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Disclaimer - … God I Hate Disclaimers. Um something about not owning stuff…Whatever, Just don't sue me.
Summary – Upset about Anna's death of late, Gabriel becomes drunk increasingly often and Carl gets annoyed. Short oneshot
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He was a friar
A timid, but intelligent and loyal person with a sense of keen wit and clever attitude that one can only smile at, a good friend to have. Especially if you need someone to run across a crumbling bridge, avoiding a madman with an electric weapon just to run up to a tower and save you from becoming a werewolf the rest of your life.
But then again some people just aren't appreciative.
He sat in a nicely carved chair, intricate little drawings of vines etched in its legs and arms. Sometimes he ran his finger over them while deep in thought. He was sitting up straight, his eyes flickering over the small Latin words in the book. Reading it had become increasingly annoying, whoever had written it had increasingly loopy writing as they tried to finish the book, and were probably running out of paper, because the writing became so fine he had the urge to throw it in the fireplace across from him.
He ran his finger along the ink trying to keep his place, the only noises the crackling of a fire, and paper being moved as he searched about with his free hand for some notes.
It's a bit hard to concentrate when your minds on something else. He gave a sigh and relaxed in the chair, pulling his cloak over his face and resting his chin on his chest. He closed his eyes and sat in thought, trying to shove away the nagging voice in his head questioning his conscience. He placed his hands on his lap and laced his fingers together, repressing the urge to throw them up into the air and shout in exasperation.
His chest rose and fell mechanically, a steady and calm pace. He relaxed, his eyelids growing heavy. He let out another breath from his lips and tried to balance out his heartbeat, his chest tightening from anxiety.
And there it was the annoying and infuriating sound he had been waiting for. If one was to become so angry you wanted to turn around and stare a hole into someone's forehead, and then hold it in, you'd probably break down after a few months too. He had to admit, he did miss Anna, and she was a keen and intelligent person and reminded himself of him if he had been more adventurous…and maybe a woman. But he didn't go out drinking every night trying to drown his sorrows. He had been patient and accepting at first, tried to put up with his miserable attitude when he came to the church, but after a year you'd think someone would try and get on with their life.
But no, Not the stubborn and defiant Gabriel
The sound he had been waiting for was of course a large bang, If Van Helsing had been intending to make the Church supports crumble he wasn't very far off. He winced at the echoes and pretended to be asleep.
While keeping his eyes gently closed, he tried to think of calm things, like streams and little butterflies and floaty clouds.
This of course did not work
He heard Gabriel's footstep as he stumbled in, Carl was sure he could smell brandy and liquor wafting in through the front door. He heard the door slam closed, the second time he had actually bothered to try and close it. He probably just fell back onto the door anyway in his stupor.
He heard Van Helsing walk by to his bed quarters he had been offered by the church; he opened one eye and saw the black figure of his friend step lightly down the corridor.
And he winced at the smell of whisky
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Carl was up the early the next day, now with some fine reading glasses as he tried to comprehend the microscopic jargon on the page. His fingers trembled as he picked up the tweezers and held them above the candle, and then turned the next page with the hot metal.
If he did decide to throw the book against the wall, lunge onto it and rip it apart with his teeth, he knew for a fact the Church would get angry at him, and ask to pay them a fee for his destruction.
But right now, the urge was so overwhelming he honestly didn't care. Just even peering at the pages was making his heart race uncontrollably. He gritted his teeth as he stared at the word research and all he saw was a swirly assortment of symbols which could be mistaken for an ancient dead language…on mars…from an unpopular book that no one ever picked up so was taken of the market and became increasingly rarer that everyone just forgot how to read in avoidance of going insane.
And even know as he threw the tweezers across the room and tried to ignore his problems, Van Helsing came in complaining about a hangover.
"Ouch…How much did I-"
"-Probably about two barrels, as usual" Carl butted in angrily, not looking at Gabriel.
Van Helsing looked at him coldly. "Did I say something I shouldn't have-"
"-You didn't say anything, you never do anymore"
Van Helsing laughed "You sound like my wife"
Carl sat there staring at the smoking fireplace, his eyes glittering with annoyance.
"Maybe you should get one, and move on"
Van Helsing stared at the immobile Carl, who had stopped breathing as a surge of regret rushed through him for saying the insulting words. He looked as if he'd been slapped across the face. He opened his mouth vaguely to speak but couldn't find anything to say
Carl screwed up his eyes as tried desperately not to turn around, see his friends face, be overcome with guilt and apologize uncontrollably. He wanted to be angry; he felt van Helsing deserved it.
"I loved her, Carl"
Carl sighed as his shoulders sagged with a surge of sympathy, the anger and irritation left him as quickly as it had came. He turned to Van Helsing sadly "I know you did, but…"
He stared at the patient Van Helsing who was surveying him darkly.
"She wouldn't want you to…dwell on it all your life" He said quietly. He gripped the chair with his fingerless gloves and tried to smile "She'd want you…to live"
Van Helsing stood staring at the wise Friar and took in the words for a few moments, analyzing the message Carl was trying to send him.
"I want you to live" The Friar muttered, and he returned to the book silently, shifting on the chair awkwardly.
Van Helsing stared at his friend for a few moments, then turned and left, but not before telling him something –
"I'll try"
Then he was gone.
Carl gave a long sigh as he gripped the table
Then he grasped the book furiously and threw in against the wall
-αιвσυ
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o.0.o
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