Welcome to Gaia! ::

If Jerome only knew how his touch affected sol, the incubus supposed he would never touch him again, what with Jerome's vows and all. Yes, some part of him was crowing at the thought of defiling a servant of god, but civilized part of him banished such thoughts. Better to behave and have the priest as his friend, than use him as a plaything and be discarded.

"I came to see how you were fairing. I had not heard from you." he smiled at the priest, his eyes still that deep drowning blue. "I am not running, Dravyn let me come and I may stay as long as you will allow."

Confusion stole over Sol's face. "Decent clothing?" He scanned his outfit: Pants and his vest. Perfectly decent. Oh, perhaps jerome meant shoes. his lips pursed together, he hated shoes with a passion and would almost rather lose his feet than wear them.

As for the working part...well...good thing he had to eat. But somehow...he didn't think the priest meant his normal line of work.

"What is wrong with my attire?"

At the mention of shirt and shoes Sol got a look of uncertainty on his face. Wearing clothes usually happened when he was forced to socialize at boring parties or by special request when some client wanted to have the fun of ripping something off of him. He knew it wouldn't happen here but still, he did not like it.

"And what do you mean by work?" Again, he had an idea what Jerome meant and...it wasn't exactly something that appealed to him.

Menial labor? He looked even more apprehensive and followed Jerome almost hesitantly. Already he was wondering if it was worth it; restrictive clothing, doing a servant's work. Maybe he should have waited until Jerome came to see him. Although...looking around the parish, at the garden, at what the priest was doing and from what he gathered, it most likely would have been a long time before they would have seen each other. That thought sat even less well with him and with a sigh he resigned himself to his fate.

At least it wouldn't be for very long stretches. He did still need to return to the Sh'kihaar to feed and work.

And this, an a** was made of neither of them. Still looking not too pleased, Sol followed along with Jerome, a barefooted, not quite decently dressed shadow. As they walked, he let piercing blue eyes travel over everyone and everything, looking for potential danger and making sure he could find his way around the place. Granted, it was a wee less complicated than the Shiki--here he snorted softly to himself at that understatement--but in a new place, with his senses dulled, it was still best to be careful.

(no. you did not mention it was in england. you daffy wench)

His nose wrinkled a little at the smell and he was grateful for the nulls; without them, he knew he would have been floored by the intensity. As it was, her could feel his nose twitching and tickling with the rare urge to sneeze and he occupied himself with looking over the tapestries. Nothing in comparison to what he grew up with, but considering it was the human world, he was impressed and stopped to take a closer look.

(yes. yes you are. wanker)

Well...for human made it was quite nice. He reached out one hand and trailed long, slender fingers over it. "It is surprisingly well made." He pinched it between his fingers and rubbed slightly. "And what is a second world war?"