Ordained Defiance Chapter 1
Finally, after weeks of buildup, finally I can start posting this very special story. Of all the characters in Lackadaisy, I really wanted to create some Abelard content, because I love him.
So what better way to do so than to write a little fanfiction featuring him, his family and my OC? A slow-burn story set in the small town of Defiance, Missouri...
The rest of the story will be available on AO3, alongside more art.
For the first chapter, I present you with an image of Abelard alongside... Well, you'll just have to read to find out...
This lovely piece here was drawn by the amazing @mergestucs1!
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With the sweeping, green hills, the freshly sprouting leaves on the trees and the mostly clear, blue sky, Defiance was beautiful in spring. The air was getting warmer, but the breeze still had a sharpness to it whenever it graced Abelard’s face. It was a Thursday morning like any other as he made his way into town on foot, the apricot-furred cat enjoying the spring weather. His shoes dug into the dirt road that led the way through the small town that was Defiance. Granted, it really wasn't much of a town (it was closer to a village, if anything) given how small it was, and how much distance there was between the homes here.
The lean reverend took long, fast strides, walking with purpose. His morning strolls generally took him all over Defiance. He started at home and took the scenic route out to Defiance General, going through the small community and finally ending by the church.
He'd left the store just minutes prior, having stopped by the outskirts of town to see the shop owner. It was usually his first stop these days. Most days Mr. Weaver was up and working early, despite his age. Abelard always did make sure to purchase something when he visited, often in the form of cigarettes or other small items, usually something edible. Sometimes he brought home bigger items such as potatoes and the like.
And he would, of course, gladly take on Mr. Weaver in a round of chess when time allowed it. Reverend Arbogast usually wasn't one to turn down an opportunity to spend time with the locals. It was part of his daily routine, making sure to visit with members of their little community. Though he didn’t personally visit each and every inhabitant of the small town, he made sure to at least greet them whenever possible, whether by the church or around town.
The man running Defiance General was one of the few that he regularly visited personally. As reverend, Abelard saw it as part of his job to maintain a good relationship with said community; it was what the reverend before him had done. And it was what he’d taught him; it was any reverend’s job to spread the word of the Lord and maintain good relations to those who believed, and even those who didn’t. After all, it was how a man of faith might help others see the light.
And as village minister he didn’t just do services in the church on Sundays. Of course, that was part of the job; he took care to preach to his fellow man, woman, and child. Though it had been a while since the last time, he had also done confessions, and he’d heard quite a number of things. But as was his sworn duty, he’d never disclosed this to anyone; it was for him, the Lord, and the sinner to know.
He’d been doing this job for decades at this point, and everyone in Defiance, and the nearby townships, which were part of his congregation, knew him. He'd established a good trust and good relations with the community, but it had taken time.
The township of Defiance primarily consisted of a small collection of farm buildings and barns around a main road that stretched through the small town. Defiance General was the primary place to do shopping for those who didn’t wish to travel further away by car, where they had more options. St. Louis was about forty miles away and Abelard himself hadn't made the trip there in quite some time. He was content in this small town where he'd grown up.
The town itself had a few things of note, despite its small size. For one, there was a local mechanic, though it wasn’t really a proper business, just a farmer who knew how to manage cars and other machinery. It wasn't so unusual to see him taking a look at someone’s vehicle, just as he was today. The farmhouse he lived in with his family was one of the larger ones on the side of the road that he walked on. The barn door was open, and the tuxedo cat could be seen fiddling with the engine of one of his neighbors’ cars.
As he passed, he was spotted by the mechanic, who wore messy overalls over his clothes. He waved to Abelard as he passed. “Good morning, Father Arbogast. How do you do?”
“I’m quite well, thank you,” the lean cat called back in a proper tone. Abelard waved back as well, and offered him the slightest of smiles. He was dressed decidedly more formally than the mechanic, wearing all black from top to toe; the only article of clothing he wore that wasn't black was his white button-up shirt under his jacket. “I hope you are as well.”
Though not a man who smiled much, nor a man to whom smiling came naturally, Abelard still did his best to be personable with the locals. At least for the most part. That wasn't to say he was all-smiles around them all the time, far from it. Father Arbogast, as he was most often called, had quite a reputation for being a man not to cross. It wasn't often, but he’d had to tell local children off more than a few times, using the colorful language he had become rather infamous for. And for the most part, it worked. He’d even had to tell off their parents on occasion.
Children as well as their parents knew to respect him and that was how he liked things to work. He was never one to shy away from doing such things if someone were to do or say something morally apprehensive.
Abelard didn’t linger around too much as he continued down the road.
The houses around the main road were generally large, quaint farmhouses, many of them quite old with a fair bit of distance between each one. Defiance had never had a large population. Abelard knew they currently didn’t even amount to a hundred. The entire community could fit inside the church during services, even despite how small the building was. In the open area of Defiance, they had a few small businesses, such as a post office, an inn, and a carpenter who also did metalwork on occasion. There was also a single bookshop and of course, further away there was a train station with its depot.
The businesses were mainly being run out of people’s homes, further adding to the feeling of a small, tight-knit community amongst the locals.
The area all around was wide and open with small groves and a forested area nearby fencing in the majority of Defiance. The rolling hills and fields all around offered space for farmland, like the cornfields near Abelard's home.
The cornfields had gone from being harvested for food to also being harvested for more unsavory reasons in recent years. He'd been there for it all, as the changing political landscape of America had ushered in changes to his life. Not just his life either; Abelard also knew the unspoken truth that farmers both in Defiance, and all over the country, were doing the very same thing.
He had spent most of his life in Defiance, as had many of its inhabitants. He'd traveled to visit nearby towns and cities, but home was always here. For better and for worse. But the small town of Defiance needed him. The Lord’s work was never finished until the day of reckoning and he intended on continuing to spread the word of the Lord until his last breath.
He knew that there was no such thing as a one-man army when it came to his job. He wasn't entirely alone; he spread the Lord’s word, he preached to warn of sins and temptations in the hopes that his congregation would help spread the same message. It was the point of preaching at all to begin with, to spread the word of the Lord, to help enlighten and to save as many souls as he could.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil… That part of the Lord’s Prayer had taken on a new significance to he just a few short years ago. The nation-wide prohibition on alcohol had changed so much for so many people, again for better and for worse.
For Abelard? To him the very idea of stripping away a source of temptation in such a way was an affront. It had never been something that sat right with him; he knew so many who saw it as removing the very option of giving in to sin from their lives, but he privately saw it as a disruption to the natural order of things.
If anything, it seemed to have inadvertently added a whole new caliber of trappings into the lives of many. Abelard knew as much, being an initially reluctant participant in the illicit alcohol business.
But alas, here he was; illegal liquor had paid for much of the maintenance around the church and the town. He knew that the cursed liquid would go on to add temptation back into the realm of the living – of the souls who would eventually need saving; he knew that the very allure of the illicit only made sin all the sweeter to the ones who chose to give in to it.
But in the end, he also knew that the genuinely good people would make the right choices, even with temptation in their lives. God would forgive sins, and he too would do his part to make sure people would not be led into the many pitfalls in life. That said, he knew these complexities to be a necessary evil to separate the righteous from the wicked.
But Abelard kept these views to himself and a very select few close to him.
Passing more homes on his way, he spotted more people who were getting their days started; a woman looking after the small garden around their front-porch where her small children were playing; a young couple leaving their driveway together in a car. Once more he offered waves on his way, even if the children seemed rather frightened of him. He didn’t mind, of course. There was a fine line between fear and respect, and he hoped they would learn to walk that line well.
If nothing else, he hoped the younger generations would be given the chance to grow up with all of life’s complexities; the good, the bad, and the tempting, all ever present. Their parents (and he to some extent) would need to arm them to face the many trappings of life, and never stray from the righteous path. Whether they'd succeed or not was ultimately in their own hands.
All he could do was hope for the best… And hope that they may never get involved in unsavory business like his family.
Being in the liquor business had proven to have more downsides than upsides to Abelard. He resisted the urge to spit on the ground, to curse the names of those he'd had to deal with, as he continued on his way. Lackadaisy, Marigold, they were both the same to him; bands of immoral, cutthroat criminals that needed him and his kin for liquor and nothing else.
Though he had no qualms with partaking in the making and smuggling of the liquor (for the most part), dealing with others in the business had been less than pleasant. All the trouble that had come with it… It had cost him an organ player as well. Little Defiance had been the scene of some gruesome acts of violence, which he still found unsettling to think about.
And that was despite all he'd seen and heard in his fifty-two years on this Earth.
Leaving the main residential area, Abelard passed the single inn that the town had. It was a small, family-owned place, a decently popular location that he had visited many times. It was a two-story farmhouse where the family lived on the upper floor and the inn itself was located down below. The inn was one of the popular places for members of his congregation to end up after service on Sundays.
After passing the road that would take him towards the Arbogast Funeral Home, Abelard made his way past a tree line and out to another open area. The wide, open space was fenced in by trees from all sides, and the nearest farmhouses could look right up to the white church with its single tower and tall spire that pointed straight to the Heavens. It was a relatively new church; he recalled in his youth that his parents had remembered the time when it was still newly constructed. Since it had been finished, it had been the church his family would visit for services every Sunday morning, and eventually the one that he himself would be the reverend of.
It wasn’t large and grand, but it was beautiful. All-white exterior, the church had two small steps leading up to the two tall doors out front with one short, wide transom above it. Further above the window as part of the tower was a clock, a relatively new installation. On either side of the large doors was a window, each larger than the one above the door, with a grid-like frame holding many small panes of glass. The dark roof was angled upwards, the front merging into the small tower.
There was always something to be done around the church, always something new to worry about, surprisingly so for such a small town. The illicit, ill-gained money helped keep the church in pristine order, and while they were currently out of a steady organ player, Abelard had other things to worry about. Their groundskeeper was looking to retire. He was old, and he had been looking after the grounds since before Abelard became the village minister. Just looking for a new groundskeeper would be a mild challenge in the small community. Just something new for him to figure out in the near future. Hopefully, the current groundskeeper would stick around long enough to find a replacement, so they wouldn’t leave the grounds unattended.
As a brisk morning breeze ruffled his facial fur, Abelard arrived by the entrance to the church grounds. The church was right by a crossroad; corn fields to one side, open stretch of grassland with graves on the other. The cemetery had expanded since the church’s founding, of course. Being framed in by the farmland, there was only so much space that could be used for graves; further away more grave sites had since been established.
No one was around at this time of day and as Abelard made it up the small steps to the large doors, he removed his hat and stepped into the Lord’s House.
It wasn't a very spacious interior, being a small church, but the space available had been optimally used. Stepping onto the wooden floor, Abelard walked up the aisle by himself. On each side of him were pews that could house the entirety of Defiance’s population during services, and there was even room for more people from neighboring townships. And in part owing to the small size of the church, he had mastered utilizing the building’s acoustics to let his voice carry from the altar to the very back of the church, for all to hear.
Behind the last pew on the right side of the church, a small spiral staircase led up to a small landing above the entrance. This was where the organ was located, overlooking the small church’s interior. Abelard admittedly didn’t spend much time up there, nor did anyone else these days. The landing was close to the ceiling, which was painted blue like the sky outside, but even a man as tall as him could comfortably stand up there without bumping his head on the ceiling.
He made a mental note to attempt to send for a potential organ player in the nearby townships. He might even have to send for someone living further away, such as over in St. Louis…
The wooden pews that stood in rows on either side of the aisle were painted white, like the walls surrounding them. There were two windows up ahead flanking the altar, right across from each of the windows on either side of the door. Perfectly symmetrical. Along with the four windows on each of the church’s longer sides, plenty of light always poured in through these in the daytime hours. And, once it was dark, the multiple bronze candelabras on the walls, and the large ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling in front of the altar, would help keep the building illuminated.
Abelard stopped before the altar, right below the chandelier and closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the peace and quiet that the church offered him at times like this. The tall, lean cat had a white podium off to his left, where he would stand to preach and speak during services, facing the congregation.
Leaving the altar, he slowly made his way back outside again, casting a glance out at the woods in the distance that served as the natural fence for this part of Defiance. Leaves were sprouting from the branches and the grass all around was starting to look as green as could be, it was a beautiful sight indeed.
The dirt road leading to the left from his vantage point led up towards where a small part of the cemetery was located. Further away, down the road that ran along the side of the church was the Arbogast Funeral Home. It hadn't always been a funeral home, as it was these days; it had also been Abelard's childhood home where he’d grown up. He’d inherited the place from his parents, and now it was also where he conducted his other ventures, including more unholy business.
Glancing up the path towards the cemetery, he put his hat back on. The nearby funeral home would prepare the dead for burial, the church would hold a funeral service, and the dead would be buried in the nearby cemetery. It truly was an efficient, albeit morbid, little system.
His own parents were buried there as well, as were other past inhabitants of Defiance and the nearby area. Growing up so close to, not only the church, but also the cemetery had made Abelard’s skin crawl as a young boy, but these days the thought didn’t bother him at all.
The area outside and around the church was beautifully maintained, the grass kept short, the nearby trees kept healthy, and the paths kept clear and clean. The morning sun’s rays casting a brilliant light over the trees’ fresh leaves, and the blades of grass, only added to the place’s natural beauty.
It was going to be a tall order to find someone new who cared about looking after the grounds this much. But he had no doubt in his mind that he’d find the right person for the job, as was his responsibility. Odds were someone in town would be willing to do it – it would be easier and more efficient to not have to call in someone from out of town. Abelard knew he shouldn’t keep putting it off.
After enjoying a bit of time to himself, he let out a content sigh. But he knew he ought to go about his business once more.
Turning back towards the church, however, Abelard spotted a single figure lingering by the white brick wall to the left of the church doors. He squinted slightly. He didn’t recognize the stranger at a glance, in part due to them facing away from him, apparently glancing out over the cornfields nearby.
The stranger turned their head as he got closer, and already he didn’t get the best first impression of them, noticing the way they were leaning on the church wall. They were practically lounging, like the church was their private property.
“Ah, hello… Reverend Arbogast, is it?” The stranger sounded uncertain as he spoke in a surprisingly soft voice.
The Turkish Angora stood just a couple inches shorter than Abelard, his fur a grayish off-white color all over. He wore a dark gray sweater with a thick, folded collar and a pair of blue denim pants. The right knee of his pants was torn open, his white fur showing through.
“Yes, how can I help you?” Abelard asked, his blue eyes taking in the stranger before him. Abelard's tone was polite, but slightly stiff.
He didn’t recognize him, and yet there was something familiar about him at the same time. Abelard guessed he was likely from out of town – he made it a point to know everyone in Defiance, after all.
Getting a closer look at him, Abelard took note of his bangs, which reached down to his eyebrows and the tips of his ears had white tufts on them. Very unusual.
The stranger left the wall and approached Abelard, his very fluffy tail fur swaying in the wind. Eyes met, sky blue and minty green, and Abelard noticed the younger cat had a face with soft, rounded, almost slightly… feminine features. The stranger held out his small, white-furred hand. “Well… I was just looking around a bit. I haven't seen this place in a long time…”
“You’ve been here before?” Abelard asked in surprise as they shook hands briefly. He squinted slightly at the white cat. Again, he got the sense that they’d met before…
“Oh, I lived here a decade ago, before I– Well, I moved out a long time ago.” The stranger’s verbal stumbling didn’t go unnoticed by Abelard, but he was more so intrigued, though perhaps a touch suspicious as well…
He still fixed the stranger with some amount of dislike, which, based on the look on the younger man’s face, didn’t go unnoticed. “Hm, I don’t recognize you… I know everyone in Defiance. What’s your name, young man?”
“My name’s Cainan – Cainan… Wirth.” Once more He couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong.
The stranger seemed hesitant to give his name, which only made him all the more suspicious of him. However, his name did stir something in Abelard – that sense of familiarity.
“Wirth? With an ‘i’?” Mr. Wirth nodded at this, though he didn’t meet Abelard's eyes when he did. “I see… Well, I might have known your parents in that case. Harold and Gabriela Wirth, correct?”
He could see Mr. Wirth's face tightening at this, but the younger cat nodded. “Yup, them’s the ones. I was planning on visiting them after I’m done here, actually.”
At this he raised an eyebrow as their eyes finally met again. He wasn't sure what the Turkish Angora’s situation was, but this was… curious. For a number of reasons. The least of which being: “Well, they moved away a few years ago. If I’m not mistaken, they have not called Defiance home for quite a while.”
Mr. Wirth blinked up at him with those pale green eyes. “… Oh.”
Was that disappointment he heard in his voice? Or was it relief? Abelard genuinely couldn’t tell. He frowned down at the white cat. “You didn’t know…?”
The younger cat didn’t answer right away. Abelard could tell he was thinking hard about what to say. What was he up to exactly? He hadn't immediately struck him as a troublemaker, though the way he hung around outside a church did seem suspicious. He cast a glance over the white cat’s shoulder towards the area beside the white building, which seemed to be quite untouched. When he glanced back at him, the younger cat seemed ready to speak.
“Well, to tell you the truth, Reverend, no, I didn’t realize they'd moved. Do you know where to?” Again, Abelard found it curious how he spoke with the tone of someone just asking for the time; not with the tone of someone urgently wanting or needing to know the whereabouts of their parents.
“Hm, well, I don’t recall, I’m afraid,” he told him calmly, though he watched the other cat closely, his gaze fixated upon his face to wait for a reaction. Abelard had his suspicions, but he wanted to see just how he might react to this information. To his surprise, the younger cat barely seemed to react at all – he just nodded slowly.
“Ah, that’s alright. Guess I’ll try to ask around town,” was the response Abelard got, a surprisingly casual one. Now he was certain something wasn't right here.
“Were you hoping to run into them here?” The longer he spent in Mr. Wirth's company, the more he could start to see some family resemblance.
While he couldn’t say he'd been close to the Wirths, he still partially remembered what they looked like. He could see aspects of both Mr. Wirth's parents as he remembered them, when he gazed upon the younger cat before him.
“I suppose, yeah,” Mr. Wirth replied, his tone carrying that same casual carelessness as he spoke. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, clearly thinking about… Honestly Abelard wasn't sure what was going through the young stranger’s mind. “I suppose I really just did come looking for you.”
“I guessed as much,” Abelard admitted, nodding slightly as he crossed his arms. The way Mr. Wirth had greeted him had indeed made it seem like he’d been waiting for him. Whatever this young cat could possibly want from him, he didn’t know, but he was willing to hear him out. “So once more I ask you, how can I help you, child?”
The other cat’s left ear gave a small flick, possibly out of annoyance, though his facial expression didn’t show any signs of it. He didn’t think calling him a child was unfair; he was young, clearly, though Abelard didn’t know quite how young. Perhaps he was older than his youthful face made him seem.
“Well, I decided to return to town and, well, I’d like to do some work while I’m here. I’d like to… stick around for a li’l while.” This was certainly a surprise to be sure. It wasn't at all what he had expected of the young stranger.
He frowned slightly and sighed. “Hm… And why didn’t you simply head into town and ask around? And why weren't you just honest from the beginning, young man?”
“I’m sorry… Well, I just figured this way was easier – I heard you were the village minister, so I figured–…” Mr. Wirth suddenly seemed to change his mind mid-sentence. The younger cat shook his head and made to leave. “Actually, maybe this was a dumb idea. Sorry to waste your time, I should just drive–”
“Now, hold it just a minute…!” Abelard put a hand on his shoulder to stop the younger cat in his tracks, gripping him firmly with his slender fingers. He turned to look up at him, apparently surprised, his white eyebrows raised. “Slow down and explain yourself. I can’t figure out where to put you if I don’t know where you came from.”
“So, you will help me…?” the Turkish Angora asked hopefully, his ears perking up immediately. Abelard let go of his shoulder and stared at him in disbelief. Had he been hoping for this kind of reaction…?
“I asked you to explain yourself. We shall see if we can find a solution to your predicament once I know everything… And I do mean everything.” Abelard had a feeling he just might be a troublemaker, but of a different sort than the kind he had encountered before. He gestured towards the church with some apprehension. “We can step inside and talk, if you'd please.”
Mr. Wirth turned towards the church with an equal amount of apprehension of his own. He bit his lower lip and seemed to consider this for quite a little while. He hovered awkwardly around where he stood, though he didn’t step towards the building. “Uh… maybe we could talk out here? Or we could go for a walk? It was a long drive here; I’d like to just stretch my legs a little.”
Abelard thought it curious that he'd mentioned a long car ride, seeing as there wasn't a car around to be seen nearby. He looked at the younger cat, eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“Oh, I drove into town, but I walked here,” the white cat hastily added, apparently not ignorant to the doubt written all over Abelard's face. He offered a would-be innocent smile, but given the hasty way he had offered up a rather flimsy explanation, it didn’t make Abelard trust him any more. “And besides… I haven't really been in Defiance for years. You could show me around… Please…?”
Crossing his arms again, Abelard scowled at the shorter cat, who continued looking at him with that would-be innocent smile of his, but he saw right through it. Whatever he was playing at, he wasn't going to let the white cat win. He knew for sure he didn’t want to participate in his little games. But if he wanted to stick around and work in the town he grew up in… Abelard supposed it wasn’t the worst thing to want, even if he was being deceptive about it. Still, something wasn't right about this young stranger…
“Very well, we can walk together,” Abelard finally agreed, though he still scowled at the younger cat. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly pleased with this compromise. It indeed seemed like this was the outcome the younger man had desired…
As the two of them left the church grounds and walked up to where the two roads outside the building crossed, Abelard couldn’t help but feel like this was all an elaborate rouse.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the stranger was trying to manipulate him in some way. His intentions sounded innocent enough on paper, but the way he went about everything didn’t sit right with Abelard. “Now, young Mr. Wirth–”
“Ugh, no… Just call me Cainan… uhm… please. Reverend.”
“Well, Mr. Wirth… If you wish for me to assist you with your plight, I must ask you a few things. And I ask that you return the favor by answering my questions honestly.” Abelard turned his blue-eyed gaze upon the other cat and fixated him with a scrutinizing look. “Do I have your word?”
“Of course, I’ll be… honest.” The hesitation made Abelard scoff and offer the Turkish Angora a side-eye as the two walked down the dirt road together. “No, sorry, I mean it. I’ll be honest – I swear.”
Abelard still scowled, but he ultimately nodded, breaking eye contact to look ahead. The two walked along the road that ran parallel to the church’s front door. They moved in silence for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. He still wasn't at all sure what to make of Mr. Wirth. He didn’t appear very trustworthy; the way he spoke, his closed off body language, the way he slouched and the way he shrugged so often. Abelard very much felt that the answers he got from the white cat would prove whether he was to be trusted or not.
“So, tell me: when did you move away? And how come your parents didn’t contact you to let you know that they'd moved themselves?” Abelard decided to go for two big questions back-to-back. When he looked over at the cat on his left, he did indeed seem taken aback by the questions, but he simply hoped he'd honor his promise and tell him the truth.
“Ah… Well, those are very good questions…” he replied hesitantly, looking away at the cornfield they walked past. It was obvious that he was stalling to answer, and he was already starting to feel rather annoyed with him for it. Though the scowl on his face didn’t go away, Abelard calmed himself the best he could and just waited. “Well, to answer the first one, I left town when I was… I think, fourteen. Thirteen? Around that time at least.”
“Really now? And how come you decided to leave Defiance then?” Abelard wondered aloud, and he couldn’t help but privately wonder if he had run away.
It seemed unusual to travel away alone at such an early age. But all the same it seemed so unlikely; from what Abelard remembered of the Wirth family, they were a respectable sort, a good family with good values. They were people of faith and everyone in town seemed to like and admire them.
At least if his memory served him correctly…
“Oh, I needed a change of scenery.” Once more, Mr. Wirth appeared so casual. He stuck his hands into his pants pockets, looking completely unbothered. The younger man still slouched a bit, whereas Abelard took proper strides, though he did tend to hunch a bit. “Small towns like this are nice, but I wanted to see more of what the world had to offer.”
Abelard had to admit, the other cat’s answer had surprised him. Assuming it was the truth, he couldn’t help but find it almost admirable to want to experience things like that at such a young age. Perhaps that was how his parents had raised him?
Of course, being out in the world meant temptation. How old was he now? Abelard wasn't sure, but if he left about ten years ago, perhaps… Ten years was a long time… Who knew, maybe he was older than he seemed at a glance. “And where did the road take you then?”
“Oh, here… there… all over the place.” He offered up another casual shrug, Abelard feeling a twinge of annoyance shooting through him at the sight. “I started going from town to town. I traveled down south for a bit, then over east to St. Louis for a while. Never really out of state, though.”
“And now you’ve returned home…” Mr. Wirth glanced over at him in a manner that told him all he needed to know. In fact, the look told him far more than the young cat likely meant for it to; he didn’t like the idea of referring to Defiance as ‘home.’ Although he said nothing, it was written all over his face – the young man was practically grimacing. “And what did you do while you were away exactly? I take it you must have done some kind of work to get by, have you not?”
Mr. Wirth nodded as they approached the tree line that bordered the fields near the church. Past the trees there would be yet more farmland with more houses here and there, more of what Defiance had to offer. “I did a couple different things. Factory work, courier work, personal driver, everything in-between, really.”
It was of course a very vague list, but Abelard supposed if he truly was that versatile and had gotten a lot of experiences in his time away from Defiance, Mr. Wirth might just fit in after all. It shouldn’t be too hard to find something for this young straggler to do at least; Abelard was sure he (or at least the locals) might be able to find a niche for the Turkish Angora to occupy. But of course, that was all up to the community and how well he got himself reintegrated with them.
Defiance was a small, small town, but there should be room enough for one more – it might even help that he grew up there. Abelard wasn't sure if anyone would remember the white cat, but perhaps if they did, that might ease the transition.
As the two of them reached and passed the tree line, they also reached a more densely populated area. This was of course relatively speaking as the buildings scattered here still had a considerable amount of distance between them.
Mr. Wirth glanced around with considerably more interest than he’d shown up until that point, his green eyes taking everything in. “Ah yeah, I do remember this place… a little. It hasn't changed that much from what I remember…”
“Suppose there’s not too much of a point in showing you around then. Hm, let’s see… If you left some ten years ago, I suppose you may not have seen that we have a bookstore now, have you?” Abelard asked as they approached the nearest building. He didn’t remember exactly when the bookstore had been opened, but he was fairly sure it must have been after he left home.
“Oh, I don’t think so, no. I might have to stop by later,” the younger cat said. Abelard thought it might be the first time he said something genuine. At the very least it seemed more genuine than anything else he had said up to that point.
Out here, there was more open grassland, less of it dedicated to farmland, more of it just simple grassy, green hills that rolled along the beautiful landscape. While there was distance between the homes here, they were closer in proximity than some of the farms around the church. Mr. Wirth looked around curiously as the two of them continued along the dirt road. “Ah, I recognize some of the buildings.”
“So, where are you staying exactly? I take it you’re not staying in your parents’ old home. Are you renting a room at the inn?” Abelard inquired as they neared the very same inn on their stroll. Although it was one of the larger buildings in town, they only had two rooms they rented out, since Defiance didn’t see many visitors, usually. It had a seating area inside for guests to sit and dine as well.
“Oh, no, I’m not. I’ve already got a bed with my name on it,” Mr. Wirth replied vaguely. As the two of them passed the inn and approached other houses, a few people took notice of the strange duo.
Abelard would nod in greeting to them, but he could tell people were curious. “And where might that be? If you’re planning to work here, I think we ought to make sure you don’t have to commute back and forth…”
“Ah. Well, I’m staying on over in Cottleville, it’s not too far.” Abelard watched him closely, trying to see if he was being honest. He had a difficult time with this young, white cat; he was easy to read at times, yet other times, such as now, he hadn't the faintest idea what the young man was thinking. His face was neutral, blank like a fresh new canvas, not showing a single discerning emotion.
“I see. I suppose that isn't too bad as far as distance is concerned,” Abelard reluctantly agreed as they continued on their way. He fell silent for a bit, the older cat needing a moment to think things through. They passed by the post office on their way.
It was another business that had initially had its start in someone’s home, albeit a house considerably smaller than most of the others. It was a single-story house where the very front had been converted into the post office where letters were sent and received daily.
Abelard privately thought that if anyone had kept in touch with the Wirths, the young Wirth may be able to get their new address and send for them… if that was even something he wanted at all. He had gotten the distinct feeling that perhaps there was some unpleasant history between him and his parents.
“So, say if you were to stay here, what work would you be willing to do?” he finally asked after a brief silence. He fixated the white cat with a scrutinizing stare once more. He supposed this too might reveal a bit more about his current situation, as well as his character.
“Oh, anything and everything,” the young cat said almost lazily. “I did do food service for a while, but I don’t know if the inn would need to hire any help. I don’t know what else there would be around here. But I suppose I’ll just have to find out.”
Anything and everything was a very wide spectrum, and Abelard wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. It could mean one of two things to him; either Mr. Wirth truly was incredibly versatile and not at all fussy; or he was desperate. He supposed that regardless, it shouldn’t be too hard to find something for him to do.
“I really ain’t too fuzzy about it. Maybe I’ll just stick around for a few days and see what happens.” Mr. Wirth cast an inquisitive glance back over his shoulder towards the post office. It was one of the first buildings one would encounter when entering Defiance from the direction they were going. “Hm…”
“What is it?” Abelard looked towards the building as well, then looked back at Mr. Wirth. He raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just considering my options,” the younger cat replied with a shrug. Mr. Wirth pulled his hands out of his pockets and cracked his knuckles rather loudly, before resuming his slouching posture. “So, hm… anything else you want to know about me?”
Abelard could tell he was hesitant and most likely he was only asking to be polite; it was clear that he was being secretive on purpose. Whatever it was, the younger cat did indeed seem to hide something, though perhaps he just simply didn’t enjoy sharing. Abelard supposed he couldn’t blame him there.
“So, if you’re staying somewhere over in Cottleville, are you a permanent resident there? Or what is your living situation? I’m trying my best to understand here…” He had a feeling he knew the answer, but he needed to be sure. That was assuming Mr. Wirth chose to answer truthfully, of course.
“I’m… more or less homeless at the moment,” he admitted, looking up at him. Their eyes locked again, and Mr. Wirth just gave a small smile when he saw the look on Abelard's face. “It’s alright, I’m managing just fine for now.”
Abelard watched the younger cat for a moment as they continued on their way. He wasn't so sure; being a young man without a job and a home didn’t seem like ‘managing’ to him. He supposed if he had money saved up that was one thing, but he also didn’t know for sure. His eyes drifted down to the torn knee of Mr. Wirth’s denim pants. That seemed like something he could and would have fixed if he’d had the funds for it.
Although he didn’t want to give Mr. Wirth too much just yet (in case he was the type to take an arm when offered a hand) Abelard couldn’t help but feel as though he ought to do something for him. As untrustworthy as he’d been acting up until this point, the young vagabond thought that perhaps he was making light of his own situation to make it seem less severe. Perhaps a coping mechanism of some kind.
Nevertheless, the two of them continued along the road. They didn’t speak too much outside of Abelard explaining which buildings were from after Mr. Wirth had left town, which seemed to be a good number of them. Even with Defiance’s small population, there ought to be quite a few unfamiliar faces amongst them now, at least for Mr. Wirth who had been gone for so long.
The two had made it all the way to the road sign that would first greet those arriving in Defiance, at which point they turned back. They’d ended up further from the residential area and closer to Defiance General.
The post office was the first building of significance they reached on their way back. A decently sized building with just one floor, a quite scenic one given the open field behind it. Abelard knew a local artist had once painted a beautiful piece featuring the post office and its backdrop. It was, in fact, iconic to the residents.
Glancing through the main window as they passed, Abelard offered a wave to the local postman, Mr. Lang, who was working inside. The gray tabby offered a wave back, though he cast a curious glance at Mr. Wirth, who seemed to be glancing the complete opposite way. He almost seemed to willfully try to ignore the post office’s existence.
“Would you like to go inside? Perhaps we can ask if there’s work to be done in the post office.” Mr. Wirth turned towards Abelard again and looked apprehensive at best.
“Oh, uh… Yeah, we can head inside,” the younger cat replied, speaking with a similarly apprehensive tone, his eyes not meeting Abelard's.
Abelard raised an eyebrow curiously. For someone who said they’d take on anything and everything, this was a curious reaction, when the very prospect of a potential job was brought up.
What are we going to do with you, he privately wondered as he stepped up to the post office’s door, looking sideways at the younger cat. Abelard knew next to nothing about him at this point, maybe Mr. Wirth truly was doing better than he appeared to be.
He was an enigma, this one…
