Submission (#7738) Approved

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Submitted
18 February 2023, 17:24:15 EST (1 year ago)
Processed
18 February 2023, 21:07:55 EST (1 year ago) by limesparrow
Comments
There is an ache in Abdiesus’ teeth today.

The night before had proven poor for his preferred hunting conditions. It had been unseasonably cold, so there were no wandering drunks or young lovers sneaking out at night to meet under the night sky. The one person he’d singled out as a potential blood donor had been practically pulled out from under him, called away by friends who’d come looking to steer the man back into the warmth of the nearby tavern.

It wasn’t ideal. He’d been left with his ever unquenchable thirst, which made for a pressing distraction during his clerical duties.

Today he is to oversee a bake sale for the church, listening to the faithful of his flock cluck amongst themselves like birds for his table. He wants nothing more than to drag one off to slake his hunger, but is forced to keep his masked demeanor soft and welcoming and his posture open.

It wouldn’t do to blow his long-held cover just because he’d had a bit of poor luck feeding recently.

So he gently chides his parishioners for their gossip and encourages their efforts at selling their goods, laying on his persona thick to cover for the violence brewing just beneath the surface. It’s fine. He’ll feed that night, come hell or high water.

… But if Karren Scuséme asks him one more time if he’s *sure* they can’t put her glazed rice krispies in the middle of the table, he’s going to be sorely tempted to ask her to join him in the chapel for a bit of one-on-one prayer over the sin of pride. He simply won’t hold himself responsible for what happens after, with the two of them in private.

While the parishioners continue their clucking over the cheerful event, he lets himself fantasize over what he’d do to cover the crime he hasn’t even committed yet.

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