(Back from vacation. Florida Keys are certainly different. I don't know that this Beantowner really can handle it. Katie -- by all means, feel free to illustrate! I'd love to see that.)
"Carl?!"
The kneeling friar cringed. Averting his eyes, he said, "What do you want, Van Helsing?" His voice rasped, his shoulders slumped, and his air was one of defeat and desolation.
Swiftly, Van Helsing approached and crouched beside his friend. "Carl, what is the matter? What has happened to you? Look at you, you look terrible." The friar had clearly lost weight, his face becoming gaunt. His hair had grown long and shaggy and was grimy as if the friar hadn't bathed in a while. His skin glimmered palely in the candlelight, and his expression seemed hectic.
"Nothing! Nothing has happened, go away. Go away, Van Helsing." Carl muttered.
"No. Come on, you need to clean up and eat and tell me what in God's name is going on."
Carl actually managed a weak smirk for the blasphemy. But when Van Helsing tried to suit action to words by pulling Carl to his feet, the reaction he got was unexpected. With sudden fury, Carl pushed him away, staggering, and yelled, "I said go away! There is no monster here for you to fight, Van Helsing."
Shocked at the angry strength of the friar, Van Helsing found himself feeling absolutely powerless. "Carl?" He whispered, confused.
"What? Do you expect me to unburden myself to you? You, who unburdens himself to no-one? The great Gabriel Van Helsing, hunter for God! Just stride in and solve all the problems, eh? Well, there's no problem here for you to solve with your blades and your guns, so just be gone!"
"I'm your friend, I want to help," Van Helsing insisted. But this proclamation was met by shrill laughter from Carl.
"Oh, yes, some great friend you are!" The friar's voice lashed him with sarcasm. "So, tell me my friend, where have you been these long months? Kill the monster, did you? Save the girl?" Suddenly, Carl froze, but he kept talking, now in a soft, almost contemplative tone. "Yes, save the girl. Funny, I had never realized the very addictive nature of your work. Oh, bloody and horrible, yes, but every once in a while there must be that spark, that light, illuminating the darkness, the monotony.." He drifted off, muttering to himself in tones too low for Van Helsing to follow. Carl began to move, extinguishing candles one by one in the chapel. Van Helsing could only trail after him, like a dog. Carl started speaking aloud again. "And purpose too, oh yes, purpose. Such a comfort it must be, to know the whys, devise the hows, complete the mission, and move on. Always something new, somewhere different, and never question the reasons, just keep moving. Fascinating, it must be. Is it? You can tell me. Are we not friends?" The last word dripped with acidic irony.
Not since confronting Dracula had Van Helsing felt this utter confusion. Sweet Carl, chipper and chatty, had metamorphed into something unrecognizable. This man in friar robes moved not in the quick, birdlike manner Van Helsing so associated with his friend, but in an almost languid fashion, yet the movements were rigidly controlled, so much so, Van Helsing could almost distinguish a tremor in Carl's hands as he reached out to snuff each candle, hesitating a heartbeat. This man did not stoop, but stood at tall as possible, rail thin, his unkempt hair tumbling around his shoulders. In the gloom of night, his eyes nearly glowed with some emotion Van Helsing feared to name, lest that name be Insanity.
"Tell me something else then, oh great hunter. What do you feel, when they die in front of you? The ones you never save. The monsters. No? Cat got your tongue this evening? Well, then you never were one to say anything of your own volition. Pestering, yes, that was the only way I could get you to talk to me. And now, you want me to talk to you. So I am. Is this what you wanted, my friend? To have same old Friar Carl chattering away at you again, so you can suppress all your thoughts and cares, and smile at me indulgently behind my back? Silly Old Carl. Always doing something for someone else. To HELL with that!" Carl whirled on Van Helsing, stepping close. To Van Helsing's surprise, he discovered that Carl was nearly as tall as he.
"I. Have. Had. Enough." Carl enunciated carefully. "You can tell that to the Cardinal, and to all the other sons of bitches in this prison that whisper about me behind my back." He turned abruptly and walked towards the chapel doors.
"Carl. Wait. Please!" Van Helsing stuttered, at a loss to know what to do, but fearing if Carl walked away now, he'd never have another chance to find out. "Is this about Transylvania?"
Pausing, Carl glanced back at Van Helsing. His shoulders slumped again, depression stealing over his face, banishing the hectic look, and leaving behind an expression exhausted and forlorn. "Forget it, Van Helsing. Just.... Go away."
(Can I just tell you how difficult it has been to NOT turn this into slash? It won't be slash, I swear, but sometimes, my brain really tries to take a left turn....)
"Carl?!"
The kneeling friar cringed. Averting his eyes, he said, "What do you want, Van Helsing?" His voice rasped, his shoulders slumped, and his air was one of defeat and desolation.
Swiftly, Van Helsing approached and crouched beside his friend. "Carl, what is the matter? What has happened to you? Look at you, you look terrible." The friar had clearly lost weight, his face becoming gaunt. His hair had grown long and shaggy and was grimy as if the friar hadn't bathed in a while. His skin glimmered palely in the candlelight, and his expression seemed hectic.
"Nothing! Nothing has happened, go away. Go away, Van Helsing." Carl muttered.
"No. Come on, you need to clean up and eat and tell me what in God's name is going on."
Carl actually managed a weak smirk for the blasphemy. But when Van Helsing tried to suit action to words by pulling Carl to his feet, the reaction he got was unexpected. With sudden fury, Carl pushed him away, staggering, and yelled, "I said go away! There is no monster here for you to fight, Van Helsing."
Shocked at the angry strength of the friar, Van Helsing found himself feeling absolutely powerless. "Carl?" He whispered, confused.
"What? Do you expect me to unburden myself to you? You, who unburdens himself to no-one? The great Gabriel Van Helsing, hunter for God! Just stride in and solve all the problems, eh? Well, there's no problem here for you to solve with your blades and your guns, so just be gone!"
"I'm your friend, I want to help," Van Helsing insisted. But this proclamation was met by shrill laughter from Carl.
"Oh, yes, some great friend you are!" The friar's voice lashed him with sarcasm. "So, tell me my friend, where have you been these long months? Kill the monster, did you? Save the girl?" Suddenly, Carl froze, but he kept talking, now in a soft, almost contemplative tone. "Yes, save the girl. Funny, I had never realized the very addictive nature of your work. Oh, bloody and horrible, yes, but every once in a while there must be that spark, that light, illuminating the darkness, the monotony.." He drifted off, muttering to himself in tones too low for Van Helsing to follow. Carl began to move, extinguishing candles one by one in the chapel. Van Helsing could only trail after him, like a dog. Carl started speaking aloud again. "And purpose too, oh yes, purpose. Such a comfort it must be, to know the whys, devise the hows, complete the mission, and move on. Always something new, somewhere different, and never question the reasons, just keep moving. Fascinating, it must be. Is it? You can tell me. Are we not friends?" The last word dripped with acidic irony.
Not since confronting Dracula had Van Helsing felt this utter confusion. Sweet Carl, chipper and chatty, had metamorphed into something unrecognizable. This man in friar robes moved not in the quick, birdlike manner Van Helsing so associated with his friend, but in an almost languid fashion, yet the movements were rigidly controlled, so much so, Van Helsing could almost distinguish a tremor in Carl's hands as he reached out to snuff each candle, hesitating a heartbeat. This man did not stoop, but stood at tall as possible, rail thin, his unkempt hair tumbling around his shoulders. In the gloom of night, his eyes nearly glowed with some emotion Van Helsing feared to name, lest that name be Insanity.
"Tell me something else then, oh great hunter. What do you feel, when they die in front of you? The ones you never save. The monsters. No? Cat got your tongue this evening? Well, then you never were one to say anything of your own volition. Pestering, yes, that was the only way I could get you to talk to me. And now, you want me to talk to you. So I am. Is this what you wanted, my friend? To have same old Friar Carl chattering away at you again, so you can suppress all your thoughts and cares, and smile at me indulgently behind my back? Silly Old Carl. Always doing something for someone else. To HELL with that!" Carl whirled on Van Helsing, stepping close. To Van Helsing's surprise, he discovered that Carl was nearly as tall as he.
"I. Have. Had. Enough." Carl enunciated carefully. "You can tell that to the Cardinal, and to all the other sons of bitches in this prison that whisper about me behind my back." He turned abruptly and walked towards the chapel doors.
"Carl. Wait. Please!" Van Helsing stuttered, at a loss to know what to do, but fearing if Carl walked away now, he'd never have another chance to find out. "Is this about Transylvania?"
Pausing, Carl glanced back at Van Helsing. His shoulders slumped again, depression stealing over his face, banishing the hectic look, and leaving behind an expression exhausted and forlorn. "Forget it, Van Helsing. Just.... Go away."
(Can I just tell you how difficult it has been to NOT turn this into slash? It won't be slash, I swear, but sometimes, my brain really tries to take a left turn....)