Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Gideon Fitzgerald, the 34 year old Lay Missionary originally from New Orleans, LA. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're resolute and self-righteous, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something… ― Josh O'Connor, gay (closeted), cis male, and he/him.
His mother was an unwed teen who died in childbirth
He was always meant to be put up for adoption so his mother didn't disclose who the father and took that, as well as other secrets, to the grave.
Gideon spent the majority of his youth in a catholic orphanage
After his powers started to manifest he hid them for fear of what might happen to him if anyone found out. They also scared him and he worried he was cursed. He tried to pray the powers away but he would still accidentally use them.
A groundskeepers observed him healing dying flowers and soon adopted the young boy. He said he and his wife had always wanted kids.
Gideon would soon find that the groundskeeper and his wife had other plans. They forced him to show his powers and started to promote him as a faith healer around small towns. Exploiting him, and others, for money.
He didn't fully understand how his powers worked and he hated using them. He felt they were a gift from the devil. Not God. He also couldn't heal cancer or major ailments. So he was often forced to lie about his skills and give false hope.
Gideon ran away shortly before his 17th birthday
Despite being against using his powers, he doesn't realize that he uses them every day. Each time he prays, he's casting a protection spell.
He never stays in one place for too long. He's always traveling. Helping out at churches. Offering religious support. All of his stuff can fit into a suitcase and when people start asking too many questions he's gone.
Gideon is deep in the closet. So much that he won't even acknowledge his feelings. Choosing instead to give himself to his religion.
He's very sensitive to the presence of dark magic. He has, over they years, accidentally finetuned himself to be more observant of dark magic as he is so afraid of the bad feeling that he often brings it up in prayers.
Gideon is not a malicious man. But he couldn't be called friendly either. He's highly guarded and keeps walls up. Judgmental at times, but ultimately believes he isn't the one that should be casting it. He can be easily described as rather "off-putting" by those who have met him.
He's only been in town a short time. Needless to say, he's overcome with feelings about the dark forces in Cardinal Hill.
Location: Outside of Cardinal Hill Chapel
Starter for @cardinalstart
"Hey! Can you do me a favor? Tell me if this looks straight?" Will called from the top of the Chapel down to whoever was walking past as he strung up a new banner to announce the Chapel's food and clothing drive for the holidays. It was one of his favorite times of the year, even if it was one of the busiest. But he liked to know he was giving back and especially now, he wanted to be there for his community as much as possible. "What do you think? If it's even a little bit droopy, Sister Helen isn't gonna let me hear the end of it when she comes for mass this Sunday. And she has a mean stare," he told them as he shivered at the thought of it. "So, does it look straight or should I adjust it? Please don't tell me there's a typo on the banner."
Despite the season, there's still sun peaking through the dark clouds and Gideon finds himself squinting as he looks up. Holding his hands above his eyes, he tries his best to see any flaws in the banner. "Looks straight to me," he calls out, "not too sure 'bout mistakes, though." Gideon's never been the best at spelling, so long as he can read what's up there, he's not going to notice any errors. "Do you need a hand with anything else?" he asks, cautiously, taking a few steps forward, "I'd really like to help."
Leo wasn’t quite sure what the other man was asking as he took the lighter and lit his joint. But when he took that first drag, eyes closed as the feeling washed over him, Leo just let himself relax. Sure, smoking a joint didn’t provide instant relief, but this was more about the fact that he was finally doing something that would put him at ease; already he could feel himself blocking out the chaos of the bar. Opening his eyes again, Leo looked at the man and asked, “What do you mean? What ‘other stuff’ are you talking about?” A bit confused, Leo went on, “As far as I can tell, it’s just fun, and it suits me because I’ve always liked Halloween. I think it helps that it’s my by birthday.” Taking another drag, Leo revealed, “Oh this is just a joint. Want a hit?” He held it out the other man, adding, “My name is Leo by the way.”
Gideon doesn't know how to bring it up lightly, sometimes going full doomsday on people, "just wonderin' if there's something more sinister to it." He pauses, taking another drag from his cigarette before continuing, "do y'all worship the devil around here?" Waving away the man's offer, there's a look of disgust present on Gideon's face, as if he had just offered him the most offensive vice on earth, "No." He feels a bit like an accomplice, providing Leo the tools to get high, and he feels guilty about it. "Well, Leo, I'm real sorry for being part of this. Really didn’t mean to go on encouragin' you."
One of Silas' favourite activities since he was a young man was people watching. He found the town square to be the place he could find the most interesting people. It was hardly the bastion of markets or doomsayers on apple crates as he could have imagined it was in antiquity, but a large open space with seemingly no real purpose other than to gather was always a magnet for the strange and uinque. Today was like any other, he had finished his coffee probably ten minutes ago and was perfectly content with how his afternoon had been. Ready to leave and head home, or head to Brook's house, the place he had been calling home for a while now, he spotted one last person who piqued his interest, a man who had been staring at Spark Tower for more minutes than would be common.
Silas walked over, settling in his shoes a respectful distance from Gideon, looking up at the building alongside him, trying to see if there was a particular brick or bird that had caught his eye. He saw nothing but the tower that had sat in it's same spot since he moved to Cardinal Hill. He leant his body over to Gideon so he was within earshot, "Apparently it got struck by lightning four seperate times. My brother thinks it might've been aliens or something. That or maybe it was a government testing site. They get a bit jumbled in my head at this point." He didn't really have a point he was mentioning, just something to break the ice, to see if Gideon is willing to open up to this stranger.
Gideon is a little startled when he hears an unfamiliar voice behind him, his head turning to match a face to the voice. He's not sure how long he was staring at the clock tower, his mind drifting in and out of various thoughts. Daydreaming, really. "That is strange," he says, finally, his gaze falling back onto the clock tower for a moment before he returns his attention to the stranger, "do lots of weird things happen here?"
He's been through about half the states, coming and going through towns he can hardly remember, but he can already tell there's something different about this one. Since he was a kid, around the time his powers started appearing, he would get this feeling in the pit of his stomach that he could never explain. Some said he was just an anxious boy, worrying about nothing, but he wasn't sure it was just nerves. The strange feeling has come and gone over the years and he's yet to realize that it's telling him that there's another witch nearby. He just knows it's started back up again, more intensely than ever, and it's made him wonder if he's come to the right place.
"That's real sad," he says quietly, unsure if he's saying something his brother genuinely believes, or if it's meant to be taken humorously. It's hard for him to see the humor in it, having been so careful to hide his gift for fear of what might happen to him if others found out. He's already been exploited by his adoptive dad, a man he hopes to never see again, but he used to worry about possibly being experimented on too.
If possible, his face flushed further. He could feel the heat rising on his neck, and he did his best to laugh it off. “Uh, yeah, one sec.” Connor flagged the bartender, asking for more napkins as he continued to wipe away the mess on the counter.
When the bartender returned, napkins in tow, Connor offered one to the stranger, still feeling warm. At his comment, he managed a smile-albeit a small one. "You'd think, right? I've only had a few, I think it was just a uh, wrong place wrong time kind of situation. Two hands, one cup, you know."
Gideon raises a brow at the single napkin being handed to him, as if that's going to make a difference. He takes it anyway, muttering a thank you as he retrieves his shoe from his foot. Gideon dips the napkin into a cup of water. "Right," he says, barely looking up at the man as he vigorously scrubs the top of his shoe. "Drinkins' not a sin, ya know," he huffs, "but drinkin' in excess? Well, that's a whole other story." It's not that that he didn't hear Connor's explanation, it's that he doesn't quite believe it.
Having been born into the affluent Sawyer household meant Addie had grown up in a world of silver spoons and silk sheets, the sort of luxury she never questioned until she left it behind to travel the world, to escape the suffocation of her family name. But ten years of drifting—of cheap hostels, of bars that doubled as beds, of quiet stretches of road—had a way of bleeding the shine out of life, of highlight the truth. By the time Brazil spat her out, she’d lost almost everything: her savings, her camera, her trust fund long gone to dust and poor judgment... When she first came back to Cardinal Hill just under a year ago, she barely had enough to her name for the shady motel on the outskirts of town. If it hadn't been for Curly, the motel's owner, seeing the ghost of something familiar behind grey hues and letting her keep the room long after her wallet had gone dry, the brunette had no idea where she'd be today.
So when the stranger's voice carried across the street—soft and apologetic but worn at the edges—she knew that sound, knew the truth hidden beneath his words. She halted where she stood, gaze flicking in his direction. She could see it plain as day—the sag in his shoulders, the way his eyes lingered near the pavement like he half-expected something else to fall from his pockets... She’d met that look before, more times than she'd care to admit. “Oh, uh, yeah. I think I got a couple bucks on me...” She mused aloud, digging through her coat until her fingers found a crumpled ten. Not long ago, that $10 bill would've been everything to her; but after she and Charles broke into her parents' estate and had their way with the safe in her father's study... She could once again afford to spare the cash. "Here." She offered the stranger a small smile. "I, uh, hope it helps."
He reaches his hand out to accept the money, feeling grateful, but hesitates when he notices that it's a bit more than he asked for. "I feel bad if that's all you have," he says, his fingers folding away from the money and into his palm. "I mean, I'll take it, because you're offerin' and I'm not tryin' to be rude, but 'least let me break it and I'll give you back the rest." He knows from experience that if he gets change from the laundromat that it will just come in the form of quarters and he really doesn't want to do that to her, "do you know a place nearby that might be willing to give me change?"
Truth is, Gideon could probably use the whole ten dollars. It was chump change for many, but for him it could mean a world of possibilities. A decent lunch. Maybe even some needle and thread to sew up the hole in his pocket. "Or, I don't know, let me 'least buy you a cup of coffee," he suggests, the blush on his cheeks revealing that it's not lost on him that he is offering to buy her something with her own money.
closed starter for @nomadelaide
location: somewhere downtown
Gideon was frustrated, a feeling that was present on his face as he searched the ground for his lost change. He had just enough to do a load of laundry at the laundromat but somehow he had misplaced it, or rather the hole in his pocket had done it for him. Though he didn't make much by doing odd jobs, he made enough to usually avoid having to ask for any handouts. Still, it didn't take much to notice that the man wasn't living anywhere, often finding him in odd places around town. If it got too cold, or started to rain, he might scrounge enough up for a hotel room.
He has to admit defeat as he finishes retracing his steps, finding himself back to the spot where he realized he had lost his money. Someone likely picked it up, figuring it was nothing more than pocket change. Maybe they needed it more. Looking up from the ground, he spots someone in the distance and though he really hates asking for help, he would also very much like to be wearing clean clothes. "Excuse me," he calls out, taking steps to close the distance between them, "I'm real sorry to ask, but do you have a couple of dollars?" Gideon pulls his pocket out, showing the hole in it.
A snort came out of Mateo, quite unable to stop it. "Physically, or mentally?" he questioned, dragging a hand over his bearded cheek. "There's arguments to both, I'd imagine."
He shook his head, at the comparison of New Orleans and Salem. "Entirely different atmospheres," Mateo remarked, as he had visited New Orleans on a number of occasions in his life. "One is a more commercialized, common vision of what you'd expect when someone brings up Halloween — pumpkin patches, witches and ghosts, children dressing up to go trick-or-treating, it's all such an innocent mask over an ugly stain of the past... And the other, it's like... darkness.." Mateo paused, trying to come up with an appropriate way to describe how New Orleans felt. "Like real, authentic monsters are lurking around every dark corner, built into the very fabric of its history."
New Orleans wasn't better, it was scarier.
Like Cardinal Hill, actually. There was just something wrong with it, that permeated the air.
After a moment, he shook off the thoughts and offered the other man a weak smile. "New in town?"
He offers a polite smile, though he's not nearly as amused as the other man seems to be. “Well, whatever you’re goin’ through, I can say a prayer for you.” His offer is sincere, but he's met enough people in the world to know that not everyone appreciates his so-called generosity. Some even went as far as to tell him to shove his prayers up his ass, which, quite frankly, was just rude. He still prayed for them anyway.
Gideon doesn't want to give too much of himself away, but he's doing a poor job of hiding the intrigue in his eyes. He's felt the darkness that is being referenced, a feeling that he couldn't shake even after all these years. Sometimes it feels like it's following him, other times it's like he walks right into it. He keeps these thoughts to himself, though, continuing on with a more general approach, "always avoided going into the city, but that was more to do with its affinity for debauchery." Sometimes the city celebrated Saints and he considered joining in on the festivities, but he could hardly stomach the crowd so he stayed within the comfort of the orphanage.
Taking another drag from his cigarette, he nods lightly, "been about a week, but yeah, I'm just now passing through." He glances over, "how about you? Local?"
Alice was still pretty shaken from the events at the Fair, her usually sunny disposition wasn't all there but she couldn't help when she heard him." Where is your fun and whimsy?" She asks crossing her arms." Some places it's Christmas, here it's Halloween. I don't see why it's so bad to start celebrating early."
She loved it all, it was one of her favorite times of the year and it gave her the prefect excuse to dress up. " I guess then you won't want any of the candy, more for me then."
"Whimsy?" he questions, "I'm not Peter Pan." Quite the opposite some would say, a boy forced to grow up before his time. He's not trying to be impolite, but he thinks it's childish to partake in Halloween festivities, especially eating candy. "Sister Elizabeth used to give me sweets if I was behaving, and I usually was, but I took more than I was supposed to once," his voices gets quieter, almost as if he doesn't want her to hear the rest, "and well, that was it." Gideon still regrets trying to take more candy than what was being offered, but it's hard to resist sugary temptation when you're a kid.
Leo leaned against the wall of Breaking Glass, running his fingers through his hair. Fuck, it was a terrible night. Everyone was being so unruly, like even by bar standards. The energy had spiked in town, not necessarily for good reasons either, and it showed. People were stressed, and stressed people liked to drink. Leo would know all about that. About halfway through his shift, he needed a fucking break. So he found himself outside, taking a joint out of his pocket and patting his other pocket while looking for his lighter…which of course wasn’t there. That was when Leo noticed the stranger lighting a cigarette, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, can I borrow that?” he asked, gesturing to the lighter. That was when Leo realized the man had asked a question. “Oh uh, well…it is a big deal here, yeah,” he answered. “But it’s usually pretty fun. A lot of food, lot of booze, various festivities. Candy of course.” After lighting his joint, Leo took a drag; already he felt better. “Thanks man, I needed this,” he said. Looking at the other, he added, “My name is Leo by the way.”
Gideon finishes lighting his cigarette, barely able to finish a drag from it before he's being asked to lend his lighter. "Yeah, here," he mumbles, handing off his lighter to the stranger. "What 'bout other stuff?" he asks, "is it really 'bout fun?" It's all fine and dandy until people start bringing in the devil worship. He doesn't say that, though, as he's aware enough that people don't like hearing it. "Sure thing," there's hesitance in his voice as he introduces himself, "Gideon." It takes him a moment to realize that Leo isn't smoking a cigarette, his brows furrowing as the smell hits him, "what are you doin'?"
Allie considered for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders and smiling. “I think this place is just, eh…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “You know, eh, I think it is just sort of a spooky place, you know?” She wiggled her fingers in an approximation of a witch casting a spell. “I think even in summer it looks like you could stage Macbeth in the town square.” She smiled again. “I like how much they put into Halloween, though. Where I am from, they do not really do Halloween, at least not like this. I like the pumpkin and the witches and all.”
"And where's that?" he asks, feeling as though he might prefer wherever she comes from. "Why, though?" Gideon wonders aloud, "you're not afraid it might attract the wrong sort of attention?" It's supposed to be harmless fun, and he gets that, but it's like when he was using his powers to help people, it still felt wrong. Like no matter how many people he was healing, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was drawing in something negative. Celebrating Halloween didn't feel so harmless to him.
It was so easy to tell when someone hadn't lived in Cardinal Hill that long; they'd look around and see a spectacle, which Nadia did understand. Because if you didn't either love it here or grow up around it, then the whole Halloween being celebrated like this seemed strange. Turning to face the stranger, she shook her head and laughed. "I will say, you came to the wrong place if you aren't really into this season."
"Cardinal Hill is the kinda place that will find any reason to be festive. If you are around near Christmas, then you're really in for it."
"I'm just passing through," he says, genuinely believing it in the moment, "probably won't be here that long." Gideon will see what nearby churches have for him and if nothing, he'll move along like he always does. "I like Christmas a fair bit more," he remarks, taking a drag from his freshly lit cigarette, "but I'm guessin' not the same way it's celebrated here." It was difficult to find anyone as devout as him, even most churches didn't seem as abiding nowadays, so being surrounded by such sacrilegious festivities was pretty alienating for him. "What else has this place got goin' on?"
His palm, though on the mend, still had another week before the stitches came out, which meant Mateo would have to continue to struggle without the best use of his dominant hand. The man hadn't been able to touch a piece of wood to distract himself since the carnival, and sleep? Who knew what that was anymore. Any time he finally succumbed to the exhaustion, he'd experience that harrowing carousel ride all over again. Or worse.
Mateo paused, fumbling inside his coat pocket for the anxiety medication he'd been dutifully on top of taking lately. For once. If he didn't, things only got worse. As the man clumsily attempted to pop open the pill bottle's lid, his gaze lifted towards the man who spoke, then did a brief once-over of the decorated shops. "This is nothing," he muttered, finally able to shake a pill out, "you should see Salem, Massachusetts this time of year. The entire place lives and breathes the Halloween spirit, it's their bread and butter all year round, practically. This is all just child's games in comparison." And yet, somehow, Cardinal Hill was infinitely scarier.
"You alright?" Gideon questions, eyeing the pill bottle in the other man's hand, "sick or somethin'?" It's not like him to be too nosy, but he's not going to ignore a struggle. He hesitates to light his cigarette, leaving it dangling between his lips, as he considers offering the stranger a hand with the bottle. Finally, though, he manages to get it open and Gideon carries on, making sure to blow smoke away from him.
"So I've been told," he's heard quite few things about Salem. Enough to know to avoid the place. "Growin' up, I wasn't too far from New Orleans," he says, as if his southern drawl can't be heard from a mile away, "I'm not lookin' to revisit it, 'least not any time soon, but they say it's even better than Salem, you know, if you're into that sort o' thing." He's been told 'it's the real deal' but that means nothing to Gideon.
"Ahh, I don't know about it being a godsend, but it's pretty big in Cardinal Hill, yeah," Conrad confirmed, a smile on his face as he nodded his head. He personally had no ill will towards the holiday - in fact, he was almost overly excited for its arrival each and every year. "I don't know, actually," he cocked his head to the side in thought. "I think maybe because we're such a small town, we just love using any excuse to have some sort of celebration." Not to mention, Halloween was inherently witchy, even despite the fact that some non-magical humans portrayed witches in a less than kind light on the occasion; he couldn't say this much out loud, not knowing if the other person was a witch or not himself, but it was still part of Conrad's best guess.
"Hm," he starts off, "makes sense. Guess I was just wonderin' if there was more to it, is all." Gideon knows most people celebrating halloween aren't doing it because they worship the devil. He's a religious man, sure, but he's been around long enough to take notice of it as being more of a commercial holiday than any associated with paganism. Still, he doesn't like to partake in any of it and he doesn't take too lightly to the way people dress up as ghouls, devils, and witches. "It's not really my thing," he admits, though he's already made it pretty obvious, "more of an 'All Saints' guy myself."
"Is this one of them places that treats Halloween like it's some kind of godsend?" he asks, slipping an unlit cigarette between his lips, "why's that?" It's not even October yet and he's already seeing Halloween decorations fill the windows of the local shops. He blows through about a half dozen towns each year, so he's used to the way many small towns celebrate Halloween, but he's always disinterested in their yearly festivities.
a shake of his head , that followed with his hand as he looked at the other before him. ❝ enough about me , as much as i love talking about how great i am ----- in and out of bed , what has you here talking to me out of all people ❞
He's quiet for a moment, uncomfortable with the words leaving the man's lips, before offering a response. "Honestly was just tryin' to be polite," he says, avoiding eye contact with the stranger, "wasn't expecting a whole life story or anything."
✿ Open starter for @cardinalstart at Breaking Glass Bar.
Connor swirled what was left of his whiskey around in the glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light before throwing it back in one gulp. He wasn’t usually one for drinking this much on a weeknight, but the thoughts of the carnival clung to him like smoke. Hard to shake. He’d gone with a couple co-workers on the last night, just to be social, and he couldn’t stop wishing he’d stayed home instead.
Add to that his sister’s sudden arrival in town, and his nerves had been rattled more than he liked to admit. A few drinks at the bar had seemed like a good way to ease them, but instead he just felt restless, almost giddy. When he ordered his next round, he asked for something fun–something with a ridiculous umbrella.
What he didn't expect was the bartender setting it down at the exact moment he reached for it. Their hands collided, the glass tipped, and bright liquid spread across the bar before dripping to the floor.
And, of course, onto someone else.
“Oh, gosh–sorry, I’m so sorry,” Connor sputtered, snatching for napkins and blotting at the spreading mess. He turned toward the unlucky patron with wide, apologetic eyes. “Are you good? Did it get on you?”
"Yeah, a bit," he mutters, looking down at his shoes, "mind grabbin' me a rag?" Gideon's not trying to cause a scene, or make him feel bad, but he's only got one pair of shoes and he rather they weren't stained. "Thinkin' maybe you're 'bout done for the night?" he suggests, figuring the man had been drinking since before he got there.