yoghurtcup

[yoghurtcup]

Canis Satanae - Chapter 2

Cult Leader! Priest! Silco Arcane x Black! Male! Reader

Just when you think things are sweet, home sweet home, you find yourself charging head first into sacrilegious beef. And the dreams are back.

You decide, before anything else, to get your ass outta there. Out the door, back home, leg pain be damned you need to go fast and you need to go right now. A priest, you decided to hold a petty grudge with a priest of all people, over an accident, a candle. You don't stop running until you know you're home. You unlock the door and sit on the couch finally able to breathe. Legs stinging, you rub your face and try to focus on inhaling, in for two out for four-or however the hell your mental health coordinator said it-and eventually you can think again. You can already feel yourself going crazy, because something in the back of your head is telling you to go back there. Service isn't for a few hours they said, you could get slightly more dressed up and walk back there and still make it in time, you could actually talk to that priest because maybe he's a nice man, you could apologize to that nun for almost knocking her out twice-Sister Elizabeth, that was her name, right?

However, you don't want to do that. You don't want to listen to that dumb voice in your head or look that priest in the eye again, you don't ever want to find yourself near that church ever. Once your mom comes back you'll find out where she goes, you'll ask her nicely to take you with her, or just walk the distance yourself if you need to. Or maybe you'll just wander the streets and rekindle friendships while you're here, you don't need to be religious anyway. A free Sunday was always something you wish you had when you were working, and now that you aren't swamped in email after email and meeting after meeting you can do anything, you can drink till you black out or sleep until Tuesday! You make the choice then and there, to never ever set foot in, around, or near that church for the rest of your life.

It's Monday, and you're standing outside of the church. You know what you said, and you still think you should listen to that version of yourself that was so sure to never touch this church again. You can still take it all back, as you walk to the doors, you can still take it back as you grab the handle and hope that they don't do Monday Mass, you can take it all back as you pull at the door and watch in anger as it decides to open for you so eagerly. You can't take it back, because the church door is open and it wants nothing more to swallow you whole. You fight yourself as you take a step into the narthex, the urge to satiate your hunger and curiosity winning over the pull of your common sense telling you to stop walking deeper. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, but in the silence it rings through the empty hall and you can see from where you stand the receptionist in the vestibule who watches you with a disgustingly patient smile. You can't help but twist your face at her, but the look is unwavering as she expects you to come closer, deeper into the mouth of the beast.

Leave. You take a few soft steps closer to the reception, her smile widens only slightly but you feel a chill run through you. Leave. Standing in front of the desk as she gives you a curious look, wondering what you are doing here, you wonder the same thing. Leave. She never says a word to you, but you understand exactly, or at least you think you do. Leave, leave LEAVE. She nods and you nod back, walking towards the door of the inner vestibule, you stare at it, still giving yourself the chance to leave. You decide to turn around then, listening to the common sense in your head telling you to get the fuck out of there right now. You take your steps past the receptionist, towards the door. You can feel the cool air of the outside reaching your face, yes, god yes.

"Again, leaving so soon?" You feel yourself tensing before he even speaks. Damn it all you hesitated to long, and he sensed you leaving. "I fail to understand you, making your way all the way in but never staying for service?" His chest presses to your back and he wraps a hand around your waist, the other holding your chin. You realize he's bending to meet your height-the bastard is wearing platforms under his robes. Why he thinks he can just touch on you, you have no idea. "You clean up well, though it is ill-fitting. Had you been planning to stay?" You push him away from you, who the hell did he think he was. honestly? Besides the priest of this god awful church. You go to slap him, or punch him or whatever to prove a point about personal space, that touching people without constent is against everything he's supposed to be.

Then you have to stop yourself mid-swing. Sister fucking Elizabeth, showing up once again from nowhere and standing between you and your much needed violence. That damn nun, you swear she's magnetized to getting her ass knocked out. To save embarrassment you move to run that hand over your hair, checking your braids, that's all. You really need then re-done, shit. She flashes a smile at you, then turns to the priest and consequently forgets you even exist. Next time, next time you really will punch her lights out. Fixing your suit-because yes you were wearing one, your dad's old suit bless his soul- you turn to leave again regardless of what that asshole priest says to you. No one in their right mind would stick around in a place like this, and you'd like to think you're in your right mind even if you're talking to yourself more than usual. You nod as you reach for the door, fresh air hitting your face again. This time, you think, is the last time you touch that damn church. Even though in your gut you know you'll find yourself back. You don't know why, but you feel drawn there, and something is going to bring you back no matter what.

A week goes by, more dreams of the black silhouette. He doesn't do anything, not like the first time. He just stares at you, the single glowing eye watching you and you watch him back. A week goes by and you haven't been back the that church. Life is peaceful for that week, you stay home with your mom, play games with her and talk about the past years you were gone. You find she plans to sell the house, take all her stuff and replant somewhere new. You tell her it will feel hard at first, you know from experience, but you offer to help her find a new place. She declines this, saying she has a place set up already and you start to wonder how long she'd been planning this for. You feel your stomach drop as it clicks in your head, looking at your mom and how despite the most age she shows is from her smile lines, her hair is more white than black now, she moves slower and talks quieter than you remember. You were so focused on her missing you growing up, that you forgot that you also missed her growing old. She's surprised when you hug her-the first genuine hug in decades, and you both share this moment, the silence of the old house settling, the smell of your childhood and your mom, trying not to cry in your arms because she has to reach up on her toes to wrap her arms around you instead of bend down. She smells more like home than the house does, and you feel so greatful suddenly that you god laid off. FOr the rest of the day you find yourself taking more pictures of her than usual, something you shouldv'e done a long time ago.

Two weeks go by, it's Sunday again. You're not stupid, you know what's bound to happen. You bought a nicer fitting suit, got dressed and kissed your mother on the forehead. She smiles at you as she gets ready for church, you almost ask if you could go with her but you know better at this point. You keep your mind with you as you walk to that church again, this time you're going to do it. All the way, full service. You aren't catholic and have no plans of being catholic but you just need to get this fucking feeling out of your chest. Once you finally get rid of that pull you can leave that priest and that church alone, you can find peace and finish finding a job and a new home, or you might just buy your childhood home off your mom. Either way, you want to get this over with and finally get all of this off your mind, you can imagine the freedom already, the empty space in your head you can use for finding a home and a new job because you know you can't keep living off the checks you've been getting.

The doors call for you in a sickening way, the way your hand touches the handle and a feeling of nervous excitement runs up your spine and into your brain makes you feel queasy. It was overstimulating, this feeling of not knowing a single thing that could happen beyond this small hallway between the real world and the inside of this church, this tiny pocket of something you have no leeway into. New territory, prey in a jungle, birdfeed in a nest. You were nothing but a delicacy to this experience and all you can do is brace for whether or not the universe liked to play with its food. How…delicious. You fight back a smile, remember your common sense damnit this could easily be a Get Out situation and you need to be on guard. You push your way into the church, nodding briskly at the receptionist as you walk past (now that you think about it-catholic churches don't have receptionists last you checked) and deeper into the church, finally ready to get rid of this feeling once and for all.

Monday. That service was unremarkable, long dull and underhwleming. To be honest you are pissed off about that fact. All that skirting around it and fighting off a fear in your head only to be greeted with sitting through three hours of words, words and more words. You learned a bit about the Catholic part of Christianity, so that's something, but you felt this deep sense of annoyance that yesterday was just. Church, Are you greatful no one jumped out and beat the hell out of you or shot you point blank? Absolutely. Do you also kind of wish something exrtraordinary happened to justify the jumpiness you felt just looking at the place? Kind of? It's the principle of the whole thing really, like first of all you were losing sleep over this old man, and second of all why was every part of your body pushing back like that? Was it because of your religious trauma? Whatever it was, you are pretty sure it's gone. Though, you can't be sure if you believe your own thoughts at this point and you are far too grown to ask your momma about something trivial like this. So you were nothing short of stuck on your own, wondering to yourself the same things over and over. Things like-why do you want to go back there? It's Monday so they are likely to be having Mass right now, unless this is one of those specific days where they decided that they don't actually have Mass and you're a whole dumbass for thinking that they do.

Or, just a thought, you leave well enough alone. Not only are there several thousand other churches that exist not even a few blocks away from eachother at the very least, you don't even need to go to church anymore let alone that one. Yet something in your head is saying like, go back. You were never religious, just forced, and you are pretty sure that if God is real, he's sick of your shit at this moment. Whatever the case, you want to sleep until it's the next Monday, so you take your grown ass to your room and lay down, jeans be damned, you're tired and you aren't going to take the time to take nothing off.

You should know by now, that waking up in a black void is the basis for all your dreams since you came home. Yet opening your eyes into the vast nothingness, with light and colors bouncing around in dim patterns that let you know how aware you are it throws you for a loop. You make the usual walk, wondering what you'll see this time. A sheep? A knife? Maybe your own mother looking at you in abstract dissapointment about you choosing to have a one sided issue with a man of God? No, none of those…It was that damn door. You hadn't seen it in weeks, so its deep red was an oddly welcoming sight. You stand at it, unsure of what to do or what this means, it opens on its own.

The first thing you notice is the candles, the color was familiar in a way you can't place, the orange flame flickering in a motion that seemed like it was motioning you to walk through the door. It was then you realize that this dream wasn't lucid, because you took a step past the open doorway and into this room you'd only seen from the outside. Several thousand candles in neat rows on both sides of you lead deeper into this room, which you now can see is a hallway. Now would be a good time to be lucid you think, because whatever might be at the end of this hallway won't be anything good.

It opens up to a room, which no shit! Rooms are usualy at the end of hallways! This room was odd, a singular bed in the middle of it, touching no walls…oh hell no. You watch yourself walk around the room and touch damn near everything. You try to open your eyes in the waking world, but that does nothing for you now, you're stuck here.

It's just a room, but it throws you off heavy. Almost like someone else is supposed to be there too…which now that you're thinking-which you clearly don't do often these days- there is something, no someone missing from this dream. That was until all the candles snuffed out in the room, then relit themselves now in a purple color. You don't look, but you can feel the eyes on the back of your neck from this thing walking in.

He speaks in that garbled tone, vibrating into your bones from the ground into your finger tips. You have no idea what he's saying to you, and just like before you really don't want to know anyway. Turning to him slowly despite not wanting to, his singular red-orange eye peircing into you, past your soul into something deeper. It makes you shiver, his gaze. It isn't malicious but you still don't like it. And he's still talking…the deep rumbling that replaced words made it hard to focus, even in your dreams you found yourself getting tired. The figure reaches for you, laying you on the bed as the rumbling lulls you to sleep. You can feel your eyes getting too heavy to keep open, but you fight it-bad idea, this feeling got hands. Right before you're fully out the rumbling voice stops. You can hear it clearly now, what he's saying. One word-your name.

Waking up to the smooth R&B sounds of Brandy Norwood indicates nothing short of deep cleaning the house. Maybe you can trick yourself into falling asleep again, but after hearing your name out of the mouth of that thing…maybe drowning in bleach smell is the better option. Groggily doing your morning routine, choosing to not shave because you are far too tired to be trusted with a razor, you hum along to the rhythm of The Boy Is Mine- thoughts drifting to someone random just like you're used to. He's fairly average height, tanned skin and a pronounced nose..what an image. Making your way to the kitchen where your mom is kneeling head first into the oven, she pauses the music and looks at you astonished.

"Well praise the Lord. Thought I had to call an am-u-lambs." You snort at her attempt at the word, ignoring the sincere worry on her face. "It's ambulance, mamma. I was only out for a few hours." You lean against the kitchen island, a heavy yawn leaving you as it takes a few moments to really wake up. She shakes her head at you, slowly pushing herself up off the ground. "Boy, you been asleep for two weeks!"

What. No like actually, what?! You're used to maybe sleeping in for a few hours, a day is pushing it but Two Weeks? You spend a good while ensuring your mom that you're fine and you aren't on anything heavy or illegal. She slaps the back of your head then hugs you, glad you're awake and able to help her deep clean the house. Damn. Even a near coma can't get you out of cleaning apparently, she says it'd be good for you, something to do to keep you awake. You respect your mom, so you clean with her well into the night. She tells you what happened while you were out, then tells you that she's so glad you're choosing to go to church again. You smile at her, and say yea, church. Always good to get in touch with the man upstairs.

After confirming your age by the sound of your joints cursing you out for bending over, you decide to take a break and get some air away from the cleaning products. You sit on the porch of your house for a while so your limbs can relax, then you decide to take a walk. Sometimes you forget just how pleading your hometown is, little county outside the big city, the same place you always knew. Time passes, sun rises but home always felt the same. You remember being outside when you were younger, always came inside when the street light came on. The good days.

You're quite used to people stapling posters onto light poles, you'd read them on your way by- a lost dog, someone trying to sell a couch, the church you went to on Sunday-What. Last you checked, Catholic churches don't make fliers. You tear it from the pole, careful not to scratch the wood and splinter your fingers, and give it a twice over.

"Join Our Church!" It practically yells in large gothic letters, Uncharacteristic from what you know but the aesthetic is there. "Join us for our wonderful 'service'. Welcome the Lord into your heart and praise 'His' name."

The quotes around "service" and "His" are just visible enough that only people staring hard at it would notice. You fold and tuck the paper into your pocket and keep walking, each flier you see gets torn down and tucked away, you feel like you're doing a good thing. Something is up about that church.

The next Sunday you decided to intentionally show up. No more dancing on eggshells about it, you came this far once you may as well do it again. So you get dressed in a properly fitted suit this time- for yourself, not the priest- and make your way to the church same as last time. This time you were prepared for anything, or at the very least ready for everything you thought could happen. If it was just another boring service so be it. Whatever it was, you prepared mentally and physically for it.

Except for this. The door was unlocked so you walked in, the woman at the front desk was there, she smiled at you like before but had an odd look in her eyes. You walk past her not willing for small talk, and right into the heart of it all. And it was pitch fucking black. All the lights were turned off, you couldn't see your own hands in front of you kind of darkness. You used your phone's flashlight and still couldn't see anything, it made the inside seem so much bigger than it is, you know it's a large church, you grew up in it and you can still remember it from last Sunday, but it felt endless, familiar.

You kept walking through the darkness, foregoing the phone flashlight for pure instinct and feeling for the walls. Familiar feeling, this. Even though you know you're moving forward you feel as though you're going back. Eventually you find something that isn't plain wall, something cold and clearly metallic, a doorknob. You made it this far, and you can't shake the feeling that turning around now is pointless. Gathering yourself and opening the door, what you see shocks you…it's the hallway from your dream, behind a door in the church. You knew something was up, that feeling in your gut… you knew it was right.

You brace yourself for the end of the hallway, feeling only partially surprised that you stumble upon a door not dissimilar to the one you dream about. Should you curve your expectations for what it is you'll find? Do you brace for something to claw at you and rend you to pieces if you so much as think of opening the door? You shake the thoughts from your head and hope that the door is locked. It isn't. Okay, fine. Whatever it is awaiting you, you are ready. You got this. Alright, you open the door at the end of the hallway…

And you wake up in bed.

[Previous Chapter]

[yoghurtcup]

Canis Satanae - Masterpost

Cult Leader! Priest! Silco Arcane x Black! Male! Reader

You lived a different life for a while, a good job with good money and a house that made you feel like a king, Suddenly you're laid off and the best you can do is go back to your hometown while you look for a new job and a new place to live. Your mom doesn't mind you coming home to her, but you better find things to do while you're there. You haven't touched a church since you left, so you figure it wouldn't hurt to try things all over again.

Masterpost [You are here] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two]

[yoghurtcup]

Canis Satanae - Chapter 1

Cult Leader! Priest! Silco Arcane x Black! Male! Reader

You lived a different life for a while, a good job with good money and a house that made you feel like a king, Suddenly you're laid off and the best you can do is go back to your hometown while you look for a new job and a new place to live. Your mom doesn't mind you coming home to her, but you better find things to do while you're there. You haven't touched a church since you left, so you figure it wouldn't hurt to try things all over again.

Being laid off was not the worst thing that happened to you. You knew better than anyone that eventually all your hard work and effort to get that promotion would mean jack shit to your boss, and that he was going to give that prick Dennis that manager title anyway, he was her nephew after all. No, it wasn't losing your job that got you pissed, it was losing your house too, owned by the company that fired you and now you have to live off the last four paychecks you were given as a 'sorry we fucked you over, good luck dipshit' consolation gift. It was enough money to last a while if you were smart, but now you had no place to turn but the same place you left years ago when you wanted to pursue better things. Your hometown.

Mama had always said you needed a place to go when shit hits the fan, even if you outgrew it all, home is there. So you stand there, in front of the house you grew up in, and feel like something just isn't the same. Maybe it's the beard you grew, or the deeper voice or the fact that you are greying at the temples just enough for everyone to know you've been busy and had no time to rest, but opening the door again-she never changed the locks-after so many years of not being home, all your problems are gone just like that. Being laid off means nothing, losing your fancy house overlooking a skyline was just the past now. You were home and you felt like you'd always craved being back.

You hadn't even been paying attention, the first few hours went by so fast that by the time your head hit the satin lined pillow of your childhood bed you were bone tired and more full than you've felt in years. Your mom had greeted you the moment you opened the door, plate of food in hand and more on the stove, your favorite dessert in the oven and everything you'd missed about the simple life of your hometown waiting to embrace you just as hard as she had. You'd had several helpings of mashed potatoes, greens, chicken and other home-made things and now you could hardly move to put the cover on. You kick off your clothes and place them on the floor as neatly as you can with everything in your body telling you to stop moving and go to sleep for three days. You barely manage to get your bonnet on before sleep took you and made you dead to the world. Best sleep in years.

You haven't had a genuine dream in forever, so when you woke up to a void, no light as far as you could see, dressed in the fanciest white suit you've never owned you assumed you had too much pinot grigio and not enough food to follow it. Then you notice how lightweight you felt, the slight floaty feeling of being in a lucid dream, and you relax. There's no other way to go but…forward? You have no clue what direction it is and at some point you are positive you were going fully backwards.

Eventually you came to a large door, it was a deep maroon accented with gold that seemed to glisten even with no light nearby to give it that pristine yellow shine. Everything in you told you not to open it, so you stood there staring at the door until it seemed to open on its own. After forever in darkness, seeing some form of light was like hope in a hellish place. You never take that step past the threshold of the door, you were lucid dreaming for once in a really long time, and you were not going to die by following horror tropes. You know you'd die first, even if it's only you in your dream. The warm candle light from inside the room invites you, but you stay ten toes down regardless of the need to see if there is more to this room.

Then a figure shows up, a tall shadow of a man that stares down at you with a fiery orange eye that flickers red, and horns that would clip the door frame if he tried to get close to you. He tilts his head at you and says nothing, so you also say nothing. It takes a while, you think maybe fifteen minutes if time worked in your dreams, but he leans under the door-frame and gets close to you. It happens so fast you nearly wake up from the scare, a deep rumbling shakes your chest and you feel that he's trying to talk to you. Word don't exist in this space, and you don't care enough to know what he wants from you. Wake up, damnit, you've had enough of this thing staring you down with that damn glowing eye. He's in your face and now you cant tell where he begins or ends, you don't like this one bit, so you do the one thing a lucid dream allows. You push him. He stumbles back into the lit room, and the large door slams closed. The loud noise jolts you awake, and you sit up in your bed. Greeted by the sound of robins singing and the sun just barely reaching past the horizon from your window, you consider that you need to get more sleep.

The rest of the morning was normal, the same routine you were used to with the difference of not doing anything alone. Your mom was cooking what smelled like pulled pork, so you figure she's getting dinner ready very early. She was never a breakfast person, and to be fair neither were you. You finish shaving and wash your face, staring at yourself in the mirror, you swear for a moment your eyes flicker, almost matching that orange from your dream. Sure, what the hell, you just woke up and your probably still jet-lagged from the flight. You let your tired brain recover for a moment, putting on your clothes to greet your mother downstairs as it does.

She acknowledges you with a good morning, and you hug her as you try, and of course fail, to take some of what she's cooking out of the pot. You reel back when she nearly clips your hand with the spoon she's cooking with and curses you out for acting like a child, in which you tell her that you are a child, her child. She rolls her eyes at you and shoves you out of the kitchen before you can even grab water. It feels so nice to be home, even if you're only staying while you apartment search.

You sit around on the couch for a while taking in the familiar surroundings of home, the same walls and popcorn ceiling that you would stare at for hours when you had nothing better to do, the same contemporary art pieces of faceless brown-skinned women in hair wraps and intensely patterned skirts and dresses going about life in energetic and colorful serenity. You see a few plaques with bible quotes in the same places you had last glanced at them, and the overly detailed prayer hands almost mock you for the last thing you'd said before you left to be someone else. Shaking your head of those thoughts you remind yourself that you are well forgiven now, you and your mom are on good terms and that's why you're home until you move out again. You peer into the kitchen once more before getting up and offering to make her coffee from the big plastic container of Folgers you swear she's had since you were a baby. You make yourself a cup as well and you share a moment at the table together, trying carefully to not overly stain the glass with your fingers unless you end up being the one to clean it up.

Soon she gets back to cooking, and you offer to help her out of the kindness of your heart but she refuses to let you touch the stove even though you hadn't burnt food since you were 7 years old. Instead you're forced to go out and see what has changed while you were gone, so that is exactly what you did, mostly because she told you to and you would be a dead man if you said no to her, even now at your grown age.

So out you went, and everything seemed as normal as you remember, construction on buildings that have been covered in fences since you were months old, a few re-paved sidewalks and only a few new buildings that color the lines of stores with the vague concept that this city is still loved. You had a bit of cash to spare, you'd saved most because you didn't remember when they'd send your next pity check. Staring at the different buildings, new mini-mart, a bowling alley, a leather shop. None of them seemed worth going to just yet, then you glance to your side and see something that makes you think back to that large maroon door.

A candle shop, looking at the building gave you a weird pang in your chest. A pull like you need to go in there, you figure it wouldn't hurt to take a look, you likely won't buy anything, memories of those god awful wax squares you sniffed with the promise of a sweet pumpkin scent still haunt you to this very day. Regardless of past traumas you walk through the automated glass door, hit with several scents at once but soothed by the prominent fragrance of lavender. You are greeted by an overly cheerful employee who looks like they need a break and maybe a blunt, you nod at them and bee-line to one of the aisles to keep interaction short. Rows and rows of candles later you're nose deep in the blood cranberry scented candle in the occult section, in your mind any candle that is scented can't be used for any type of occult so as long as you're just sniffing it you're fine. You're about ten hundred sniffs deep of this sweet smelling wax jar when someone shoulder-checks you and the jar goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor with a loud clatter. You'll have to buy the candle now, even though the glass of the jar didn't crack it just feels rude to put it back now. Turning to the asshole that shoulder-checked you, it takes a moment before you can see his face from the on your knees position you were in to pick the candle off the floor -it had rolled under the aisle shelf. You see the vague making of a face, a man who looks just old enough to be maybe your grandfather, immediately no.

Standing up, you try to keep an amused huff from escaping as he has to crane his neck a bit to look up at you. He's brushing off his shirt as he makes eye contact, and it is literal eye contact, since he only has one of them- strange. That gave you pause for a moment, looking between his wildly uninterested eye and the sleek black eye patch covering the whole other half of his face. He blinks, tilting his head and running a hand through long hair as he sizes you up. It takes self control to not jump at him just to see if he would flinch, instead you ball your fists and stare back at him, if he won't say anything you sure as hell won't, and being honest something about him just doesn't sit right with you. His face slowly breaks into a smile, and you feel a shiver run through your whole body, it causes you to look away from him.

"Apologies," He starts to speak, and his voice resonates somewhere mysterious inside of you and you know for a fact you don't like it. "I suppose I wasn't paying the most attention. Are you quite fond of blood cranberry as well?" He purrs half of his sentence, punctuating words that spark red flags in your mind and his fuckass grin isn't helping his case. He brushes past you, getting closer to the shelves as he grabs a few candles like yours and two 'Copper Strawberry' candles from behind the other assorted smells. What in the hell does a copper strawberry even smell like? He excuses himself, walking to the counter and leaving you standing there dumbfounded-you find yourself deciding that day forward that you now have beef with this man, and the next time you see him it is purely on sight.

Come Sunday, you did nothing more than pace your room and stare at the candle you bought, you never lit it but you have considered doing so. Your mom was having no more of your sleep, eat, sleep routine and once again sent you out to do literally anything. She was getting ready for church so you figured you would too, though she told you she'd changed congregation a few years back- not that she was forcing you to go with her, she remembers the fights years ago that caused you to leave. She goes when you do, driving off to wherever while you walk your way back to the church where the rift all began. Except this wasn't the church you'd been familiar with, the only thing unchanged was the address, and your hesitation to get close enough to the building for any of this to matter. You're heavily under-dressed and unprepared to set foot in a church again- yet there was a pull towards the building that you couldn't ignore despite the voice in your head saying to take your ass home.

You stand in front of the building, you can tell from the entrance that they never tore down the old church, just built over it with more windows and spires than a normal church needs, and once you got into the narthex you realized that while you were gone for those years this church went from basic inner city Pentecostal to full blown catholic. Uninterested in the intensity of Catholicism you decide now is better than later to turn and leave, as you reach the door of the vestibule you feel a hand on your shoulder. In that moment you almost full back-handed a nun, and you're lucky you stopped mid swing before this poor woman was on her back and closer to God than she signed up to be. She takes a quick step back and smiles at you, a familiar chill runs up your back and to your finger tips as she does so.

"Going? So Soon? Service hasn't started yet." She holds out a hand, a slight tilt to her head as if she expected you to know what she wanted from you. "I am. Sister Elizabeth." It was like her words were calculated in real time or something, you were not going to touch her hand, or stay here longer than you wanted to. You shake your head and back away while facing her because you know that the likelihood of being killed by a nun isn't zero, so you know better than to take chances. Reaching the door you turn and walk out of it, feeling so much better now that you were breathing in the air of the outside. You lean against the wall of the church while you take a few deep breaths, being in there was suffocating and you have no idea why.

"Not going to stay?" You knew that damn voice. You'd only heard it once before but it was ingrained in you from the start. "What a shame, it isn't often we have visitors, the same congregation can get boring, you know." You slowly turn your head, and you start to feel as if you were suffocating again. It was that man from the candle store, staring at you with his single off-blue eye. You felt your face twist in disgust, and you remembered your promise of it being on sight if you ever saw him again. Pushing yourself off the wall you start to prepare yourself to fight him, hoping that taking him by surprise and knocking his ass out on the pavement will solve this unnecessary beef that is most likely one sided and started by you non verbally- you realize as you start to size him up that he came outside from somewhere in the church, and you realize that you can't attack him, not out in public with people walking by often enough to cause stares. You curse yourself, realizing that even if you wanted to you can't.

You curse internally, and he fucking smirks at you as he opens the door of the church and leads you back inside. Everything in you starts to scream again, you want to leave you have to leave, but you want to punch this man right in his face and maybe break his nose. You make a point to not pass the threshold of the vestibule door, standing defiantly in the narthex, close to the outside-and easy escape. His eye looks over you unimpressed, the feeling of him looking at you only adds to the claustrophobic feeling that this church gives you, your nerves are firing on all cylinders to get you to make a move, in or out, leave or stay. He's staring, make a choice damnit make a choice.

"Something keeping you? Service doesn't start for an hour." His voice cuts through your internal monologue smoothly, you look at his face and your anger reignites, you ball your fists and take a step past the doorway of the vestibule towards him, preparing to swing the moment you close distance. Sister Elizabeth walks right between you two and you nearly knock her ass out for the second time today. She smiles at you as you flail to keep from hitting her, and she turns to the man as you straighten up. "With all respect, you are a bit late for preparation, Father."

You blink really hard three times, staring in disbelief at the man as he runs a hand through his hair and nod, thanking the nun who smiles at you again and leaves just as quickly as she arrived. Holy shit, no way, you cannot believe it. Just your luck you think, that you decide to pick a fight with some random man over something he apologized for the same day, that you find yourself standing in a church staring him down, that you almost knocked out a nun-twice in one day before you'd even had breakfast. What really kills you with all of this is one thing, what the nun had said to him, the name he was called. Your dumb-ass decided that out of every person in the world to hate on for a dumb reason, it had to be a priest.

[Next Chapter]

[yoghurtcup]

And Yet. -Jailco

"I'm an affront to your cause." Jayce coughed, and attempt to sitting up leading to blood spilling from his lips. He'd been horribly injured from another explosion caused by Jinx, he'd been crushed under the rubble and if not for Sevika finding him he would've been good as dead.

"Pardon?" Silco looks over at him, orange eye piercing through the veil of shadow he'd been sitting in, leg crossed over the other in a chair as he watched Jayce recover. He had just finished his meeting with Jayce about peace between Piltover and Zaun, they ended on vague agreements, but Silco had said clearly that he was willing to kill Jayce to get what he wanted. He'd been smoking a cigar as Singed took his time to mend Jayce's wounds, which he'd been told wouldn't kill him since Sevika had gotten to him so fast.

"You…could've let me die, you said you'd kill me anyway, so why?" He winces and lays back down on the bed, from the harsh lighting from the single window and the dusty surfaces all around him, he figured he was in Zaun. He takes in the small room he was in, then looks back to the man staring at him from the darkness. "Don't you want your…freedom? This could cause a war if they knew…I'd been injured because of her-"

Silco waves away at his words, his silhouette shifting as he did, taking a slow drag of his cigar before standing slowly, Jayce's eyes follow him, watching intently as the eye slowly rose then stopped. "Jinx is very accident prone, many get caught in the crossfire." He punctuates his words by stomping out his cigar, crushing the ignited leaves under his expensive boot. "It wasn't intentional, and I will be sure to tell them that. If Sevika hadn't done it already that is." He sounded contemplative as he walks from the shadows, Jayce looks at his intense facial details accentuated by the light of the window. He couldn't help but stare at the scars running from lip to temple, seeming to strike his obsidian hair with a single stripe of grey. His breathing picked up and he had no idea why, he wanted to sit up from his vulnerable position on his back.

They stare at eachother for a bit, the cold air of the room striking Jayce to his core, he usually had his shirt off in the forge, but that heat was absent here. Silco was watching him, inspecting his bandaged body for signs of something, something Jayce couldn't pin point from his expression. It was odd, Silco's face. A dead eye that looked swollen, and impossibly firey orange pupil that shifted in tandem with his other, the good eye that was impossile to decipher color wise from this room, the lighting making his eye look vaguely green, but he remember it as a lighter blue early that day. Was it still the same day? Viktor was going to kill him. "Your partner, he came to see you." Silco walked around the uncomfortable table Jayce was laying on, fingers grazing just the edge of it as he spoke. "I suppose he'd been worried, hearing of your near death so far from the comfort of home." He getly taps Jayce's shoulder, which causes him to wince. "He cares terribly for you, Counsilor Talis." The way Silco spoke his title had felt more teasing than anything else, and Jayce felt the need to defend himself, but he was hardly in shape to do that.

"You never answered my question." Jayce thought about Viktor coming to see him, quitting work on hextech just to look for him. "You could have left me to die under that rubble," He foregoes his body screaming in pain, hissing as he leans on his elbows and looks directly at Silco, he swears that he can see a slight worried look in his good eye. "And yet…" He swallows heavily to think about it, how he could be dead right now if it weren't for Silco, how Viktor could be mourning him had nothing been done. "Yet I got Sevika to save you, yes." Silco places a hand on Jayce's chest and carefully pushes him to lay back down. "Because, Counsilor Talis, enough death has happened here, and as you said…" He trails off and reaches into his coat pocket. "There would be a war if you died." He reached down and places a mask over Jayce's face, then pulled out his cigar book from his pocket , punctuating his implication of war with the sharp sound of the cigar guillotine cutting the end of it. "And, you are the man of progress, it would be bitter sweet for you to miss the future." He places the cigar into his mouth and reaches for his lighter. "Rest, Counsilor. You need it." The sound of a lighter sparking and Silco's boots slowly walking away from him was the last sound he could register as gas filled his lungs, he tried fighting it for a while, but he was too weak to keep his eyes open. All he could think of was Silco, and how he'd seemed worried about his pain, that soft blue-ish eye swimming in his vision.

[yoghurtcup]

Masterlist 🔖

Now Open for requests! I do just about every fandom (no hazbin/helluva, no genshin. ask if i'll do it first.) One shots, full fics (which will be posted on Ao3 aswell) mostly anything really!

Fandoms:

Arcane

Vander-

]Myth Of The Lanes- Ongoing[ Cross posted on Ao3! (chapter 1)

Silco-

]Literary Service-Ongoing[ Cross posted on ao3, collab with @noxturnalmoth <- found here

]Canis Satanae - Ongoing[ Masterpost

Vi-

nothing yet

Jinx-

nothing yet

Various Other Snippets-

And Yet - One Shot- Jailco