Leader of Saints

Adrian thought about the question for a moment. It would be preferable if it wasn’t too long. He didn’t enjoy watching the people he cared about age, or die for that matter. “I’d say five is a good time frame. . Possibly less. Three? I haven’t settled like this in a while though.” The vampire chuckled “Well I hope you enjoy your stay. I can show you around if you’d like.. There’s this place that serves sheep brains, if you’re into that.” He paused for a moment and stared at Fifer “Business you say?”

The small, half hearted, smirk remained and Fifer shook his head. Memories plagued him even still. “You did right to leave Boston when you did.” Full brown eyes cast themselves in Adrian’s direction once more, he appeared perplexed which he often was around Adrian, “How you can settle for spending so much time in the states is still beyond me.” Of course, there was the chance Adrian popped overseas whenever it pleased him. Fifer wouldn’t admit it, but wasn’t it obvious that he was a touch jealous of certain vampires? “Sheeps brains.” That earned a small laugh. “Sure... somehow that does serve my morbid nature quite well.” He was curious now.

Leaning forward on the bar-top he smiled at his old friend. Of course the vampire noticed how the man before him seemed to be smiling more, which caused him to smile himself. This wasn’t the same human he met four years ago and Alexander couldn’t help but look forward to getting to know Fifer in this new light. “I do actually. Scars can be very sexy.” Leaning back he stood up and lifted his shirt to show off his left side. A single yet fairly big scar that crawled almost his side like a spider web. “Musket,” he explained before lowering his shirt. “Sooo how did the eye thing happen?”

“Oh. I remember those.” Fifer teased as if there were any hint of romantic tie with the creature. Of course, there weren’t, but Alex was one of the few who’d earned that side of Fifer. One that didn’t hesitate to joke around. Appear... human. “If you must know... it was some shrapnel. That was the day I killed for the first time.”

“For the sake of everyone else; it will be the last time. Also, it wasn’t Bryce. Don’t get too excited.”

“Valentines Day is nothing but a crock of shit if you ask me, but sure. I guess the candy’s nice.” He rubbed the end of his cigarette into the tray, the tips of his fingers tinged brown from years of doing so. Atticus planned on making himself right at home, whether or not it won him any new friends. 

“Tobacco’s better.” It seemed to always end up this way. No smoking circle went without worthless idle chatter. At least there was one thing such people could always agree on. Fifer saw this man as someone different, which meant something as there already was so much different around town. To stand out in such a way took the exorcists attention. It all started with those stained fingers. The wrinkled cigarette. “’roll your own?”

“You just learn to appreciate it, really. I like these small towns. Makes it feel cozy.” Adrian stated, a grin on his lips. It was true. Plus, the residents made all the difference. “Concrete jungle? No! You can’t leave, you just got here.” The vampire playfully whined while patting the other boy on the shoulder. 

“How long do you stick around these sort of places anyway?” Fifer asked, crossing both arms. “Five years tops?” Even that seemed like too much. Fifer let out a snort, mouth more a grimace than anything, “Don’t worry, I’m going to give it a chance, but I am here more for business than pleasure.”

He had to turn around completely to confirm what his brain was convinced his ears had to be lying about. A relic of his past stood before him, fit with the same grin and dark eyes Clement had known in another life. He had asked for this, but had not prepared for it. “Fifer.” Clement said the man’s name with disbelief, shaking his head as if the action would make things clear. They had seen such things together. He had known his wife, witnessed the light she had brought into the world. And he knew the spiral Clement had descended into - he never saw him come out the other side. “Well, I was hoping it was your father who’d come. But that’s alright, I can settle.” He hadn’t thought of Fifer in several months, maybe even a year - that was until he found himself unable to handle the duties of exorcising the town alone. He had considered calling in another Priest, but it became clear that religion alone could not save these people. Clement had consulted a friend, who reminded him of Fifer’s gifts. It had been far too long since they last spoke, they taken two separate paths that had never met again, until. Seeing anyone he knew from his life with Basia brought a great deal of pain to his heart. Clement would have to set these feelings aside, and begin making amends with his past. “I’m grateful that you came. This town - it needs you.”

Fifer found himself smiling, and then again, and he chuckled the second time. He could tell Clement wasn’t being honest, but wasn’t he? Even a little? Regardless, the man didn’t appear disappointed that of all The Saints to take the call it was him. Outside of oh-so-holy blue eyed Riley Ephrem John Masson. Fifer didn’t blame him for this. It wasn’t God trying to tell him something--sure this was all Riley. Had his name written all over it.

If not for his small prior connection with Clement, Fifer just might have been bitter toward this arrangement. He hadn’t gotten a good look around town since touching down, but from what he read and saw online it was far from the concrete jungle of Boston. Where a certain Klamenthian doctor had recently past. “Our ranks have grown in the last four years, especially since the more recent merger. Without a doubt they’ll suffer without me back home, but two hands can be spared.” He smirked to ensure it was only a joke. “I am the best you could use.”

No higher power dictating his choices, only logic, and skill. “Has anything happened to you personally, Clement? Since setting up your practice here?” It was invitation to get started. To learn of what mattered so much. Why he was here. He’d heard part of this back home, but it meant more to get the skinny from Clement face to face.

As he tilted his head just so, she noticed the wrappings over his eye. Her eyebrow rose. “If you want someone’s pity, I recommend that boy over there,” she said nodding her head over to the right. She’d seen the boy around before. He just screamed ‘let me help you’. She didn’t like it. “And most would say I’m more warm blooded than most.” 

It was a surprise to see him slide over to the next seat. She quickly changed her expression to a neutral one before claiming her seat. “Sure,” she said simply. It’s not like she could kick him out of the entire table. She wasn’t that cruel.The wolf eyed him from the corner of her eye before setting up camp in the area, and first opened up her Instrumental Conducting book. She read through a few passages, pausing when she got to the practice portion. Lyra eyed the guy again. She didn’t want to practice in front of him. It would look silly. Instead, she cleared her throat. “What are you reading?” She decided small talk would be better. 

For her amusement, and only this, Fifer did shoot his gaze to the side to admire the boy she’d brought up. Had he hit puberty yet? Probably a seventeen year old who got out of high school early. “I guess I really am the only one with cold blood in town.” He replied back, tilting his head slightly in a minor stretch.

Fifer became enraptured with the book. He wasn’t certain if it was actually any good or if this town had simply bored him as much so far to find the pages more fascinating to him. Regardless, time passed beside the woman and by the time she had asked the question Fifer had to double take mentally. “A Stephen King book, Salem’s Lot.” He didn’t mean to pry, but actually missed being a student at times. Now, it seemed, he was always the teacher. “What about you? Have a mid term coming up?”

     young? are they young? they don’t - maybe. maybe. they have trouble remembering - time is a slipping , easily lost thing. it may have been a day , it may have been ten years , they don’t - know. they don’t know. slam! m doesn’t like thinking about it too much , the time passed and lost and forgotten. his question makes them stop slamming , though , and head tips in mild wonder. most people ask to see them - but the yet. they don’t feel like time makes it easier - it makes it harder. they used to always be visible , then feet and hands went shimmery and smoky , then they started flickering , and now they have to focus to be seen. it makes them … not tired , but weak , if there isn’t enough energy buzzing ‘round them. but they focus anyway , and fade into sight.      one hand raises in a slight wave , half-visible fingers and palms stained dark with blood. it’s meant to be friendly but might be frightening. they think they frighten people , sometimes.

Fifer was mesmerized by the very clear form which appeared in front of him. He was used to facing a simple light or wisp outside of ancient spirits that were far more rare than the rest. For was little was displayed for him, he still felt a small smile tug at his lips, that was until he recognized the color on their fingers. They still appeared wounded. How unpleasant. It wasn’t unheard of. “You can’t be so young then. I’m impressed.” Or maybe this was a lucky first attempt? That would really be something. “I’m Fifer.” As they wondered if their appearance put him off the exorcist considered the same. His missing eye was kept under wraps unless he were tucked in alone to rest, so perhaps it wouldn’t phase the ghost.

There was no assigned seatings in the library. Of course there wasn’t. But when others see you’ve been sitting in the same spot for weeks now, it’s just kind of assumed that it is yours. And what does she find when she walks in? Someone. In. Her. Spot. She clutched her textbooks tighter to her chest. “Oh? Thanks for the life story. Listen. You’re in my spot.” She hated saying it. She knew what his answer would be. But, she truly couldn’t concentrate anywhere else. 

Her short response made his chuckle. Well. That was something. He tilted his head to the side and the bandage over his left eye stuck out. “No pity for the wounded?” Fifer joked. He was insensitive that way, especially toward himself. “You really are cold blooded.”

He appreciated that. The older man resolved the issue, but slid over to the seat just beside the one claimed by the girl. “If you don’t mind.” She’d already redeemed any favor he was willing to give this hour. He returned to reading.

“I wore the same resting bitch face while I was in college...” Fifer muttered under his breath, certain his twin red head would hear him. The good right eye remained enraptured by the black text upon white page of the book he’d chosen to skim through inside the library. He found these familiar markings far more attractive than her unexplained nasty stare. “All three years.”

He supposed he still did wear it... better than he used to, anyway.

“Eh--hey! You grabbed--” The figure was already gone. Fifer yelled out, “You took the wrong phone!”

“Fucks sake...” What even was that? He took hold of the stranger’s abandoned mobile. Found it locked, but Fifer admired the starry wallpaper between a heavy, terse, mixture of sigh and groan.

"This town is so tiny. How can a vampire as old as you stand it?” Fifer groaned out while leaning backward, rubbing his remaining right eye above the heavy lid. “I’m already missing my concrete jungle.” Funny, as not so many years ago Fifer would have given close to anything to get out and stay out of Boston.

“Hey now, I’m only addicted to three things in life. Older men, money and Girl Scout cookies.” He took another bite before pausing and shaking his head. “Make that four. I forgot about cute exorcists.” Four years. It had been four years since he saw the man in front of him and Alex couldn’t help but wonder how much exactly for them both and the city they lived in. Finishing the cookie he held out his box and said, “Thin mints. Nice-” he didn’t finish his thought but instead he moved his circle in front of Fifer’s missing eye letting the action speak for itself. 

“I was about to say.” Fifer let out a laugh afterward, something light and short, easily missed. The smile remained and already his cheeks were aching. Good eye taking a glance upward, he caught the gesture and offered a small shrug in return. The gash was lightly bandaged. He preferred it that way outside of exorcist runs. Those nights he sported the dark and tight patch most would expect. It helped him see even with limited peripherals. “You think so?” Fifer nabbed a cherry from Adams’ dressing tray at the bar before accepting the cookie. Devouring one then the other. “It’s a permanent accessory, but... I’d say it suits me. People always took me seriously, but every preemptive visual cue helps.”