Nov 29, 2011 17:45
For the past weeks, Damien had been staying with Father Sam, struggling to find balm for his wounded soul. The priest was kind, and good, and had helped him a great deal, but there were a good number of things, a great deal of guilt, that only time could heal.
The things he had seen, the things he had done, the things that had happened to him...they weren't things that healed overnight. Or even in months or years. They were things he would likely be struggling with his entire life.
This morning, he had needed some fresh air, and had dressed and left early, spending a good deal of time wandering the village, going from shop to shop, browsing, buying a few small things he needed, before finally finding himself back at the pub where he had gone with Father Sam, a comfortable place where he felt almost at home.
He sat at the bar, ordered a pint and some food, ate quietly, looking around him every once in a while to see if there was someone he recognized. It was rather unlikely, as he knew so few people in the village, but he didn't really feel like being alone just now.
((OOC: Find him at the Black Sheep, on the streets, or have him come into your shop. :)))
streets,
the black sheep