Christmas Dinner

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It was an inevitable problem. If she was going to be trapped here, and apparently she was, she was going to have to eat. She could go surprisingly long without eating, and she'd had a squirrel-like creature at one point, but it hadn't sated her. Not even close. She could feel herself getting weaker, losing the finesse of her transformation. She'd never been Hungry before, but she had heard the rumors, heard what it was like. She would much rather avoid getting to that extreme.

The problem was not knowing anyone, she'd never had to fend on her own before. The local Coven kept her fed, they all had a department of Blood Clan for that exact purpose. And besides she had never been any good at blood magic.

But there was someone in this strange new town, this 'Weyrd' she'd heard it called, that was skilled. Or at least smelled skilled. And that was why the snowy owl looped around the Weyrd in the mellow, midnight air. The thing about priests, she had learned, was that they were somewhat predictable, at least with their locale. Though it took some searching, it was a large and confusing place after all, ultimately she found the building that could most accurately be described as Church-Like.

The woman hit the ground in stride, letting herself in through the great doors, Churches were public places after all, and trudging up the aisle. She had abandoned her business suit for something more casual that she had found, comfortable black pant sand shear shirt that revealed her tattoos, her hair pulled up to reveal the brightly dyed underside. She was too single-minded at the moment to really think about how varied the statues lining the place were.

"@padre?" She called out as she reached the pulpit.

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It had been a long day. Apparently goblins and hobgoblins were not the same thing and very much did not get along. As you can imagine then, they also very much did not like that their individual gods were placed next to each other no matter how similar they looked. The amount of broken glass and spilt waxed, the priest sighed. If he had to see either a goblin or hobgoblin again it’d be too soon.

Thankfully, the night was turning out to be quiet. Aside from a few old cranes— yes, cranes not crones— that had dropped off, well, something made of reeds, the priest wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be exactly. He couldn’t imagine cranes being the most dexterous crafters, after all. But anyway, the point as there hadn’t been a peep for hours. And he was going to take advantage of that with a wild and crazy night of relaxation.

Clarence took off his vestments, set a kettle on the stove, lit a few candles, and settled in for some light reading. If you could call a book about pagan underworlds written entirely in ancient Greek light.

Of course, as fate would have it, the silence didn’t last very long once he tried to enjoy it. Who the hell was looking for him this late? With no shortage of cursing, he slammed his book shut and trudged to the door that led from the rectory to the church proper. “Coming, my child,” he yelled on his way, hesitating only to shove his arms into a dark cardigan that was hanging up by the door, “Com-”

“Oh. Alice,” you could say he was a little surprised by who he saw on the other side of the door. The sight of the woman's tattoos made him pull his sweater a little closer around his body, “What can I help you with at this hour?”

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Alice couldn't help but giggle to herself as the faint sounds of swearing and thumping could be heard. She hadn't meant to disturb the priest, but there was something inherently hilarious to her about just how un-priestly Faith Clan could be. She stood there looking bemused as he made his way out into the to where she was waiting.

He seemed surprised by her presence, which she found little bit curious, but that was gone as soon as he adjusted his sweater. Instinctively Alice stood a little taller, seeming to puff herself out like a bird displaying it's plumage, only instead of feathers she had tattoos. Perhaps Father Clarence was younger than she had originally anticipated? Regardless he seemed overall rather more well fed than she did, and she wasn't going to question his age. It was rude. Maybe it was a little odd to hide tattoos like that but it wasn't like she was going to call him on it.

Instead she offered a still-bemused smile, "Hello!" She responded cheerfully, before cutting to the chase.

"I-" She held her arms out with ironic and unnecessary melodrama, "-am absolutely famished. Got anything to eat?"

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Well.

That was not the answer he was expecting.

For one thing, in his experience people normally weren’t so cheerful to be in a church. For another, there were definitely actual establishments to eat at in this weyrd place. You know, like restaurants. Markets. Things of that nature. Though the priest supposed they were all probably closed by now. It was pretty late after all. And churches were always open to some degree.

“I was just fixing myself a cup of tea, if you’d like some? And I’m sure I’ve got something around that you could eat.”

What was he supposed to do? Kick her out? He was a priest after all. And besides, he’d decided he liked Alice already. She was one of the most sane and normal people he’d met here so far.

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Sure there were establishments that served food, but they didn't typically serve the kind of food that Alice ate. Which was, you know, the problem. She had a pretty narrow range of substances that she needed to consume, y'know?

So when he offered her tea and food Alice absolutely lit up. "That sounds amazing." She agreed, taking a few steps towards the priest but waiting for him to lead the way. She didn't want to intrude on his personal space or anything, but she hadn't been kidding about being famished. She was more than a little eager to get some real sustenance into her, she just wasn't used to going this long without eating. Not even when she'd traveled the wilderness. But she just didn't know what was or wasn't safe to eat around here in the faewild, and she'd rather play it safe.

"You know, this place smells volcanic, it really doesn't have any right to be this cold." She commented, eying his cardigan. Just because she wasn't going to call him out on covering didn't mean she wasn't going to make a slightly passive-agressive comment, okay? She was a nosy, curious woman after all.

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“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he gestured towards the door he’d come out of before taking a few steps in the opposite direction, toward the front door of the church, “Let me just lock up.”

He wanted to enjoy his tea without interruptions thank you very much. Especially now that he had company. It’d be a little tiresome if he had to keep getting up and dealing with late night parishioners while he was already trying to have polite conversation. Besides, it was probably about time he locked up for the night. The front room of the building stayed open, of course. But the priest made quick work of closing the doors to the narthex and setting all the locks and bolts in their places, explaining as he went, “There’s a door that leads outside inside the rectory.”

“It’s warmer in there, too. Tends to get drafty out here,” and he wasn’t wrong. Though it probably felt nice if the church was packed for a service. Of course, he’d missed the intention of Alice’s statement entirely.

“Well, come on in then,” he paused to wave her along as he disappeared back inside the rectory from whence he came.

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Alice was pretty sure he knew the words he was saying, but it had been a long time since she'd last stayed in a church. Still, she waited politely for her host to finish locking up, she wasn't a complete barbarian after all. "Yeah, I find churches in general tend to do that, never was very fond of them. Everything from the Vatican to a one-room church in the sahara is just inexplicably cold. What's with that?" She asked casually, not really expecting an answer but hey maybe he had something. Or maybe it was a Clan secret and she wasn't allowed to know. She didn't really care that much it just seemed like friendly small-talk. If she was going to be in this guys house eating his food then she was going to chat with him and be social, damnit.

Sometimes it was just nice to be social with her own kind.

"I hope I'm not imposing too much. I just have not had any luck finding anything to eat, you know?" She shrugged, following him into the rectory.

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“I unfortunately am a priest and not an architect,” Clarence laughed lightly at his own bad joke, clearly keen enough on making friendly small talk himself as well. Though honestly, he’d like to know the actually answer to that question himself. The only time he’d ever been in a church that was warm was in Easter or Christmas when every mass was packed well beyond capacity with all the people making their obligatory twice a year holy day appearance.

When Alice more or less apologizes for imposing, the priest gave her an almost mechanical response with a nearly upsettingly practiced smile, “The Church is always open.” It was kind of creepy, tee bee h. But part of that might’ve been that this priest wasn’t always so priestly, especially since winding up here. Not that he’d even been here that long but a person tended to lose seriousness pretty quickly in a place this nonsensical.

But uhhh she couldn’t find anything to eat? That was mildly concerning. If she was that picky of an eater, Clarence didn’t know if he could help her. Along with not being an architect, he was also not a chef. “Yes, well, I’ve noticed there are a lot of strange, ah, delicacies here. I find myself craving a cup of American coffee in the mornings usually. Nothing quite like it here unfortunately.”

Something, presumably the kettle, whistled from deeper in the rectory. “Hold on I’ll be right back!” The priest slipped down a hallway, leaving Alice in what honestly looked like there was no way it could possibly be attached to the church proper. It was so much... homier.

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When Father Clarence grinned, Alice just laughed. A genuine, polite kind of laugh. This guy was good. She hadn't seen a smile like that since she'd done shots with Pope Paul. She still couldn't remember what he said exactly, but it had put her under the table laughing so hard.

Man Giovanni could drink. She missed him, he was the best part of her stay in the Vatican. Just remembering the man left her chuckling as she followed after him into the surprisingly cozy living space he had set up for himself. "I would kill a man for a good cup of coffee." She agreed as she absently glanced around the room, taking it in. A younger Alice might have taken one look at the place and moved right it, in was better than where she was staying, but this Alice didn't want to impose on her meal ticket too much. Yet. What? How do you think she got so cozy with Jack so quick?

Before she could follow the train of thought too much the kettle was whistling and her host was disappearing off towards the sound. Alice shrugged and pretty well did as she was told, taking off her shoes and settling on the couch, feet tucked under her. She was content to sit and wait for him to return, but well... curiosity was apparently a bug that had taken rather strong hold of Alice.

The priest had been reading when she'd called his name. And it didn't take long to find just what he had been reading. Gently she picked up the book, taking in the subject matter with more than mild interest, and flipped it open to skim while she waited for him to return.

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In another life, Clarence probably would’ve made an excellent waiter based on the way he was carrying a hot kettle in one hand and balancing two tea cup and saucers on top of a box in the other. He slid the box down carefully onto the coffee table in front of Alice, no doubt where she’d picked the book up from, and took the two cups off of it to neatly set them up.

“Wasn’t sure what kind of tea you’d like so I just brought all of it,” Clarence gestured to the box, which upon closer inspection was actually a wooden tea chest. He had a surprising variety for a priest, that’s for sure. Looked more like something that should’ve belonged to that nice old lady in the neighborhood that everyone thought was a witch.

“While it’s steeping, I’ll- wait.”

He’d finally noticed that she’d picked up the book he’d left sitting out. Thankfully it wasn’t anything incriminating, because it looked like Alice was reading it. Not just flipping through and looking at the funny shaped letters and pictures but actually reading.

“You can read ancient Greek?”

He looked incredulous. Slightly wounded that he didn’t know before this, but mostly incredulous AF.

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Alice looked up when her host rejoined her, and while his carrying of tea-things was probably quite impressive, she didn’t even seem to notice really. “Oh, wow. Thanks!” She kept her finger in the book as she leaned over towards the tea chest to scan through what he had, oblivious to the fact that he seemed to stop in the middle of what he was doing.

When he asked her, incredulously, if she could actually read ancient greek she finally seemed to notice that something was wrong. And, in fact, from her wrinkled brow and look of hurt confusion she was actually quite offended by the question.

“Well… of course I read ancient greek? Why wouldn’t I?” She frowned at him, almost completely forgetting the tea in the process. “You don’t live this long without learning ancient greek. I worked in the Vatican for a little bit!” She pointed out. Not really that she expected him to know that she had worked in the Vatican, because she didn’t recognize him and Alice was pretty good with faces, but because if he was young like she thought he was, then he really should have known better than to ask that question.

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Why wouldn’t she read ancient Greek? Well, most people didn’t read ancient Greek. Live this long? She looked like she was in her twenties. And she sure as hell didn’t look like anyone that worked in the Vatican expect maybe at a gift shop outside the city. Something was Not Right™.

The priest frowned, partially at the not rightness that was going on and partially at the fact he didn’t have a coaster or anything to set the tea kettle down on and he very logically didn’t want to ruin the finish of his coffee table. He momentarily debated leaving his cardigan, the most convenient thing he could think of to put under the kettle, on, but it seemed like Alice was likely insane and he could definitely exploit that if she went around accusing him of anything.

Wordlessly, and as dignified as he could with only one hand, Clarence wriggled out of his sweater and folded it neatly on the table before setting the kettle down on it. Dark, decidedly not priest-like lines traced around his upper arms, at least as far as could be seen between his elbow and the short sleeve of his cotton tee. There was a reason no one had ever seen him in short sleeves, after all.

He sunk into a chair, the chair he’d been sitting in before being interrupted, that faced the table. He fished out an herbal blend from his tea chest and poured the hot water over it in his cup all before finally saying anything.

“Latin as well then, I presume?”

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Alice was very confused by her hosts sudden silence, and it very clearly showed on her face. It wasn't that weird to speak Greek, the archives were in all sorts of different languages at the Vatican, especially old ones, so of course she spoke it. She spoke a lot of things, and many of them were weirder than speaking ancient greek. Why on earth would he be offended by that?

She was so wrapped up in her confusion she didn't even really register that he was taking off his sweater, or that he was using it as an impromptu coaster. If she had actually been thinking she would have asked where he kept them and gone to get one. She wasn't rude, after all. But she was quite wrapped up in her confusion and so it didn't even occur to her.

Why would he be so offended that she read ancient greek? Sure he read it, or he wouldn't have been reading this book?

It wasn't until he spoke that she snapped out of it, "Of course." She responded in clear, fluent latin. Maybe he didn't believe her?

That was when the tattoos finally registered. Her confusion only deepened immensely. If Alice's mouth was slower than her head she would have realized that now was probably a good time to shut up.

"Okay this is super rude and I apologize but, like... just how old are you?"

Alice's mouth was much faster than her brain.

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The priest was flabbergasted. More at the woman's question than her response in Latin. If should could read one of the classics, it made sense she could read the other. She sounded like the stogy old bishops he knew. This was ridiculous. Did he need to go try and summon his degrees from home just to prove he was perfectly capable and qualified to do his job? He clenched his hands into a fist in his lap, causing the visible moon phases and seals to bulge briefly.

"I'm old enough, thank you," he replied much colder and detached than he'd intended.

ooc| short post is short dont kill me

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Okay this was just getting a little weird. She was pretty sure that everything had been fine and now he was all grumpy? Had she offended him? Surely he spoke the same languages? He was Faith Clan for christ sake and with tattoos like that he had definitely been around long enough to learn. Alice shifted, setting the book down, completely forgetting she had been holding her place in it with a finger.

“Right… right… Give if you want to get I suppose, right?” She kept her tune cheerful, friendly, and lightly confused even if she was starting to feel like her host very much didn’t want her hear anymore. Which seemed very sudden in light of everything else. “Seventy for me, give or take a few. You know how it is.” Maybe if she was willing to share her own age he might be willing to give her a little bit more?

“Okay this is silly, I’m really confused. Did I offend you in some way? I’d like to apologize, if I did.”

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The priest sighed. He shouldn’t have taken out his frustrations with the bishops (and cardinals and pretty much everyone higher up int the church hierarchy) out on Alice because how was she supposed to know. “Sorry. It’s just a touchy subject. I’m always getting accused of not being qualified or as knowledgeable as I am because I look young. But I’m not and I’ve got enough degrees coming out of my ass to prove it,” he laughed a little to try and lighten the mood. I mean, she said she was seventy so clearly she was trying to do the same thing.

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Alice laughed, not a rude mocking sound but a sympathetic and jovial noise. “Oh god isn’t that the truth! Some of those bastards can be so stuffy.” Alice shrugged, going back to the teabox and picking out a fairly simple earl grey blend, something she knew she liked and didn’t really have to think about. “Especially the ones on the outs you know? Like they deserve it but goddamn it’s ridiculous sometimes. Can’t even tell them off properly. That’s why I ended up leaving.” She took her tea and leaned back against the couch, settling herself back where she was comfortable, hands wrapped around the warm mug.

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“Oh god, not being in the clergy you don’t even know the half of it,” Clarence relaxed back into his chair, picking up his mug, “I was in Rome for a week before I ended up here. It was exhausting.”

He rubbed his left arm ruefully, “I think I’ve got a frozen pizza. Want me to throw that in?”

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“Oh yeah, there’s a reason I stayed out of the politics, I was a glorified librarian while I was there. Great for picking up languages and the occasional drinking escapades but not exactly enough to catch anyones attention. Well, except Giovanni, that man could put anyone under the table.” She was quite pleased she hadn’t outright insulted her host in some way, that would have been far from her intent. She would keep in mind not to touch on that nerve again any time soon.

Fortunately he gave her a distraction.

“Oh my god a genuine pizza? I would kill a man for one of those. Stacie couldn’t stand the smell, wouldn’t let me have them in the office.”

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Librarian, gift shop employee, close enough. The explanation at least reconciled the disconnect the priest had between Alice’s appearance and the generally conservative appearance of the church.

But pizza.

“I can’t promise it’s genuine. It is frozen after all, and I’m not sure I trust the marketplaces here. However,” Clarence mused, “It’s probably as close to genuine pizza as we’re going to get here.”

“I can give you a tour while it’s cooking if you’d like?” People usually liked tours of churches and rectories. He wasn’t ever sure why. But like, they did. They were always asking for them, especially when Sunday school was in session. He shuddered mentally at the memories.