mayfield_logs | true frans don't need permission to break into each other's places!! ...wait

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true frans don't need permission to break into each other's places!! ...wait

Who: Ciel and Charles
What: Charles~~' house looked weird from her stalking angle for a while now so Ciel just decided to go ahead and break in~~ gets a surprise housecall that he wasn't supposed to know about!! Shenanigans ensue, alas.
Where: 767 Bunker Street
When: Oct. 19th, ridiculous hour in the morning like at 2AM
Warnings: Possible spoilers for Tsukihime/Blood+, also casual talk of gore... will update this as needed!

[Not that Charles has been acting particularly suspicious of late, no. If anything, Ciel can honestly say that the babby bat's temperament has been improving. She'd know, with how much time she spends around the Chiropteran even if they're not remotely close in living together... How did this even happen.

BUT! What's essential is that for a while now, he seems to act... not quite as he used to, back at his place. NOT that Ciel actually keeps an active watch all the time to his house, but woman's intuition + her inherent passive perception ~~+ predisposed mama henbear instinct~~ + legit stalking has tipped her off to something unusual. ...Which coincides with around the time when Charles confirmed to her that he's traded Horace back at the post office, come to think of it!! He never DID tell her what he received in return, though there has been another few rounds of regains distributed since also, if she recalls correctly.

Either way, it's been something at the back of her mind for a while now, even if she's never given any serious thought to act upon the desire to investigate... Until now, apparently, when she just so happens to pass by during her usual patrol at ungodly hours. Ciel's no amateur at this, specializing in stealth and well deserving of her true profession and title of 'agent', so even if there are non-drone members within the household, she ought to be quiet and discreet enough to slip in by a window completely unnoticed. This theoretically shouldn't take long, she's just wondering if there's anything noteworthy in the house! That means checking the basement would be top priority, buuut she should be able to afford a side trip or two in the living room/study... Charles is out now, probably for his usual midnight stroll, so it should be fine, no worries!~

...Except when have things ever gone to plan, huh. Time is definitely going to end up passing faster than she'd expected, after coming across a certain discovery that she definitely couldn't have guessed. Now when is Charles coming home, she might just need to ask him about this in person, even if she has initially planned for him to NOT find out about her impromptu break-in...]

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[oh, it's so good of you to make sure he doesn't get decapitated or something Ciel... he knew you loved him too (blushcats everywhere...)

he's poking his head in, slowly... and upon finding Charles in a seemingly docile position, he's finding enough bravery to step properly inside with a chuckle. the priest rubs into silver hair with the usual disarming sort of derpitude...

underneath which might be some mild concern because... hm. HMM. maybe he is a little stranger than the norm...]

Ah, well~! Then that means my work ethic is definitely improving! Haven't I told you how my demon boss would declaim my position back at home? I'm not very good at coming when called, actually...! Maybe you should be flattered I made it so quickly just for you, Charles!

To put my restless soul at ease in my final moments, hm? [that would take about ten priests more and possibly an exorcist... but it's the thought that counts, right?? too bad he doesn't have more appreciation in him... being a ~~fattydingdongs~~ ~~food vacuum~~ priest is such a thankless job.

he flips the book over before setting it down on his lap and folding his hands primly over its blank cover.]

Did you do it for me, I wonder? Am I what brought you here so quickly?

[NONSENSE Abel is totally the one for the tall task of putting Charles at ease in his final moments! definitely. yes. absolutely.

hm, hm... he's absently looking for something to sit on or a chair to drag over and lounge about upon while they have this little talk.]

Mm? You say that like you're trying to insinuate something, but... it's just us, isn't it? Who else would I have come for~?

[could abel even put himself at ease in his final moments lbr

he will find a chair near the dresser! plush and made of fine fabric, it's also pretty easy to tell that it (along with nearly everything else in the room) has been torn apart and built again from the bottom up to emulate a more decadent living space as opposed to the tacky American 1950s bedrooms. he'll be able to drag it over without Charles pitching a fit too, surprisingly.]

Who else but the person who requested your presence in the first place, isn't that so? I told her that I wanted a proper man of the cloth to read me my rites, you see, but it appears she doesn't think enough of me to grant that. I believe I'll save dying for another day now.

[we're not talking about that shhh shhhhh quiet now... mm, Charles' room is... well, very Charles-esque to be honest; it suits him and somehow it isn't terribly surprising that he's put so much effort into personalizing his private living space. it's a shame he's alloted a 'child' position, and so he'll only ever be 'entitled' to one room in the house in Mayfield's eyes.

Abel takes the chair over and situates it beside where the Chiropteran is lounged, taking his seat and fiddling with the rosary still clasped within his hands.]

It's true that Sister Ciel called me for my help, but... is it so hard to believe I'd have rushed over here with an extra jump in my step for you? Even if you might loathe when I say it out loud, I do consider you a very good friend, you know!

[he shifts, nudging at those glasses again. his perpetual cheer.... it fails to die...]

Ah! And it's nice to hear you won't be dying today at any rate...! It's a little depressing to go on missing you, even if Mayfield'll revive you in a day or two, right~? Plus, to be honest... I'm not very good at that whole 'last rite' business so it is a relief you don't need me for that kind of morbid task... Better to leave that to the professionals, mm? [WAVING HIS HAND IN DISMISSAL HAHA...] That's a lot of pressure to place on someone's shoulders and I'm pretty sure I'd have some kind of stroke in that sort of position...!

[he's only rambling because he has no idea what's really going on whatsoever, you know. the need to troll you is all he's got to go on, you poor thing...]

[fortunately for him, he doesn't need to be entitled to the other rooms in order to bully people out of them! how do you think he got hold of the master bedroom in the first place.....

this is the room he's put the most effort into though, and he's (seemingly) at ease in it even with company; a rarity that should be a warning in and of itself. run Abel run while you can]

A good friend indeed, to hurry your pace like that. [...] You're fortunate, you know. Most people would be a little offended to have someone rush to them at the prospect of their passing. [welcome to the Charles Purposely Misconstrues Everything game!! he leans forward a little, looking conspiratorial in an almost teasing way.]

But it's good, that. Truly fortunate, to be spared your duties. No one enjoys dirtying their hands, yes?

Edited (repetitiooooon) 2012-10-31 08:19 (UTC)

[Abel seems to playing the oblivious card when it comes to Charles' little game of Misconstrue Everything, because he's only laughing and waving his hand in dismissal in return.]

No, no... of course not! But sloth is a sin, isn't it? So, I should at least try to work hard every now and then...

What better a cause then pacifying the tumultuous soul of my dearest friend in Mayfield, hm?

[well then he will be very Good-Natured™ about the whole thing and laugh, too. just frands having a good time here nothing to see move along move along!!]

True, true. It is certainly unbecoming of a priest to display the very traits he preaches against. [setting his book off to the side table near his chair, which is already loaded up with a whole stack of them.]

But you know now that my soul isn't in need of your ferrying services yet, so I'll have to ask you to take your leave. I'll only ask once, since I'm a little tired and it would be too difficult for me to keep up with you today.

[he wonders if Charles' regains have been mostly books, looking at his humble abode now and seeing it littered with them. they definitely can't be Mayfield's wares, considering how unappetizing they would be to the likes of babby bat...

but his attention is drawn away as he nudges-- yet again-- at those glasses, clearing his throat and looking suitably dumb and surprised.]

Ah-- you're feeling tired, Charles? Was Sister's company draining on you today? I don't want to keep you up if you're under the weather, but... how about you let me brew you a cup of chamomile tea and I read you a bed time story? I could even tuck you in~! When's the last time you let someone tuck you in, hm? Hmm?

[if you thought you were getting rid of him

...Charles...]

[MORE THAN HE'D LIKE TO ADMIT but at least he got some wine back in between the flood of books, that was a nice break... the question gets a little snort of amusement from him as opposed to his usual snappy irritation, and he shrugs.]

It has been a while. That sort of thing is soothing, is it not? Teas and bedtime stories, I mean. [OH NOSTALGIA. while speaking, he stands from his chair and brushes nonexistent dirt from his knees before offering a hand out toward Abel.

but he should know better than to take it by now

right]

[a Charles who is not irate and quick to punt him out the door by force if necessary... Abel doesn't know what to do with this honestly he's so perplexed AND TRUTHFULLY it's genuinely creepy to hear Charles nostalgic in agreement with him for once in his life

CHARLES ARE YOU LEGITIMATELY DYING NO PLEASE

DON'T

DO THAT

...but the priest is looking decidedly perplexed and confused, sort of dumbly... taking that hand

let's call it morbid curiosity, or blame the priest's distracted state. he seems genuinely caught off-guard by his friend's demeanor, here.]

...Ah, if that's the case... it's not like I'd mind at all! I do that kind of thing for Cain all the time, you know...? I might even be good at it! You'd be surprised--!

[the mental image of tucking Charles in is precious........

...and ruined by the thought that it would only happen if said Charles was also lighting him on fire while he was distracted or something of the like.]

[if he was legitimately dying why would he be spouting nostalgia all over Abel!!! HE'S A PROACTIVE... die-er...?!

anyway up you go priest, up up. he tugs the hand in his own gently, indicating that he wants said loser off of his nicely furnished chair and standing.]

You would do that for me? [yes enjoy the precious mental image of Charles tucking people in and lighting them on fire while it lasts...]

[a... ah. what is happening?!

Charles has successfully thrown Abel off his game to an impressive degree...! enough so that the priest is lookin down at him in continued perplexity as he's tugged to his feet. the gentility is thoroughly unexpected...]

Ah... of course I would! I'd do a great many things for you, Charles... don't you know that?

[and amidst the trolling there was sincerity.......

which will probably get taken as more trolling, but whatevs man. sometimes, that's how it goes.]

[gotta keep you church losers on guard! and, continuing to do just that, his expression shifts from quiet thoughtfulness to sour irritation in the time it takes him to look toward their hands.]

Would you? [TROLLING OR NOT he doesn't sound at all convinced!!] How many? Would any of them be worth anything to me at all? Because teas and bedtime stories are a comfort, but I can't enjoy them, you know? I could, once. I do miss sleeping at times. [oh boy here comes the wistful nostalgia again, but it doesn't last long this time before he's bouncing to his toes and looking rather pleased about god knows what.]

So could you do something else for me? [is his grip tightening? no way that's just silly!!]

[OR NOT

unless Abel pulls an escape move like the crafty priest he is, he'll find his hand locked in a vice grip for all of three seconds before Charles ducks down, pivots and uses his ridiculous strength in an attempt to fling Abel across the room with enough force to crack plaster if he doesn't catch himself before hitting a wall or door. SURPRISE... a much less pleasant one than a birthday surprise...!]

[Abel's expression had begun to dissolve from the non-chalant derpitude of norm to something... more serious -- concerned, and perhaps a tad apologetic at this sudden turn. that was surprisingly morose and depressing -- surprisingly sincere, a statement from the Chiropteran in reality...

...

but before he can get so much of a word out-- not even a squeak! he's clamming up as that hand tightens over his own. it's all the warning he gets, is that it? it's not enough-- not when Abel's the sort of fool who drops his guard in complete trust of people he considers as close to him as he would consider Charles. maybe he perceived the warning, but... it's not like he knew what he was being warned for.]

[--but he sure learns fast.

it's been a pretty long time since he's been manhandled like this, actually--! there's something ironic and dryly amusing in the fact that the last two people to inflict any sort of injury upon his person was... Ciel, and... now-- Charles. the two people he's come to consider closest to him out of all the relationships he's formed in Mayfield... ah, it's funny, isn't it? yes... it's very funny, in a twisted sort of way.

he's not laughing just yet. no, no-- but he IS making a rather impressive THWACK as he hits the wall. the damage his body creates is probably more of an irritant to Charles than anything; GREAT now you've gone and broken your own bedroom wall, bat. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE. the wheezed cough that suggests he's been winded by impact comes next, and the look on his face must be comical for the surprise it expresses -- complete and total, at that...

right before he hits hands and knees with chipped paint and plaster crumbling off the wall behind him. (now you'll have to dust, too.) MY... he really wasn't expecting that...! just, uh-- give him a moment. just a moment or two, to collect his... meager and unimpressive wits...]

[it's moments like this when he really hates living in Mayfield!! having walls made of wood and stone are much better for these sort of situations. he wouldn't have to worry about dusting or repairing plaster if they were in his home...!

but he won't be held back for long by the irritation stemming from that, since he's in such a good mood and all. nope, no time for priests to catch their meager and unimpressive wits here... he sets off across the room after clapping his hands together, and he's all bright smiles and springing steps and nothing like the grumpy, easily-irritated brat he usually is.]

That was a nice sound! A priceless look, too. [once he's right in front of Abel he comes to a stop, hands folded neatly behind his back.]

So, can you? Can you still do something for me? Would that be all right? [he rests a hand near the damaged plaster and it looks like a light enough touch, but more plaster splinters under his fingertips and flakes to the floor.]

[Abel is wheezing another breathless kind of cough-- damnit, getting winded is always a pain. but... he's lifting his head and finally seeming to get enough air in to recover.

well, his breath, anyway.

he still looks surprised... and for good reason; he has no idea what's gotten Charles into such a mood or the context he's apparently walked in on, either-- all he knows is that his jovial game of TROLL THE CHARLES has gone and horribly backfired. this isn't a harmless game any longer... it might have never been from the get-go. (maybe he should have taken Ciel's warning a little more seriously.)

but the priest is registering that he's been posed a question-- the same from before, and the sound of plaster further crumbling behind him where Charles has touched is... not particularly comforting. it isn't that he's worried for his personal well-being, but... instead, he's concerned for what this kind of mental state means for his friend. what's got into him...?]

'f...

[ughhhgk-- ahem. he coughs, once-- starts again.]

Of... Of course.

[he is carefully shifting his weight to sit up so he's no longer on hands and knees in front of his host, the worry in blue eyes sincere.]

...I'd do whatever I can. What's wrong, Charles...? [why are you...? ;(]

[surprise Troll The Charles is a game that can take MANY UNEXPECTED TURNS... he seems pretty amused by it either way, bringing a hand up to stifle a laugh when he hears that cough like it's some secret joke.]

That's a good look, but being on your hands and knees suits you much better. [there's a sing-song lilt to his voice and he leans a little closer since he clearly hasn't invaded Abel's personal space enough to last the rest of the holiday season already.]

I can't sleep, but I think I might find comfort in a little stress relief. Is that fine? [the hand that had been on the wall moves so he can rest it on Abel's shoulder, and his touch actually is as gentle as it looks this time.]

How many times could I break your bones before you get sick of me? -Ah, or I could gut you like a pig and leave you on the lawn. Does that sound fair? We've apples in the kitchen, you could be dressed up properly and everything.

[Abel matches the Chiropteran's look, eye-to-eye, but his is absent the thinly veiled malice. instead, all Charles would find is an immense concern and worry -- deep and sincere. no deception, no bells and whistles.

it's almost that simple, isn't it? a man worried for his friend's state of being. but things are never so simple with them. it just seems the way of things in Mayfield -- everything is inevitably more complex than one initially gives them credit for.

the gentle touch at his shoulder doesn't elicit any resistence; the priest doesn't flinch or seem concerned for any further injury. instead, that perplexity and yearning to understand remains, mingled with that question still hanging in the air between them.

what's wrong, Charles...?

the threat -- because that's exactly what it is, a threat -- isn't entertained with the sort of response his friend desired. there's no fear... no wariness -- not even a hint of additional caution. if anything, the only reply on the priest's part at all is... a deepening of that uneasy worry.]

...Do you think doing something like that would chase me off? That I would stop being your friend if you crushed me, treated me like some... annoying bug?

[his voice is quiet, almost apologetic -- as if expressing sorrow for what he's reading as some manner of pain he can't quite determine, and thus doesn't know how to ease.]

I thought you'd know me better than that by now, Charles. It's not so easy to be rid of me.

[he'll sidestep that question like it would be the death of him if he touched it, even if they both know it's there. that would be admitting something is wrong which would undoubtedly lead to Abel wanting to talk about it, and that's something he absolutely refuses to delve into a second time in less than twenty-four hours.

instead, his expression shifts to one of pity; it borderlines remorse in its intensity, but completely lacks anything that makes it more than the stage expression of a skilled actor.]

I don't think it would be enough to chase you off. Not that, at least. I could think of a few things that might. [it takes a little bit of effort to conceal his smile here, but he does a good job of it since he'd rather see how far he can rile this winner with actions instead of words. that's the whole point of stress relief!!

the force behind his hand increases gradually until it reaches the level that would certainly pain a normal human being, like he's testing the water for a reaction.] But you should know that while I've heard those words before, they've never come from the same person twice.

['a few things that might,' hm.

he doesn't believe Charles is truly capable of any of the things that would cause Abel to sincerely condemn him. it takes... quite a lot to breach into that territory with him -- and in reality, it might be impossible as long as he was able to delude himself there was still hope that Charles was person he saw the Chiropteran to be. he's very good at deluding himself, you know.

for the increase in pressure, Abel gives a quiet... grimace, and for one as perceptive as his friend, he might notice the slight tension in his muscles. not a resistence or a fear, but rather borne of his mounting concern...]

You and I both know if you wanted to, you could have thrown me through that wall. You could... break my shoulder right now, if you wanted. Crush my bones as you said, and I wouldn't stop you.

What point would it prove...? [yes, that mounting concern is only growing... an anxious sort of inquiry in Abel's eyes set on those of Charles with single-minded focus.]

Did something happen--? Why are you so... [distressed? this is more a cry out for help then he's seen in a long time...]

It wouldn't prove anything, of course. I just need a little exercise, something to do. [he would have settled with just about any distraction a little earlier but, being a creature of habit, turned to more familiar methods first. nothing puts him at ease quite like the sound of snapping bones and the knowledge that he's made someone else just as miserable as he is! so it's not the most healthy coping mechanism...

but naturally the minute tenseness is noticed and misconstrued (since mentally allowing for the possibility of actual care from Abel would just not be good for his concentration). now the increase in pressure is less like testing the waters and more like the intentional cruelty of a child pinning ants beneath a magnifying glass.]

You said you would do what you could, correct?

You know the answer already, Charles, but--

[damnit. he doesn't want this to go down the path that might lead his friend-- in any mindset-- to do something he may later regret when faced with a mindset of an entirely different sort. he can see how calm he is, can see the confidence in his demeanor... the malice that Abel believes Charles wants him to read from this. but with each moment and each individual signal the priest perceives, all he manages to observe is... troubling screams of distress.

Charles doesn't truly want to hurt him. he doesn't want to be doing this at all. the increase in pressure isn't acknowledged with the appropriate response-- Abel's expression only deepens into further worry as he watches his would-be assailant. he's a boy lashing out and smiling while he does it like if he can convince everyone else that's truly who he is inside, maybe Charles could convince himself too. make the wounds disappear.

...like a child, lost and afraid and unsure what to do. a child who was never given guidance-- one who's lost his way.]

...I don't want to watch you hurt yourself. Hurting me isn't going to make whatever went wrong any better. If anything, all this will do is make you even more miserable in the long run. Charles-- you know that, don't you? You're trying to mask pain, but you might as well be screaming right now.

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