#a.interactions

[polcrity]

open starter || adam

with fall in full swing, the church is cold in the mornings. adam finds himself wishing that the old building had more adequate heating, but something about that feels a little... blasphemous? not that he could really say anything about sin nowadays. last night, he took to a bottle of tequila he’d stashed under his mattress---just a little one, the size of a flask, but it was enough to leave him waking up with a dry mouth and a headache.

on these days, he takes to doing the cleaning that no one seems to realize he does. in a small church, there are only so many people lining up to do the dusting. the vacuuming. the organizing of the bibles in the pockets on the backs of the pews. in his younger days, he would spend this time growing closer to the lord, deep in prayer until he was interrupted. 

now, when he hears the old doors creak, he’s just wondering what now?

“Hello.” he smiles tiredly, offering a little wave from a rows back. “Can I help you somehow?”

[polcrity]

closed starter || adam callaghan || kieran o’shea  / @wcldfire​

in a few days---or hell, maybe even hours---adam would not be able to explain to himself why he did it. it was an impulse decision made shortly after he dressed himself in not the typical black-on-black with a little white collar, but civilian clothes, as a friend in seminary had called them. the cab drive to north-coast had been spent sitting quietly, hands clasped in his lap, internally rehearsing exactly what he was going to say when kieran o’shea answered the door. 

the confidence remained as he walked through the lobby. it had been twelve years since he’d seen the man, and even then---did he really ever know him, beyond time spent together in adolescence? perhaps that was what made it so feel so easy to ask. 

 but as he finally did approach the door and he felt his knuckles knock knock against it, that comfortable confidence began to give way to a dangerous and all too familiar emotion: anger. 

[polcrity]

closed starter || @msqvinn​ || adam

these dinners are normally so nice. a relaxing little break from reality --- a moment to breathe easy and know that business won’t be a topic on the table. he couldn’t even try to argue that any o’shea treats him poorly, per se, but the underlying tension thickens the air any time he finds himself in a room with a family member. the irony of his church being the furthest thing from true sanctuary that he can imagine is not lost on him, by any means. 

his sanctuary --- ?? that would be the home of one aoife quinn. she is, perhaps, the closest thing to a mother, a sister, and a friend he has in this world --- wrapped into one package far better put together than adam could ever dream to be. except, tonight he feels that familiar tightness in his chest that comes along every sunday after mass, when only a choice few stray behind in the pews, discussing god knows what. and he knows it shows on his face, too. he’s never mastered the art of stoicism. 

it’s an uncomfortably long silence that finally forces him to speak his mind.

“Aoife --- “ it catches in his throat. 

“ --- Aoife, I think I’ve got to ask you something a little unpleasant.”

[polcrity]

manhandling symbol starters || @scvrpions​ 

✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) || adam 

a drunk priest and a prostitute are hulled up in a rectory ---- sounds like the start of a really bad joke, doesn’t it? adam has been stuck in bed for the last hour because he has felt something deep in his soul: if he stands up, he is not going to make it into the bathroom before his guts spill. the only thing keeping him sane is the knowledge that he is not entirely solitary in his room. he vaguely remembers sending some kind of urgent text---maybe i’m doing something stupid, come stop me or tell me not to go over to nick’s. 

“I think I should text him ------ so he knows I’m okay.” he had said suddenly, and very nearly sat up with enough force to send him reeling. but instead, her hands held him down, gentle and soft. 

“You’re right. That’s really stupid.”

[polcrity]

joker prompts x || @valarcna​ 

❛ ugh, why is everybody so upset about these guys? ❜ || Adam 

for a moment, the question hangs in the air while adam attempts to decipher whether she’s serious or not. the news still doesn’t have an accurate body count for the vasile party disaster, but any more than zero is enough to warrant a mass panic in his mind. the church had paid its dues and, more than likely, would hold several funerals for several o’sheas; but what did it all mean if nothing was going to change? 

perhaps he’s simply misunderstood her.

“Excuse me?”