Part 18 - Confession

He ordered coffee. He hated coffee. He was early, though, and needed to wake up. Able hadn't gotten much sleep with arguing with the bandaged man, and his throat hurt from all the yelling.. He was waiting for Virgil, and ordered a second cup of coffee.

they02/07/2020

Along Ladybones Road, the deacon is walking along, dressed in their Sunday casuals and coming from where their church was sanctioned. He was heading down the street, but paused as he peered towards Caligula's, still standing a far bit away.

Virgil: -To themselves; tilting their head upwards a bit.- . . .hm. Curious. . .

The deacon lowers their gaze, and starts heading towards the outside pavilion. . . They're in view of Able, moving to sit at the usual spot and seating themselves down comfortably.

Virgil: Ah, good evening, Able.

They glance at the drink Able ordered. Coffee. So was that it, then?

Virgil: -Raising an eyebrow.- Have you figured out something else to drink besides tea, then?

The boy02/07/2020

Able is sipping at his drink when the deacon comes over. He looks up, nodding.

Able: Evening..

He looks exhausted like he'd gotten absolutely no sleep for days.

Able: I uh... Needed something stronger.. It was a long night I suppose. How have you been?

He forces a smile, a feat he was never good at.

they02/07/2020

The deacon sighs, lowering their sunglasses slightly and pinching the bridge of their nose.

Virgil: -Lightly.- The usual commotion. I've had a rowdy, sinful crowd at my church; I suspect that they were merely using the place as a hideout while the constables took their rounds.

The deacon pushes their sunglasses back onto their eyes, waving for a waiter to come over.

Virgil: Sins have a particular quality on a soul. There's not a great analogy I can give for you beyond a weak comparison to a sauce draped over a meal, but. . .forgive me if I'm not comfortable with describing it as such.

The boy02/07/2020

Able nearly chokes on his coffee, but suppresses a cough. He can feel his face burning. His flushing could probably be seen the next block over. He tries to ignore it regardless.

Able: -wheezing- Really? That sounds difficult.

Able is trying to think of things to calm his nerves, but his head is already buzzing.

they02/07/2020

The deacon pauses, staring at Able. Perhaps discussing a soul in such a manner is startling.

Virgil: Yes, well. . .I kept myself in check, but it's been getting harder as of late. Ah, a moment. . .

A waiter has walked over; the deacon speaks to them quietly, and low.

Virgil: -Quietly.- An English breakfast, please. No sugar, no milk. And strain the tea leaves, for goodness sake.

The waiter nods, and walks off as the deacon returns their gaze to Able, resting their hands politely on the table.

Virgil: Suppose I need to find a hobby to distract myself. Sherry can only go so far.

The boy02/07/2020

Able is averting his eyes, trying to not think about what he saw about how that line followed that.

Able: Your restraint is as admirable as always..

Able downs half of his second cup of coffee, and steels himself to look at the deacon. His face merely stayed flush, but he couldn't do much about that.

Able: Well what sort of things interest you?

they02/07/2020

The deacon sits back, tapping the side of their chin as they muse.

Virgil: Well, lately I've been partial to thinking about taking up baking.

A small smile curls at the end of their lips as he thinks about the complaints he's received in his church. Ah, none of that; he relaxes his smile.

Virgil: I've been inspired by some of the things that my congregation have said about my church. . . mainly, that the chamber is too warm. Ah, thank you.

The waiter has returned, placing a cup of tea onto the deacon's side of the table before politely bowing and walking off.

Virgil: Yes. . .perhaps I'm hoping to warm the church hot enough to bake a pie in front of their eyes and use it as an example of the miracle of god.

The boy02/07/2020

Able perks up quite a bit, sitting up in his seat.

Able: Oh! I could lend you some of my old recipe books!

Able thinks for a bit. Did he still have those? Yes, he remembered to bring some to the spire to use at the bandaged man's kitchen.

Able: I think most of them are pretty dull, fairly simple, but I only ever bake sometimes. It can be a huge hassle when you don't have enough... ah... tools.

Able is remembering having to go out to get bowls and utensils for the kitchen. He smiles a bit, momentarily forgetting what he saw.

Able: Well at any rate I'd love to see that happen, or at least the other people's reactions..

they02/07/2020

The deacon sits forward, grabbing their teacup. Ah, recipes; that would save the hassle of buying his own.

Virgil: Yes, well, a pie is probably going to take a little practice before I can make it work out well. Perhaps I can start with a mushroom bread, using a puree folded in.

The deacon puts the teacup to their lips, drinking. Good, they filtered out the tea leaves this time.

Virgil: Mh. . .though, I'm wondering if it'd be worth it. Food itself doesn't sate the desire to feast on souls so much as distract from it.

The boy02/07/2020

Able suddenly remembers. Distractions huh. He can feel his face burning again. Able looks away.

Able: A-ah. Sometimes a distraction is good enough..

He doesn't want to think about this, about the deacon, about the squirming, about the clear statements of interest. He finishes his coffee.

Able: However I can lend the books to you regardless. If you don't enjoy it, well, at least you didn't waste funds on the books.

Able is feeling the coffee wake him up, which had it's own problems. He feels himself thinking a bit too much.

they02/07/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow. Something struck a chord; the change in Able's soul is so stark as to be evident through the mirrored lenses. Let's probe a little more.

Virgil: I would appreciate the books, so long as it's a properly published book and not a series of recipes handed down; there's nothing more annoying than imprecise measurements.

The deacon lifts their tea to their face, sipping again. Let's probe a bit.

Virgil: Mh. . .ah, but I suppose I've talked enough of my planned hobbies; how has your week been?.

The boy02/07/2020

Able is averting his gaze, laughing nervously.

Able: Still... Keeping the bandaged man in check...

Able looks up a bit at the deacon.

Able: He snuck something in though, and I, in all my intelligence, allowed him to show it to me.

Able sighs, gripping his empty cup tightly, his face getting redder.

Able: Do you know anything about those.. moonlight mirror boxes? Are they always so... troublesome..?

they02/07/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow. Ah, so he saw something.

Virgil: Ah, you're talking about Mirrorcatch Boxes. . .it makes sense that our shared acquaintance has gotten one.

The deacon lifts their tea cup.

Virgil: Ordinarily, full Mirrorcatch Boxes hold sunlight, which many people down here crave to relive the memory of the sun. Foolish, because most of them have already died, and many of them will get scorched by the light.

The deacon sips.

Virgil: Mh. When cut with moonlight, however, they allow one to see what their life could've been if a different choice had been made in the past. Virgil: -With slight disdain.- My formal advice is that such things aren't worth using, for they only serve to make you think about what you did wrong in your past and what you could've done as opposed to what you can do.

The deacon sets their teacup down onto the table, leaning forward. No need to hold up pretense, then.

Virgil: I'm presuming that's why your soul looks the way it does, then.

The boy02/07/2020

Able looks away. Of course he'd notice something like that. He curses in his head, not sure of how much he'd want to share with the deacon.

Able: I wouldn't... know something like that.

Able sighs, slumping his shoulders a bit.

Able: I felt.. Uncomfortable knowing these things. Things about people I wouldn't know unless I was in that situation. I value that privacy and it felt like I violated that.

Able looks a bit ashamed, because he saw more of the deacon than what he'd agreed to in this iteration of himself. He didn't consent to that, regardless of whether or not he did with another version of himself.

they02/07/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow. Really now? The deacon grabs their reflective sunglasses, a sliver of amber peeking directly at Able. Ah.

Virgil: -Quietly.- Mh, evidently not ashamed enough.

The deacon pushes their sunglasses back up along their nose, sitting back and sipping from their tea cup.

Virgil: Well, I'm sorry to say that that's one of the particular risks of using a box cut with moonlight. . .sometimes, you see things you don't want to see.

There's the push to explain. The deacon stares at Able.

Virgil: What did you see, then?

***

The boy02/07/2020

Able feels like he's going to cry, but swallows that lump in his throat. He cursed himself for being so horrid as to indulge in those thoughts.

Able: Some of us don't... Have that much restraint I suppose..

He laughs nervously, but stops, not amused at all.

Able: I wouldn't feel comfortable telling you in this setting.. It is still private even if I've.. Already seen more than I'd like.

Able doesn't look up, and just stares at his empty cup.

they02/07/2020

Ah, perhaps this was too much, then. Relax; don't intimidate them. The deacon places raises their teacup up to their lips, drinking. An offer, then.

Virgil: Mh. Well, I hope you haven't forgotten that I have a church; if you're up to confessing in the booth, you're welcome to do so there.

The boy02/07/2020

Able is fiddling with his cup. Maybe that was for the best. He didn't like skirting around a problem, especially when it was as concerning as this.

Able: I... Perhaps.. I assure you its.. fairly uncomfortable. I do not want to bother you.

He wasn't sure. Would he even still want to be around after telling him?

they02/07/2020

The deacon lowers their now empty teacup, setting it down onto the saucer. They're getting skittish; soothe, now. . .

Virgil: I'd expect that it's not a confession if it was comfortable to say. A weight on one's shoulder isn't easy to relinquish to someone else.

The deacon pushes their tea to the side, sitting aside.

Virgil: I hope, however, that you'd trust me enough to know that I'm not offering just for a farce. Virgil: At the very least, it's very probable that I've heard worse.

The boy02/07/2020

Able looks up at the deacon.

Able: -Quietly- Of course I trust you.

He looks away, his face getting red again.

Able: I don't trust myself, is all.. I'll tell you later, then.

Able didn't know how to feel, but he didn't want to give the deacon the wrong idea. He didn't want to lose this small friendship.

they02/07/2020

The deacon taps the side of their chin, tutting. A slip-up; tempting, but. . .best to let them decide for themselves.

Virgil: Mh. Able, you're using your vague future tenses around a devil. Very unwise.

The deacon stands up from their table, adjusting their collar.

Virgil: Ah, but I'll take your word for it, then. If you're not too ashamed to visit the confession booth, I expect to see you at my church. Virgil: You do remember where my church is, yes?

The boy02/07/2020

Able nods.

Able: Burned into my head, now.

He doesn't notice his slip in words, and sighs.

Able: I'll try to come as soon as I'm... allowed. Have a good evening, deacon.

Able doesn't stand, just stays and looks at his cup.

[

4:31 AM

]

---------------------

The boy02/07/2020

Able spent a couple days just mindlessly going through the bandaged's things, not doing too much of note. He got into a few arguments with the bandaged, but merely just brushed it off. He didn't want to go right away, but the feelings were building up in him so uncomfortably. He thought he might want this, but it didn't seem likely. He would merely lay out what he'd done to the deacon, and what he saw. He would lay in bed sometimes, just trying not to cry to himself. It didn't always work. He felt disgusting, he couldn't avoid it any more. He made sure everything was in order before he left. He probably missed some things, but he was feeling only half himself at the time. The walk to the deacon's church was wrought with feelings he had just watching the incident. He tried to keep a level head, but he could already feel his heart pounding and his throat caught in a half cry. He kept it down, focusing on the church. He'd briefly visited Thomas beforehand, who wanted to give him a sweater to wear for the damp season. Able left rather quickly, despite Thomas's advances to see him without it as well. He wasn't in the mood. Able walks towards the church, seeing it for the second time now, still imposing as ever. He wondered if this was good, if this was the right thing to do.

they02/07/2020

Outside of the church, the deacon is resting against the wall beside the church's door, dressed in their formal robes and looking at their detached clasp watch. They never agreed on a set time, but this was around the time the bandaged man would tend to get too tired to do anything. . .though, perhaps spite alone kept them later than usual. They tuck their watch back onto their brooch, and look up. Ah, there they are. They wave them over.

Virgil: Ah, Able; you found my church..

The boy02/07/2020

Able looks away, but heads towards the entrance. He felt sick with himself.

Able: Apologies.. I had to take a detour to get some clothes from Thomas.

Able is trying not to look at the deacon as he heads inside, his heart feeling like it was going to kill him at this pace.

they02/07/2020

The inside of the church looks exactly the same as Able's memory of the other church. At least, within a degree of details; there are certain saints missing from the baroque walls that were present in the other church, but, most notable, there's now a wooden confessional placed where the typical wooden stand would be. The deacon follows in behind Able, closing the door of the church behind them.

Virgil: There's no need to apologize for what can be attributed to circumstance. Now, you've used a confessional booth before, yes?

The boy02/07/2020

Able is clasping his hands together tightly. He wondered what could have changed so much. The deacon probably changed too. Or maybe it was just wrong. Not wrong enough, he thought.

Able: Ah.. Too many times to count.

He admits, walking towards the booth. He sighs, trying to steady himself, but it only kept him at bay for now.

they02/07/2020

The deacon moves along, heading to the side of the booth that the priest typically sits in; as they part the curtain, Able can see that the inside is as equally covered in detail as the rest of the church, the normally wooden seats covered in a silk cushion.

Virgil: Yes, well. . .I hope you don't mind the versions of these constructed in Hell.

The deacon closes the curtain behind them.

Virgil: -Muffled.- And yes, they do make confessionals in Hell. I will not answer why.

The boy02/07/2020

Able heads into his own side, sitting in the booth, wondering exactly how to start. Usually they wanted something blunt or up front. Able, now sort of alone could allow himself to silently cry. He tries not to make any sound, but at least he was concealed.

Able: I.. Suppose I should just be.... blunt...

they02/07/2020

The deacon sits back in their chair; in between them and Able, there's a small cloth screen separating Able from themselves. Bombazine on one side, whisper satin on the penitent's side; helps to remember confessions, and keep himself hidden. The deacon leans back into their cushions.

Virgil: That would be wise. And do remember to kneel and face the screen.

The boy02/07/2020

Able nods, following instructions best he could, but feeling horrid.

Able: Well... The mirrorcatch box showed me something. I could be wrong, I could have just been shown something wrong but-

Able's throat catches, his voice breaking. He can hardly see at this point, but he keeps his voice more understandable than it usually would be while crying.

Able: But that's no excuse. It showed me what might happen if.. If we..

He feels his face burning, which didn't help his voice from shaking.

Able: If we had been together. It was so nice and calm, things seemed so genuine and nice. I felt weird and disgusting invading your privacy like that, even if I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to watch, I kept trying not to watch. I don't know but just thinking about that, about you that way felt so...

Able manages to let a small sob loose, his self control failing him.

Able: It was nicer than anything I'd ever had... before... after... I don't know. Even if I felt wrong I did relieve myself, I did think about it and I feel so sorry. I didn't want to make you feel gross, I'm sorry.

Able lays himself out so plainly, and covers his face, trying to stop himself from crying, but it just makes it worse.

they02/07/2020

The deacon sits back in their chair, listening quietly to Able confessing in the booth.

Virgil: . . .

Hm. This. . .was not what he was expecting. Certainly, Able's soul had the distinct look of someone who had a weight on their shoulder, but. . .was that all? Merely lusting after a fantasy? Was that all that made them feel so bad that their soul got compressed to a near point? The deacon holds a fist in front of their mouth, biting their tongue as they stifle a laugh. A genuine laugh; their soul looks like the soul of a devout pacifist pushed to murder. . .all over a lusting for a fantasy? That's what they were ashamed about?

Virgil: -Choking. Ghk. . .I. . .see. . .I. . .

The deacon is covering their mouth, quietly wheezing as a soft buzzing chirps in the depths of their body, acting on reflex.

Virgil: -Stifling themselves.- I. . .excuse me for a moment. . .

The boy02/07/2020

Able is shocked, which only makes him cry more. Was he really that disgusting? He had to be.

Able: I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I didn't want to make you feel gross...

Able is feeling his voice shake more, he doesn't know if he can talk much more like this.

they02/07/2020

The deacon is wheezing, grabbing at their rosary and unbuttoning their collar. It wouldn't do to laugh at a patron of his church. . .ah, but he's not considered a deacon until he has his collar and rosary on.

Virgil: -Struggling; wheezing.- Child, I. . .am asking you to give me a moment. . .

The deacon pulls their rosary off, standing up and audibly stepping out of the booth, unbuttoning the collar frocked on their neck and shoulders.

Virgil: -Biting their tongue.- If. . .hff. . .if you'll just give me a moment longer. . .

The boy02/07/2020

Able feels even worse. Was it that bad as to have him leave? He might as well be killed now. He is trying to stifle his crying, covering his face with his arms, whimpering pathetically to himself.

they02/07/2020

The deacon pops off the frocked collar, pulling it off and over their head. Ah, free from his formal agreement. The deacon gives out a startlingly loud laugh, before wheezing and bending over with their hands on their knees as the laugh echoes in the chambers of the church; this was too absurd, and far too much. Underneath their laughing, there is a quiet buzzing, like the fluttering of glim-carved reeds.

Virgil: -Wheezing; laughing more audibly.- Really? Really? That's why your soul looks so crushed and balled up? Because you feel ashamed about enjoying something in your mind?

The deacon is wheezing, trying to not laugh loudly in the chamber as they sit down in the congregation seat closest to the confessional.

Virgil: -Wheezing; noiselessly laughing.- I was. . .I was expecting something like. . .like witnessing your own murder, or. . .or seeing how someone could die . . .but you're just. . .Jesus Christ. . .

The boy02/07/2020

Able blinks, suddenly a little miffed. He's still crying, but now it's tainted with a bit of anger. He steps out of the confessional, looking absolutely ridiculous half crying, half angry.

Able: And?! That's all?

Able walks towards the deacon, still mostly crying, his voice catching, but anger has helped him ignore it for a moment.

Able: I'm still sorry but... Why is that so startling?!

He's getting flush again, embarrassed.

they02/07/2020

The deacon is wheezing, pulling their sunglasses off and rubbing their temples as they quietly laugh, their body heaving without a noise coming out of their mouth. They're gesturing at Able at the end of their talking.

Virgil: -Wheezing.- I just. . .I wasn't expecting masturbation being the thing that made your soul look. . .well, look like that!

The deacon waves their hand around Able's body.

Virgil: -Wheezing; buzzing quietly.- Your soul is. . .is like as if someone crushed it on all sides. . .and, and I was expecting that you had. . .had killed, or. . .or drank with the bandaged man, or something that's so morally reprehensible that you deserve having your soul crushed. . .and you're so broken up about masturbation!?

The deacon throws their head back, cackling in choked laughs as they do so; their eyes are. . .well, not teary, but they look glossier.

Virgil: -Heavily amused; choking on laughs.- Ha! . .I just. . .it's just so amusing that the worst thing that can weigh on you is. . .ha! . .is self pleasure. . !

The boy02/07/2020

Able seems to stop crying. Was it ridiculous? He catches a laugh in his throat, looking at himself through hindsight. He was still confused, usually that's when he got scolded.

Able: Are you... not mad?

Able didn't get it, he felt a weird sense of... something? He didn't feel bad but.. That was unusual.

Able: ...You're an odd man..

they02/07/2020

The deacon is still wheezing, the buzzing of their insides becoming more audible as they clutch their chest and knee, their rosary and collar set aside on the seat.

Virgil: -Wheezing.- Why on earth would I be mad? My entire job is. . .wheeze. . .is to listen to criminals talking about their thieving, or the bohemians their. . .their blasted kinks. . .Heavens, I've heard your freckled-faced friend disguise what he desires from me as "confessions" of sorts!

The deacon rests back in their seat, their chest heaving as they quietly wheeze, their palms rubbing a thin sheer film from their amber eyes.

Virgil: -Wheezing; buzzing.- You think. . .wheeze. . .you think hearing "oh no, I've thought about you and felt myself" is. . .hah! . .is the worst thing I've heard?

The boy02/07/2020

Able looks miffed. He crossing his arms, pouting.

Able: Well if it was just a thought... -barely audible- rude.......you....liked it too...

Able groans, angry now.

Able: Well it's not like it was something I thought of on my own!

Able gestures wildly.

Able: I don't know how those things work but it seemed like an invasion of privacy!

they02/07/2020

The deacon is laughing more audibly now, their voice clicking with the sound of chitin against chitin as they speak.

Virgil: -Wheezing; with a clicking tone.- An invasion of privacy of people who don't currently exist! You might as well feel bad about. . .about thinking about drinking honey, or eating a memory of wine, or. . .or something!.

The boy02/07/2020

Able sighs, very bothered by how he's dealing with this. He gets suddenly very flush remembering what happened. Well that was going to keep happening wasn't it. Annoying.

Able: Well! I... Guess? UHG! But how did that even happen?!

Able covers his face, confused. He didn't get it.

they02/07/2020

The deacon is still laughing, though they're trailing off, rubbing their eyes free of film as they sit up more instead of slouching.

Virgil: -Wheezing; clicking.- Ha! . .haa. . .that's. . .that's amusing, I haven't laughed at something like that for a while. . .haaa, yes. . .

The deacon rubs their eyes, spitting out a laugh occasionally as they talk.

Virgil: -Sighing contentedly; quietly snickering.- Heh. . .well, those boxes. . heh. . .they can be unreliable sometimes. . .it could be a future decision, a past, heh, decision. . .far off in the future, or first interactions. . .that's. . .that's funny. Doesn't matter who you are, that's funny. . .

The boy02/07/2020

Able moves his hands, looking at the deacon. He swore. That was bad. That was not good oh no. He had to not think about it, just ignore it. It wasn't real, so then it's not going to be real.

Able: ...Remind me to reprimand the bandaged man for putting me through this..

Able sighs, his face hurt.

Able: Well at least that answers that...

Able feels a little relieved, but still very embarrassed.

Able: At least it's not real.. Hhgf..

Able feels like his entire body relaxed. That was good, he didn't have to worry so much.

they02/07/2020

The deacon snorts, opening and putting their sunglasses back on.

Virgil: Hah! Not with that attitude. . .

The deacon rubs his temples, chuckling quietly to themselves. Able was fascinating to him, but it was more in a clinical, professional sense (specifically, the Surface-born quality that devils are always partial to).

.

The boy02/07/2020

Able: Please.

Able scoffs.

Able: You wouldn't last.

Able turns around, shoving his hands into his pockets. As if he would know how easy or hard it would be. He is trying to hide the flush on his face.

Able: That's not a challenge. I have no intention of pursuing this. You did say some damndable things, but I suppose it wasn't you. Kinda pleading, kinda sad.

Able is walking away, using this information to try and put up a barrier between him and the deacon. He was annoyed at being treated poorly, or at least that's how it felt.

they02/07/2020

The deacon sighs contently, sitting up in the pew and brushing off their collar. This was amusing; certainly, they're not convincing at showing that they've let go of it.

Virgil: Ah, yes. . .in that case, would you prefer a refrain on our meetings at Caligula's? I'd understand, in that case.

The boy02/07/2020

Able stops. He turns around halfway.

Able: Um.

Did he seriously still want to do that? After all that?

Able: Actually I would very much enjoy it if we kept having regular meets, thank you.

He turns back around again, and starts heading for the door.

Able: You should laugh more.

Able bolts out the door and down the street, screeching in his head.

they02/07/2020

The deacon chuckles as Able leaves the church, adjusting their collar.

Virgil: Ah. . .amusing.

The deacon pauses, grabbing the rosary and collar frock they set aside.

Virgil: Mh. I ought to not be submitting to such base amusement. . .ah, but shame and embarrassment is amusing. . .

The deacon stands up, sighing. They're waving their hands as they walk to an innocuous organ set up in the corner of the room.

Virgil: . . .ah, but I really shouldn't be doing that. . .ah well. Time to clean up.

The deacon seats themselves at the organ, cracking their knuckles as they do so. They press a pedal down, and play some of the keys, playing a brassy major chord; behind them, the wooden confessional starts receding into the floor, gears clicking loudly as it does so.

Virgil: Book of Everlasting Chimes; twenty four, row eight.

The deacon sits back in their seat, settling themselves as they play; the church seems to groan, as if it was standing at attention to them playing.

Virgil: -Melodically.- And know of the discourse that was found when the aristocracy was overruled; and know of the lives that were lost to reject the false king. . .

The church is rearranging itself, quietly shifting as the deacon plays. . .it doesn't seem to be changing for a purpose, but for it's own sake. Outside, Able can hear the faintest timbre of brass horns playing from the deacon's church.

-----

-----

Able hurried back to the spire as quickly as he could, though it was a fairly long walk. He climbed through the window, and started yelling.

Able: WHY DID I DO THAT

they02/07/2020

A hat, resting on a mannequin nearby, is taken aback, shaking on the head of the mannequin.

Charlemagne: WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? RESPECTABLE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!

Upstairs, there's muffled cursing, and a sudden pattering; the hatch opens up, and the bandaged man peeks down through the hole.

The Bandaged: Why are you yelling!? Be quiet!.

The boy02/07/2020

Able stands up, gesturing wildly, apparently ignoring both of them.

Able: God why didn't I just keep it to myself! Now it's going to be WEIRD AND HORRIBLE!

Able is moving around the room, screaming his frustrations.

Able: Why do I have to let myself be dragged around so easily by piss poor grown ass adult men!

He starts angrily picking up books from the floor, setting them back onto the shelves.

they02/07/2020

The hat ruffles its brim, apparently affronted.

Charlemagne: DON'T YOU IGNORE ME! APOLOGIZE FOR SCREAMING! AND STOP SCREAMING!

The bandaged man groans, rubbing his temples.

The Bandaged: Alright, jus. . .jus'h keep it down, shut up! What're you babbling on about, anyways?

The boy02/07/2020

Able sighs, gathering up more books.

Able: You and your box is what I'm going on about!

they02/07/2020

The Bandaged: Why, do you want more? I can. . .I can get more.

Charlemagne: STOP IGNORING ME!

The boy02/07/2020

Able: Gods no! I've already gotten myself into enough trouble with just one!

Able is ramming books into the shelves.

.

they02/07/2020

The bandaged man sticks their head past the opening of the telescoping hatch above.

The Bandaged: What're ye talking about, eh? What, did you try following in your memory's footsteps? They're for entertainment, not official advice!

Charlemagne: I DISLIKE YOU. INSOLENT, IGNORING YOUR SUPERIOR.

The boy02/07/2020

Able sighs, turning to face the bandaged man.

Able: It's hard to ignore something like that. It has been settled anyhow. Uhg, why would anyone want to do something like that.

they02/07/2020

The bandaged man sighs dramatically.

The Bandaged: Cause it's fun! Why else?

Charlemagne: YOU'RE A TERRIBLE LISTENER. NO WONDER YOU'RE A POOR STUDENT.

***

The boy02/07/2020

Able groans.

Able: Is it? Because all it seems to do is cause misery! Even you can't deny that it effected you poorly!

they02/07/2020

The bandaged man scoffs, holding a hand to their chest.

The Bandaged: -Dramatic.- Pah! That's the Neath's fault, not my fault. . .besides, if I had my wines, I wouldn't have to resort to such trifle!

The boy02/07/2020

Able: You can't keep blaming everyone else besides yourself!

Able was pissed. He feels like this is ridiculous. Why would this be anyone else's fault.

.

they02/07/2020

The bandaged man scowls.

The Bandaged: Oy, and I'm sure yer dream had nothing to do with what you could've done, eh? What, did you have a better life in it? All I got was drowning! And not in wine!

The boy02/07/2020

Able throws his hands up.

Able: Oh sure! Something better! Turns out, I'm already living the best I can! The only thing that made it even slightly better was an inconceivable romance!

they02/07/2020

The bandaged man screeches, waggling a finger at Able.

The Bandaged: -Scornful; envious.- Yeah, well at least your happy ending was you being alive!

The bandaged man withdraws, still yelling scornfully, a tinge of distress in their tone.

The Bandaged: -Distant; manic.- My happy ending is for me to die!

The hatch closes suddenly, the metal sheets scraping against each other with a loud screech.

The boy02/07/2020

Able groans, tired. He was going to be like that. Fine.

Able: Everyone dies eventually.

He sighs, heading downstairs. He was done.