Billy-Ray had been mocked before for having no real viable weapon other than his straight razor. Those who mocked, however, never did so for long. Small though it was, Billy-Ray's straight razor was like an extension of himself, and that made it the most efficient and deadly weapon he had at his disposal, small enough to fit into a pocket.
So when Gabe reached into his own pocket for something, Billy-Ray tensed, stopping in the doorway to stay nice and out of potential harm's way. His eyes narrowed when it turned out to be nothing but a small piece of chalk.
Who in their right mind carried chalk on their person, like it might actually be useful? Further proof that Gabe wasn't in his right mind, obviously. Maybe he'd never even really had a right mind.
Billy-Ray scowled when the second mark was made high out of his considerably shortened reach, thanks to the jagged stomach wound. Not in his right mind, maybe, but no less clever. And even though Billy-Ray hadn't even been thinking about erasing the first one - honestly, this floundering was just making him chuckle - the deliberate jab was irritating. "I ain't gonna do anythin'," he informed Gabe. "No cheatin' from me. I'm just gonna have fun watchin'."
The likelihood of Gabe running into one of the others before he made any real progress was also good enough that Billy-Ray was really kind of relaxed and entertained by the whole thing.
"Yeah, he mentioned a lunch-date," Billy-Ray nodded, grin back in place. "He mentioned a lunch-date a lot. Way I see it, I just did some poor girl a favour."
~~
"But the... clicking into place," Father O'Reilly mused. "Presumably, that only works for sorcerers." It sounded like more magic, after all.
It still hadn't quite hit him yet, what this meant, what he would now have to do in order to protect himself and Solomon. He knew it would. He could feel the realisation hovering just on the edge of his consciousness, knew that when it finally did settle into place that he might be left feeling numb and helpless all over again. The world had depths he'd never even been aware of, and stumbling into those deeper ones seemed to be permanent, whether or not he was actually capable of handling himself there.
He had to wonder how many sorcerers became sorcerers out of necessity, rather than any real desire to.
He looked up to ask if he had time to think this over, to come up with a meaningful name on his own, but the words died on the way out of his mouth. Solomon was staring into his tea, and the expression on his face was one that tugged at Father O'Reilly's heart. Exhaustion. Ancient exhaustion, from centuries of fighting against his fear. Grief. A deep sadness that, now Father O'Reilly was aware of it, seemed to radiate through the air and touch his own psyche.
Anything Father O'Reilly was currently feeling, Solomon Wreath would be feeling tenfold. The man had gone through so much life-altering change in the last couple of days that it was a wonder he was still standing. Father O'Reilly couldn't pretend to understand all of it, but he could imagine enough. Giving up your life's purpose permanently, telling a complete stranger more than he had probably told anyone in his life, becoming an object of interest and a personal project to a being whom Solomon hadn't even believed in before meeting them, face-to-face.
Stumbling into those deeper depths was permanent. And now Solomon was trying to escape its clutches, escape a lifetime, based on a few days' experience. The displacement Father O'Reilly now felt... it would be far, far worse for him.
Father O'Reilly looked at that expression, and he didn't need to understand all of the reasons behind it. He simply stood up, walked over, knelt down beside Solomon's chair, and gave him a hug.
no subject
So when Gabe reached into his own pocket for something, Billy-Ray tensed, stopping in the doorway to stay nice and out of potential harm's way. His eyes narrowed when it turned out to be nothing but a small piece of chalk.
Who in their right mind carried chalk on their person, like it might actually be useful? Further proof that Gabe wasn't in his right mind, obviously. Maybe he'd never even really had a right mind.
Billy-Ray scowled when the second mark was made high out of his considerably shortened reach, thanks to the jagged stomach wound. Not in his right mind, maybe, but no less clever. And even though Billy-Ray hadn't even been thinking about erasing the first one - honestly, this floundering was just making him chuckle - the deliberate jab was irritating. "I ain't gonna do anythin'," he informed Gabe. "No cheatin' from me. I'm just gonna have fun watchin'."
The likelihood of Gabe running into one of the others before he made any real progress was also good enough that Billy-Ray was really kind of relaxed and entertained by the whole thing.
"Yeah, he mentioned a lunch-date," Billy-Ray nodded, grin back in place. "He mentioned a lunch-date a lot. Way I see it, I just did some poor girl a favour."
~~
"But the... clicking into place," Father O'Reilly mused. "Presumably, that only works for sorcerers." It sounded like more magic, after all.
It still hadn't quite hit him yet, what this meant, what he would now have to do in order to protect himself and Solomon. He knew it would. He could feel the realisation hovering just on the edge of his consciousness, knew that when it finally did settle into place that he might be left feeling numb and helpless all over again. The world had depths he'd never even been aware of, and stumbling into those deeper ones seemed to be permanent, whether or not he was actually capable of handling himself there.
He had to wonder how many sorcerers became sorcerers out of necessity, rather than any real desire to.
He looked up to ask if he had time to think this over, to come up with a meaningful name on his own, but the words died on the way out of his mouth. Solomon was staring into his tea, and the expression on his face was one that tugged at Father O'Reilly's heart. Exhaustion. Ancient exhaustion, from centuries of fighting against his fear. Grief. A deep sadness that, now Father O'Reilly was aware of it, seemed to radiate through the air and touch his own psyche.
Anything Father O'Reilly was currently feeling, Solomon Wreath would be feeling tenfold. The man had gone through so much life-altering change in the last couple of days that it was a wonder he was still standing. Father O'Reilly couldn't pretend to understand all of it, but he could imagine enough. Giving up your life's purpose permanently, telling a complete stranger more than he had probably told anyone in his life, becoming an object of interest and a personal project to a being whom Solomon hadn't even believed in before meeting them, face-to-face.
Stumbling into those deeper depths was permanent. And now Solomon was trying to escape its clutches, escape a lifetime, based on a few days' experience. The displacement Father O'Reilly now felt... it would be far, far worse for him.
Father O'Reilly looked at that expression, and he didn't need to understand all of the reasons behind it. He simply stood up, walked over, knelt down beside Solomon's chair, and gave him a hug.