Nuns and Barbarians (stupid sonic church au)

1 - Have Mercy on his Drunkened Soul

Been a long time since I posted any art on here 💀

Hey so

Sorry if I offend anyone by making this book because it has church n' stuff. Just wanted to make something funny and if you don't wanna read it, don't.

Also I don't know a lot about church, I just researched-

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She thoroughly wiped the pews after the quotidian mass with the followers of the church. She was always cautious of germs, even from followers. So she sprayed and wiped anything that was frequently touched throughout the day, every day.

Sister Carrotia couldn't always be at her church. Occasionally, she was a substitute teacher at different schools in her area. Doing tasks in different places other than the church was freeing, as she considered those opportunities as breaks from her job. But don't get her wrong. She loved guiding other people to a healthier, safer place spiritually and mentally. It's just that the weight of her job gets to be too much at times, for her.

Even then, Carrotia enjoyed leisurely activities from time to time. It didn't matter if she had little friends to enjoy them with; that's all she needs.

Rarely, though, would she have evanescent, sudden feelings of hollowness while running church. Then she would continue as if those moments didn't matter.

Carrotia knew what she was missing, but didn't allow herself to think about it.

A small, content smile tugged on her face once the pews were all clean. Now she had to put everything used for the mass aside and she could begin her evening prayers.

As she was doing so, she heard the ominous creak of the entrance doors opening, and a small, high-pitched giggle.

Instinctively, she gently put everything in her hands down, whipped her head around, and raised her fists.

She faltered upon seeing a purple Mobian shorter than her (then again, she was pretty tall) with cresent-like ears, a vertical, long tail, and a white muzzle with a protruding snout. The most noticable trait of his was a fang sticking from his mouth. He had on a brown hat with one of the brims folded upwards, a faux fur dark purple coat, an orange bandana, and brown boots with white lining along the bottom.

As for his physical state, his fur was disheveled and dirtied. His eyes looked distant and unfocused, cloudy. His posture was poor, as he was nearly doubled over and stumbled occasionally.

The moment he opened his mouth, Carrotia knew that giggle did not sound like it came from him.

"I-I've arrived, I've cometh to the churcheth for yeeee . . . YOUR BLOOD!"

His voice was reasonably deep, like one that would come from a handsome Australian . . . oh and he sounded Australian.

The maniac burst out cackling, hacking up coughs.

Carrotia shuddered slightly. She knew he was most likely drunk, but that thought didn't put her at ease. Yet she kept incredible equanimity as the drunkard tripped over pews and messed up her cleaning with shoe marks.

"Sir, you're drunk. I'm afraid you will have to le—"

He suddenly gasped loudly and rested his head on the top of a pew, staring at Sister Carrotia with big pupils.

" . . . Sir—"

"Bloody gorgeous . . . . "

Carrotia held her breath from the compliment, or perhaps an attempt at drunk flirting. She had no time to be dealing with this off her schedule. He needed to go.

She hesitantly walked towards him. "Thank you. Now let me escort you out, please."

As she was helping the Mobian walk straight, he leaned up against her and grabbed her arm tightly. Carrotia tried to ignore the sly smirk on his face.

"A lovelyyyy-lookin' lady like y'self shouldn't be alone. Beaut like y'self shouldn't be in a borin' church!"

Despite taking mild offense to his last statement, Carrotia somehow maintained her calmness, gently pulling the Mobian away from her body.

"Thank you...? And goodbye." She half-dragged, half-pushed him to the entrance, ignoring his random rant about the economy and some guy named "Eloney Musket" as he called him.

Then all of a sudden, it hit her.

How disrespectful she must be being while forcing this poor drunkard out! Who knows what sort of trouble he could get into while in the real world, in his current state. Sister Carrotia thought about it more. She had a solemn feeling that the Mobian may be going down a dark path in life. Even if that might not be the case, she would like to help him.

"Hm . . . alright, come along." Nonchalantly, Carrotia scooped up the basically weightless Mobian (to her at least), and walked through the church halls.

"Finally"—he burped—"decided t'take me to y'bed?~"

"Something like that." She eye-rolled. Hopefully he wasn't like this while sober.

She entered an empty, unused bedroom and sat him on the bed. His shoes were taken off and his faux fur coat was slid off, and he was laid down. The blanket was tucked over him, save for his head.

"Try to get some rest, please," Carrotia whispered.

The Mobian let out a childish whine. "But I ain't tired! I wanna . . . play the 'geetar' n' sing that one song everyone getssss . . . scared of 'round . . . Chrimas . . . . " His voice lowered in volume as he closed his eyes and immediately fell into a deep sleep, snoring slightly.

Carrotia sighed quietly. She dusted off her black tunic. Looking towards the hallway, she wondered if she should clean the main room all over again. She glanced back at the drunk in the bed and looked to the hallway once more. She hated shoemarks on the floor, it gave a sense of uncleanliness to the church.

Silently, she exited the room, closing the door behind her. She re-wiped the floors. Soon enough, this would all be worth it. If it meant helping a lost soul.

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For a crackfic I sure did put work into it...