Priest

Chance

"You left your whole life... for God?"
"Yes."
Silence.
"Are you okay?"
He laughed, "what do you mean?"
"I mean, like, mentally? Are you, all there?"
He looked across to the woman standing beside him, "I like to think I'm all here, though I mean, is anyone ever really completely there?"
"Why would you give up your life for something you...?"
"I?"
She regarded him closely a moment, a tiny crease forming between her eyebrows.
"I implore you, please, speak freely."
"Something you can't prove."

The smile that spread across his lips worried her. It was haunting how strangely familiar he was.
"Why does it have to come down to proof?" he turned to lean back against the railing. "why can't it just be about acceptance and understanding and the fact that everyone has a purpose?"
She shrugged, cocked her head to the side and said simply, "not everyone."
"How's that?"
"Well, there are a heck of a lot of people out there that don't really have much going on in their lives right?"
"That doesn't mean that they don't have a purpose though does it?"
"Not necessarily," she smirked, "but does it mean their purpose is to waste their lives doing nothing but sitting around drinking and basically taking up space?"
He looked out at the storm clouds rolling in on the horizon, "that's a very unfortunate outlook to have."
"Why's that?"
"Because isn't it a little disheartening to think that some people just exist here without ever really having something to achieve, no direction, no calling?"
That didn't sit well.
"Isn't it a bit presumptuous to assume that every living person has a calling? Aren't some people just here to, I don't know, be."
Blue eyes watched her intensely for a moment. Something about her made him... cautious. 
He was not cautious.
"Isn't the thought of simply 'being' a touch sad? Floating aimlessly through life without ever feeling a sense of belonging, of worth?"

If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn the green in her eyes blazed a little richer, "interesting. In the same vein then don't you think it's a touch sad for someone to go through life living devoutly by someone else's rules, never really having an independent thought?  Never really just 'being'?"
She found herself oddly enjoying the talk. There wasn't many occasions in her life that had allowed for her to talk to a Priest, let alone talk in a space she felt comfortable in.
"Let me ask you something Priest, do you believe in magic?"
"Magic?" he pondered it a moment longer than he need of, "if by magic you mean God's divine creation and the world that he crafted then yes, absolutely. If you mean whimsical sleights of hand and the dabbling of dangerous, evil forces, then no."

There was a hint of disappointment in her smile, and it sent a surge of anguish through him. Disappointment was not something he was accustomed to conjuring in a person, disappointment was not something he was accustomed to period.
"Do you?"
She lifted one shoulder absently, "if you mean sleights of hand and forces beyond your comprehension then yes. Unequivocally."

Their meeting was fate, some would say, others would say it was divine intervention, or chance, or sheer dumb luck. Whatever it was that had led the two of them to be thousands of miles from their homes and across the other side of the world together was of no importance. What mattered was that they were there. Together. Standing on a glass bridge looking out at a canyon so filled with life and history that not even the greatest poets could capture.
What mattered was the flickering of lightening between her fingertips and the sound of God in his ears.
"Magic?"
"Magic."
She cocked an eyebrow as he scoffed, turning back to look at the canyon gaping before them.
"What's your name?"
She gave him a lopsided smile, "Blu."
His eyebrow raised, "Blu?"
"Blu. Without the e. Are you going to repeat every single thing I say Priest?"
"No, I'm not," he toyed with a piece of metal poking up from the rail. "And I do have a name."
Pursing her lips she leaned into her hands on the railing beside him, "I know. But..."
"But?"
"I can't do the whole 'father', 'brother', whatever thing."
"Why not?"
"Because, it feels too... specific. I don't exactly follow your way of thinking so I can't comfortably use that. It doesn't feel right knowing your name though and not using  'father' or whatever, but Priest. Priest feels... formal enough without being weird, and respectful enough without belief."
He regarded her a moment. He was getting to her. Much in the same way she was getting to him. 
Dangerous territory my child. Dangerous territory.
"Priest works."
The two fell into an encompassing silence, watching the world tick by, the tourists snapping photo after photo. Young daredevils leaning out over ledges to get that perfect shot, reserved couples standing safely on solid ground, well behind the railing, regarding the scenery.

"Have I offended you in some way?" her voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to that moment. She wasn't the first person to test him, nor would she be the last, and yet these interactions were becoming more and more common for him of late. He was weary, tired of being questioned, from all angles.
"You haven't. But there's a callous edge to you that doesn't quite sit well with me."
A second of contemplation allowed her to drop the wall she'd built.
"I don't mean to be callous. There's something about you I find unnerving. You," she cocked her head to the side a little, "make me uneasy."
That was a first.
"Uneasy?"
"Yes."
"Why?"

The flicker of wings down in the canyon pulled her attention away, the distant sound of chattering on the wind a momentary distraction.
"Because I think you're missing so much of the wonder that's around you."
Now it was his turn to cock his head at her. Something in the rushing of blood in her veins was drawing her away, something distant was beckoning and he wanted just as much to see where it led.
"I can't say that I agree with that."
"Of course not," she sighed, pulling her sweater down over her hands, "you're so consumed by a misguided interpretation of the world that you're not willing to see what's actually around you."
"There you go with that notion of magic. Are you really so consumed by the prospect of 'magic' that you fail to see the beauty God has created for you?"
They were at a stalemate.
"Are you really so consumed by the notion of God that you fail to see anything outside of those parameters? Unwilling to open your eyes to even the potential of something else?"
"I wouldn't say that it's a consumption by the notion of God. It's more about the fact that I've given myself over fully to something that I see as being the most important and powerful thing in my life. It's the same as the sanctity of marriage really."
"Marriages break up."
"They shouldn't. If two people are willing and devoted, they shouldn't."
He didn't miss the sorrow behind those green eyes. 
"But they do. People can be devoted, they can have children, build lives together, and it can all come crashing down."
"Maybe that's where God and religion have a place in people's lives." he said it quietly, he said it respectfully. There was nothing pushy or persistent about his comment. Just a meere suggestion. 
She raised her eyes to the Canyon before them, a humming surging through her as she turned to face him front on. 
"Or," she turned her focus to her outstretched hand, "maybe that's where magic has a place in people's lives." 
He opened his mouth to speak but was rendered speechless when a tiny storm cloud formed above her palm, a thin streak of lightening flashing over her tanned skin, matching the colossal flash that lit up the world around them. 
Dangerous territory my child. 
Dangerous territory.