03-28-2022, 07:39 PM
[CW: lots to come! This is a pre-warning warning.]
From the noise of idle chatter and other flippant conversations in the church, one couldn’t have been blamed for mistaking Lyle Brennan’s funeral for some sort of dinner party. It was remarkably well-attended, for all the years the man had spent hiding away in his estate. So much so that they’d required the space of the church – at least, that’s what his mother claimed. Malachi knew that she simply hadn’t wanted to entertain them all herself.
Had anyone ever truly liked Lyle Brennan? Certainly a number far smaller than those that showed up for his death had spent all that much time with him during his life. A hermit on his best days, a deeply unpleasant visitor on his worst ones; only the least intelligent among them had ever taken Lyle at face value, but he was… or, he had been… a necessary evil.
A very wealthy, secretive, and unfortunately well-connected necessary evil. Malachi dreaded the company his death attracted: for every family friend that’d never heard of his existence, there was an old associate of his father’s that afforded him some teasing comment or a leer. Like he was still the little creature they’d met years ago.
December sent a biting chill through the opened doors, isolating his cold hands to the pockets of his coat, where his fingers fiddled with the spectacles he’d plucked off his father’s corpse before the others had arrived. If his mother or Levi noticed, or cared, they hadn’t mentioned it yet.
Dressed so fine and proper, they were, like the family of the deceased should have been. And with them, a tall figure that bore no resemblance, yet that wore more signs of visible distress than either one.
Malachi hadn’t even bothered to wear his Roman collar. Hadn’t bothered to make any effort beyond donning the black suit one of mother’s servants had set out for him. There was a darkness that clung to the hollows of his face, and made a slender priest look all the more over-tired.
Another set of old friends passed by. Offered their insincere condolences to mother and Levi. Ignored him. Fuck this.
Malachi made his way out of the church, taking out a smoke from his pocket and lighting it as soon as he did.
From the noise of idle chatter and other flippant conversations in the church, one couldn’t have been blamed for mistaking Lyle Brennan’s funeral for some sort of dinner party. It was remarkably well-attended, for all the years the man had spent hiding away in his estate. So much so that they’d required the space of the church – at least, that’s what his mother claimed. Malachi knew that she simply hadn’t wanted to entertain them all herself.
Had anyone ever truly liked Lyle Brennan? Certainly a number far smaller than those that showed up for his death had spent all that much time with him during his life. A hermit on his best days, a deeply unpleasant visitor on his worst ones; only the least intelligent among them had ever taken Lyle at face value, but he was… or, he had been… a necessary evil.
A very wealthy, secretive, and unfortunately well-connected necessary evil. Malachi dreaded the company his death attracted: for every family friend that’d never heard of his existence, there was an old associate of his father’s that afforded him some teasing comment or a leer. Like he was still the little creature they’d met years ago.
December sent a biting chill through the opened doors, isolating his cold hands to the pockets of his coat, where his fingers fiddled with the spectacles he’d plucked off his father’s corpse before the others had arrived. If his mother or Levi noticed, or cared, they hadn’t mentioned it yet.
Dressed so fine and proper, they were, like the family of the deceased should have been. And with them, a tall figure that bore no resemblance, yet that wore more signs of visible distress than either one.
Malachi hadn’t even bothered to wear his Roman collar. Hadn’t bothered to make any effort beyond donning the black suit one of mother’s servants had set out for him. There was a darkness that clung to the hollows of his face, and made a slender priest look all the more over-tired.
Another set of old friends passed by. Offered their insincere condolences to mother and Levi. Ignored him. Fuck this.
Malachi made his way out of the church, taking out a smoke from his pocket and lighting it as soon as he did.
