Part 31 - The Feast(Gifts and Unwanted Advice)

The boyLast Monday at 3:59 PM

Able spent his time at home reading through books. He had wanted to get something for the deacon, but he was a little confused as to what he may enjoy. Certainly he liked indulging in souls and sherry, but Able thought that might be a bit against his own restraints. He researched Devils and bees alike, confused when the bandaged man loaned him a book on them. Able had no idea there were so many kinds of bees. He took notes, reading up on how the surface kept some bees in little boxes. He was confused. Did bees on the surface not sting? Able sat for a while with these books, going over the information.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 4:12 PM

Outside, the stairs leading up to the room creaks for a moment; the soulless owner steps up the stairs, weakly holding onto a parcel of paper bundled tightly in string. They shudder, weeping quietly as they knock ever so lightly on the front door to Able's room.

The boyLast Monday at 4:15 PM

Able places his pencil in the book and closes it, taking off his glasses to let them rest on his chest by the thin string necklace holding it. He walks to the door, opening it up. He wondered what the owner could want now, he usually isn't this forward.

Able: Yes?

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 4:24 PM

The owner quietly holds up the parcel; they don't even directly look at Able, instead dropping the package less than gracefully in a bout of sadness and quickly heading down the stairs again, choking on small sobs as they rub at their darkened eyes. The package is tightly wrapped, labelled with a taxation seal on the corner indicating it originated outside of London and her colonies.

The boyLast Monday at 4:26 PM

Able raises an eyebrow before looking down. That was odd. He picks up the package and shuts the door. He sets the package down on his dining table, and starts to unwrap it. He wondered what it was, hopefully not more teeth...

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 4:38 PM

As soon as Able pulls off one of the major bundles of string, the package seems to expand upwards a bit before spilling out to the side. Several small boxes, ranging from palm sized to forearm-length, tumble out onto the table, but most of them are flat envelopes of vellum, papyrus, and paper. Now free from the wrapping paper, they all spill out onto the table in large swathes. Most of the packaging seems to be wet, perhaps partially from the tears of the owner, but there is a distinct Zee smell coming off of them. Most of the envelopes are dated in a neat script, dating from more than two weeks ago; the most recent envelope is dated as being delivered yesterday.

The boyLast Monday at 4:42 PM

Able starts with the letters, collecting them in a small pile. He looks confused, it certainly seemed addressed to him, but he's never received much in the way of mail, and never so much. Able sits, reading over the mail.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 5:09 PM

The envelopes are assorted in a vague mix of objects and correspondence. The most prominent ones are the written on vellum; the letters are signed by an Agatha Esen (presumably the same Agatha Able knows), but the words are written in very tidy script and written with more polite wording. The first few letters were primarily eager. . .

"How are you doing today? I'm so excited to be writing to you this evening of the year, and I've been meaning to. . ."

. . .before slowly progressing into a restrained impoliteness.

"Dear The Able; how come you haven't been writing to me? I've been lonely waiting for you to write back, and I feel mildly disrespected not having any responses to any of the letters I'm writing. How come you haven't been writing? Did you like the presents? How come you haven't been writing? . ."

Other than the huge stack of vellum envelopes, there were several other letters printed on all kinds of papers; on a rough piece of paper, there is a scratchy writing.

"Dear Able (if that is your name); I've heard that you've become a part of this strange family, and I wanted to make your acquaintance and assure you that you need not worry about. . ."

What a polite letter. . .though, instead of a signature, there's a large, black imprint of an animal footprint. On silky paper, there is a short message signed by an "Altansarnai". . .

"Don't cross us."

. . .on the back of the letter is another message, written in fine cursive and signed by a "Chimeg".

"Dear Able; never mind the message, she's very touchy around new family. How are you? Agatha says that you are a very pleasant man. . ."

Most of the remaining letters seem to be unique to one or two specific people; apparently, Agatha's adopted family is rather large.

[

5:11 PM

]

In the remaining parcels, there are several objects; there's a claw made of ivory (imprinted in the same animal footprint), a cloth ball that vaguely resembles a mouse (it quietly clinks when nudged about), a small notebook of leather (the words "Traveler" on the cover signed in the same script as Agatha's letters). . . . . .and, in the last box, a healthy rose, the stem piercing a small potato.

The boyLast Monday at 5:21 PM

Able goes through everything slowly, realizing what this was. He guessed she took the... adoption thing very seriously. Able muses for a second, neatly folding the letters back into their respective envelopes before stashing them in a box in his bedroom. He might as well keep these things. He goes over the gifts, wondering what to do with them all. He places the claw on the table, as it'd make a good decoration. He gives the weasels the mouse ball, which they immediately chased and batted around the room. Able had set the notebook to the side next to his other books, he would have to give that a look later. Able stares at the rose. He thinks for a moment. Virgil seemed to enjoy flowers... He wondered. Able set to looking through his recipe books, knowing he read something about distilling flowers into a drink. He could use this. He just needed to get sugar.

[

5:22 PM

]

------

The boyLast Monday at 6:12 PM

The next couple of weeks were a little frantic for Able. As it turned out sugar was being bought up this time of year, and often being resold at higher prices. Able nearly dropped the whole idea, but then thought about all the gifts Virgil had already received. Even Thomas got him something, even if it was barely anything. Able wasn't about to neglect his friend. Able spent a long, long time looking for sugar, and tried to find more books on bees. While he looked through the markets and shops he found someone who would make him a custom glass bottle with a rose tinted glass. He thought it was fitting. He would have to make the labels himself, but he wasn't too worried. Able finally managed to get his hands on a good amount of sugar, and quickly set to work distilling the petals of the rose and then steeping the liquid in simple syrup to sweeten the beverage. He spent a few days just filtering the water, boiling and filtering many times over until it was clear and ready to take the petals and cook the sugar into. He then filled and sealed the bottle. He just had to let it rest for a day. Able sighs.

Able: ...Still needs a label... maybe I can attach a dried flower..?

Able mutters to himself.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 6:30 PM

In the living room, the mirror shimmers a soft viric; the glass warps for a bit, and an arm slowly sticks through, feeling blindly with the fingers tapping the walls and wriggling like someone testing the temperature of bathwater. Then, it recedes back into the mirror. In the next moment, there is an extremely loud clatter as many, many boxes force their way through the mirror opening. At first, it's mostly a bundle of smaller, fist-sized boxes that tumblr from the glass like water from the Neath ceiling; after that, though, the mirror itself shakes as larger packages force their way through, their corners crumpling up as they force through the rounded glass.

.

The boyLast Monday at 6:33 PM

Able looks up, startled and runs to the mirror. He stands in front of it, pushing the packages back.

Able: I DON'T NEED MORE TEETH

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 6:37 PM

The package sliding through the glass recedes back into the mirror just for a moment, but then they push forward immensely hard, sliding the whole package through; after passing through entirely, the package refuses to pass through the glass. The glass shimmers; in the next instant, the bandaged man's head seems to be reflected in the sheen before the glass warps outwards; the bandaged man's head is sticking out through the glass, their visage just barely able to pass through before being stopped by their neck.

The Bandaged: -Wheezing.- Ah! Excellent, it. . .it is the right mirror! You wouldn't believe how many people find it fashionable to have itty tiny mirrors; what's the point in having something so small? It can barely reflect a candlelight. . .

The boyLast Monday at 6:41 PM

He looks at the box and huffs, and turns to the bandaged man.

Able: What use would I have for a large mirror?

Able grabs the bandaged man by the shoulder and starts pushing him back.

Able: Regardless I have to finish a project, you must go.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 6:43 PM

The bandaged man slips back a tiny bit in the mirror before being jammed in place, the girth of their neck and shoulder being too wide for the mirror to accommodate.

The Bandaged: -Unfazed.- Ah, a project? What sort of project? Academic? Artistic? Intellectual? Spiritual?

The bandaged man flails their arm limply.

The Bandaged: -Slowly wheezing as their neck gets pinched.- Is it a gift for moi _in return for the teeth? No, wait, don't tell me; I want it to be a surprise._

The boyLast Monday at 6:45 PM

Able: No, you already got your "gift." This is for Virgil.

Able is pushing harder, trying to move the bandaged man's arm through but its stuck. He pulls him out a little to reposition his arm.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 6:53 PM

The bandaged man wriggles their arm, trying to resist Able's grip (not that it does anything).

The Bandaged: -Manic.- What!? You're getting that devil a gift!? He's stolen your soul fifteen times! . .no, twice! What kind of gift are ye having in mind. . .unless, ah. . .is it a gift of scorn?

The bandaged man slips a little more into the mirror as their shoulder moves out of the way.

The Bandaged: No, wait! At least tell me what it is!

The boyLast Monday at 6:55 PM

Able: I keep telling you he's done no such thing.

Able pushes further.

Able: And it's a sweetened rosewater drink. Off with you now.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 6:57 PM

The Bandaged: What!? I love rosewater, why can't I-

The bandaged man doesn't finish their sentence; they slip through the mirror, the glass flashing a soft viric before it rehardens, reflecting the room normally, without aberrations.

The boyLast Monday at 6:58 PM

Able sighs, glad that is over with. He starts picking up the boxes and setting them on the table, going through them individually.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 7:08 PM

The boxes seem to be non-descript, though, thankfully, they have descriptions on the top; another jar of teeth. . .a box labelled ["Chocolate" Candies], with a warning label. . .a skull (unclear as to whether it's a real one or a recreation). . . . . .underneath the boxes, there is a flattened, wide-brimmed hat, the top affixed with a slightly withered, but still enormous, rose. The hat speaks, repeating the same letter over and over.

Charlemagne: Z. Z. Z.

The boyLast Monday at 7:11 PM

Able made a point to quickly bag up the boxes. He would pawn them off to Thomas later. Able blinks, slowly lifting Charlemagne. He settle him onto the table.

Able: How in all of hell... Why are you asleep?! HOW are you asleep?

Able groans. He would have to walk all the way to the spire wouldn't he.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 7:19 PM

Stitches part in front of the hat, revealing two narrow, embroidered eyes.

Charlemagne: . . .WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE? DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING MORE RESPECTABLE TO DO THAN TO VISIT A DRUNKEN EXCUSE OF A M. . .

The eyes look around for a moment, the threaded eyes parting further. The hat shakes violently, scattering wilted petals onto the table and floor.

Charlemagne: . . .WHERE AM I!? WHERE DID YOU TAKE ME!? I DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE ME BACK!.

The boyLast Monday at 7:24 PM

Able winces. He didn't miss this.

Able: Good to see you too. Looks like you got sent through on accident..

Able moves to the kitchen, and starts working on the label.

Able: Now be quiet and I'll take you back. I have to work on this gift. You wouldn't want to wake up the girls now would you? I'm sure winter would be happy to see you.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 7:28 PM

Charlemagne: THE VERMIN? UNLIKELY. THEY'RE SMALL. HOW DO YOU EXPECT IT TO GET ONTO THE TABLE? NOW, I DEMAND OF YOU, TAKE ME BACK!

The hat wriggles violently, scattering petals onto the floor.

Charlemagne: -Screeching.- NO! MY FEAST ROSE! MY ROSE! IT'S WILTING!

The boyLast Monday at 7:32 PM

Able rolls his eyes, ignoring the hat as he carefully inks the labels. Meanwhile the weasel pile wakes up. Winter is the one who shoots up with an incredible energy. She sprints towards the table. She sees the flower on the floor and picks it up before jumping up onto the nearby chair with some difficulties. She then pounces onto the table placing the flower down onto the brim of Charlemagne before she starts excitedly grooming him. She seemed very happy. The other three seemed to go back to sleep, curling around each other.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 7:37 PM

Charlemagne screams louder, wriggling and falling off the table like a victim of torture crawling away from their pursuer.

Charlemagne: NO! GET OFF YOU VERMIN! THIS IS QUALITY LEATHER! DON'T DEFILE IT! STOP! I SAID STOP!

The boyLast Monday at 7:39 PM

--------

[

7:42 PM

]

Able walks with Charlemagne, sort of just barely holding onto his brim lazily. He wasn't about to wear him. Able was considering just dumbing him into the river at this point with how much he was screeching.

Able: Honestly if I had more sense I'd likely just leave you to the weasels. I suppose the bandaged man is punishment enough, though. You two complete each other in a circle of punishment.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 7:48 PM

The hat wriggles in Able's grip, coming dangerously close from slipping out.

Charlemagne: HOW DARE YOU ASSUME THAT HE IS BESTING ME? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM VERY MUCH TRAINING HIM TO BE A RESPECTABLE, DIGNIFIED MEMBER OF SOCIETY! NOW, LET ME GO! AT THE LEAST, PUT ON SOME CLEAN GLOVES! YOU'RE SMUDGING MY BRIM!

The hat continues screaming for a moment, wriggling in Able's grip. Nearby, a vendor with a makeshift stand (obviously very temporary) is surrounded by a small crowd hurriedly tossing moon pearls at her.

A Vendor: Rose-masks! Can't participate in the revelry withou' a good mask! Come and g'it it here!

The vendor is quickly sold out (and possibly mildly injured, if one goes by the ferocity moon-pearls were tossed at the lass). The hat ceases its wriggling, hanging limply in Able's hands as it curls its brim, trying to look at the stand.

Charlemagne: -Somberly.- . . .IS MY ROSE STILL ALRIGHT?

A few more petals fall from the flower affixed to the hat's crown; at this point, it's more pistils and stamens than it is a posy.

The boyLast Monday at 7:50 PM

Able holds up the hat, staring at him.

Able: -Flatly- Looks fine.

Able sighs, continuing his walk to the spire.

Able: Never knew how much trouble the feast was until I decided to participate. It can't always be this hectic can it?

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:05 PM

The hat wriggles in Able's grip again.

Charlemagne: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I'M BEING HELD BY SOMEONE THAT HAS NEVER KNOWN LOVE?

The hat wriggles its brim, slowly shifting itself around to face Able.

Charlemagne: ARE YOU AS ABIGAIL, BROKENHEARTED BY ALL YOU'VE OFFERED LOVE TO, VOWING A HORRIBLE DEATH TO THOSE THAT HAVE DENIED YOU AND EVENTUALLY MARRYING A DUKE?

The boyLast Monday at 8:07 PM

Able: ...What? Have you gone mad?

Able looks confused at the hat, lifting up Charlemagne, stopping.

Able: Love isn't so simple.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:08 PM

Charlemagne: OF COURSE IT IS. YOU FIND SOMEONE WHO GIVES YOU SUBSTANTIAL POWER, THEN YOU CONVINCE THEIR FAMILY THAT YOU BOTH MUTUALLY PROFIT FROM THE UNION.

The boyLast Monday at 8:09 PM

Able: ...I don't believe that's what love is... Where did you even hear such a thing?

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:12 PM

The hat speaks with an incredulous tone, wriggling in Able's grip.

Charlemagne: WHY, IT'S FROM THE MOST POPULAR AND RESPECTABLE BOOK AMONG SOCIALITES AND THE WELL-TO-DO; THE SCORNED LOVER! ARE YOU IGNORANT, OR JUST DIM?.

The boyLast Monday at 8:13 PM

Able raises an eyebrow.

Able: I remember seeing those around. Most of those books were being used to stabilize table legs.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:17 PM

Charlemagne: -Sneering.- THAT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A COMMONER.

The hat curls its brim (as best as it can), closing its eyes.

Charlemagne: IT IS A WONDERFUL INSIGHT INTO SOCIETY LIFE, SHOWCASING THE DRAMA IN THE SOCIAL POLITICAL LANDSCAPE! THE EXCHANGE OF HEATED PASSION! THE DOWNFALL OF HOUSES!

The hat swings in Able's grip, trying to look around.

Charlemagne: IT IS A NOVEL FROM WHICH THE FEAST SHOULD. . .NO, I DARESAY IS BASED ON! AN EXCHANGE OF PASSIONS! USING ROMANTIC INFLUENCES FOR POWER! SHIFTING THE RELATIONSHIPS OF THOSE YOU KNOW IN YOUR FAVOR!

The boyLast Monday at 8:23 PM

Able: Yes yes, how interesting. Let's just get you back.

Able groans, limply carrying the hat as he continues walking.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:24 PM

The hat curls in Able's grip, fluttering wildly.

Charlemagne: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU HAVE NO RELATIONSHIPS YOU WISH TO EXPLOIT? NO FRIENDS TO EXTORT, NO ENEMIES TO USE, NO LOVERS TO MAKE YOUR OWN?

The boyLast Monday at 8:26 PM

Able: Sad to say, not a one. I am celebrating it merely to give friendly gifts.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:27 PM

The hat curls.

Charlemagne: A LIKELY STORY. YOU USE WHATEVER EXCUSE YOU WANT TO MAKE YOURSELF FEEL BETTER ABOUT A SCORNED LOVER.

The boyLast Monday at 8:29 PM

Able: Oh woe is me.

Able says flatly, walking faster. He was done with this hat.

.

[

8:29 PM

]

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

[

8:35 PM

]

Able dropped the hat off. Well, more like threw him through the window and headed home as soon as he could. It was already a long walk, but at least it was more pleasant without being yelled at. Able steps into the shop, moving to the back where his apartment was kept.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 8:58 PM

In front of the door to Able's apartment, there is a small bundle of cloth laying on the planks, the cloth affixed with a black, spicy-scented rose. The fabric is a little moist, the package inside definitely warm and making water condense from the air.

The boyLast Monday at 9:01 PM

Able stops, staring at the little package. He picks it up carefully, taking it inside before deciding to open it.

Able: Hm..? I wonder...who? Certainly not rags he.... hmm..

Able sits at the table, opening the wrapped gift slowly.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 9:07 PM

Inside the cloth, there are several small corrugated tins (about an inch larger in diameter than would comfortably fit in Able's palm), each holding a single baked, yellow tart with sliced almonds laid over the top. The smell is faintly sweet (or perhaps that's merely the flower), with a slight nutty undertone over it.

The boyLast Monday at 9:13 PM

Able: Hm..

Able carefully takes out one of the tarts, and takes a bite. He muses for a bit. Not poisoned, that's good. He hums, thinking about it for a moment. Thomas couldn't have made this, it's not burnt. He sits back, placing the tart down.

Able: ...Egg... Honey? Now who would... hm...

Able muses for a while, the almonds unfamiliar to him but enjoyable.

Able: ....Did he..

Able looks at the tart and how specific the almonds were placed. He blinks.

Able: ...Ah.

He couldn't really think of anyone else. It was highly unlikely it could be. The bandaged man kept sending gifts through his mirror... and Thomas was never one to give them out.

Able: ..I will have to tell Virgil his pastries are getting better...

[

9:14 PM

]

----

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 10:02 PM

The deacon is holding the certificate they received from Thomas; it was printed on layered paper, labelled "ONE (1) FREE", without anything else printed. Intriguingly blank. The deacon walks down the steps leading to Thomas's room. They knock on the closed door in their particular knock rhythm.

Virgil: Good evening. May I come in?

The boyLast Monday at 10:10 PM

There's a small sound of papers being shuffled aside and then the loud creaking of a chair against wood. Thomas opens the door, blinking, and then beaming.

Thomas: Oh! You came! Wonderful, yes come in. I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer refreshment wise, it's all spoken for.

Thomas steps to the side and inside Virgil can see crates stacked in every corner of the room, and only a small path is available to the seating area. It smells heavily of sweets and fruits, flowers and pine. It's a very strong smell, almost a bit too much. Thomas snakes between the stacks of crates, each one of them with a burned label as opposed to their normal paper labels. He settles down back in his seat, moving a few ledger books to the side. He stacks some papers neatly and places them inside one of these books, leaving the corner just outside of it.

Thomas: Now, I assume you're here to collect?

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 11:02 PM

The deacon follows behind Thomas, seating themselves across from him. He holds up the certificate, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil: On a blank certificate. We can presume it to be for your soul, and leave cordially, if you'd prefer.

The boyLast Monday at 11:03 PM

Thomas grins.

Thomas: Did you not open it?

Thomas leans back in his chair.

Thomas: Check it again.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 11:09 PM

The deacon pauses, sitting back in their chair; they lift their sunglasses, peering at the certificate.

Virgil: . . .mh. A peel-away. Novel.

The deacon peels a thin sheet of paper off of the certificate: "ONE (1) FREE ADVICE".

Virgil: -Sliding it across the table towards Thomas.- Ah, well. I came all this way; suppose I ought to exchange it, lest I go empty-handed. Tell me, what's your advice?

The boyLast Monday at 11:11 PM

Thomas: Ohh, that's a good one.

Thomas muses for a moment. He holds his hand to his chin.

Thomas: I advise you don't break Able too much, mh?

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 11:21 PM

The deacon pauses, pushing their sunglasses back on.

Virgil: Mh. Sound, and possibly wise, advice. Virgil: Advice I don't have to follow.

The boyLast Monday at 11:23 PM

Thomas snickers.

Thomas: Of course not, it is merely advice...

Thomas muses.

Thomas: He is tight for me though, so you may want to be careful for your own sake as well.

Thomas makes a limp wave.

Thomas: Now, I have a lot of paperwork to do. Sorry to say I cannot host you for very long, it's a busy season you know...

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 11:31 PM

Virgil: Why, Thomas, you shouldn't discount the power of persistence.

The deacon lightly fingers their rosary, before letting it hang again.

Virgil: Ah, but of course. Last minute orders, I presume.

The deacon stands up from their seat, pausing in the middle of standing up.

Virgil: . . .I don't suppose you'd mind taking excess stock? I've been receiving. . .far too many golden rosaries than is to my liking..

The boyLast Monday at 11:34 PM

Thomas pulls out a paper from the ledger book.

Thomas: Tsk.. selling away the feelings of others deacon?

Thomas smiles and offers the paper. Its a form.

Thomas: Fill this out and drop off the extra stock, I'm sure someone will have a use for it.

Numerical AnalysisLast Monday at 11:49 PM

Virgil: You receive fifteen tickets to Hell's train station and figure out how you're going to use all of them before they expire.

The deacon grabs the form, pulling it up; they reach into their pocket, pulling out a brass fountain pen and uncapping it.

Virgil: -Writing.- Seventeen gold rosaries. . .five dubious chocolates. . .one Heart-And-Dagger knife. . .hm.

The deacon pauses in the middle of writing.

Virgil: -Dryly.- . . .Thomas, I will remark that the advice you've given me is subpar, so I am petitioning for a refund in the form of more relevant advice. Virgil: -Recapping their pen.- Is Able solely interested in savoury foodstuffs, or are there other things he enjoys?

March 17, 2020

The boyYesterday at 12:00 AM

Thomas had opened a ledger and had started marking numbers down. He looks up at the deacon, raising an eyebrow.

Thomas: Oh loads, he's recently been aware of kissing and gentle touching, and I've recently turned him onto the idea of honey and lemon in tea. Where he got honey... well.. I couldn't say.

Thomas looks down at his book again, writing down more things, tapping his pen to his mouth, seeming to count for a moment before going back to writing.

Thomas: He adores watches, which is odd considering he's never... used one. I think he told me once he merely liked the clockwork moving, which is unusual.

Thomas looks up at the deacon again.

Thomas: And you it seems. -Looking back at his books- I don't think you will have much to worry about if you intend to do anything with him, though I would advise you be careful. He's very gentle in my experience, and not usually in the mood. Thomas: Ah, but you probably mean gifts, mh?

He sighs, turning a page.

Thomas: Anything that you make yourself he will appreciate greatly.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 12:24 AM

Virgil: I mean in terms of experiences. Here you are, by the way.

The deacon lays down their form in front of Thomas.

Virgil: Objects are easy to come by; what I want to know is what he values.

The boyYesterday at 12:35 AM

Thomas takes the form and tucks it away.

Thomas: Well, that is a little bit more personal now isn't it?

Thomas links his hands together on top of the table.

Thomas: Hm.. Able values trust and loyalty over anything, he is a thief even now, but he's never really changed from that. He keeps few people close to him.

Thomas leans back.

Thomas: He is tricky, and I am not sure I've gotten him all figured out. My advice for that? Spend time with him if you want to know. How he acts around you might differ greatly than with me or even the bandaged man.

Thomas tilts his head.

Thomas: What is your gain in this? I still do not understand your involvement with him.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 12:50 AM

Virgil: Perhaps I'm protesting the materialism of the Feast as a pious deacon. Possibly it's an elaborate scheme to steal a soul via seduction. Or, quite possibly, I wish to do something pleasant with someone who actually demonstrates restraint.

The boyYesterday at 12:53 AM

Thomas: Mh, well, I'm sure you'll give me no reason to worry further then.

Thomas smiles a very familiar faux smile.

[

12:54 AM

]

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

[

1:00 AM

]

Able sat with Virgil outside Caligula's as per their usual routine on Sundays, Able had gotten coffee this time. He seemed a little tired, but nothing unusual.

Able: I wonder why the bandaged man is so insistent on sending me gifts. Clearly he still doesn't get that I do not want teeth or candy or even cats! He sent me a cat! I had to wash the poor thing and let it go.

Able sighs heavily, taking a drink of his coffee. Still too bitter, but it woke him up.

.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 1:19 AM

The deacon is sipping tea with sugar; the usual.

Virgil: Ah, what color of paint?.

The boyYesterday at 1:22 AM

Able: Red. I was highly concerned for a moment.

Able sighs, setting his cup down.

Able: How has your gifts been?

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 1:42 AM

Virgil: -Drinking their tea.- Mh. Mostly uninspiring.

The deacon sets down their teacup, before counting off on their fingers.

Virgil: I've received a train ticket to Hell, a golden rosary, the supposed skull to a one-time prince of Hell. . .I'm doubtful of that, since it's humanoid. Certainly, it's the same stuff I've received every time the Feast comes around.

The boyYesterday at 1:45 AM

Able: Must be troublesome.

Able panics a bit in his head. Those gifts sounded a lot more involved than his own, he figured it just got brushed aside.

Able: At least you are appreciated?

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 1:56 AM

The deacon gives a chuffed chuckle.

Virgil: -Raising their teacup.- Ha. Funny. Most of them are unhelpful; I don't need fifteen tickets for the train to Hell. Of the remaining, they're either uninspiring or inappropriate.

Virgil: -Drinking from their teacup.- Mh. I don't need a gold rosary when I have a perfectly good one.

The deacon finishes their tea silently, setting the empty cup down.

Virgil: I did receive an unusual gift this year, though.

The boyYesterday at 1:59 AM

Able snickers.

Able: Oh you never know, you might need to go to hell several times.

Able raises his eyebrows.

Able: Oh? Did you get more from Thomas?

Able took another drink of his coffee, shivering with the bitter taste. There had to be a better way to drink coffee.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:11 AM

The deacon sits back, relaxing a bit in their chair.

Virgil: I doubt it. I received two bottles of sugar stirred into water.

The boyYesterday at 2:13 AM

Able chokes a bit on his coffee, and wheezes.

Able: Two? Is that a common gift?

Able was a little worried now, had he merely given him a poor gift? Or just something not worth using?

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:18 AM

Virgil: Well, not from Londoners. It's common among devils that don't drink, however. So, uncommon.

The deacon sits up in their chair.

Virgil: One of them was poisoned. I didn't notice until I took a sip. It was a terrible time; I suspect there's a devil out there that wished to show direct contempt for my position.

The boyYesterday at 2:21 AM

Able sits up suddenly, looking very worried.

Able: Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry I didn't know that rose would be so troublesome! Are you alright? I'm so so sorry!

Able looks a little panicked, standing up from his seat a bit and feeling very remorseful.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:26 AM

The deacon pauses, before leaning forward and resting their elbows on the table as they speak evenly.

Virgil: Why, the rose-colored water was quite an obvious tell. Quite honestly, I should've figured out that it was clearly tampered with.

The deacon sits back in their chair, sighing.

Virgil: . . .though, I am impressed, Able. Tell me, how did you manage to steal a drop of Canitgaster venom?

The boyYesterday at 2:28 AM

Able: I'm so sorry I just wanted to make-

Able stops and looks at the deacon and tilts his head.

Able: Er... What?

Able looks extremely confused now. He is processing the thoughts in his head but he hasn't quite made the connection yet.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:30 AM

The deacon gives a small smile.

Virgil: Ah, well, you admit that you created the rose-water one, and I had found out later that there was a small blood-ruby in the bottom, from when the drop crystallized. So tell me, from whom did you steal it from?.

The boyYesterday at 2:34 AM

Able: I... Did... No I sealed it...

Able looks even more confused. His brows are stitched together in intense thought.

Able: Ruby...? I don't....?

Able sits down, apparently focusing so hard he couldn't stand.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:35 AM

Virgil: Ah, sealed it? Must've been the other one then.

The deacon sits back, smiling a bit wider.

Virgil: It was very good. Excellent aromatics; you ought to consider taking up a position in a distillery..

The boyYesterday at 2:37 AM

Able looks up, and the wheels in his head seem to still be spinning. He blinks.

Able: Ah...? Ah! Thank goodness... I was worried I had..

Able stands up again.

Able: Someone poisoned you??

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:40 AM

Virgil: Yes. It was a horrible time.

The deacon sits back.

Virgil: -Flatly.- It gave an unpleasant taste to the drink. I had to spit it out. How woefully undignified..

The boyYesterday at 2:42 AM

Able: Oy don't be so casual about that.

Able sits, sighing.

Able: I guess I should remember that this is something you actually like then, I was very unsure of what to give you.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:47 AM

Virgil: Come now, you should know that devils have a higher poison tolerance than humans. Ah, but apologies for leading you on like that.

The deacon leans forward in their chair, resting their elbows on the table again.

Virgil: I am curious why you didn't merely buy rosewater and mixed it with sugar, though. It would've been easier to do, I'd think..

The boyYesterday at 2:50 AM

Able: Fresh is better, and I am not one to merely get you something purchased as a gift. It would be meaningless.

Able finishes his coffee, shuddering. He groans a bit at the taste.

Able: I prefer to give more personal gifts if I can help it, I do not have many people I trust. Ah, it was more of a hassle to just get the sugar anyhow.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 2:56 AM

Virgil: Did you forget that sweets are fashionable and preferred during the Feast? Virgil: Ah, but I understand. Making your tart was only feasible once I remembered I could make my own sweetener. I presume it was enjoyable?

The boyYesterday at 3:01 AM

Able: I have never participated beyond this.

Able blinks. Oh he guessed he was right.

Able: Oh! I thought that was you. It was very good, I'm very impressed by your progress in pastries. Ah.. I must admit, I never thought I would enjoy sweets...

Able looks away a bit.

Able: Though honey might be the one exception. Ah... is that odd?

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 3:15 AM

Virgil: It's certainly not unusual. It's a gentler sweetener than sugar, and works especially well on its own without being dissolved into water.

The deacon sits back in their seat.

Virgil: You are allowed to ask for more, if you wish. I won't be offended.

The boyYesterday at 3:17 AM

Able muses for a bit.

Able: It does make tea more pleasant....

The boyYesterday at 3:26 AM

-------

[

3:28 AM

]

Able Had made his way home, a little sad on his walk back. He felt a bit too happy when the deacon talked about his gift. He sulked a bit on his way back. He needed to stop that, but it was so difficult to just ignore. He blinks before he steps into his home, looking down and picking up another package. He sighs, surely he would be able to send a letter at some point to her. They kept being returned. Able heads inside, sitting on his couch and opening it up.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 4:28 AM

Inside the package is a small box and a letter signed by an Agatha Esen. The letter was apparently sent a few days before, and is mostly rambling typical of Agatha. . .

"Dear The Able; It is the Rose Feast! I have heard that it is known for love, so I have sent you gift to sweeten your romantic relationships with Virgil! I hope that you can get good use out of it!"

The box, meanwhile, contains. . .another smaller box.

The boyYesterday at 4:32 AM

He reads the letter with mild amusement, noting that he should attempt to send a letter to her. She'd already sent so much, so he might as well keep trying. He then sighs. He couldn't imagine what nonsense she could have gotten him. It can't be good, he thought, opening the other box.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 4:32 AM

Inside the box is another, even smaller box.

The boyYesterday at 4:33 AM

Able gets a bit bothered, opening the smaller box. He looks puzzled.

Numerical AnalysisYesterday at 4:37 AM

Inside the box is yet a smaller box. . .and inside that, another smaller one. Eventually, after five layers, there is a box padded with loose cotton (freshly picked; there are some prickly leaves caught between the fibers). Bundled up in the cotton, there is a small vial of what appears to be honey tinted a soft rose, lacquered with a copious amount of wax (not on the cap, but over the entire vial). Affixed to the cap, there is a small tag labelled "OPEN WHEN NEEDED."

The boyYesterday at 4:38 AM

Able: Er...? Why would honey help?

Able shrugs and places the vial in his cabinet. Maybe he could use it for something later.