The town was deathly quiet. Ominous clouds cast their sinful spell across the sky and selfishly shrouded the sun, keeping its warm rays to itself. The buildings loomed tall over its hidden residents, blackened and slacking with age. Each told a story of their own, etched all over their crumbling walls, but those tales are for another time. This is a story of the shadows that hid beneath the stone buildings. That peeked their ugly heads around the darkened corners and looked when you weren't looking. That tiptoed their way down the streets and hovered along beside you.
This is the story of a young exorcist named Arthur Kirkland.
He was kneeling in front of the altar with his head bowed and his hands clasped together, pressed against his lips as he muttered under his breath. The words were incomprehensible to most, blended into a jumble of complicated phrases in a seemingly complicated language, but to him the sentences that were spilling from his mouth were so familiar and practiced that he could recite them in front of the Lord himself.
And that is exactly what he was doing.
Bless this Holy land and its people today with Your watchful eye
Grant them health and plentiful harvest
Protect them from sin that beckons in our streets
Replace their fear with the confidence in Your word
And lead them toward their righteous paths.
Amen
He kissed the silver cross that dangled from his chest before pushing himself to his feet. He bowed slightly, looking up at the white marbled statue that looked back at him with the same empty expression. He rolled his shoulders then turned on his heel.
Arthur would have preferred to stare at the empty statue. The view that he was met with when he turned was hollow, stale with dust and darkened from lack of sunlight. The little light that leaked through the enormous glass windows that surrounded the church illuminated the gently floating specs in the air, urging his nose to sneeze. Everything that was not window was black. The walls looked like iron, but he knew it was probably made of something else. Rubbish and dead leaves littered the grey floor and crunched under his feet, even when it appeared he had stepped on nothing. The room was completely empty, with not a single pew or a soul to sit in one. A rat cowered in the very far corner and quivered when he came near.
He supposed he matched the church perfectly. He himself was of a pale complexion and hollow from lack of proper nutrition. His robes were entirely black, down to the hidden trousers and shirt and even the knickers underneath. So young, yet already so old, he held himself tall and proud, and he looked magnificent; but he was really nothing on the inside. Empty.
Arthur's footsteps clicked loudly and upset the dust settled on the ground. All was still. The quiet was ear piercing.
And suddenly a hum emerged from the quiet, low and unnoticed, until it grew so loudly that Arthur's teeth rattled and the very walls seemed to tremble with stress. Then he realized to his horror that they were trembling, that the ground beneath his feet were shaking and the window panes swayed back and forth to the monstrous humming. Instinctively he grabbed his cross and hunched over himself on his knees, not before seeing the windows finally crash and thousands of broken shards fly out in every direction. A torrent of wind poured out of the exposed windows and further scattered the deathly sharp objects. Many hit him, colliding into his body as if they were stone instead of a small piece of glass.
When the quiet returned and he dared to lift his head, the light that penetrated his eyes was blinding. The room was a disaster, but he was no better off. His naturally unkempt hair had been further tousled and dead leaves and dirt nestled its way into the blonde strands. His clothes were torn at places and his neck and cheeks were cut, blood bubbling out in tiny blotches. But he hardly noticed.
He had felt it. That familiar sensation. It made his stomach churn and his hands tingle and his heart squeeze tight. It made the cross burn against his cold chest. He knew this feeling. Better than he knew himself.
Something was coming.
That's when he heard the door creak open. The massive wooden entrance parted away and someone crept through the opening, quickly shutting it with a loud echoing bang and resting their head against it gratefully. His back was facing Arthur.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur shouted to the stranger. The man was probably hiding from whatever just happened, but Arthur took an offensive stance and held the cross out in front of him. "This is a house of God. Are you here for sanctuary?"
The stranger startled and turned to face him, hands now pushed against the door as if trapped like a caged mouse. His movements were jumpy and unnatural and he panted harshly.
"Yeah…sanctuary. That's it." He didn't sound convinced. He was still backed against the door. Arthur took a moment to take in his appearance.
He was in rags, basically, covered in soot and dirt as if he'd spent the whole day cleaning out his chimney. Smudges of the grime spotted his face and darkened his true skin color. His hair was blacker than a raven's feathers. All of this made his eyes pop out dramatically, blue and deep and the only color on his entire body.
His teeth were certainly not British.
The stranger was still shaking when Arthur began to walk towards him, averting his eyes to the glass covered floors. When Arthur reached his hand out he flinched and shut his eyes.
"Relax, child." Arthur said softly. This man was likely only a few years younger than himself, but Arthur was no old timer. His hand rested on the other's shoulder. "All children of God are welcome here. You will be safe. I promise."
The seconds ticked by before the man relaxed his muscles and opened his eyes. "Promise?"
Arthur hesitated; the place where he touched him was burning, searing hot in Arthur's fingers despite the clothes barrier between their skin. He locked eyes with the man and saw a flicker of something that made him feel nauseous. He shook the feeling away.
"Yes. I swear in His name that you shall be safe here."
For now, he thought. Whatever had caused such a catastrophe hopefully wouldn't be able to break down the colossal church any more than it already had.
A brilliant white smile broke through the man's lips and he lunged forward, embracing Arthur with lung crushing strength.
"Thank God, thank God, thank God, thank you," he whispered over and over again.
The exorcist was startled by the sudden contact and immediately pushed the other away. He caught himself quickly though and apologized. When no other words were said, he let his eyes fully take in the disaster around him, not allowing any fear to seep in to be exposed to the stranger.
Arthur asked if he knew what had happened. The man thought then mumbled something about an earthquake. He started.
"An earthquake? In England?"
Beginning to flush, the color barely showing through the dirt, the man flailed a little bit. "U-um, yes, you see, with all of the shaking and such, erm…"
He didn't finish his sentence. "I see. I guess that makes sense. The bending windows surprised me though. It must have been a powerful one."
Silence. The man shifted his feet and crunched some glass under him. Arthur had long since moved past him to the wide double doors. "There is a room in the corner next to the altar with a bed and a washroom," he called behind him. "You may stay there for as long as you like."
"Aren't you going to ask my name?"
Arthur stopped in his steps and turned, smiling. "I am not. It is none of my concern, nor does it matter what your name is here. You have sanctuary." He opened the doors, letting more light flood out. "But you can tell me a nickname if you like."
The stranger stared at Arthur's back as he left, a sweet smile curling onto his lips. Right before the doors shut, he whispered,
"Just call me your sweet little devil."
A/N: Sorry it's so short, it's just an introduction. Anyway I was inspired to write this story because of two pictures I saw on tumblr drawn by Kisufu. They were too perfect to not write about. I hope you enjoy it!