It was the amusement which alerted Gabe. It took a little while to reach critical enough mass for Gabriel to actually pinpoint its cause, but it happened--eventually. About the same point that Sanguine broke the silence, in fact.
"I ain't playin' I Spy with you," he said flatly as he turned around and walked right past Sanguine again, leaving a dash through each of his chalk marks as he went so he knew where he'd backtracked. Just in case. He headed for the cell in which they'd arrived and bypassed it, starting over and listening, as much as he could handle, to Sanguine's reaction.
He wasn't going to play I Spy with Sanguine. Playing I Spy was only for people Gabriel actually liked.
~~~
Solomon was only dimly aware of the time passing. Not aware enough to feel awkward over the span of it; the exhaustion was overtaking almost everything, even the hunger. O'Reilly's embrace was both comforting and not. Comforting, because while it wasn't paternal, it was ... caring. In a way Solomon had forgotten. Uncomfortable, for much the same reason. This was a man whose faith Solomon had always disdained.
Whose faith all sorcerers had always disdained.
Solomon had destroyed O'Reilly's concept of existence, and now the man was offering of himself without grudge--everything a man of God was meant to be.
When O'Reilly drew away, Solomon didn't comment, didn't move. He waited for the tears to stop, because only time could make them do so. When he felt as if he'd been drained dry, he found the handkerchief he'd remembered this morning (and then forgotten earlier) and wiped his cheeks. Distantly he was glad that O'Reilly gave him the space, but more closely, he wouldn't have cared if the man hadn't. His weariness was all-pervading.
Instead, while Father O'Reilly poured himself some juice, he picked up his lukewarm tea, the piece of cake he hadn't started, and cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
no subject
"I ain't playin' I Spy with you," he said flatly as he turned around and walked right past Sanguine again, leaving a dash through each of his chalk marks as he went so he knew where he'd backtracked. Just in case. He headed for the cell in which they'd arrived and bypassed it, starting over and listening, as much as he could handle, to Sanguine's reaction.
He wasn't going to play I Spy with Sanguine. Playing I Spy was only for people Gabriel actually liked.
~~~
Solomon was only dimly aware of the time passing. Not aware enough to feel awkward over the span of it; the exhaustion was overtaking almost everything, even the hunger. O'Reilly's embrace was both comforting and not. Comforting, because while it wasn't paternal, it was ... caring. In a way Solomon had forgotten. Uncomfortable, for much the same reason. This was a man whose faith Solomon had always disdained.
Whose faith all sorcerers had always disdained.
Solomon had destroyed O'Reilly's concept of existence, and now the man was offering of himself without grudge--everything a man of God was meant to be.
When O'Reilly drew away, Solomon didn't comment, didn't move. He waited for the tears to stop, because only time could make them do so. When he felt as if he'd been drained dry, he found the handkerchief he'd remembered this morning (and then forgotten earlier) and wiped his cheeks. Distantly he was glad that O'Reilly gave him the space, but more closely, he wouldn't have cared if the man hadn't. His weariness was all-pervading.
Instead, while Father O'Reilly poured himself some juice, he picked up his lukewarm tea, the piece of cake he hadn't started, and cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"