[narrative, wip] Too many saints, not enough Sanctity
The Cathederal was not as ornate as the ones he was used to - with domed caps and a simple terracotta-colored wall. It looked more like a country parish - but Soma could sense the sanctity of the place as he gaped at the open door. That would never happen in Barcelona. No one was inside from his initial glance - probably too early for evening mass. The young man took in a deep breath, and steeped over the threshold.
The interior had the sample simple, but timeless look - polished grantite floor, dark wood pews worn smooth by use. The only thing of ornateness was the altar itself. He fished in his pocket for the oft-neglected rosary, fingertips brushing over the beads as his lips automatically moved to a silent prayer, even as his ears strained for a sign of life.
There - a hushed conversation from behind a door.
(Thank you Iesu-Sama) He quirked a smile as he moved lightly towards the sound of voices, and held his breath to better hear. His pale eyes widened as he recognized the deep, silk-smooth voice of Arikado.
And he cursed when he realized they were speaking in French. He debated on trying to pick up pieces of the conversation via loanwords and proper names. He shook his head, the albino knew that it's easy to jump to erroneous conclusions. He'll have to think of -
click.
(Shit!) The young man stiffened, and glanced around the room anxiously as the handle turned again. Where to, where to -?
He dove right into the confession booth, and yanked the curtain behind him. Soma felt his heart trying to rip through his chest - loud as thunder as the door swung open. The young man peered through a small gap as the tall, dark-haired man stepped out, and grasped the smaller, gray-haired priest in a firm handshake. Then he leaned down, touching cheeks as was the habit in certain parts of France. As Arikado rose up, he seemed to tense, and cast golden eyes across the room.
(Don't see me, don't see me - Sweet Mother of God, don't let him see me.) He froze in place, every muscle in his body went rigid as he just imagine what kind of awful punishment will be inflicted upon him.
For a moment, the tall man looked right at the booth - before uttering words of respect to the priest and departed. But before Soma could even give a sigh of relief, the Priest headed to the booth.
"Oh sh..." He cut himself off - no, don't swear in the Sanctuary in front of a priest! Even if he considered himself lapsed, he could not shake off the deeply-rooted respect he was raised to have for the clergy. Besides, it's just not right to swear in front of the Padre.
"Who is there?" The old man questioned as his olive-toned hand reached out, speaking first in Italian, then French, and finally English.
"Pardon me, Father." Soma sighed as he answered in English. "I did not mean to intrude, but..." He glanced to the side. How long has it been since he entered confession? A part of him wondered as he automatically made the sign of the cross. "I felt a need to confess." He removed the cap.
"It is all right, my child." His voice was as smoothing as warm milk as he smiled - creating more creases on a weather-worn face as he slid into his side, starting the age old ritual.
Again the albino made the sign of the cross. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been five years since my last confession."
"It is quite a long time to go without, My son." The priest remarked through the grate, but there is a lack of judgment, causing the young man to feel the dam he held back on old guilts crumble.
"I confess telling to lies to my family about my activities, about why I had not returned to my home city - I cannot honor my father."
"Why is that?"
"We had never got along since I was young. He is a harsh man, he rules the home - his word absolute." The emotion started to choke in his voice. "I could not live to his standards - he wanted a math-whiz, a status-climbing, strict catholic, ideally to take over his Position in the Bank of Barcelona." He shook his head.
"It seems he places a high demand on your shoulders. You had tried to do as he wished?" The priest shifted, his expression hidden - as the confessional was designed to do.
"I had - before he laid a hand on my mother." Soma's voice grew cold. "And I am not good with math, I cannot be a banker. I wanted to see the world, travel - fall in love with whoever I choose, not a daughter of one of his partners as I suspected. I... said some harsh things to him, we fought, and I refused to speak with him since I left home."
The interior had the sample simple, but timeless look - polished grantite floor, dark wood pews worn smooth by use. The only thing of ornateness was the altar itself. He fished in his pocket for the oft-neglected rosary, fingertips brushing over the beads as his lips automatically moved to a silent prayer, even as his ears strained for a sign of life.
There - a hushed conversation from behind a door.
(Thank you Iesu-Sama) He quirked a smile as he moved lightly towards the sound of voices, and held his breath to better hear. His pale eyes widened as he recognized the deep, silk-smooth voice of Arikado.
And he cursed when he realized they were speaking in French. He debated on trying to pick up pieces of the conversation via loanwords and proper names. He shook his head, the albino knew that it's easy to jump to erroneous conclusions. He'll have to think of -
click.
(Shit!) The young man stiffened, and glanced around the room anxiously as the handle turned again. Where to, where to -?
He dove right into the confession booth, and yanked the curtain behind him. Soma felt his heart trying to rip through his chest - loud as thunder as the door swung open. The young man peered through a small gap as the tall, dark-haired man stepped out, and grasped the smaller, gray-haired priest in a firm handshake. Then he leaned down, touching cheeks as was the habit in certain parts of France. As Arikado rose up, he seemed to tense, and cast golden eyes across the room.
(Don't see me, don't see me - Sweet Mother of God, don't let him see me.) He froze in place, every muscle in his body went rigid as he just imagine what kind of awful punishment will be inflicted upon him.
For a moment, the tall man looked right at the booth - before uttering words of respect to the priest and departed. But before Soma could even give a sigh of relief, the Priest headed to the booth.
"Oh sh..." He cut himself off - no, don't swear in the Sanctuary in front of a priest! Even if he considered himself lapsed, he could not shake off the deeply-rooted respect he was raised to have for the clergy. Besides, it's just not right to swear in front of the Padre.
"Who is there?" The old man questioned as his olive-toned hand reached out, speaking first in Italian, then French, and finally English.
"Pardon me, Father." Soma sighed as he answered in English. "I did not mean to intrude, but..." He glanced to the side. How long has it been since he entered confession? A part of him wondered as he automatically made the sign of the cross. "I felt a need to confess." He removed the cap.
"It is all right, my child." His voice was as smoothing as warm milk as he smiled - creating more creases on a weather-worn face as he slid into his side, starting the age old ritual.
Again the albino made the sign of the cross. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been five years since my last confession."
"It is quite a long time to go without, My son." The priest remarked through the grate, but there is a lack of judgment, causing the young man to feel the dam he held back on old guilts crumble.
"I confess telling to lies to my family about my activities, about why I had not returned to my home city - I cannot honor my father."
"Why is that?"
"We had never got along since I was young. He is a harsh man, he rules the home - his word absolute." The emotion started to choke in his voice. "I could not live to his standards - he wanted a math-whiz, a status-climbing, strict catholic, ideally to take over his Position in the Bank of Barcelona." He shook his head.
"It seems he places a high demand on your shoulders. You had tried to do as he wished?" The priest shifted, his expression hidden - as the confessional was designed to do.
"I had - before he laid a hand on my mother." Soma's voice grew cold. "And I am not good with math, I cannot be a banker. I wanted to see the world, travel - fall in love with whoever I choose, not a daughter of one of his partners as I suspected. I... said some harsh things to him, we fought, and I refused to speak with him since I left home."