St. Bree’s Catholic Church is on the other side of Olecastle, about 500 meters east of the hotel.
Jarl has to pass through the whole town in order to get there. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be an issue; but hunger makes a beast out of anything, including a polite priest. Shantown’s own huffs slightly to himself while passing by both the local bar (almost directly across the street from the hotel’s, oddly enough… impractical, if you ask Jarl; then again, Caffeine Bar is a pretty good name and the smell of coffee from it… providing that Jarl could afford it [they ARE budgeting, after all], he might actually pick this over the other) and the corner store (rather cleverly named Corner Castle), trying to ignore his stomach grumbling.
Those greedy flirts definitely tricked him when they convinced him to wait until he got to the church…!
Never the matter: if the priest here is anything like him, he’ll be having the last laugh, so to speak.
~
Olecastle’s church is a large, two-story building with a single, four-story tower.
A combination of rough-hewn and smoothly cut stones form the body of the house, giving it a multicolored-gray skin with heavy textures and smooth columns with pockmarks. The windows are tall with acute arches, doubling up along the length of the walls and the higher levels of the tower but remaining single at its base, roof, and on either side of the entrance; which, itself, boasts another, much larger, acute arch window—approximately five of the previous, smaller, ones in length and almost twice as tall—with circular clovers nestled into its crown. Most of the windows are plain casements with only horizontal panes (sans the clovers) but all of them are stain glass depicting famous bible passages, local saints (St. Bree), and religious symbols.
And all of it is hung under a light green (possibly originally bronze), smooth shingled roof.
(Or roofS, if one counts the tower’s separately.)
Standing outside the church, at a distance and by the stairs allowing you to ascend to the level of the church, is a statue of the saint, herself, made of relatively well-kept ivory. The top of her coif or head is slightly green with weathering (it’s probably difficult for them to reach that far when cleaning or rehydrating it) and moss.
In her hands is the cross-bearing orb.
Jarl bows to it—the symbol and the statue, both—after ascending the stairs and murmuring a quick prayer. It’s for himself, Jasey, Manus, and even Áesta returning home, safe and sound.
Although, what counts as Áesta’s home…
Yet another thing to ask him.
~
The entrance to the church (id est: the doors) is a vibrant red.
Under normal circumstances, these doors would be left open: wide and welcoming to those of all kinds (discoloration and erosion on the hinge jambs and hinge margins of both doors tells Jarl this; his own church’s doors have a similar problem and both he and Sophie have been saving up to get them repaired or changed). Due to the winter weather, however, St. Bree’s doors are closed to preserve the church’s heat.
And what a heat it is.
Jarl sighs and shivers as he steps inside the town’s house of God and hurriedly closes the door behind him. After nearly ten minutes in snow, the out-of-town priest savors the sensation of his skin tingling and prickling as the warmth of the building envelops him and gives him feeling back in his limbs, from fingers to toes.
He might need new gloves soon; he really shouldn’t be this cold.
Then again, he muses as he turns around and gazes down the perfectly aligned pews, it could be the town: architecturally, the whole place is situated so the southwest winds blow straight up through the main road. That means that you’re always faced with windchill no matter where you go, here (unless it’s behind a wall).
That also explains why his clothing, normally adapt at keeping him warm, suddenly failed to here.
(Still something to keep in mind—and what if Jasey got cold, here, too? O, dear…)
Trying to ignore the sudden worry that Jasey caught himself a cold (perhaps he can ask Oak about that, too?), the brunette removes his gloves—allowing the warm air to directly interact with his fingers, now—and meanders down the length of the church, taking in the comforting scenery and smells.
~
“Well, this is a surprise…”
Jarl looks up, somewhat startled, as another brunette man joins him in the church. He’s tall with an olive tan and dark brown hair practically everywhere. Hazel green eyes greet him like a summer morning, hanging over a warm smile and a clerical collar partially obscured by a shockingly thick beard. Olecastle’s priest looks fit under his habits—about as much as Jarl is, anyway—and only slightly older than his fellow, too.
But… he looks…
“Are you Jewish???” Jarl blurts it out before he can stop himself and immediately blushes in shame.
He goes to correct himself, or at least apologize, when the local priest stops him with a loud belly laugh, “Hebrew; born, not raised; my mother was Jewish but I learned Christianity from my father and liked it.”
“O-oh… Still, that was so rude of me, I’m sorry.” Jarl bows slightly in added apology, face still red and hot.
The darker brunette only grins: “It’s alright; honestly, I get it all the time.”
Relaxing slightly—knowing, now, he’s not alone—Jarl smiles back and joins the older man by the front altar. “I’m Jarl of Shantown. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out for a handshake and finds himself surprised by the rough firmness of the other’s; is this what people think when shaking his own callused ones?
“The pleasure is all mine, Jarl, I assure you.
“I’m Judas and welcome to St. Bree’s!”
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