Requiem for the living

Chapter 6: A priest walks into a bar

The quiet city got disturbed by the high praise of the song of the bells sung in the honour of some god, as the church would wait new fresh brains to feed with illusions of a new life like a dream. But when a life is miserable, all that people like to do is indulge that beautiful lie that hide the incertitude that all fought and bleed for centuries. It is dangerous the belief in something that cannot be proven.

That lie stayed in the eyes of some angels above, with wings that seemed to flutter away on that ceiling, stained with atheistic denial of some who bear getting under them. The painting was indeed marvelous, and so where the little statues that filled the church with an old patriarhaical meaning. The front of the church was empty, a little sign at the roof taking place of the cross so representative for the believers in christianity - a different one, shaped like a circle with a skull of a man inside, all golden in the sunlight.

"I find it interesting that you kept your rosacrux even if you became a priest. It is pagan."

Father Way turned his head suspiciously, but with a grin that seemed to never fade as that feeling of superiority could have been sensed into his eyes. It was something even the years of obbeying a higher force like God couldn't take away, but only the Death itself, and his gaze lowered mischievious at the gold, thin rosacrux he carried around his neck like a treasure - a ring with the infamous skull.

"Each religion finds its roots deep inside paganism", he answered simply with a deep voice that differed so much from Brendon's, having an welcoming glimpse of happiness and chilled excitement in that sobre behavior. "That is a nonsense to believe I couldn't bring my belief here."

"You can't be a priest as you obbeyed to a coven in the past."

"You think you know who I am. But so do I, Mary."

His words were enchanted with something inefable, like a memory that you've never had but still awakens something you could swear you lived in a time that isn't out of this world. Who was he, bwside of a friend, a priest, or anything that society could descrie him in simple terms. From the looks in his eyes, there was a thing more certain than anything - Gerard Way was anything but a simple man.

"Did my father talked about me?" she muttered, almost in her mind coming that question without remorse of the things that happened, of the hatred she felt towards the individual that seemed so superficial. In a world that syperficiality bother, Father Way was handling his life at edge.

"No, but I know he had a daughter." he smiled like he had a secret to hide, disturbing for other, a pleasure for him.

"But how did you knew..." she asked with no vocal filter in her throat, looking unamused at that man who was defying her.

"...It was you?" he smiled unexpectedly, revealing that small, but sharpened teeth with a grin that was both lustful and terrifying. Maybe because of his words...maybe...who knows? "I know your father died. And soon after that a woman and someone I could not care less shows up with questions about my rosary. Only a Jackson would know its meaning", Gerard pointer towards her, like he was feeding with the odds of that accusation. Like it would be a sin to carry the Jackson's name among with some kind of a curse. "Oh, but you are shy. Poor guy, you are no Jackson as for them are a hot blooded kind." he got distracted out of a sudden by Brendon's presence, like he would have be more of a stranger than Mary was.

"No, he is an Urie. They are cold hearted instead", she defended Brendon as she threw a murderous look toward Gerard Way who was overly energic in that little war of them.

"I am sure of that", the priest said with that serious face he could win so easily jackpot in the defying beauty and joy of gambling. But could be Mary Jackson his winning that day?