Disclaimer: Priest and its characters belong to Scott Stewart.

Claimer: I own Tessa.

Chapter #2: Captivated

Without the time on hand, it was almost impossible to tell apart night from day in the city. All the light was manmade, the only luminance coming from the hundreds of chanting TV screens and dim street lamps that hardly served their purpose. Currently, it was around seven o' clock PM, another day having passed with a dreary drag weighing down its hours. On top of that, the air and buildings always maintained a heavy dampness, even though there was no rain to wet it, and the ash stuck to the precipitation like a murky paste.

His hood was drawn over his head as he trudged through the streets towards the apartments, eyes darkened with solemn disdain as they watched the activity around him. Every day it was the same. It almost made the hunts feel like a release. Here, everyone was a dull, grey, drone-like clone of each other. They reminded him of ants sometimes with the way they skittered about with no sense of coordination or direct path. No focus. It was like someone had programmed a chip and inserted it into each of their brains that shut down any sense of independent thought process. That was how it was once you moved to the cities. The lack of sunlight and constant hounding to atone for your sins seemed to suck the life right out of everyone day by day. In truth, he was a lot like them, but they had a place in society. He didn't. He blended in just like the rest of them—just another head in the crowd until someone got close enough to catch a glimpse of the cross tattooed across his forehead, and they turned their eyes away in avoidance.

Once he reached his apartment, it was as he was slipping the key into the lock that he paused suddenly, eyes shifting towards the apartment next to his. And then there was her. Before he had met her in person, he had seen her a couple times in the city, bright eyes alert and lively as she moved around. Her hair always had this healthy bounce and shine to it despite the dampness that always hovered in the air, and there was always a smile on her face. He had followed her earlier that day, curious after the previous night. She had been running errands of different sorts, and everywhere she went she left smiles behind. It was as if she had a contagion, leaving whoever she came in contact with infected with higher spirits. He knew it was all in his head, but he could have sworn there was a soft glow surrounding her, separating her from the crowd even if he wasn't aware she was there at first. If she was, he always spotted her, like a moth to flame.

When the door to his apartment pushed open, he stepped inside, and then froze when his foot stepped on something thin and crinkly. Looking down in wonder, he frowned when he saw it was a paper. It was a note. Picking it up of the floor, his eyes scanned it over, and he realized it was a note from her.

Hey, when you get a chance stop by my apartment. I just want to make sure your wound is healing properly.

~Tessa

So her name was Tessa. Having nothing better to do at the moment, he closed the door to his apartment and headed next door. When she answered, she greeted him with one of her brilliant smiles, and if he had been the type he would have returned it—and he almost did, mind you.

"I got your note," he said.

"Damn, and here I thought you were coming here just to see me." She chuckled softly at his expression. "I'm kidding. Don't you people ever joke around?" Stepping aside, she allowed him space to pass.

"Your wound looks good," she mused in a pleased tone, as she checked his side. "The sealant and stitches are holding well. With any luck, the scarring shouldn't be too bad once it's healed, but it'll probably feel sore and tight for the next few days." She rolled his shirt back down and looked up at him, only to see his attention was turned elsewhere. Her eyebrows creased together a bit, and she followed his gaze to where one of the paintings hung on the wall. It was the one of the blue eyes.

"Look familiar?" she asked knowingly.

He turned his head to her in question. "So, it's not in my mind."

She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I was wondering if you would notice. I don't know his name, but he's one of you. I saw him my first day here, and his eyes just jumped at me. I had to paint them."

"You did this from memory...?"

She nodded, and he seemed to release a soft sound of disbelief before returning his eyes to the paintings around the room. Standing, he approached one of them. It was of a beautiful, large house, and surrounding it was a fence inhabited by goats, cows, and a couple horse pastures. Off in the background, a barn stood, its brick red paint peeling a bit, but otherwise it was in good shape. The house itself was kept in top repair, painted white with black shutters, but what grabbed his attention the most was the lush grass and trees that decorated the property. Along the dirt path leading up to the house, chickens were scattered about, pecking about the ground.

"Is this a real place?" he asked.

"It was my grandparents' farm." Joining his side, she folded her arms over her chest as she looked at the painting with reminiscent eyes. "Beautiful property. I remember the horses…. They had this stunning black Andalusian stallion. He's right there, actually." She pointed to one of the horses in the pasture. "You can't see him in detail, but up close he was beautiful with a coat like shimmering black diamonds." Glancing up, she pointed to the painting above it. "That's a white Bengal tiger. Usually their coats are orange with black stripes and a white underbelly, but sometimes they are born with white coats like this one. It's very rare. And see that painting over there?" She pointed to another across the room. "Those are the Northern Lights. They're found in Alaska."

He stared at the painting in clear fascination, and she watched him walk towards it to get a closer look. She followed him silently, watching him as he observed the colorful trails of light painted in the sky above the snowy landscape.

"The sky does this?" he asked, and the incredulity could be heard in his voice.

"Yes. It's a reaction between gas particles in the air. When they collide, it causes the reactions that make the trails of color, and they move like waves through the sky." As an example, she moved her arm to give him the basic idea.

The hardness in his eyes had given way to express a glint of undeniable fascination. For a moment he almost looked childlike. It didn't come as a surprise to her. She was one of the few who knew anything about the world before the war, and he had been secluded by the Church practically his whole life. The most people knew around here were dry lands, vampires, and dank cities, so it made her happy she was able to share her knowledge with him. It was strangely rewarding to see those dismal eyes regain some light as they looked over her paintings.

"Are you busy tonight, Priest?" she asked softly.

He looked down at her with a faint spark of curiosity lighting his eyes. "Not unless I'm called in."

She smiled. "It's completely up to you, but if you'd like to stay you're more than welcome. I'd be more than happy to show you more of my sketches and books."

For a moment all he did was stare at her, but she could have sworn his eyes were smiling. It was unknown to either of them how long they sat together, but neither of them really cared. He was completely absorbed in her words as she showed him her books, which held colored photos of the world before the war, as well as black and white photos from early history. He barely spoke a word aside from the occasional question, captivated by her vast quantity of knowledge. Books and sketches lay scattered around them on the bed, which she had taken out of the old vintage chest. At one point she had left and returned with an open, steaming canister, which he stared at in confusion until he smelled the pleasant aroma wafting from it. Coffee?

"Where did you get this?" he asked, as she handed it to him.

"I have some private stock." That was the only explanation she offered, as she reclaimed her seat beside him. "That's the last of the coffee, though."

He looked at her a bit sharply, and he immediately tried to give it back to her. "I can't accept—"

"Don't be silly." Placing her hand over his, she gently pushed it back towards him. "I wouldn't have offered it to you if I didn't want you to have it. You've earned it."

Quietly, he accepted the canister, and although he barely showed it she could tell he was appreciative. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"I mean for everything..."

Smiling at him, she gave his leg a small pat. "If you ever need anything, just give a knock."

He offered her the canister, and her smile grew softly, taking a few sips before handing it back to him. At some point she had taken out a black leather journal, which she had been sketching in for some time now as he read through one of the books. When she had glanced over, a smile tugged at her lips when she realized he was reading one of the novels on zoology, and he was looking at a small section about Fallow deer. His eyebrows, she had come to find, were the most expressive part about him. Whenever he was confused or deeply focused, they always drew together slightly, forming a small crease in the middle of his brow, and something about them just gave his entire face expression—even if his eyes and lips did not alter. Little did he know, she was capturing this on paper, glancing up from her journal every now and then to give his face a quick onceover before continuing.

He took no notice of her activities, too absorbed in his reading to pay much attention to anything else. He liked that about her. She was able to keep a comfortable silence without making it awkward, but they still enjoyed each other's company. It was only their second day knowing each other, but he found himself indisputably drawn to her. She was a drastic change from the depressing surroundings he was bordered by on a usual basis, and he considered her a refreshing alteration. Not only that, she was smart. Incredibly so. The amount of knowledge she had managed to absorb about the past world was astonishing to him, being a protector of life. It was disheartening to know how much the war had destroyed, but he was still grateful to learn about it, nevertheless.

"What do you think?"

His head lifted in question, and he was met with the sight of her proudly holding up her journal before him, a bright smile on her face. It was nearly enough to make him drop the book he was holding when he saw what she had drawn. It was him—down to the very last detail. Slowly, he reached out and took it from her hands. She may as well have taken a photograph. Not a single hair was out of place. It was like looking into a mirror.

"You just did this now…?"

"Yeah. Sorry if it looks a little rushed."

His eyes shifted up to send her an incredulous stare, and she bit her lip to hold back a smile, but it failed horribly. "You have a gift, Tessa."

"I draw pictures. You save people." She smiled at him kindly. "You could easily learn to draw the way I do with a little practice, but I could never possess the gift you've been blessed with… not even if I trained every day and into the night."

"All it takes is focus, and you…" He held up the portrait to her, "definitely have focus. If you can do that by memory," He pointed to the painting of the blue eyes, "you can do anything."

Her lips were set in a quiet smile as he spoke, and she glanced down while biting the inside of her cheek. He watched her for a moment, and he wished he could capture all the detail she could. If he had the courage, he would have let her know how her eyes sparkled whenever she smiled—how small dimples formed in her cheeks—lips full and pink like roses. Her eyes were like two green apples, long eyelashes framing them in an elegant circlet of black. Her heart-shaped face was framed by her shimmering waves, which seemed to flow passed her shoulders in dark rivers, coming to a curled end at the very bottom. Faint freckles flecked her face and neck here and there, and he bet the rest of her body as well. Briefly, he craved to reach out and twirl his finger in one of her dark curls, but that would be inappropriate. He had no right to touch her without her permission, and he knew it. Besides, it would only cause him to want to give into the temptation more often, which would only lead him down paths he could not venture towards.

"How many Priests are in this city?" she asked suddenly, her voice bringing him out of his little reverie.

"…Including me, there are six."

"Ah. Well, that would explain why I never see any. The only one I've ever seen aside from you is the blue-eyed one..." Her eyes shifted to his. "Does he always look so sad?"

"He's sacrificed more than most of us."

"What do you mean?" At his silence, she dipped her head apologetically. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

He seemed to hesitate, and he surprised her when he spoke next. "…Most of us, including myself, were taken as young children. He, on the other hand, was taken in later years."

She eyed him closely, taking in his words in thought. When her gaze moved back to his, he could tell she knew what he meant.

"He had a family… didn't he?" It wasn't a question.

He nodded his head once, his eyes solid but solemn.

"God…" Her eyes closed, instantly feeling for him; though, she did not know him in the slightest. "I can't even imagine…"

"His wife and daughter live with his brother, who he asked to act as a father for his little girl." His eyes met hers firmly. "I never told you this."

She held her hand up. "Of course. I won't tell a soul… though; I would like to meet him. Heck, I'd like to meet all of you."

He shrugged. "If you see him, approach him. He's not a man of many words, but once you get to know him he's not as intimidating as he looks." He looked at her then. "Just don't sneak up on him. He'll have you on the ground with a blade pointed at your throat before you can blink."

"So he's paranoid, I take it?"

"Just alert."

She chuckled. "I think I can handle him."

Then, for the first time, she saw his lips turn up into the faintest of smiles. "I wouldn't get too confident. He's our leader for a reason."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to scare me out of it to keep me all to yourself." Tilting her head, she quirked a suggestive eyebrow at him, and she nearly laughed when he fumbled the slightest bit. "I'm kidding." Reaching over, she nudged him lightly on the shoulder. "You're so serious."