[Right Father Hansa and Father Abel sent him because they thought he'd have a better chance of relating to a fellow kid. So he should...try to be personable.]
I'm well.
I was contacted by the Admin. Said you got a strange mark and thought a priest should check in. Is that true?
[ the next time Falco opens his front door, there is a small, colorful off-brand Hello Kitty lunchbox (the kind you can purchase at Fruit's Basket) sitting outside addressed to him. inside is a thermos with Earl Grey old English tea - still warm as he finds it before nightfall, and a variety of neatly wrapped pastries. there is a note tucked in between the array of sweets found here in the priest's chicken scratch handwriting that Falco would hopefully be able to decipher: ]
Hello Mr. Falco!
It sounds like you've been having a rough time of things. I left you a few goodies I like to have when I'm having a bad day; hopefully they cheer you up a bit.
Please don't feel obligated, but maybe whenever you feel up to it, maybe we could share the next cup of tea in person! That would make me quite happy. If you don't want to, I completely understand.
[ falco had been home as is, resting in bed after. that. all of that. and eventually feeling too spooked to stay anywhere that wasn’t brightly lit or busy. the quarter built chicken coop outside sunderland cottage would have to wait; he was tired, antsy and had finally worked up the words to call mister mandalorian and ask to sleep at their place for the night. it’s still afternoon as falco gets his belongings ready and leaves a note for mister connor, opens the door and gets ready to swing his bag on the porch while he went to go clean up and put away any tools that were still in the yard.
and then he comes across this. this thing. this cute little kitty lunchbox that has him thinking of gabi and how she would’ve liked the design more than him. looking all around him to check for any signs that someone was nearby, he tentatively takes the box, and the note. it takes a few times to try and read the note, mostly because it was in a language he didn’t understand, but after the sixth attempt at full concentration . . .
no one had ever called him mister, that was more his line of verbal communication from both respect and his age. it’s a sweet gift and it smells wonderful, so neatly packed and well thought of. when he gets to the end, the signed name, something in his chest drops. abel. father abel. jun had said that was his name.
it’s not long after that the priest will get a message on his phone, as soon as falco finds his name there, from the user FALCOGRICE. ]
Hi Father Abel, this is Falco. I just got your gift. I wanted to thank you in person, so if you’re not busy, would you mind sharing these pastries with me before I go somewhere else for the night?
I’m still at the cottage you left the box at. I promise I won’t bite you.
[ oh, Falco... as soon as the priest sees the unread message in his inbox, he can't deny the little wiggle of something like trepidation in his chest. he hadn't expected a reply so soon and he was half expecting the boy to be... angry? bitter? he wasn't sure, really, but he wouldn't have begrudged him either of those feelings.
his heart pangs rather viciously, as he reads the text on the screen.
...he's got his coat in his hands and is out the door before he's finished replying: ]
Please wait for me-- I'll be right there, okay?
[ "won't bite you," he says. oh, this boy...
and he really did hurry; before long, the tall figure is making his approach to the cottage a little bit winded. he ran, it seems-- ]
--Mr. Falco? [ he slows his pace as he approaches with a wave; why is he nervous, of all things? goodness... ]
[ okay was the last the priest would receive as falco awaited, sitting down on the first step of the cottage’s short stairs. he’d see and hear running up the street eventually, staring and squinting to see if it’s who he’s waiting for . . . surely enough, it was. falco’s heart leaps in his chest, equally nervous about the encounter and thinking if the man is upset, fearful, if he’d be avoided or told he was a devil in the ways he’s heard the citizens of marley or foreigners beyond it spit at him and his race. why be so nice—? he had to see for himself and hope things were reparable.
the boy stands, raises his hand and waves in greeting as well as confirmation. ]
That’s, ah— [ he’s suddenly extra nervous, wide eyes a bright hazel but as soft as a fawn’s trying to gauge out the reaction of a priest . . . being attacked, and repulsed by a kid with a poltergeist problem. it’s tentative and awkward as any, but it’s certainly a try in the right direction: inoffensive. his overall posture, energy and demeanor has him looking as hostile as a baby bird. ] H-hello.
[Despite himself, he's a little hesitant to send the message to Falco. It has less to do with trust and more to do with the implications of... a lot of things -60 said. Falco's obviously more worldly than most when it comes to serious subjects, but... well, he's a worry-wart, despite himself.]
Falco, are you around? I might need your help with something.
[ around, he very well could be. falco doesn’t hesitate when he sees what it’s about. as fast as his fingers can type back, ethan would get a return message not too long after it’s received. ]
I can be, Mister Ethan. I just finished taking care of the chickens. What do you need?
[That makes him frown. How to explain that... the amount of hesitation as he types is unusual, and he supposes that says all that needs to be said on the matter.]
Alright. I'll explain when you get here.
As for supplies... something to dig with, if you have anything, and a pair of sharp eyes if you know any to spare, but I've opened a post on the network for that too. I don't suspect I'll need too much more than that.
[ on Halloween night - or whenever Falco finds it next - is a green paper bag with a, um... slightly lopsided Frankenstein's monster-like face crudely drawn on the front of it. inside is a variety of candies and a few cookies in the shape of ghosts. these ghosts might look more like blobs, but it's the thought that counts; they're edible, at least! there is a note: ]
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! I hope no one tried to play a Trick on you this year, but maybe these Treats will make up for it if they did! I hope you're busy with some of your friends, Falco, but please enjoy these when you get back!! Have fun!!
[ halloween night was more of a wreck that both abel and falco could’ve predicted— he goes to bed early (or at least tries to) and would only see the gift come the morning of the first of november, from what the calendar and smart phone say.
falco is glad that abel can’t see his face for the time being. it’s certainly grateful and smiling down at the bag, the decorations and the sweets so carefully crafted in along with the note. and here he was, feeling saddened, and waiting anxiously for connor to come home. his first halloween was gone, and memorable in a way that stuck with some light feeling of dread.
maybe this should do, as he types the message on his smart phone. ]
Thank you for your gift, Father Abel. 👏😊 I didn’t go trick or treating last night but I want to reassure you that I’m going to enjoy these the best that I can. Maybe we could see each other sometime soon once Mister Connor is home. I’d want to tell you how the candy was, and about a dream I keep having.
[ sometime mid-morning, Falco is getting a text back!! ah to be blissfully ignorant... FALCO.......... ]
Fal~co~!! ✨ I hope you had a wonderful Halloween!! I would love to see you anytime, so you give me a ring whenever you're ready! Are you having an interesting dream? We can catch up and you can talk about anything you like! I'll be looking forward to it.
For now, enjoy your goodies! It will be Christmas time before you know it!! Start thinking about what you're going to ask from Santa!!!
[ so maybe a day passes before he sends a Brand New Message to father abel— one after he's had a chance to clear his head and work things out. ]
Father Abel? It's me again. [ maybe the dream can come later, ] If Mister Santa gives us gifts for being good, then who is the sir that breaks into houses and stones people with coal?
[ Cinnabar is awake. They are powdered. And they are in one piece. All of these things are thanks to various people on the island, most of whom they continue to have mixed feelings about, but there's one person they're particularly conflicted over, and he also happens to be the one who probably did the most for them during all that - two things which are most certainly related. They really shouldn't be making friends with creatures their entire existence is anathema to. But Falco has proven beyond Cinnabar's doubts that their poison won't kill him; after all he went through just to try and help them, they have no real reason to doubt that he does actually care, either. They've decided to hope for the best. Tentatively.
They haven't seen him since the waters receded - a bit surprising, considering how large he's become. It's cause for concern. Friends or not, he's a juvenile, and, anti-social as they are, they do feel at least slightly responsible for their juniors. At that size, at least, they're sure they'll be able to spot him whenever he shows up, and they're also fairly confident that, eventually, he'll come wandering back to Sunderland. So that's where Cinnabar waits, seated on the front steps of the house, simply waiting (and hoping Connor doesn't show up instead.) There's a small pillar of mercury perched in one of their hands, which they're toying with idly as they pass the time, morphing it into various shapes - at the moment, it's vaguely in the form of a tree. ]
[ the last day of the flood: falco slept nearly the entire afternoon at fruit's basket. on the floor. in a blanket. after that: someone probably had to carry him home, perhaps connor or another friend— he fell asleep again. the next day: he'd only wake up rested late afternoon, and springs from his bed when he's realized he's slept for more than ten hours. common practice in newly exposed shifters, shifting more than they could properly handle in a short span of time (or, spending too much time in a once shifted form— and equal perpetrator). they'd never have to go through such, and the cart had been the only one to last months on end in titan form. while the others were . . . far less unprepared for extended trips.
falco runs out of sunderland cottage in a hurry to feed the chickens, the poor chickens who're probably hungry since the morning he accidentally skipped. they're all squawking and complaining, and surely he doesn't think anyone would take care of them— it was his responsibility. so he yells out the window: ]
I'm sorry everyone! I overslept! [ the roosters ruffle the most and crow out their distaste while the hens are a little more understanding. they're quite famished though, running to the coop's corner as the boy ventures out from the front door, and right there, double takes on the steps, ] Ah—!
[ the one he possibly stayed with during the entirety of the last day of the flooding, staying afloat for them and overstaying his shift. they're okay and he forgot to see them too ]
[ well, they certainly weren't expecting him to be inside the house!! They jump when he shouts out the window, the mercury in the air jumping with them, and then blink in mild shock as they try to compute what this means. By the time Falco's out the door, their expression's settled into mild bewilderment, their little pillar of mercury melted into a silvery puddle clenched in one hand. ]
I— huh? [ he shrank. he did a reverse pupation. he went right back to being squishy larva, that’s exactly what happened. though it only takes a few more moments of turning gears for falco to understand that, well, if he shrank then he had to be— ] Oh!
[ he holds a hand out, but gestures for them to come with so they could talk. the chickens were impatiently squawking. ]
That’s like— That was a temporary form! I can do that.
[ Hello, Falco. There's a small package waiting for you on your doorstep! (Not from Santa though, unfortunately.) It's just a little box wrapped simply in red paper with a white ribbon, with a note attached; it's written in nice, but somewhat old-fashioned handwriting: ]
Falco,
I hope this note finds you in good health and high spirits. In truth, Christmas isn't a holiday we celebrate in my homeland, but it seems most here are familiar with it, so I wished to contribute to the celebrations.
So in keeping with the apparent tradition, I'm leaving you a simple gift. I'm afraid they aren't quite as charming as your charges, but perhaps I've managed an acceptable likeness.
Please take care and be well. If you've ever any need for assistance, please don't hesitate to let me know.
-- Vangeance
[ Inside the box is a pair of little wooden figurines, palm-sized, of a hen and a rooster. Simply-shaped, but made of a nice, reddish wood, and cute in a rustic sort of way. (This rooster won't go attacking people, though.) ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Text; UN: Orden
It's Orden. Do you remember me?
[OPEN UP ITS THE CHURCH]
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I'm well.
I was contacted by the Admin. Said you got a strange mark and thought a priest should check in. Is that true?
[...he's trying.]
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I do. Two purple swirls. It got bigger too, I think?
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left outside of Falco's residence - afternoon of 10/14
Hello Mr. Falco!
It sounds like you've been having a rough time of things. I left you a few goodies I like to have when I'm having a bad day; hopefully they cheer you up a bit.
Please don't feel obligated, but maybe whenever you feel up to it, maybe we could share the next cup of tea in person! That would make me quite happy. If you don't want to, I completely understand.
Either way, please enjoy and feel better soon.
Yours,
Father Abel
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and then he comes across this. this thing. this cute little kitty lunchbox that has him thinking of gabi and how she would’ve liked the design more than him. looking all around him to check for any signs that someone was nearby, he tentatively takes the box, and the note. it takes a few times to try and read the note, mostly because it was in a language he didn’t understand, but after the sixth attempt at full concentration . . .
no one had ever called him mister, that was more his line of verbal communication from both respect and his age. it’s a sweet gift and it smells wonderful, so neatly packed and well thought of. when he gets to the end, the signed name, something in his chest drops. abel. father abel. jun had said that was his name.
it’s not long after that the priest will get a message on his phone, as soon as falco finds his name there, from the user FALCOGRICE. ]
Hi Father Abel, this is Falco. I just got your gift. I wanted to thank you in person, so if you’re not busy, would you mind sharing these pastries with me before I go somewhere else for the night?
I’m still at the cottage you left the box at. I promise I won’t bite you.
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his heart pangs rather viciously, as he reads the text on the screen.
...he's got his coat in his hands and is out the door before he's finished replying: ]
Please wait for me-- I'll be right there, okay?
[ "won't bite you," he says. oh, this boy...
and he really did hurry; before long, the tall figure is making his approach to the cottage a little bit winded. he ran, it seems-- ]
--Mr. Falco? [ he slows his pace as he approaches with a wave; why is he nervous, of all things? goodness... ]
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the boy stands, raises his hand and waves in greeting as well as confirmation. ]
That’s, ah— [ he’s suddenly extra nervous, wide eyes a bright hazel but as soft as a fawn’s trying to gauge out the reaction of a priest . . . being attacked, and repulsed by a kid with a poltergeist problem. it’s tentative and awkward as any, but it’s certainly a try in the right direction: inoffensive. his overall posture, energy and demeanor has him looking as hostile as a baby bird. ] H-hello.
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text; un: ethan
Falco, are you around? I might need your help with something.
It involves the other Connor.
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I can be, Mister Ethan. I just finished taking care of the chickens. What do you need?
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Alright. I'll explain when you get here.
As for supplies... something to dig with, if you have anything, and a pair of sharp eyes if you know any to spare, but I've opened a post on the network for that too. I don't suspect I'll need too much more than that.
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I can do that. Do you need something deep or superficial?
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CW: implication of torture, talk of murder
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outside of Falco's residence, night of 10/31;
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! I hope no one tried to play a Trick on you this year, but maybe these Treats will make up for it if they did! I hope you're busy with some of your friends, Falco, but please enjoy these when you get back!! Have fun!!
- Father Abel :)
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falco is glad that abel can’t see his face for the time being. it’s certainly grateful and smiling down at the bag, the decorations and the sweets so carefully crafted in along with the note. and here he was, feeling saddened, and waiting anxiously for connor to come home. his first halloween was gone, and memorable in a way that stuck with some light feeling of dread.
maybe this should do, as he types the message on his smart phone. ]
Thank you for your gift, Father Abel. 👏😊 I didn’t go trick or treating last night but I want to reassure you that I’m going to enjoy these the best that I can. Maybe we could see each other sometime soon once Mister Connor is home. I’d want to tell you how the candy was, and about a dream I keep having.
Thanks again,
Falco Grice 🦅
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Fal~co~!! ✨ I hope you had a wonderful Halloween!! I would love to see you anytime, so you give me a ring whenever you're ready! Are you having an interesting dream? We can catch up and you can talk about anything you like! I'll be looking forward to it.
For now, enjoy your goodies! It will be Christmas time before you know it!! Start thinking about what you're going to ask from Santa!!!
- Father Abel✨✨
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Father Abel? It's me again. [ maybe the dream can come later, ] If Mister Santa gives us gifts for being good, then who is the sir that breaks into houses and stones people with coal?
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Un: Orden; backdated to not long after the event
It can spread if you bring too much attention to it.
[He saw you giving the full deets on Vanitas's post]
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I only knew after someone else said that on the same post. I’m sorry.
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The Admin had warn me to be discreet. I failed to realize the full meaning of his words.
[So if anything, his bad. ]
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[ —oops. mood bleed. he didn’t mean to think or even write that the blame was on admin, so quickly: ]
Sorry, he did his best when he could. He had a reason to be just as subtle.
What’s going to happen now?
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action, backdated to sometime soon after the flood
They haven't seen him since the waters receded - a bit surprising, considering how large he's become. It's cause for concern. Friends or not, he's a juvenile, and, anti-social as they are, they do feel at least slightly responsible for their juniors. At that size, at least, they're sure they'll be able to spot him whenever he shows up, and they're also fairly confident that, eventually, he'll come wandering back to Sunderland. So that's where Cinnabar waits, seated on the front steps of the house, simply waiting (and hoping Connor doesn't show up instead.) There's a small pillar of mercury perched in one of their hands, which they're toying with idly as they pass the time, morphing it into various shapes - at the moment, it's vaguely in the form of a tree. ]
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falco runs out of sunderland cottage in a hurry to feed the chickens, the poor chickens who're probably hungry since the morning he accidentally skipped. they're all squawking and complaining, and surely he doesn't think anyone would take care of them— it was his responsibility. so he yells out the window: ]
I'm sorry everyone! I overslept! [ the roosters ruffle the most and crow out their distaste while the hens are a little more understanding. they're quite famished though, running to the coop's corner as the boy ventures out from the front door, and right there, double takes on the steps, ] Ah—!
[ the one he possibly stayed with during the entirety of the last day of the flooding, staying afloat for them and overstaying his shift. they're okay and he forgot to see them too ]
Cinnabar!
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You shrank...
[ why. ]
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[ he holds a hand out, but gestures for them to come with so they could talk. the chickens were impatiently squawking. ]
That’s like— That was a temporary form! I can do that.
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delivery; 12/25
I hope this note finds you in good health and high spirits. In truth, Christmas isn't a holiday we celebrate in my homeland, but it seems most here are familiar with it, so I wished to contribute to the celebrations.
So in keeping with the apparent tradition, I'm leaving you a simple gift. I'm afraid they aren't quite as charming as your charges, but perhaps I've managed an acceptable likeness.
Please take care and be well. If you've ever any need for assistance, please don't hesitate to let me know.
-- Vangeance
[ Inside the box is a pair of little wooden figurines, palm-sized, of a hen and a rooster. Simply-shaped, but made of a nice, reddish wood, and cute in a rustic sort of way. (This rooster won't go attacking people, though.) ]