"This is it," Barney announced as he brought the cab to a stop in front of a dilapidated looking house. He frowned with sudden curiosity as he took in the sagging porch from inside his taxi, wondering if he should stick around for a bit. This wasn't exactly the best of neighbourhoods. "You folks sure this is the place?"
"It is." Skull pushed open his car door and turned as he stepped out. "How much do we owe you?"
"Sixteen point twenty-four euros." That was promising. Barney had begun to wonder if these people had any money on them at all, let alone enough for a decent tip. He'd pretty much given up on the tip, but it would be nice not to have to explain a free cab fare. Because honestly, Barney didn't feel like kicking up too much of a fuss; these were some of the most interesting people he'd ever met.
"Fletcher, would you mind?" Skull stepped back. "Run inside and grab my wallet. Should be on the table in the front room."
Barney had to stare again. They lived here? But... temporarily, right? He thought they were carnie folk.
~~
The church was usually clean, and Father Patrick O'Reilly wasn't usually too concerned about constantly keeping it that way. Other things were far more important, such as spreading the message of the church, or planning the local events they were known for. Up until yesterday, Father O'Reilly had been busying himself with making sure they had enough volunteers to hold their monthly homeless dinner, as well as the necessary funds. Volunteers were getting hard to come by, unfortunately, even from his own congregation.
And then yesterday, about mid-afternoon, while Father O'Reilly was alone in the back trying to work up the suddenly required permit for the public space they would need, he'd heard a sudden stumbling and cursing from the chapel. And when he went to go investigate, ready to scold a couple of teenagers for their rowdy behaviour, he'd been greeted instead by something he still couldn't quite believe.
A pair of angels.
A pair. Of angels.
He'd said as much, and they hadn't exactly confirmed it, but they didn't deny it either. And really, what else would look so unnaturally beautiful? Or, no. Not unnatural; more natural than anything Father O'Reilly had ever seen before.
They'd asked for holy water. Two whole barrels of it, and Father O'Reilly didn't ask why. He'd asked if they needed help carrying it, stood confused at their laughter, and then watched in stunned awe as they both disappeared with the barrels into thin air.
A few hours later that evening, they'd returned. Breathless and scared, looking much more like normal humans, politely asking for a whole set of barrels of holy water. By then, the priest had put two and two together - an injured angel. He'd been only too happy to help, and even managed not to be too surprised when the male one laid his hand on only one of the barrels, and they all disappeared.
Would they come again today? Father O'Reilly didn't know, and he'd spent most of the morning flitting from pew to pew in the empty chapel, absentmindedly cleaning that which didn't need to be cleaned. He was ashamed of it, when he realised what he was doing. He'd just started to work on the permit again when he heard the chapel doors open.
He couldn't stop his heart from sinking when he walked out and saw a middle-aged stranger standing there, rather than the two young-looking angels. With a mental slap to snap himself out of it, Father O'Reilly smiled gently and stepped forward. The stranger looked uncertain and, in a way that the priest was very familiar with, moving forward like he needed to avoid touching anything.
A person on the verge of conversion. The smile grew even more gentle. Father O'Reilly knew how important and delicate this process was, and how vital it was that he didn't push. "Can I help you?"
no subject
"It is." Skull pushed open his car door and turned as he stepped out. "How much do we owe you?"
"Sixteen point twenty-four euros." That was promising. Barney had begun to wonder if these people had any money on them at all, let alone enough for a decent tip. He'd pretty much given up on the tip, but it would be nice not to have to explain a free cab fare. Because honestly, Barney didn't feel like kicking up too much of a fuss; these were some of the most interesting people he'd ever met.
"Fletcher, would you mind?" Skull stepped back. "Run inside and grab my wallet. Should be on the table in the front room."
Barney had to stare again. They lived here? But... temporarily, right? He thought they were carnie folk.
~~
The church was usually clean, and Father Patrick O'Reilly wasn't usually too concerned about constantly keeping it that way. Other things were far more important, such as spreading the message of the church, or planning the local events they were known for. Up until yesterday, Father O'Reilly had been busying himself with making sure they had enough volunteers to hold their monthly homeless dinner, as well as the necessary funds. Volunteers were getting hard to come by, unfortunately, even from his own congregation.
And then yesterday, about mid-afternoon, while Father O'Reilly was alone in the back trying to work up the suddenly required permit for the public space they would need, he'd heard a sudden stumbling and cursing from the chapel. And when he went to go investigate, ready to scold a couple of teenagers for their rowdy behaviour, he'd been greeted instead by something he still couldn't quite believe.
A pair of angels.
A pair. Of angels.
He'd said as much, and they hadn't exactly confirmed it, but they didn't deny it either. And really, what else would look so unnaturally beautiful? Or, no. Not unnatural; more natural than anything Father O'Reilly had ever seen before.
They'd asked for holy water. Two whole barrels of it, and Father O'Reilly didn't ask why. He'd asked if they needed help carrying it, stood confused at their laughter, and then watched in stunned awe as they both disappeared with the barrels into thin air.
A few hours later that evening, they'd returned. Breathless and scared, looking much more like normal humans, politely asking for a whole set of barrels of holy water. By then, the priest had put two and two together - an injured angel. He'd been only too happy to help, and even managed not to be too surprised when the male one laid his hand on only one of the barrels, and they all disappeared.
Would they come again today? Father O'Reilly didn't know, and he'd spent most of the morning flitting from pew to pew in the empty chapel, absentmindedly cleaning that which didn't need to be cleaned. He was ashamed of it, when he realised what he was doing. He'd just started to work on the permit again when he heard the chapel doors open.
He couldn't stop his heart from sinking when he walked out and saw a middle-aged stranger standing there, rather than the two young-looking angels. With a mental slap to snap himself out of it, Father O'Reilly smiled gently and stepped forward. The stranger looked uncertain and, in a way that the priest was very familiar with, moving forward like he needed to avoid touching anything.
A person on the verge of conversion. The smile grew even more gentle. Father O'Reilly knew how important and delicate this process was, and how vital it was that he didn't push. "Can I help you?"