Tortoise and Fox [BL]

3.18

"Your desires... I want to fulfill them all for you."

The pair of footsteps echoed against the stone floor. The curious emotion within Aisultan's tone disappeared from Elijah's mind as the ill-rising taste of bile filled his mouth and the strong, astringent scent engulfed his senses.

Two men stepped out from the shadowy entrances, dressed in priestly garb–pale, off-white robes. One could only be described as less than a man and more an adolescent, with a slightly softened face with delicate features. His clothes were less ornate in design. The older man had graying hair peppered with white streaks and etched wrinkles.

Upon seeing them, the youth dropped the basket in his hands, clattering with a hollow thud. His face contorted into an angry glare–he pointed a finger.

"You...! Leave, you monsters! How dare you sit around so hap–"

The older man held a hand up to him. The youth fell silent, his fiery glare flashing and platinum blonde hair shaking with every restrained movement. Only after patting his shoulder did the older man step forward, smiling kindly.

"What can we do for you two gentlemen?"

Elijah narrowed his eyes.

"Is Liam here? I wish to discuss a matter with him."

"I apologize. Father Anderson left to be with the Saintess a few months ago. I am the priest in charge of this town's humble altar. Please pardon Lucas, he is my new curate."

"Father, why are you talking to demons like–"

"Lucas," he said, "Collect the offerings."

"... Yes, Father."

"Quite the child to babysit," Aisultan commented in a languid tone.

Lucas paused in his step before continuing to dump the offerings into his basket with a heavy, clenched hand. The fox tail thumped against Elijah. Aisultan eyes glinted, amused.

"Yes," Elijah agreed, watching Lucas once more stiffen up, He turned his attention to the other man, "And you are?"

"You may call me Father Joel. Whatever it is you wanted to speak of to Father Anderson, I promise you can confer with me."

Elijah inspected him as he talked, cadence polite and composed. In contrast with Lucas, he held far more experience with demonkind. Although, behind the square glasses, there was a calculating movement. People such as he, would keep to themselves and say what was wanted to be heard.

"Joel," Elijah began, "there is a rogue vampire smuggling human blood. A werewolf involved in the most recent discovery of this situation, died. Have you been aware of any strange sightings, deaths, or conflicts of the humans in this surrounding area? Or perhaps werewolf activity increasing?"

Father Joel touched his chin, but then shook his head. "I'm afraid I haven't. I will keep an open eye. Return later on, and perhaps I'll have learned something then from other followers of this altar."

Elijah's fingers tapped against the fur in his lap.

"And Joel..."

"Yes, sir vampire?"

"Shoot me with that crossbow of yours again–and I can't guarantee the safety of your life. Vampires tend to hold grudges."

"Oh?" He let out a surprised laugh, spreading his hands. "How'd you know? It could've been anyone under the Saintess Church, even Lucas."

"That child," Aisultan cut in, "would be unable. He is far too short to match your height."

"HEY! I'm not a kid!"