[Open] And Did the Countenance Divine

[graveling]

Who: Angel and You
What: Properly priesting, or trying to at least
When: July
Where: Yes!
Warning(s): None yet

1. I will not cease from mental fight [Temple Matters]
With Degas on his sabbatical, Angel is taking on the full mantle of Priest of the Mothers. He’s wearing the brown robes of a priest and the green stole with braided knotwork patterns similar to Celtic designs along it, even though doing so makes him feel a little like a child in their father’s shoes.

Still, he’s here if you need guidance or blessing, trying to fill the role.


2. Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand [Milk and Honey]
As he’s trying to fill the role of full-time priest, Angel’s still in his robes as he brings products from Kasprak farm into town. Vegetables and fruits, eggs and goat’s milk. And, of course, honey, in small glass jars all with a wax stamp on top–a bee with a pair of stylized feathered wings.

He’s visiting stores and restaurants, but if you catch him on the carriage Arcadia’s pulling, you might get tossed a ripe tomato or offered a melon. There’s plenty to go around.


3. Till we have built Jerusalem [A Day Off]
Sometimes, it’s all a bit much. Angel occasionally runs away from his duties. Never on days when there are services planned, never when he’s scheduled for something. But when restlessness strikes, Angel’s feet take him to the wild parts of the island. Paradesium, Lockwood Forest near Elsie’s Tree, and even nosing around the cave near Tawny Beach, though it’s been caved in since he and River had their adventure. He isn’t wearing his robes, he hasn’t combed his hair, he might be up a tree or sitting on a rock, and he surely isn’t expecting company.

But still, if you approach, there’s a sheepish little nod and a wave.


4. In England's green and pleasant land [Wildcard]
[find me on discord at darkersolstice to plot]

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[lovethyneighb_or]

The muttering goes on for a little while longer, but then begins to taper off as the light lingers close to him. Restlessness falls to rest, then to a softer kind of stirring as Angel tugs him gently from sleep.

The last nine years have made him a light sleeper, but it was the military that did it first. Mulcahy blinks against the blurry and bright cold light; he knows it’s been years, but the first thing his mind still reaches for is, “Choppers?”

[graveling]

"No choppers. You're safe. You're at the Temple. You were having a nightmare. I'm here with you. I will keep you safe." And only after saying all that does Angel lean in to kiss Mulcahy on the forehead with cold lips. Because that's what someone's supposed to do when you wake up from a nightmare, right? Reassure you and kiss you on the forehead?

That's what Eddie always does for him.

[lovethyneighb_or]

“O—oh.”

He glances around. There is Angel. There is his little key-spirit, still asleep in a bundle nearby. There is the sanctuary. He can’t hear any music; no one is coming. Alone, Mulcahy would stew in his fears for another hour or so at least; but Angel has taken the opportunity away.

No choppers, no wounded, no rites, no bodies, no blood, no numbers, no surveillance, no white rooms, no shells, no ambushes, no snipers, no invasions, no danger. It’s astonishing. It seems wrong, to not wake up to some everyday catastrophe. He feels like he’s staring down the barrel of a gun, but there’s no gun at all, and what is he meant to do with that?

… Well. There is still the matter of Radar and Hawkeye.

Mulcahy settles back into the bed with a sigh. He’s still so tired.

“… Thank you. This is all incredibly kind of you, Angel. I had… forgotten what comfort it is, to not wake up alone.”

[graveling]

"I will remind you all night long. And anytime you need it again." That has the echo of a promise to it, one offered openly and intentionally. Angel allows the candle flame to return to normal, settles back into a proper sit.

"And once you're rested up, we can maybe talk long term. But not yet, not yet. Not until you've got wits about you."

[lovethyneighb_or]

"Alright."

Cura te ipsum.

"... I hope I wasn't very loud."

[graveling]

"Are you worried about anyone beside me hearing you, here?"

He's not going to bring up that the goddesses surely will hear, but it's just him and Klefki physically here.

[lovethyneighb_or]

"I always am."

A less worn-down, sleepy, and just-kissed-on-the-forehead Mulcahy would not have admitted this.

"What was it that I said?"

[graveling]

“You were talking about being somewhere for three weeks, and they wouldn’t let you go.”

Angel doesn’t have the full context, and he’s being rather pointed in not asking for it. It’s not something that he has somehow earned by bearing witness. It’s on Mulcahy to decide to share or not.

[lovethyneighb_or]

And Mulcahy won't; these are things too close to the chest. Still, he feels better knowing what Angel knows, and that he will tell him.

His face pinches together in frustration. He shuts his eyes, then sighs, breathing out. "I see. I'm sorry about that. I hope I haven't frightened you."

[graveling]

“I’m going to take your apologies away, if you keep using them so loosely. No, you haven’t frightened me. Or upset me. Or strained my willingness to help you.” There’s a vague humor in Angel’s tone of voice, like one might imagine a lion chuckling to itself. “Your nightmare scared you. Not me, sitting outside it.”

[lovethyneighb_or]

Mulcahy huffs, but it's a more playful sort of huff. "Good. I'd hate for my nightmare to have scared you."

He seems a little too out of it to have entirely caught the logic there.

He wavers, eyes drifting shut. Just as he marveled at not being alone waking up, here he marvels at not being alone as he tries to fall back to sleep. He'll probably remain up for a while yet, but rest begins with trying to in the first place, and he has a jumpstart on keeping his terror in check.

[graveling]

Angel sinks back into his comfortable silence, at least for a moment. He does speak once more before Mulcahy drifts off, though.

"Betcha I'm not the only one who'd be here for you. If you asked."

[lovethyneighb_or]

Angel will receive no visible response. The idea settles in anyway, softly, without argument. It will not be there in the morning. But for now, it stays.

Mulcahy wakes again in the night. This time he is simply lifts back into awareness from some kind of stress dream and lies there waiting to fall back asleep; but the sky is already lightening, and then too light to try to sleep again.

Achingly, he sits up. He's still tired. What sleep he got was terrible. It was better than he's had in quite some time.

"Good morning, Angel," he croaks as he reaches around for his glasses.

[graveling]

"Good morning. I can go get some tea or chicory going while you wake up." Because up and fumbling for glasses doesn't mean awake. He knows that from being beside Eddie while he sleeps.

[lovethyneighb_or]

“Oh, you needn’t go out of your way.”

… (A small piece of last night catches up again, just a little.)

“But, ah… it would be nice. If it’s not too much trouble. Thank you.” His hand finds his glasses, and he badly suppresses a yawn as he puts them on. His eyes are barely open.

[graveling]

"I mean, I'm going to make a cup for myself, too." Despite having sat in one place all night, Angel doesn't seem to be stiff or sore as he toddles off (no more than usual, at least, on the stiffness. Rigor mortis is not not present in his life). And a few minutes later, he returns with a pair of mugs and a jar of honey.

(It's the good honey, the stuff made with the blessed flowers that helps to ease the mind and soul just a little, like a hug from within.)

[lovethyneighb_or]

When shelling begins, you flinch. You hit the ground, you take shelter, you cover your head. You do everything you can to protect yourself, even if it can hardly protect you at all. Then you stand up; you have a job to do. Nobody can afford to slow down for long in a hospital. So you walk around and work while the windows blow out and dust falls into patients, and though the noise can't be ignored, soon enough, you stop flinching so hard. The vigilance becomes liveable, the panic all background. When you need your hands to stop shaking, you stop them. You get used to it.

"Thank you, Angel." Mulcahy takes the cup carefully, gratefully. He spoons a little of the honey into it and stirs, stopping to warm himself around the ceramic for a little while.

Cradling it, he sips, and hardly notices it when his shoulders begin to stoop. There is a dire noise in his head that has roared through his entire life, varying in severity but always there. There may never be silence; but in the desperation and fear of it, there is a lapse. Safety is a strange feeling.

[graveling]

Angel sips his own tea, comfortable with the silence, not knowing what to say (if anything at all). It's another moment of peace, just another moment of peace. Steal them when they come.

[lovethyneighb_or]

Another moment of peace. Mulcahy wishes he knew how to savor it better, the taste of rest, but this is enough.

As the tea nears the bottom of the cup, he speaks. "Do I remember you mentioning that... we'd discuss what to do after this? That is, for other nights."

[graveling]

"Yeah? Are you up to that now? Because I can definitely do this again, if that's what you need." But there are other solutions in the long term.

[lovethyneighb_or]

He pauses, trying to find the words to work out his feelings on the matter.

“… As long as that man is out there, I won’t feel safe enough to sleep in my home. But I will not ask you to do this every night for all that time. … Once in a while, perhaps.”

[graveling]

"Whenever you need. Please ask, don't just suffer. Seeing you hurt makes me sad. Okay?" Angel offers the biggest puppy dog eyes.

[lovethyneighb_or]

After a long pause, he sighs, so gently.

"Alright," he concedes, soft as anything. He still refuses to ask for every night, knowing that Angel has Kaspbrak to come home to. But. "Would... it be troublesome if I rested here with you a few times a week, until he goes? You don't need to be at the bedside the whole time. Knowing that you are around and watching over me will be more than enough."

And he does really mean that part. Even on those lonelier nights.

[graveling]

"A few times a week works. Means I don't need to fall asleep to the sound of the chickens squabbling. Don't tell Eddie, but sometimes the quiet here is real nice." And being here means not needing to sleep and spin his own nightmare roulette wheel.

[lovethyneighb_or]

He laughs slightly, a genial patter of sound.

"Very well. Thank you again, Angel. You..." He glances downwards. "This means quite a lot to me. Quite a lot."