(un)holy

Also I can’t believe Curran has a young adult son now. Dragalia keeps giving him kids.

laughs @ curran’s “normal people only get a fine or some jail time” and then three stories later “this whole civil war was because of heresy so they all had to die” yeah ok. there’s no way curran *doesn’t* know that’s not true tho. he had to know that he wasn’t being 100% honest in that moment. there’s no fuckin way. he probably meant it in the sense of “yeah, there’s literally no chance you’re getting out of this unless you’re honest, dude, because you’re *not* a civilian” 

but also... fuck, man, how many biased trials do you think curran has had to take part in? how many people do you think he’s failed to adequately defend and so they ended up in jail (or worse) because he couldn’t find enough evidence? i’ll bet you he was PISSED that tobi’s trial got suddenly moved up. you can’t convince me he wasn’t the inquisitor for that woman in the flashback. they HAD to be hinting at it, otherwise they wouldn’t have dropped in anything about an inquisitor. do you think he was able to defend that woman? or did he end up failing there because the church was already biased against her? i gotta image the punishment was *way* worse than the standard because, again, they were already pretty against that whole town. that case probably weighs a lot on curran’s mind, especially with the current events going on in the story.

MORE PROOF THAT THE CHURCH IS FUCKED!!!

    Damn, this place has really gone downhill.

    ...Or, well, he assumed it had. It wasn’t as though he’d ever been to the manor personally when it was still inhabited by its former occupants, but like anyone else who lived in the territory, he’d heard a good deal about the guy who owned it all. Your typical assholeish lord, really--so Curran could only intuit that it would’ve looked much better back in the day than it did now, all overgrown garden and blocked-out windows and what have you. 

    Strange place to abandon and leave for some weird occultist shit, though. Pair that with the fact that everyone else they’d sent out here to investigate had vanished (Curran was wondering who of his superiors he managed to piss off to get saddled with this job) and it was certainly shaping up to be an... interesting case.

    He wrangles the cat from chasing a garden snake in the overgrown grass, (Mittens had tagged along, meowing incessantly over being left alone for so long only for her owner to come home and leave again), lights a lantern, (why is it that cultists never have decent light in the places they’re squatting?), and walks up to the front door. 

RULES: spell out your muse’s name with song titles from your playlist. bonus if you can manage to make it fit them.

CHURCH - Fall Out Boy Unsteady - X Ambassadors Rollin’ in Your Grave - Dark Country Running Up That Hill - Placebo Amen - Amber Run No Rest For the Wicked - Cage the Elephant

         “He’s super weird! But as long as he keeps supplyin’ that sweet sweet candy! I’ll flap my gums all day if he wants!” Fluttering right next to Curran, she peers over his shoulder. If anything, to see what he was busy fiddling with.

         “He always has something interesting to say though. I’ll give him that. What about you?”

    “Man, can I convince you to hook me up, too? He never shares with me.” To the point where he hexed his damn desk drawer just so Curran couldn’t grab any. Jerk. 

He’s a second too late from drawing his blade. 

Tobias expected words. Angry words, argument, debate, civility. What he was met with was stars. Searing pain. Stumbling. Caught, the taste of copper in his mouth. Was it from a loosened tooth or busted lip? His head hadn’t stopped spinning enough to say. Perhaps even a cracked jaw, he didn’t know. All he could grasp was that it hurt. 

He raised his hands with open palms, limp in Curran’s grip. If there was an upper hand to be had, he sure wasn’t seeing it, nor did he want it. Despite his better judgement and the pain, he spoke anyways, “I’m sorry. I was out of turn. I don’t want to fight you. There’s more to it than that-”

By the Goddess, he should have spoke to that archbishop instead. 

    “Oh, did you?” His voice is laced with acid. His grip tightens on the scarf, pulling Tobias to mere inches away from Curran’s face. His knuckles sting, but nothing compares to the rush of adrenaline he feels in the moment. How fucking dare he. How fucking dare he imply that killing those people was justified by any stretch of imagination! How dare he suggest that all the Inquisition’s old guard slowly falling to wounds or drinking themselves to a sad, lonesome death was some kind of personal failing? 

Tobias noticed the tension, but thought nothing of it. Uncomfortable conversations caused uncomfortable posture, especially when the man’s entire worldview was being interrogated. “And I commend you for your service- there’s definitely more to your reports than your elaborate stageplays. You’re a talented inquisitor, and by all accounts were the model of exemplary service to the Goddess, but those accounts have been forged. What authority do you have to absolve those who would speak out against the Goddess’s children? Is that not the very definition of heresy? Should they live peaceful, quiet existences under the eyes of the church, there’s no reason to seek them out, but to disobey direct orders that you have evidence of crime for?”

Sickening. He felt the need to spit. 

“Your vices are you own problems; don’t expect sympathy from me.” If they weren’t resolute in their faith, perhaps they should have taken a real stand against the church as the perditionists. That also explains the backhanded way Curran seemed to be helping- playing face and using tricks to meet his own ends. It was pathetic. 

    He started strong. Then he began to go downhill. And then he hit rock bottom. And started digging.

    Curran doesn’t even think about what he’s doing; he was ready to make a move by that very last ‘question’, but the insult was really what sealed the deal. He lunges forward, kicking off his spot on the fence and swinging at Tobias with a clenched fist. The crack that follows the sock to his jaw is pretty damn satisfying, but he’s not done yet. With his other hand, he grabs hold of the stupid scarf around his neck, pulling him back in like a punching bag.

“All of them?!”

Sure, one or two accounts getting smudged, spare bodies being thrown around, it wasn’t unheard of, especially within the complicated history of the church, but how many people did this man let free? Personally escort from the gallows to sanctuary in a heathenish pit? 

An unmistakable bite coats his voice, but he keeps his hand free from his sword. “I’m not sure what’s more impressive- the length in which you’ve gone for those people or the hole you’ve dug yourself into. I suppose both of them go in the same direction.” 

His hands found his ways to his hip as he shifted, with his point, “What are you then? A freedom fighting heretic? Do you still follow Ilia at all? Or are you some happy middle that Elisanne wants to grasp for so badly, lying to both churches?”

    “Oh, shut up. I’m not drunk enough for a fight.” Though it was tempting. Very, very tempting. Curran’s whole body seems to tense, as if he’s just waiting to be provoked again. Maybe if he decides to shove his other foot in his mouth. 

    “I hunt real heretics. Cults sacrificing little girls. Dark mages. Dragon poachers. Not some sixty year old preacher who someone decided should get the axe because he dared to say that the Empire slaughtering civilians may be bad, actually.” he deadpans. “I’ve made it damn clear to Elisanne that I’m not on the conservative side either, though. The Church needs some serious fixing, I agree with you guys on that. It’s the killing people over it that I have a problem with.”

    Well, that, and the fact that the Auspex was supposedly possessed by the Other and... you know, slaughtering civilians in the name of growing an Empire. Any debate about whether the Other was good or bad based on history was kind of a moot point. 

Tobias doesn’t dignify the question with a response, following behind on high alert. No one trailed them from the tavern, that much he was certain of, but who was to say what else people could be hiding in this backwater town. Curran was here on an investigation, after all. 

“Truly the deductive reasoning of Inquisitors is unparalleled.” At least that was said mostly as a quip, smiling more fondly than nefariously. “Though what exactly that means to me is the rub of this entire matter. I’ve heard enough of the conservative opinions from the Grand Paladyn. You are an outlier. Someone in a compromised position as I am–perhaps not to the same extent, and certainly within a more precarious position. I want to know your story.”

    “Hey, may as well ask.” For all he knew, the guy could be in on some crazy fringe faction.

    “My ‘story’ is a big ask. I assume you don’t want all the tragic details of little baby Curran, huh?” He chuckles. “To start with, I should tell you--I don’t consider myself a conservative, not in the slightest. But I’m not gonna call myself a perditionist, either. You guys got good ideas, don’t get me wrong--but I can’t agree with the execution. And before you point out that I seem to have been going along with it--” 

“And you Inquisitors like to waste time with idle chitchat and drinks. Were you at your proper station instead of a tavern, our conversation may have been done already.” It was one thing to share chiding quips, but it was another for his diligence to be insulted. 

Nor did the insult to his organization’s crowned jewel sit well in his chest. He felt his hand draw to the hilt of his blade, but he made no movement to draw. To untrained eyes, he was simply adjusting the blade as he stepped off his stool, making no pause to head for the door, but he did at least hold it for Curran. He could  be the judge of just how far was considered safe.  

    “A man has to eat,” he scoffs, brushing the insult off with a wave as he strolls outside. “I’ll just conduct the next investigation with a piece of ham hanging out of my mouth, would that be better?” It would surely be amusing, at least. Heinwald would find it funny. 

    The town itself was fairly quiet, which meant they wouldn’t have to go far, at least. Probably just to the edge of the road--away from the busiest parts of town this time of night, but still well within a safe enough distance that neither of them could get away with pulling anything on the other. Curran plants himself against the fence, waiting a moment for Tobias to catch up.

Wasn’t this man just overflowing with morsels of information? Not that he could blame him. In the prince’s territory, he was just as liable to be ripped to shreds as the inquisitor could be in his own for his alliance to the heretics. Or perhaps the label shouldn’t be thrown around so loosely. After all, he did just say it wasn’t his call to make. 

“Very well,” Tobias forked over his share of gold for the refill. “I won’t tear you from your drink anymore than I inadvertently have.” He took a moment to roll his shoulders. “Though if you’d like to take the opportunity and test the waters I sail, I have no qualms on conversing anywhere. It’s really just a matter of who you’d like to be seen speaking with.”

    “Tch. You Paladyns have no patience; would never last on a stakeout. Could’ve just waited for me to finish my drink. Make small talk.” He rolls his eyes, throws back his drink, and--glug, glug, glug--finishes it off in one fell swoop. The empty mug is slid across the bar and he hops up from his seat. Maybe he’s interested in this guy, or maybe he’s just offended by the implication that he’s so sternly set on one side or another, even if it wasn’t intentional.