Billy-Ray nodded knowingly, even though he had no hope of really understanding. A world where sorcerers were few and scattered far between. He actually wouldn't mind living in a world like that, where the people who hired him didn't fully understand his abilities. The threats and implied punishments for his failure got old after a while. Course, those would probably only increase with laughably underprepared mortals, but at least then Billy-Ray could just kill them.
He hadn't been missing any of Gabe's shifts and winces, though. Honestly, they were probably all that was giving Billy-Ray the energy to keep going. There was a certain kind of motivation in the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how tough someone was talking, they weren't enjoying the ride one bit. No matter how injured Billy-Ray was, or how powerful the mysterious magic of a stranger might be, no one could rival him down here. The thought kept him comforted as dirt continued to rain down into his boots.
"You kiddin'?" he asked as his muscles tensed, ready for another few minutes of strain. "I always loved the idea of a resistance. Been a few here over the centuries, tryin' to overthrow kings and whatnot. Main difference is I don't really pay attention to who I'm killin.' Riles folks up after a while. Ready for more?"
~~
"And who are you," Father O'Reilly replied with a smile, "to decide who our God is?"
He let out a long breath he wasn't fully aware he'd been holding - not a physical breath, but a mental one. He released it all as physical air from his lungs, however, allowing all the confusion and shock and even fear to flow away like so much water. Whatever happened from here on out would happen, regardless of whatever he thought or did, and so there was no point in worrying. Certainly not when there were other things to claim his attention.
"Wait." He sat up a little straighter, and the smile disappeared in favour of an expression that was serious, but almost fatherly in its regard. "Here's a better question. Disregarding any evidence you think you might have, or what you believe of yourself - in fact, ignoring everything you've ever believed about Christianity, up to and including meeting Saint Gabriel - tell me, Solomon. Do you want to be forgiven?"
It was a simple question, but Father O'Reilly knew how difficult it was to answer, even without what most people thought they believed about the Church - and separating those preconceptions was hard enough. Society, nowadays, taught people to be ashamed of themselves. Ashamed of their actions, their bodies, their innermost thoughts. That was a difficult enough habit to break, without the addition of magic or centuries of experience.
no subject
He hadn't been missing any of Gabe's shifts and winces, though. Honestly, they were probably all that was giving Billy-Ray the energy to keep going. There was a certain kind of motivation in the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how tough someone was talking, they weren't enjoying the ride one bit. No matter how injured Billy-Ray was, or how powerful the mysterious magic of a stranger might be, no one could rival him down here. The thought kept him comforted as dirt continued to rain down into his boots.
"You kiddin'?" he asked as his muscles tensed, ready for another few minutes of strain. "I always loved the idea of a resistance. Been a few here over the centuries, tryin' to overthrow kings and whatnot. Main difference is I don't really pay attention to who I'm killin.' Riles folks up after a while. Ready for more?"
~~
"And who are you," Father O'Reilly replied with a smile, "to decide who our God is?"
He let out a long breath he wasn't fully aware he'd been holding - not a physical breath, but a mental one. He released it all as physical air from his lungs, however, allowing all the confusion and shock and even fear to flow away like so much water. Whatever happened from here on out would happen, regardless of whatever he thought or did, and so there was no point in worrying. Certainly not when there were other things to claim his attention.
"Wait." He sat up a little straighter, and the smile disappeared in favour of an expression that was serious, but almost fatherly in its regard. "Here's a better question. Disregarding any evidence you think you might have, or what you believe of yourself - in fact, ignoring everything you've ever believed about Christianity, up to and including meeting Saint Gabriel - tell me, Solomon. Do you want to be forgiven?"
It was a simple question, but Father O'Reilly knew how difficult it was to answer, even without what most people thought they believed about the Church - and separating those preconceptions was hard enough. Society, nowadays, taught people to be ashamed of themselves. Ashamed of their actions, their bodies, their innermost thoughts. That was a difficult enough habit to break, without the addition of magic or centuries of experience.