“Do we really need to do this?”
“Do ye really need ta shave yer beard?”
“It’s a goatee, not a beard; and that’s not the same.”
“It is hwen we’re cuddlin’; now get ye inta bed, Earl.”
~
Jarl sighs as he lays down in Mariti’s second guest bedroom.
He hadn’t planned on spending the night here, truth be told. Initially, they were going to leave (Áesta, too) once Manus recovered from his cold. Sure, that might have been harsh or idealistic, it taking less than a day for the mage to recover—but that was before Jarl realized the magician had almost gotten hypothermia.
After that, he silently agreed to staying longer—for safety.
But then Mariti’s history with Áesta hit the fan and, suddenly, his home no longer felt safe enough to regroup in. It still doesn’t. Never mind the fact that Mariti once sexually assaulted Áesta over a brainwashing deal (regardless of what the other priest says, Jarl still thinks that’s what it really was—forget convince) gone bad: Bailenac’ringy’s priest both insists he did nothing wrong and holds a grudge against Áesta for cursing him.
And, sure, Jarl would be pissed about getting cursed, too; but Mariti actually DESERVES to be cursed.
It’s divine justice—of a sorts (since Áesta IS a daemon, not… exactly divine… then again… The Fallen?)—and Jarl still thinks God would actually approve of it. Especially since the man is so unapologetic.
The way he TALKED about and TO Áesta that afternoon…
Jarl wants to ring his neck…
~
“Would it be t’at bad if ‘e were?”
Jarl frowns as he remembers Áesta’s reply to Maria’s question. It had bothered him when he first heard it and still bothers him now as he lays with the daemon that uttered it. Would it matter? Why? It sounds like… “Why did you answer like that?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you ask her if it would matter—if it would be BAD—if he were a witch???” It doesn’t make sense. Why question it? Why confirm what you already know???
“… T’ree reasons.”
Jarl gapes. “Wha—THREE???”
WHY???
“One: Ye ‘umans ar’ always changin’. Some o’ ye don’t care any long’r ‘bout witches an’ magic—in fact, t’ere’re people out t’ere t’at t’ink t’ere’re COOL. If t’at were t’e case ‘ere, t’ere’d be no point in me curse: none o’ t’e parishion’rs would run t’e focar out an’ ‘e’d be able ta grow comf’terble ‘ere.
“Ah had ta make sure it’d still work.
“Two: as Head Nun, Maria’s t’e closest t’is place knows ta a second in command. If she ain’t willin’ ta go against Mariti, t’en no one else in t’e parish will be. Ah had ta confirm t’at she’d lead t’e army.”
“… And third…?”
“Three: you. Ye could o’ changed yer mind, or hers, because Mariti IS a fellow priest. Ye could o’ argued against me or Maria an’ protected Mariti from us—from ME. Ye could o’ betrayed me fer yer fellow fat’er—or simply talk us bot’ down from it. Ye could o’ convinced me t’at t’e man no longer deserved ta be punished.
“Ah had ta be sure ye were on me side.
“Because, honestly, Ah’m on yers. And t’e fact t’at ye’d been willin’ ta fight yer fellow priest fer me earlier… Priests usually pick each ot’er ov’r me—all t’e ones t’at summoned me befer ye did and Ah t’ought ye’d be… Earlier, ye said t’at ye couldn’t risk me not bein’ me. Well… Ah couldn’t risk ye not being… ye.”
Jarl remained silent after that, flabbergasted.
It took them a long time to sleep.
(And Áesta didn’t really eat.)
~
“Of course, it’d be bad!!!
“Witches are a disaster! Powers of deception, bringers of destruction… worshipers of the DEVIL!
It’s bad enough havin’ them in the parish—to have our PRIEST be one, too—!!!
“… But I have to be sure… It’d be too dangerous to ACT without being SURE.”
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