“All he needs is a little affection.”
Silence falls after Jarl’s declaration. A deafening one. Worse than when he declared himself a priest to Áesta or when he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the Oak and told her why they were really travelling through her—through THEM.
This is a silence filled with more than just horror and fear.
It is one filled with betrayal, too.
~
They are brothers, in a way—all priests are.
They are more than just representatives.
They are all SONS of God.
And yet…
~
Mariti leaves soon after that.
His unclean dishes remain after Jarl promises to forward his apologies to Maria for leaving her the mess. Then, his next meals are bagged before he storms out of his own house like the hounds of Hell are after him.
Maybe they are.
Jarl is released, in the meantime, by the older man’s greenery and gently allowed, once again, to stand. Áesta’s black fades from the weaponized herbs as they shrink back to normal size and return to their pots. They’re greener, now, Jarl notes: shinier and more lively than he has ever seen herbs or plants of any kind.
It’s as though being touched by the evergreen daemon rejuvenated them more so than any fertilizer or sod.
Idly, the priest wonders if Áesta could have actually ended the famine that caused Mariti to summon him; and if there’s a reason he never brought it up. He doesn’t ask, though. It wouldn’t have changed anything: the source of the problem was the way that Áesta was fed, not the way he fulfilled his end of the deal. Mariti’s payment probably wouldn’t have changed even if Áesta ended the Great Irish Famine.
So, they say nothing: Áesta, Jarl, and the herbs.
But theirs is a quieter silence.
~
(Orange) Green eyes meet sky blue.
A pair of lips mouth thank you.
Hands clasp together shyly.
Two strides become one.
~
“Father Mariti sends his apologies: he was summoned and couldn’t clean his dishes before heading back in.”
Jarl watches Maria smile and wave the apology off, amused by this small difference between her and Sophie (because his own Head Nun would have glared icy death at him until he caved and cleaned his own dishes). “O, that’s fine. This happens plenty and I don’t really mind.” She leans back in her chair, allowing Áesta room to rejoin Manus on the bed, and turns more towards Jarl so that they can speak.
Instead, they both end up watching in mild surprise as Áesta runs to the bed and leaps onto it like a child.
“ACK!!!” Maria giggles as Manus is pounced on by his oldest friend whom laughs as they begin play fighting. They tumble across the mattress, limbs flailing, as a healthy color flushes the magician’s face and neck. Having been stripped almost bare upon arrival, Manus’ near naked body is almost indecently exposed; but Maria doesn’t seem bothered by the nearly nude male rolling around in the bed before her with another man. Rather, she seems happy and content that he’s regaining his strength and personal flare.
Jarl, still in the doorway, is happy about this too; still, he rolls his eyes at them and their childish antics before turning back to Maria, the only other stable mind here, and gets back to business.
“I was wondering if we could continue our previous conversation.”
~
“Of course! Whatever you need.”
Manus and Áesta pause on the bed as Jarl returns Maria’s smile and fully steps into the room. He doesn’t sit until Áesta pulls him down onto the bed; and then the three of them arrange themselves so they face Maria: Manus against the headboard, Jarl by his feet, and Áesta in between. “You said Jasey wanted to sail?”
Maria nods, “Yes, he wanted to take a ride in the canal.”
“And… did he?” Or rather: did the kidnapper actually allow him to.
Surprisingly, Bailenac’ringy’s Head Nun nods again, “Yes: that’s how they left.”
Jarl stares, surprised and yet not (he knows better than anyone how persuasive Jasey’s puppy eyes can be); “… Then that’s how we’ll leave, too.”
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