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On days like these, the bustle and hustle of a city like Nova Nona never failed to impress him. Noise was an incomprehensible murmur around each street. People were dressed in tame to extravagant clothes, and no one took a second glance. People’s eccentricities could be hidden here… if they sought that. The last time Iclair de Arcadus had stepped foot in Nova Nona, he’d made an interesting scene of hijacking his sleeping partner into the train, lying to forgo paying for a place to stay, and then toured most of the food-shops in the vicinity. Barring the fact, he’d been yelled at afterwards, given odd looks by some of Nova Nona’s residence, and drained one of his bank accounts near dry, it had been quite filling in all actuality. Today’s visit was a bit different, though.
For one, he was alone, and his primary reason in visiting wasn’t… entirely for food, as it was prone to be.
Gliding out of the train station, the priest pulled his hair back into a pony tail, trying to tame the feathery mop of white curls. A bright cloudless sky allowed heat to drift lazily downwards from a bright sun, threatening a tan if he stayed still any longer. Around him, people brushed past, newspapers, hats or umbrellas up to block the stream of light. There were shops near the station, many with wafting scents of an assortment of foods. This part was particularly distracting to his stomach; to the point he wished it had a brain of its own to remember the things called priorities.
His standing in the Church, though wavering slightly with scandals like the affair at the Scarlet Cat, was good enough to warrant being informed of a few official details when asked -- the things like name and age. After all, Iclair went on missions obediently, the ones that were flashed in public and even the ones that had to be hushed. He was also in decent terms with the less strict members of the Church, gossipy nuns and amused priests, to hear the scandals and rumors twisted around other people. Humans would always be humans, regardless of Church ideals. Iclair didn’t mind it. It was an interesting dance, in some cases, where words and double meanings were all one needed to wield as a weapon.
In La’To, the sudden and strange increase in demons was a slight dent in Iclair’s mind. The Church need not know more than a few whispers of demons than the ones’ that had been splashed up on newspapers. Really, that child-demon could have been more subtle if she had wanted a feast, but he expected little from demons. He’d dutifully reported his encounter with her, the battle and the proceedings -- what he thought they needed and already heard whispers of. If they thought he could handle it, and they wouldn’t send another exorcist. Well, as long as there were no more crises… that the public would be aware of.
Dressed semi-casually and not with something scrounged up from his priest wardrobe, the cat-like priest drifted to his destination, a cheerful whistle on his lips. He brushed past people and managed to only bump into one. Iclair smiled, fingers gliding to encircle a thin, dirty wrist. “If one picks pockets, you would think you’d have a better sleight of hand,” he murmured before releasing. The instant denial was expected, but the young exorcist drew the most surprising card when he simply moved on with a relaxed wave behind.
He’d only a few bills in there, and the cards could be canceled and replaced. He doubted he needed them where he was going.
Iclair pushed open the doors of one of Nova Nona’s churches, into the domain of one Dorian von Castleman.
 tiny shark · Thu Apr 05, 2012 @ 04:53am · 0 Comments |
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