#philippe01

@philippedonadieu

The sun was nearly gone, the dim glow of candle lights were illuminating windows as Simone traversed through the familiar streets. If she was ever unlucky enough to be blinded, she was sure she could still move through the twists and turns of the alleyways and make it to exactly where she wanted to go. And where she wanted to go was the one place she hated.

Several young children humming church hymns passed her as she leaned against the wall, watching Saint-Eustache Church from a good distance. She didn't trust the Cardinal to not have spies littered around any of the churches and if someone saw that she was meeting with the Cardinal's priest, she would have a lot of problems on her hands. Luckily for her, Philippe was not at the church.

She started down the alleys, until she found a common one that her spies told her the young priest tended to take. If she had been following him right, he should be showing up soon to get back into his church or evening prayer or whatever else priests did in their spare time. She knelt behind an abandoned cart, her ears picking up any footstep or cough within her vicinity. She has watched him enough to know his gait and when the familiar footsteps rang in her ears, she stood, looking at the priest with sharp eyes. "We need to talk somewhere private," she told him, attempting to remain close to the wall so she could hide her features from any watching eyes.

In all honesty, Dakota should be abundantly aware what would happen if he opted to stay after class. Their relationship had been anything but professional since the day they met. Yet he was still shocked to find himself suddenly mounted on Philippe’s lap and ferociously making out with the professor. Dakota made no effort to pull away or resist, instead simply letting every inch of his mouth get invaded by the older wizard’s velvety tongue. Brilliant blue eyes drifted to the door he’s certain was unlocked, but couldn’t quite outwardly express his concern of somebody suddenly barging in. His wand was out of reach as well, so not even magic could help him now.

He didn’t pull away until Philippe finally broke the deep kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. “I was paying attention today, I promise…” Dakota countered, even if he wasn’t quite accused of anything. “It helps when I just listen and don’t look at you.” If Philippe were to look into the student’s backpack, he’d find detailed notes from the most current lecture. The blonde leaned forward and nuzzled his lover’s nose, fingers combing through those wavy dark locks. “I don’t want you to be upset with me. You’re a great teacher and more than just a pretty face for me to fantasize about.”

Armaud slowly walked the nave of Saint-Eustache with his hands behind him, taking in the environment of the church. It was late morning, and thus the entire church had a light, airy quality to it, with warm sunlight streaming in through the windows keeping everything well lit. There were people milling around here and there, sitting in prayer or talking with low voices in the aisles, some stealing few glances at his person, perhaps unused to seeing the Cardinal around or perhaps admiring the bright red of his robes, but Armaud paid them little attention and continued his survey. He was happy to note that everything seemed fairly clean and well organized.

He was tired. The recent assassination attempt had been a mess to sort through and there was without a doubt still trouble brewing on the horizon, especially with the perpetrator uncaught and Spanish relations all but obliterated. It was now that Armaud would seize the opportunity to clear his head for a moment and visit his most prized investment before returning to his world of court politics.

Saint-Eustache was indeed a marvel of Catholic architecture, with its tall, vaunted ceilings and beautiful stained glass and biblical paintings. Armaud was baptized here, attended church here for part of his childhood, and yet it looked the same as it did all those years ago. In plain view of this architectural wonder, Armaud could not–or perhaps more accurately did not want to–see the appeal of Protestantism, with its bland and plain facades, the way they did not seem to uplift God in the way that humans were capable. It seemed to him less like purity of doctrine and more like great human arrogance. He understood, of course, the issues with which the Protestants had with the Catholic church, but he did not believe that an ideological split was necessary for reform. No, reform had to happen from the inside.

Armaud continued down the ambulatory whereupon he spied Philippe talking to some parishioners. He did not approach the group right away, but instead stood a small distance away to observe his young protege. A shaft of light pierced through the church’s window, bisecting Philippe’s body in two. Young and bright, from that distance he looked to be fully in his element; Philippe seemed to have taken well to his congregation at Saint-Eustache, Armaud was proud to note. It was good to cultivate leadership qualities, the sooner the better. He waited there until the conversation was over to approach Philippe, and he greeted him with much warmth.