Virgil: I've spent the day doing a preach to a small audience of eccentric Londoners about the virtue of patience, though I'm not sure the lesson stuck; I've been accosted by a fellow priest, who needed someone to deal with a thief; I've been called a fraud several times across all of those experiences. . .

. . .before lifting their teacup.

Virgil: . . .and now I'm having a conversation over tea with someone who ordered themselves tea merely so they wouldn't come off as impolite in having something they enjoyed whereas the other person has a common conversational drink.

The deacon drinks from their teacup, before lowering it.

Virgil: In sum. . .ordinary.

The boy01/31/2020

Able looks at the deacon, tilting their head just a little.

Able: Sounds like you could use a break every so often then.

Able taps the side of his cup with a finger, thinking.

Able: As for me, coffee is too strong, tea is too bitter, and their... other drinks... tend to be too sweet. This is merely choosing ones evils wisely.

they01/31/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow, their sunglasses peering at Able.

Virgil: Does that extend to the company you keep as well?.

The boy01/31/2020

Able smiles a bit.

Able: Hm.. Sometimes that's how it is, isn't it? No one is perfect by any right.

they01/31/2020

The deacon draws another gulp of tea from their cup, lowering it and setting it down onto the saucer without a clink.

Virgil: Ah. . .if you believe that, then you definitely don't attend church regularly. Virgil: Which makes your church visit much more interesting.

The boy01/31/2020

Able seems to mostly forget about his drink, sighing.

Able: Sometimes you just want to go home, I suppose.

they01/31/2020

The deacon lifts their teacup.

Virgil: Ah, do you not live with the bandaged man, then?

The boy01/31/2020

Able grips his cup a bit tightly. He frowns.

Able: He did say it was temporary. I wonder if he remembers.

they01/31/2020

The deacon pauses, their teacup hanging in the air before they set it down. He pulls at the bridge of his sunglasses, lowering it to peek at Able directly.

Virgil: . . .hm. He may not remember anything at all. Possibly due to his consumption habits.

The boy01/31/2020

Able laughs a bit quietly, looking down.

Able: That is likely. I wish he would not treat me like a child, though. He seemed especially keen on doing so last night.

they01/31/2020

The deacon sits back in their chair, looking carefully at Able.

Virgil: In what way?

The boy01/31/2020

Able looks to be getting fairly upset, biting his tongue. He then quickly calms himself, sighing.

Able: Trying to protect me from benign dangers, which will do nothing but stifle me to a singular spot.

they01/31/2020

Virgil: Hm. Able, you are aware that I can see souls, correct?

The deacon lowers their glasses a little lower, a sliver of amber poking through.

Virgil: A weight on one's mind is metaphorical, but it's also readily visible as a compression of one's soul.

The deacon pushes their glasses back up.

Virgil: You're alluding to something without committing to voice what has occurred, so I can imagine that it was something rather personal to you.

The deacon grabs their teacup, lifting it to their lips to drink before lowering their cup.

Virgil: Mh. . .whether you want to continue talking about it, and explicitly, is your decision, of course. . .though I will say that I'm curious as to why you've decided to talk about it to a devil..

The boy01/31/2020

Able: Ah, I have not forgotten. Hm.. You are still a deacon, and still, as far as I've seen, a man I can speak to a bit plainly.

Able looks back up at the deacon, his brow furrowing.

Able: He did take something away from me, perhaps so I might be entertained for the night. He's fairly sloppy, though. Hm.

He rests his head on one hand, leaning into the table.

Able: He felt it necessary to Set up a robbery for me. A shame. I was never particularly interested in the gems to start with, and most certainly not after finding out what he'd done.

***

they01/31/2020

The deacon raises their teacup, keeping their sunglasses ever so slightly lowered as they drink.

Virgil: Mh. I suppose it's because of your peculiar status; Lord knows that the bandaged man values memorabilia from above.

The boy01/31/2020

Able looks miffed, seemingly upset at just that thought.

Able: An incorrect assumption, I'm sure.

He leans back a bit more.

they01/31/2020

The deacon sips from their teacup.

Virgil: Mh. Frankly, I doubt it.

The deacon lowers their teacup.

Virgil: Whether or not you'll believe me, there are certain facts about your being. You may feel free to place your most fatal injury being temporary blindness from sunlight as a lucky circumstance. However, your soul itself has a raised composition to it; it exalts upwards, like a candle flaring to the heavens. Now, the literature of the church would have you believe that the soul is exalted to head upwards to our father in a heaven of sorts, but there's a more typical explanation among devils for those who have a flared soul. . .

The deacon grabs a sugar cube, dropping it into their teacup. . .

Virgil: . . .they're born under sunlight, and their soul is merely trying to return to where it came.

. . .before stirring their tea.

Virgil: Certainly, that's one thing you share with your bandaged acquaintance.

The boy01/31/2020

Able just seems to get angry, tapping his foot, trying to calm himself.

Able: I would not consider it something.... truthful to how I am now. I've been here since I was an infant, that seems fairly contradictory to what you're saying.

Able bites his lip, suddenly remembering his drink, sipping at the cup. Ah, right, it is still bitter. He sets it down again.

they01/31/2020

The deacon lifts their drink, sipping.

Virgil: Mh. I suppose if you think it so, then I cannot convince you otherwise.

The deacon lowers their now-empty teacup, setting it down on the saucer.

Virgil: How long do you intend to stay away from the Spire, then?

The boy01/31/2020

Able seems to relax a little, looking at his cup, then back up at the deacon.

Able: I'm... not sure. I feel if I return I will only become upset again. I suppose I cannot stay away for long, though.

February 1, 2020

they02/01/2020

Virgil: You can stay away as long as you'd like. Whether you return is your choice; I don't advise staying out on the streets, but I suspect you already know that.

The deacon pushes their saucer and teacup aside, before tugging at the brass watch clasped to the front of their robe; they unhook it partially, pulling the watch from the latch clasped to their front and opening it with a click, peering at it.

Virgil: Speaking about returning. . .it is getting time for me to head home.

The deacon stands, moving around to push their seat in.

Virgil: What I want to know is. . .where do you intend to go?

The boy02/01/2020

Able sighs, standing, not wanting to finish his tea.

Able: I suppose I will have to return regardless of my feelings on the matter. Ah... The bandaged man is... Not so good with pets.

Able quietly pushes his seat in.

Able: Thank you, for joining me, deacon. Perhaps you would like to have some company next week? We don't have to get tea, anything is fine with me.

Able clasps his hands together, looking at the deacon directly.(As directly as you can with sunglasses)

Able: Talking with you is rather pleasant.

they02/01/2020

The deacon looks at their watch one more time before sticking it back onto their chest latch.

Virgil: I'll see about that; I don't do sermons on Sundays for personal reasons, though whether I have other manners to tend to, I won't be sure.

The deacon brushes off their robe.

Virgil: Rather unwise, though, making such a broad offer to a devil.

The boy02/01/2020

Able smiles.

Able: Well, you aren't just any devil, are you? ----

Able said his goodbyes to Virgil, and started back. He felt a bit more calm, though still unsure of himself. Able walks through the door-window. He seems a bit amused by it, before he remembered why he was out. He was still upset. He would have to have a talk with the bandaged man.

they02/01/2020

Down in the bedroom area, the bandaged man is lying on top of a leathery hat, exhausted as the hat ruffles madly and yells a (thankfully muffled) scream; for several hours prior, they scoured the pile of nonsense stored two floors below the bedrooms for something that weasels ate. They didn't care for the grapes he set on a plate (they merely only inspected and then started tossing the singular fruits around, until he was frustrated and ate it to spite them); they didn't care for the wine he offered or the honey he set out (apparently sharing the same disdain for it that their owner had); nor did they care for the fungal mushrooms and vegetables they set around (though they did fidget with the mushrooms like a ball for a short while). Eventually, however, he had found a small egg that was possibly laid by a snake, no bigger than a bluebird's egg (at least, so he thought; he brushed aside the sad thought that he forgot what small eggs look like). Immediately, the weasels came onto it and broke it open, feasting on the runny insides. By then, the bandaged man realized they enjoyed proteins, and ransacked their pile of nonsense down below. Currently, the bandaged man is lying on the ground on Charlemagne, with several overturned fishbowls lying around; the bandaged man had found a cache of goldfish, and had set the still living fish down onto a plate while the weasels immediately dove for it. They're exhausted, and tired from holding a screaming hat down.

Charlemagne: -Muffled.- GET OFF OF ME! I'M BEING PUSHED INTO CARPET SOILED BY VERMIN! The Bandaged: -Wheezy.- . . .god. . .I'm going to treat myself to some blasted sunlight after this. . .

The boy02/01/2020

Able walks downstairs and looks at the weasels, and then at the bandaged man. He seemed to actually feed them. Though he would have to clean a rancid mess later. Able kneels in front of the bandaged man.

Able: Have a rough morning?

they02/01/2020

Charlemagne: -Muffled; louder.- AH! GET HIM OFF OF ME! POKE HIS EYES OUT AND GET HIM OFF! The Bandaged: -Wheezy.- No. . .just. . .just peachy. . .remind me to get more. . .goldfish. . .

The boy02/01/2020

Able: Next time don't feed them fish, unless you want the whole spire to smell like its about to.

Able sighs.

Able: I'm going out for tea next week with the deacon..

they02/01/2020

The bandaged man grunts.

The Bandaged: -Wheezy.- Gh. . .no, absolutely not. . .haven't you learned from your last lesson? Devils are a tricky folk. . .

The boy02/01/2020

Able scoffs.

Able: It's too late for arguments. I've already agreed on my own terms.

they02/01/2020

The bandaged man wheezes, propping themselves up. . .

The Bandaged: -Wheezy; exasperated.- What!? . .hhff. . .wh. . .didn't you learn from the fir-

. . .and inadvertently freeing the hat.

Charlemagne: -Loud.- PUT ME BACK! BRING ME BACK UPSTAIRS, AWAY FROM THIS VERMIN! I AM TOO RESPECTABLE TO BE LYING AMONG FILTH LIKE THIS!.

The boy02/01/2020

Able grabs the hat by the brim, pulling them out from under the bandaged.

Able: I've learned all I need to know about him.

Able heads back upstairs with the hat. He stops, turning towards the bandaged.

Able: Before I forget, I figured out your little game you placed for me. You're sloppy.

Able heads back up.

they02/01/2020

The bandaged man wheezes, propping themselves up.

The Bandaged: Wh. . .oy, just because I indulge in a little wine and honey doesn't mean you can. . .call me sloppy. . .m. . .mmh.

The bandaged man pauses, sitting back onto the ground.

The Bandaged: . . .mm. . .game. . ? . .oh. Ohhhh. . .

The bandaged man lies onto their side.

The Bandaged: Ohhhh noooo. . .

[

3:03 AM

]

The bandaged man pauses, before propping themselves up.

The Bandaged: . . .I guess I forgot something. . .mm. . .lets. . .lets forget about that with some Greyfields. . .First Sporing. . .