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 Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 10:21 am
The Only Black Uke Sorry for the short tags; holiday + retail = muse dying a slow, painful death.
If he wasn't so sure it would scare Ze away as well Finn would have snarled at the little rotund boy, and shooed him away. Let him roll down the steps into the street, and survive for an hour, if he could!
He waited, albeit barely patiently, on the steps for Zekiel to return. It seemed to take ages; ages that Finn's mind blamed solely on the little chuffy runt. Was he stalling on purpose? What he was he doing to make the priest so late?
And then, the priest was returning and Finn turned round to meet him. For a moment he just stared blankly, as if the man's words hadn't registered, before his eyes drifted down to his bare, scarred chest. "s'all I got, so it'll do." Pants were good enough so long as he kept moving. If you stayed moving the cold couldn't get to you.
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Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2016 11:20 am
Zekiel eyed the boy across from him: gaunt, scarred, filthy, and only just recovering from exhibiting all the behavioral characteristics of a wild and famished beast. The autumn air nipped crisp even against his own cheeks, the rest of it skittering through his hair and down the streets to whisper at cobblestones and boots and stir up skirts—and bring prickles of bumped texture to the bare skin of his company. Unlike the faithful acolytes of the church, this young man not only lacked a decent pair of well-sewn pants (though he did at least have pants), but shoes, shirt, coat, mittens—everything one might hope he would have under the circumstances. Zekiel raised his fingers to his own coat. Without Eqniz clinging to the tail of it now, he was freer with it, and had the front clasps undone in good time in order to facilitate shrugging out of it, and holding the cloth to the boy before him. “Now you have ‘got’ more,” Zekiel said, smiling. “Perhaps Tacrith will have boots which might fit your feet. I think the gods designed mine too differently from yours for them to make use of the same shape, but if you would like my boots also, I will remove them.” It wasn’t that he hadn’t been told. He had been told. Again, and again. And generally speaking, Zekiel did as he was told. ‘ We do not have the means to feed all the hungry. We must be organized. That is the burden of responsibility.’ ‘ You may not give everything you have immediately away, Zekiel, our resources are not limitless.’ ‘ The poor are unlucky, remember that. When you stoop to extend our generosity, you are stooping, make no mistake. Serve the gods as we must, but do not forget yourself and the roles that they have chosen for each of us.’ It just seemed to Zekiel that every situation such as thus was particularly important. And if not every situation, surely this one.
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Posted: Wed Dec 28, 2016 8:14 pm
Finn's adrenaline was quickly fading away. Despite his inner reserves of primal passion, his metabolic state could only keep up for so long without proper sustenance. He was exhausted already; having over exerted himself trying to protect his meal from the birds. The bread in his stomach had settled well at first...until he pushed past the limit his small, underfed organs could take and ate too much. Now he felt slightly nauseated and in need of a nap. But he wouldn't be taken down so easily; not now, not ever! He needed to know what kind of information Zekiel had on this man that seemed so much like his dead brother... For a moment his brain was slow to catch on, but when he did he stared warily at Zekiel. He didn't automatically take the coat; rather, he craned his head to look behind it, as if to check for hidden weapons the priest may have ready to stab Finn when he wasn't looking. And when he thought it safe he took the coat and slipped it on, or rather, draped it over himself as one might do an oversize blanket. It was...soft, softer than any fabric he had ever known and far cleaner. Finn rubbed the material against the backs of his hands, trying not to stain it for as long as he could. "....What do you want for it?"
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Posted: Thu Dec 29, 2016 6:04 pm
“For you to wear it,” Zekiel answered, pleased that his company seemed content enough to at least try it on. He seemed to be fond of it, and certainly hadn’t rejected it outright. All encouraging. Zekiel began their walk, if at a modest pace out of partial concern for the state of his company’s feet. Once underway, though, he saw no reason not to engage in conversation. He spoke about the church and the seasonal masses to be held within soon, in celebration of solstice; he spoke about Eqniz, and about his first meetings with Tacrith and his patients; he spoke about the city, and eventually, inquired. “Have you lived within this city long? Have you a name here? For I should like to think of you as someone with more particularity than the-boy-much-like-beasts.”
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Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2016 7:06 pm
The priest talked a lot. Finn would have been content just to walk, occasionally nibbling at whatever crumb or bit of salt that managed to cling to his fingers. As they moved, however, it became clear that his companion wasn't the same. He talked about his life as if the scrappy street rat honestly cared; or maybe he was just trying to fill the void? Either way, it seemed as if Finn were being drawn in, bit by bit. Occasionally he would pose questions; mostly about the church masses and whether or not there would be food. Precious few were of his brother. In all honesty he didn't want to become attached to the idea that Tacrith had survived, only to have it dashed. "...I lived closer to the ocean, with a fisherman." Had the old man even noticed he was gone? Likely yes, and he was probably fuming without his whipping boy around. "And my name is Finnufarinel...Finn for short."
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