The Priest and the Witch XII
nside a sun lit house, a man sat on an old wooden chair in his lonesome, Immersing himself in the book he was holding. The focused crimson haired man looked like he was taken right out of a painting, the gentle light illuminating his equally gentle features. Thus It was a shame that if one looked closely, they would find that the man wasn’t as serene as he seemed. The book he was holding was upside down, he was not focusing at all. It didn’t help that the man's gaze was also clouded over as if he were distracted, seemingly waiting for something.
“Othie, I’m back!” Said Luciel happily as he pushed the door open after some struggle, staggering into the house with a large stick as support
Hearing the door open the man lifted his head as he put away the book. As his line of sight landed on the clock he had periodically been checking for a while now, His brows slightly bent downward.
“Your late again.” Othello murmured in complaint.
“Haha—” all Luciel could do in response was awkwardly laugh only to abruptly stop. Never would he had anticipated that in the middle of his laugh, he would find himself tipping forward as his legs gave way.
The man swiftly stood up to support the youth, inspecting the disheveled and sweaty Luciel’s state as he held him. Looking at the tired ‘husband’ coming home from a long day of work, all the ‘housewife’ could do was grumble disgruntledly. “Since your late, the bath I prepared is cooled down… “
“Sorry, today was a bit more intense than usual.” Confessed Luciel sheepishly while obediently resting his tired body in Othello's arms, not noticing the mans brows furrow further.
After a moment of stillness, Othello wordlessly helped Luciel move onto the couch. By experience, Luciel’s decided not to say anything either, It was like this every time he saw Luciel push himself to this unhealthy degree.
Ah but what can he do. The System was feeling particularly malicious today.
Arranging the youth on the couch, Othello gazed at the exhausted lump before letting out a sigh. “Rest for a bit, I’ll boil some more water.”
After a nice warm bath Luciel felt the soreness in his muscles ease. Borrowing some of Othello's spare clothes, Luciel put on the oversized garments and sprawled himself in front of the cozy fireplace to dry off his long silver hair.
Right on time, Othello came up with a brush and towel. Sitting down behind the ‘melting’ youth with a still somewhat unhappy expression, Othello skillfully dried the fluffy mess of strands on Luciel’s head. When it was no longer wet, Othello gathered the silky hair into his palms and gently groomed it, With his fingers acutely feeling its cloud like softness his bad mood eased a tad.
“How do you want it today?” He Asked, letting out a small hum as he methodically trailed the brush through the youths hair, straightening out the tangles.
“Braid.” Chirped Luciel as he attempted to take a sip of the warm milk Othello made for him however because of the pain in his arm he couldn’t lift them cup properly. Watching Luciel’s shaking hands nearly spill the liquid, Othello quietly took the cup away and chanted a small healing hymn on him before continued to work on the hair.
Feeling the pain finally dissolve from his limbs, Luciel couldn’t help but to give a deep sigh. Of course, his hands didn’t forget to move for the milk again.
“You know, I still don’t see the need to push yourself like this.” He continued to nag. “Even if I’m here and can help you recover, doing this to your body isn’t good.” Othello really didn’t like seeing Luciel struggle into the house everyday and be constantly assaulted by soreness and pain. For some reason this situation made him him feel very uneasy in his heart.
If only he knew what Luciel’s line of thinking was similar to his.
Heh, if only he could not do it. He is not a masochist. Alas, the System had a nice exhibit of punishment it hadn’t used yet.
….Although He had to admit that his physique had improved… it was still at the expense of his suffering.
Luciel cursed the system on the inside a few times on the inside before pouting to Othello. “I need to get stronger.”
After saying that Luciel nodded internally to himself. It seems that these days his bullshiting skills just got better and better.
The brush stopped.
Sensing the man freeze Luciel turned around. Othello's twisted expression was truly a sight to behold. “What’s Wrong?”
Othello quickly adjusted his expression and waved a hand in front of his face with a
strained smile. “No nothing, nothing. Just that what you said reminded me of me when I was younger. Some bad things happened when I was a kid and I started to desperately seek out strength…. honestly I kind of regret that now.” Regret becoming strong so blindly.
Luciel tilted his head in question, his curiosity somewhat peaked. “How so?”
Othello looked away and stayed silent as if deliberating something in his mind.
Seeing the man's face distort slightly, Luciel’s stopped his inquiry. It seemed like he poked at a somewhat touchy topic. Just as Luciel’s was about to switch topics however, the man continued, looking at Luciel with a complicated expression.
“Have you wondered why I, who has a high title in the church, is living in a rural place like this?” He asked, his eyes holding nostalgia.
Luciel’s honestly had no idea, maybe it was because it is much nicer here?
Seeing the youths confusion the man sighed. “Nowadays I am a Bishop in name only.”
Luciel was shocked.
Othello looked away again as he smiled bitterly. “Actually, I was the one who insisted on getting rid of the title, in the end me and the church formed a compromise, dropping my status but keeping my rank.” Although he couldn’t leave the church, he now had more freedom.
“The reason for that was because...I did some terrible things. It was the churches orders but it was still terrible.” He became strong because he wanted to avenge his mother. But he never realized what that vengeance truly was. in the end he only got used as a weapon. He realized he was not made to kill people. All he could do after was run away.
At that time, blood and bodies were scattered across the floor like morbid flowers. Red painted his vision, the same red color as his hair, constantly mocking him.
To be honest, he was very afraid.
Afraid of seeing such a thing again.
At this point Othello bit his lips. “I...so many people died…I caused so many people to die...” He still clearly remembers, the slaughter of witches that he caused. Corpses everywhere, of witch and priest alike. Begging and crying filled the battlefield. It was only then that he realized the gravity of what he’s done.
As his thoughts were in turmoil, a hand landed on the top of his head and pat it a couple of times. It was a fairly small hand, at least smaller than his, yet at this moment, it felt like the biggest comfort in the world.
Othello slowly lifted his head to meet the youths pair of worried aquamarine eyes. It seemed like the youth had a lot to say but couldn’t express it.
“You’re… crying…” Mumbled the youth in the end as he brought up his ice cold fingers to brush away the slight wetness around Othello's eyes.
Othello finally noticed that he teared up. His red hair hiding his flushed ears he broke into a laugh. “haha guess I am huh? Kind of embarrassing. How silly of me.”
Seeing that reaction, Luciel couldn’t help but to chuckle along too.
After that episode, the two got ready for sleep. Playing with his newly plaid braid and holding a ragdoll, Luciel got into bed and waited for Othello to come in too.
As for why they were sleeping together, well, following a incident of Othello trying to sleep on the floor, Luciel started sleeping on the floor too. In the end they just decided to move onto the bed together since it was more comfortable, and they’re both men anyway.(also Othello would be used as a ‘hot water bottle’ regardless if it was on the floor or the bed so might as well.)
Lying down on the bed and blowing out the candle, Othello turned his head to the youth and called out quietly. “Luciel.”
“Hmm?” Luciel who was in the middle of enjoying the rose-raspberry scent of the blanket got confused by the sudden serious tone.
“Even if you get stronger, make sure not to get mislead into doing something you don’t want, Okay?”
All Luciel did in response was smile as he hugged the raggedy rag doll he sew himself tighter.
I think it’s too late for that. A shady cunt already got me.
Author has something to say:
Here’s a chappy because 1) I can and 2) its shortish. I was going to post this and previous chap at the as one so I might as well post this early ah?
I will still be posting this weds.
Happy day or gnight folks!
Author has another thing to say:
Little dense: *smells sheets*
Little dense: .....smells real nice......... (//.//)
Little dense: *continues sniffing*
Shameless prince in le shock: ( OωO;)
Shameless prince: *calls police* hello, I think I just spotted a pervert—
Shameless prince: *stops and puts phone down*
Concerned Shameless prince: hey, what are you doing?
Very serious Motherly Priest: *taking off his shirt*......... a donation ( v.v)