#with: declan

[francisraynier]

declancleary

[pm] They’re going to release me soon. But, how are you? What’s happened lately? The last thing I knew–well, someone broke that spell, I suppose.

[pm] I’m glad you’ll be home. 

Yes, the spell was broken. I don’t think anything major has happened since with the town. However... I was fired this morning.

[francisraynier]

[pm] Thank you for the gift.

[pm] You’re welcome. I hope you’re feeling better.

[francisraynier]

@declancleary

[pm] No. Well–I’m not dying. But, not. Not alright. Very far from alright.

I would love to do that, but they’re keeping me. Here. For a bit. In the hospital.

[pm] You’re still there?

I’m coming to see you.

[francisraynier]

[pm] Have you given thought to trying to eat black pudding to compromise in all this?

[pm] And having my steak extra rare.

[francisraynier]

[pm] [d: There is a species called vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv] [d: You're much better this way.]

[no message received]

[francisraynier]

[pm] How are you holding up?

[pm] I can’t be like this.

[francisraynier]

Blood Of The Covenant || Francis, Dorian & Declan

Francis had made the best of his sermon. He'd given thanks to everyone who had come and especially to those who had volunteered to take part in the festivities later. He'd crept outside for some air, swallowed through deep, labored breaths more than once before lunch time. He couldn't look at the stained glass windows, the decorative chalices, the Bibles, the crosses. Even being in the church made his head spin. But he had to make it through the day. The large back room was filled with donated foodstuffs and he gave everyone his best and most thankful smiles as they helped, doing his best to hide just how strange he felt, just how little like himself. Declan was coming by soon. Maybe that would make him feel better. For now, he would volunteer to help arrange the tables and chairs in the main hall. People were already beginning to move the heavy pews. Francis settled in next to a young, fit looking man, giving him a small nod as he helped. "Hi. I don't think I've seen you before. I'm Father Francis."

Dorian had a rough night and a rough morning. His night he could barely remember but the morning was all too familiar in his mind, waking up deep in the middle of god knows where. Laying naked on piles of dead cracked leaves, blood sticky around his mouth and body. Suppose if he human this would be mildly concerning, however; due to being more or less an animal. It was a typical monthly occurrence. Things normally went this way, he'd find his clothes walk home and pass out for the next twelve hours. But he wasn't feeling like his normal self. He threw up maybe six times since consuming meat the night before, literal whiskers sprouted from underneath the stubble on his face. And for some reason he felt like he needed to go help out at the church for thanksgiving? The least a werewolf could do after probably killing people last night right? After situating himself at home and painfully cutting off the dumb whiskers that kept growing back each morning. He found clothes that didn't smell like blood and headed down to the church. Not a place he would normally hangout at since he wasn't ever really religious. Dorian found himself helping people out when someone made his way over to him, "Hello father" ​father?​ Was he supposed to call him that. That's what they did in movies, "I'm Dorian...Muirgel. Thought I'd come help out."

Declan had agreed to come by and assist at the church. He felt no connection to the holiday or the religion, but it was doing something, and he needed that. And he'd get to see Francis, which probably wouldn't go too terribly well because he looked like he was on death's doorstep, or maybe inside its foyer, but he was starting to feel better. Maybe he hadn't told him when he'd felt worse, but now he was feeling better. And that was all that mattered. He was bundled up tight in one of the scarves Lupita had made for him, and the coat she'd given him as well. Something had happened, and she hated him, but he missed her horribly. Distraction would help, helping at the church, going to dinner at Regan's apartment. It would help. He jogged forward the moment he saw Francis, head ducked and hands buried in his pockets, trying not to interrupt him from his conversation.

Francis was relieved to know that the young man looked as rough as Francis felt. In a strange way, it made him feel as though he wasn't alone. He gave a small smile in greeting. The scraping of the pews and chairs on the floor made his head feel like it was being cleaved in two. He could distinctly smell everyone's individual cologne, knew whether or not they had a dog or cat or hamster just by walking past them. "Just Francis is fine," he said. "Thank you for coming, Dorian. We appreciate every bit of help." He caught Declan's eye across the room and gave him a small smile before signalling to Dorian for them to lift the pew together. One, two, three. Lift. Even with as much training as Francis had been doing recently, the thing shouldn't have come off the ground that easily. He could barely feel the weight of it, and in the surprise, it almost slipped from his hands. But he pulled himself together, carrying it over to the wall with the others.

Dorian wasn't in his right state, however he could catch a scent of Lupita lingering on the man who had caught the fathers attention upon entering. Deciding to pay no mind to him, Dorian instead focused on the Priest who had made it his duty to see that he was being thanked for coming to help out. Due to the lingering days after the full moon Dorian still had quite a bit of strength, it seemed as though Francis was lifting the pew a lot more easily than Dorian. Which normally wouldn't have caught the attention of the werewolf if he himself wasn't struggling. Helping Francis carry it to the wall and place it down, running his fingers through his hair to push it out of his face with a slight grin of victory, "Pffft easy, you alright there, Father?" returning his attention back to the much older man, cocking an eyebrow. He didn't smell like anything other than a human. Maybe the man was just ripped under that suit.

Declan didn't think he'd be able to manage anything like what the two men were doing, hauling the heavy wooden pews around. He followed them, waiting patiently a step back as they settled the heavy thing down. The pair of them looked nearly as exhausted as he knew he did, which caught his interest, but Francis seemed to be having no trouble at all carrying heavy weight in spite of it. Odd. "Hello. Francis." He cleared his throat, hesitated, and then held a hand out toward the man he didn't know. "Ahh, I'm Declan."

Everything felt like it was going to hell. Or perhaps it felt like ​Francis​ was already there. He couldn't be too sure. But seeing Declan made him more at ease. "I'm really glad you could make it," he said, his words painfully sincere. "Dorian's been helping as well. Once all these are out of the way, we'll be setting up the tables and chairs so everyone can eat. People should be arriving about two." He'd spoken to a few shelters in the area to get an idea of numbers and most of the church regulars had donated something to the cause, whether it food or time or money. "This one too?" he asked, moving toward the next pew to lift it, steadying himself to be ready for his strength. Blood pounded in his ears, and it wasn't his own. He could hear Declan's heart beating, feel the bloody warmth of Dorian's body. He took a breath, doing his best to focus.

"Dorian," he greeted taking Declan's hand in a firm shake and flashing an easy toothy smile, realizing that he's probably just seen him around town at some point, however he definitely smelled strongly of Lupita now that he was close. ​Dorian​ wasn't about to risk saying anything. Looking around the building once promptly pulling his hand away, seeing a few more pews that needed to be moved, looking to the one that Francis pointed out, "Oh yeah sure," he went to one side to lift it up. Hand slipping underneath it hitting a piece of wood that had been sticking out, his hand cut right down the palm, "fuck," he seethed pulling his hand up to look at the damage. A thin line of crimson seeping out from the cut.

Declan shook Dorian's hand as firmly as he could, which wasn't very, and offered him a smile that was sincere but faint. "Nice to meet you." He followed Francis toward the next pew they planned on moving, eyeing the calculated stiffness in Francis' posture and the discomfort on his brow. He would have asked about it if, in the next moment, Dorian hadn't cried out in pain. "Are you alright?

Francis glared at Dorian. The blood on his palm sang to him, its scent reaching out to grab him by the throat. It was nauseatingly good. He wanted it. No, he ​needed​ it. He let the pew fall to the ground as he lunged for the man, gripping his wrist and drawing Dorian's hand toward him. Hunger surged in his stomach. The bacon sandwich from earlier had done nothing to ease it, but this, yes, this was the stuff. His teeth sank into Dorian's hand and sapped the nectar, a longing in his chest finally requited.

With everything that was going on, perhaps ​Dorian​ should have expected this. Blood dripping from his palm, looking to Declan to explain that he was fine, but he couldn't get a word out before Francis had pounced at him he could feel his fangs sinking into his hand within seconds and that's when he started to freak out. No way this man was a vampire, he worked in a fucking church for ​gods​ fucks sake. "Get away from me," Dorian growled trying to get a good grip Francis to do some harm to him, such as a nice clean punch in the gut with his free hand.

Declan didn't have the energy to panic. Francis had dived for the blood on Dorian's hand, and then his mouth was wrapped around it. The vampire hunting priest could finally be cracking up, or something else could be happening--but either way it had to stop, and it had to stop before everyone in the building had noticed. Dashing forward to them, Declan balled a fist and made a snap decision, crashing it into Francis' cheek to startle his mouth open again. If possible. He wrapped his arm very tightly around the man's middle and tried to hold him hunched down, staring into Dorian's face. "You should go. Now, please. And, if you could... keep this experience to yourself for the time being, I would appreciate it."

Of course ​Dorian​ didn't have to be told twice, he wasn't much for trifling with vampires, especially Father vampires who apparently were cool with being around the church and everything holy, "Don't worry I wont tell anyone...just uh. Keep him under control?" They were both lucky that Dorian wasn't feeling himself. If it had been any other day he would have wolfed out and tore out the mans throat. And Dorian left. He didn't want to come out anyways, perhaps this was a sign for him to go back to sleep. Good plan.

People were staring. ​Kill them all​, something inside him whispered, and ​Francis​ struggled against Declan's grip, trying to fight to his feet, fight toward Dorian. "Get off me," he grunted, licking the blood on his lips. It was so sweet, so moreish. And yet he felt sick. "I've got to... get... up." He managed to wriggle his way free, rushing past the onlookers who were chattering amongst themselves. "So sorry... Not feeling well..." he mumbled as he pushed past Father Ortiz and out the back door. Declan was on his heels. His breaths were shaky, his heart pounding. He lifted his hands to his mouth, touching the blood. His teeth. Were they--? Declan appeared behind him and Francis lifted his head, tears of desperation mixing with the blood on his face. "I think something's happened to me. I need... I need help."

Declan could only hope that the people who had seen hadn't seen enough to understand. In the moment, with how tired he was, he found his mind clear. Whatever was wrong with him, what was wrong with Francis was worse. He dashed after him, pausing only for a moment in front of the man who must have been another priest. "Fr--Father Francis is very ill, I think, I'm going to make sure he gets home safely. Very sorry." He sprinted out the door, stopping when it slammed shut behind him and he was within reach of Francis. "I know." Reaching up, he cupped the man's face and smeared as much of the blood away as he could with the sleeve of his shirt beneath his jacket. He could go home and change that. "I'll get you help. But first you need to get indoors and stay there. Understand?"

[francisraynier]

[pm] Has Lupita come to you yet?

[pm] Non.