†Father Forgive Me †

‡ An Abel Nightroad Romance ‡

In the nine hundred years after the apocalyptic war between Methuselah, the vampyres, and Terrans, the humans, the world is bleak and ruled solely by those two powers. While some would strive to join the two empires, others fight to prevent that very thing. Stumbling along the fine line between wrong and right is Father Abel Nightroad, a depressive priest who puts on a warm smile for the world he once hated. Beyond those nine hundred years previous, he had lost what hope he had for happiness in his life, but in the current time, fate, or perhaps God Himself, may have decided differently. Forgiveness sought is often forgiveness earned.

Based upon the song "Pet" by A Perfect Circle

Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window
Go back to sleep

In the corner, a young child bowed over, her head pressed up against her knees. Tears ran from her eyes and made tracks on her face before rolling slowly down her legs. She trembled uncontrollably, muffled sobs shaking her shoulders as she cowered. The window in the room cast a stream of cold and bleak moonlight upon her frame, illuminating her soft blue hair and the dark red which stained her dress and skin. Accusingly it spread its light over the decimated corpses laying about the room.

Heavy footfalls accompanied by the click of a mechanized weapon of some sort approached her as she cried. Her tear-filled eyes opened sharply at the sound, staring mindlessly at the bloodstained carpet immediately in front of her. Terror wrenched the air from her throat as she waited for the footsteps to reach her. Black boots fringed by the swinging hem of a thick cloak came into her sight, stopping just before her, and she heard another click.

"Objective: eliminate all vampyres. Final target attained," said a deep, mechanic voice.

She whimpered.

"Tres, no!"

.
Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come

Clumsy footsteps raced across the damp carpet and she ducked her head down with a soft cry, sniffling as warm and strong arms picked her up. One arm cradled her legs while the other supported her back briefly as the man who had shouted in protest held his hand out in an attempt to stop the other.

"Tres she's just a child!" the man panted desperately.

"She is a target. I have my orders. She must be eliminated."

"Tres please, I-I beg of you! Let us allow Lady Catherina to decide the child's fate! S-Surely she wouldn't want an innocent child to be destroyed, Methuselah or not!"

As the two men spoke, the child lifted her head up, pawing at the chest of the man who held her to get a secure hold on his shirt. A bit startled, he looked down at her with caring blue eyes the same shade as hers. Moonlight reflected off the lenses of his glasses, glistening in her tears, and paled out both of their faces. His lips parted ever so slightly as if to speak, but he had no chance before she buried her face in his chest. She didn't say a word, and had only given him that single, frightened look.

"…Tres…," he said after a long silence, his gaze serious as he brought it back to the empty stare of the other priest.

"Positive," the other answered, "Lady Catherina may decide. Objective delayed. Area clear."

The footsteps retreated then, and the wind was the only sound. It danced through the air and tugged gently at the blood-soaked ribbon wrapped in her hair, only to be refused as she huddled closer to the priest who had saved her life. His hand cupped back of her neck, pressing her gently into his chest as he took careful steps across the room.

"Don't worry little one," he murmured quietly. "I will not let you be harmed. You are a child of God; you deserve life as much as I do."

Counting bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums

She lifted her gaze up from his chest, staring with fear at the destroyed area. Blood was smeared upon the faded wallpaper, glass scattered upon the staircase and foyer floor. Here and there, a corpse would lay propped up in awkward positions, necks bent this way, spines bent that way. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…

With a sick feeling building in her stomach, she ducked her head back down and leaned upon him again. The beat of his heart, sickeningly similar to the rhythm of an army's march, throbbed in her ears, slowly lulling her into a discontented sleep.

-
Pay no mind to the rabble
Pay no mind to the rabble

"Keep up now, Avim, sweetheart!"

"Y-Yes Father!"

With memories of the massacre in Albion three years behind her, a child of no more than eight years old ran to catch up with the older man waiting several yards ahead. He smiled gently at her, his black priest's habit rustling as he held his hand out and crouched down for her.

"We wouldn't want to keep Sister Noelle and Sister Esther waiting, would we?" he asked kindly, chuckling as she caught up to him.

"No, Father Nightroad," she returned, a tentative smile revealing her still undeveloped fangs.

Allowing her to take a hold of his gloved hand, the tender Father drew her to his side as those on their early morning work shifts began to glare. A Methuselah, even a child, under the care of the Church was frowned upon by the whole of the Vatican, particularly Rome. Even Cardinal Catherina had voiced her concerns when approached by a weary Father Nightroad carrying a bloody child. It was only under the traveling priest's pleas and promises to take full responsibility did she allow it. Perhaps, one day, the child would grow to be an important bridge between the vampyres and the Church.

He kept her in the shadow of his cloak as they approached the gates to the holy Church of the Vatican, and picked her up as they neared the guard. Amid all the mutterings and accusing stares, he filled her mind with his warm smile and assuring words. Standing in the shadow of the church's gates, he comforted her, eliciting quiet giggles and laughter from her. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as blue as the sky when he pointed out the approach of the two Sisters he would be handing her off to, and took hold of his habit.

"Father Nightroad?" she asked softly, earning herself one of his characteristic smiles.

"Yes, Avim?"

"Are you leaving me with Sister Noelle and Sister Esther forever?"

"N-no! Not at all!" he assured her, flustered at the very thought.

He frowned and tapped her nose with his gloved hand, pushing a stray lock of her brilliant hair back under the hood of her child-sized habit. The blue and gold fabric brought out the varying shades and hues in her eyes and hair, bringing her face to life.

"Just for a few days or so, I promise. Lady Catherina gave me a new assignment, but it's too dangerous to bring you along. Sister Noelle and Sister Esther will take the utmost care with you, I assure you, Avim. Have faith and trust me. I won't abandon you."

Behind his glasses, his eyes widened as she hugged him about the neck, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

"Thank you Father…"

"You're very welcome, Avim…," he murmured, holding her close until the time came to hand her off to the two Sisters of the Church.

As she was led away by the two Sisters, he watched after her sadly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His thin shoulders slumped down in a sigh and he shook his head. Turning sharply on his heel, he ran his fingers through his hair and walked away from the church, whispering a subtle prayer under his breath.

"Heavenly Father help me," he said, "Let me never go back on my promise to that child…"

Head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums

The moon hung high and bright in the sky later that night as the black and gray clad priest stood in chill air. Hostile voices hissed between elongated fangs as shadows skulked about the empty area, blood red eyes glaring from the darkness. Equally red and deadly eyes peered out from the priest's once placid face, slanted and calculating. A long, pointed tongue slid out between his pale lips, grazing over ivory fangs that formed a fatal smirk. His long, silver hair was blown back in a tangled mess, freed from the black ribbon he generally used to tie it back with.

"Vampyres…for your sins on this earth you are sure to be damned," he rumbled in a deep voice.

In a single delicate movement, he held his arm out to the side, flexing his ungloved hand. Dark black talons flexed under the cold light of the moon as a thick liquid pooled out from his palm. It was darker than blood but shone with the same ruby glow under the dim light. As it squirmed and wrapped together into the form of a lengthy, intricate scythe, his lips parted in a deep, cynical laugh.

"Still…I will say a prayer for your souls."

With that, he swung.

Far off in the Vatican, Avim sat upright from her bed with a start. Stray tears dripped down her cheeks as she frantically wiped them away, only a few splattering on the tousled sheets. Her shoulders shook as she trembled in the cold, staring out the window as screams of the past haunted her young mind.

Pay no mind what other voices say
They don't care about you, like I do, like I do

Soft rain poured down in Rome at the end of the week; or rather, the beginning. Somewhere between midnight, Saturday, and early morning Sunday, one single, weary soul trudged back towards the Vatican Church. Burdened with heavy, torn black robes laden with rainwater and stained by blood, he kept his head down. Damp silver hair was plastered to his body, nearly falling loose from its black ribbon, and aching eyes the depressed shade of a winter sky stared forlornly at the ground.

Father forgive me, for I have sinned…, he begged silently, slumping to a sitting position on the stone steps of the Vatican Church. I have lied and deceived a young, innocent child that deserves not what I give her…

As his thoughts dwelled upon the relationship of both protector and condemner which he held with the vampyre child he had brought to Rome only three years ago, a giggle drew his gaze up. With an umbrella in her hand and a happy smile upon her face, that very child, Avim, was running towards him. Astonished, he lifted his head from his hands just in time to catch the young girl as she threw herself into his lap, the umbrella forgotten in the rain.

"Father Nightroad!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

He smiled sadly and pushed his foggy glasses up the bridge of his nose, hugging the girl close to himself. Leaning down to pick up the umbrella and shake off the rain, he laughed quietly and held it over her, water sliding down each part of his chilled body.

"Avim, what are you doing out here so late?" he asked, "And all alone, too?"

Her excitement visibly deflated at his question, and she cast her gaze down, fiddling with the golden cross necklace he'd given her before he had left only a week ago. Carefully propping her up on his knee, he continued to hold the umbrella over her petite body, bowing his head down so he could hear her and receive some shelter as well.

"Hm?" he pressed gently, smiling kindly. "You won't get in trouble, I'm just curious. I wouldn't want you to get hurt outside all alone at night."

"I didn't want to stay inside," she whispered finally. "Sometimes people say things and sometimes they just look at me oddly. When they talk about me, it's always about how I shouldn't be here, and when they look at me, it's always so cold and mean."

Gently stroking her back, he pressed her into his chest like a father. She snuggled closer to him and put her arms around his neck. As she rested her cheek on his shoulder, he looked down compassionately and wiped some of the water off her face, sure that some of it had been tears as well as rain.

"For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong," he murmured, quoting a Biblical verse from 2 Corinthians on persecution to her. "Don't let what they say bother you, little one."

As he stood up, he smiled warmly at her, holding her in his arms with the umbrella resting on his shoulder. His boots echoed as they splashed through the puddles in the street, his movements barely jostling her in his arms at all.

"You are a wonderful gift from God, Avim. Do not let anyone tell you different."

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do

"Vampyre…filthy leech…"

"…not worth anything…"

"…can't understand why Abel brought her here as a child…"

"…think he'd know better…what he is…"

Turning a deaf ear to the harsh comments whispered behind her back as she had always been taught, a lovely young woman continued on her way. She couldn't have been anymore than twenty years old, and was dressed in black and white robes with soft blue accents. A white scarf with metal rings sewn into the bottom hems was embroidered sparsely with a thin blue outline and golden crosses at the ends. She had a slender, well-formed figure that moved with the grace and beauty of an angel, her short cerulean hair brushing gently against her chin.

Without her UV gel, she could only walk in the shadows of the church's architecture during the day, but she wove her way around the pillars and intricate gates with ease. Having spent the majority of her life in the convent centered here in Rome, she was no stranger to the city or the church, and adored each as if she'd been born in this city. All, of course, thanks to Father Abel Nightroad.

Just stay with me, safe and ignorant,
Go back to sleep
Go back to sleep

In the back of the church, she unlatched a single gate and darted through a patch of sunshine to reach a shady path lined with trees. It was in the gardens, surrounded by the aromas of fragrant flowers and high, stone walls decorated with emerald green moss. Her feet stirred up small clouds of dust that sparkled in the stray shafts of sunlight filtering down. Humming a soft lullaby under her breath, she danced through the shadows with quiet laughter, stopping once to pick up a rosebud that had fallen from its bush.

"Sister Avim?"

At the sound of that familiar voice, she turned on her heel, momentarily startled. With his shoulders bowed humbly, the clumsy priest laughed sheepishly and rubbed his neck.

"My apologies, Sister Avim," he said, addressing her formally as he had begun to do while she grew older, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no," she said, smiling and laughing, "It's quite alright, Father Nightroad! Did you need me for something?"

Marveling at the sound of her laughter, he paused before beginning again, embarrassed.

"Ah, yes, actually! I was wondering if you would accompany me on my trip to the Empire?" he asked hopefully, holding up a pair of tickets. "You see, Lady Catherina believed that it would be wise for you to travel with me."

"Oh?" she asked curiously, "I wonder why."

Holding the rose up to her nose, its buttery red petals lightly brushing against her pale skin, she inhaled with a sigh, stroking the petals. Swallowing hard, Abel flushed and glanced away as she lifted her pretty, azure eyes up to his face with a soft smile.

"But of course I'll go with you, Father Nightroad. You should know better by now; I've always enjoyed traveling with you, ever since you rescued me as a child. Besides, if Lady Catherina has advised it, I shouldn't even have to think twice about accompanying you." She paused now, and covered her face with one delicate hand as she giggled. "Besides…As I hear you could always use help with managing your finances."

With the rosy hue in his cheeks deepening to a brick red, he stumbled for words as she passed him, stopping just as her shoulders brushed his arm. Looking up at him warmly, she tilted her head and bowed her head humbly.

"I suppose I will see you when we depart, then?"

"Ah…y-yes," he managed to choke out. "Meet me on the front steps once you are p

acked, Sister Avim?"

"Yes, Father Nightroad," she said obediently, continuing on her way.

While he gazed after her, he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head as he looked down to the ground, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose still burning furiously. His breath still came in shaky takes as he stared at his feet shamefully.

Father…

Fangs nibbled at her lower lip when she glanced just once over her shoulder, casting a longing glance at the humble priest standing back down the path.

Father…

As if sensing her gaze, he slowly lifted his cobalt blue eyes up, and crossed his shocked stare with her cautious glimpse. They held each other's eyes for a brief eternity before breaking it, each staring down the opposite end of the path with mixed feelings swimming in their eyes. Within that quick look, there had been a secret thought shared between the two, haunting their memories as they parted ways for a short time.

…Forgive me, for I have sinned…

Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come
Count the bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums

Perched lightly on the edge of a red velvet seat aboard the airship Benedict, bound for the capital of the Empire—the center of the Methuselah government—Avim leaned on the window. Her delicate eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as she watched the lights of the ground below.

"Sister Avim?"

He reached out gently to touch her shoulder as she stared quietly, resting her hand on the window. Her shoulder fit firmly in his warm grip and she looked back to him, worry clear in her eyes.

"Ah…Yes Father…?" she whispered.

He ached to see her so. With the tenderness of a father caring for his child, or a lover for his partner, he leaned forward and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You should rest. We still have a long way to go, and you look exhausted."

"I'm merely…worried," she said, "Though…thank you for your concerns."

As if to reassure him, she smiled softly and stood, folding her hands below her waist. She stood only at five feet and four inches, more than a foot shorter than him, but when he sat just so, she was at eye level with him. The airship rocked momentarily in turbulence as she slid past him, leaning down to adjust his glasses for him.

"Since this airship is headed for the Empire, I hope I'll be able to find some of that blood substitute in one of the cafés. Would you like me to bring you anything back, Father Nightroad?"

His face lit up and she laughed lightly as she saw the sparkles return to his concerned eyes.

"A-a cup of tea with thirteen spoonfuls of sugar would be just lovely Sister Avim!" he exclaimed, eliciting more soft laughs from his lovely companion.

"You and your sweet tooth…I'll be right back then."

As she walked away, he relaxed into his seat, turning his head to gaze after her. The dim lights of the near empty airship swayed, casting alternate shadows and light over her. His eyes softened as he stared sadly after her, noting how coldly she was observed by the other passengers; all three of them that there were.

This will not end well…I must protect her at all costs…

Pay no mind to the rabble
Pay no mind to the rabble

Silent as the grave save for the moans of the machinery, flying on an airship did not bother Avim nearly half as much as their destination. She could remember little to nothing of her life before Abel had rescued her that night so long ago, but regardless, they were destined for her birthplace. Much like the Church, many Methuselah, her own kind, resented her for having been raised by a priest in the Church, and one who specialized in killing other vampyres.

Wandering through the empty hallways of the Benedict, these thoughts sat heavily on her heart. Her head was bowed, a few strands of her sapphire hair brushing over her downcast eyes. Her footfalls echoed softly down the hallway as she approached the dining room, peering in quietly. It was empty, save for the low wooden tables and red velvet booths, the richly carpeted floor, and the unmanned counter. Making her way to the counter, she barely made a sound. Her slender fingers tapped the silver bell, withdrawing quickly as it let out a distinct, clear sound.

"Ah….," she inhaled abruptly, holding her breath as she waited for an answer. "There's…no one here," she finally exhaled, rubbing her arms. "I wonder where the waitress or waiter is…"

"There aren't any," spoke a deep, cold voice behind her.

Whirling around, she placed a hand over her heart, bowing her head in respect to the man standing in the doorway. He wore a black hat tipped down over a long, angled face, and leaned back on the doorway. His sharp shoulders spread out his deep red suit, allowing it to hang comfortably on his gangly form. Standing with a sway, he tilted his hat up, hungry eyes staring pointedly at her. A cold chill washed over her under his gaze, and a light frown touched her delicate lips. This man was a Methuselah, like her, but that fact mattered little to him.

"Aren't there?" she questioned casually, baiting her time. "This is a long flight. Even with only a few passengers, I was sure that there would be service."

He began to advance on her, another joining him from the shadows as they laughed.

"There's no service for you, traitor, because you are not expected to arrive in the Empire. Alive, that is."

Head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and all your demons

As the last of the other three passengers stood and left the main cabin, Father Abel Nightroad stood, stretching. His eyes narrowed as he listened closely to the sudden lack of sound, feeling his worry grow as he noted that Avim should have returned long ago. Pulsating beats caused his ears to throb as he ran down the empty hallways. He tripped only once, catching himself with a groan as his knees and palms collided with the loosely carpeted metal. Fumbling for his glasses, he adjusted them and stood up quickly, shaking his head.

"S-Sister Avim?" he called frantically, bursting into the café area.

As he stumbled over a few chairs placed to block the door, he found himself looking up at the last man who had left the main cabin. Dark shadows haunted his ruby eyes, and jagged fangs clamped down on a dying cigarette. He palmed a gun in his thick hand, aiming it straight between the priest's eyes.

"You'd better get outta here Father," he sneered in a mocking tone. "We were instructed to take out the traitorous leech you've raised, but we'll have bigger problems if we touch you. Just go back and take your seat."

With his jaw slack, he swallowed hard and scrambled up to his knees, rubbing the back of his neck. Holding his hands up submissively, he slowly stood, bowing his head humbly.

"Now now gentlemen, lets settle this reasonably," he said nervously.

Held steadily at gunpoint, his expression was stoic and calm as he faced the three Methuselah. Two of them were occupied with Avim, one holding her arms while the other seemed prepared to snap her neck. She was standing still, trembling only occasionally, and her eyes were closed. He could see tears at the corners of her eyes, glittering at the ends of her long eyelashes.

"There will be no negotiating, Terran," hissed the vampyre who held Avim's head in his slender palms.

She whimpered as his grip tightened, and a chill swept over the room. Still stoic, the calm priest adjusted his glasses, his generally sad eyes now devoid of any emotion.

I cannot take on all three with a simple gun…Avim, forgive me.

"A pity," he said, his voice deepening as he prayed internally for her forgiveness. "I am afraid I have no choice then. Nanomachines: Crusnik 02. Power output 40% Activate."

Taking on a form all too familiar to himself, he rang his tongue across his newly revealed fangs. His hair tore free from its black ribbon, the forlorn scrap of clothing drifting down as an injured creature falls from the sky. Turning nimbly to avoid a shot from the revolver, he grasped the arm of the vampyre and ripped it free from his body. Blood sprayed against the walls of the dining hall, adhering to the skin of the two men still holding Avim. She flinched as it hit her cheek, letting loose a single tear. The fall of that tear struck him more soundly than the anguished screams of the Methuselah now lacking an arm. As if in pain himself, he closed his eyes and turned away from her. He let the appendage fall from his grasp, bending down to mercifully crush the heart of the dying man before turning slowly to the others.

"Wh-what the hell are you?" whimpered one of the remaining vampyres, backing away from the frightened young nun with his partner.

"I am a child of God, the same as you and as her," he rumbled sadly, moving to stand in front of her as a shield. "And I am your executioner."

A long scythe of red blood formed from his hand, and it was over in seconds. Removing his glasses to rub at the blood on his face and their lenses, Abel looked down to Avim sorrowfully. He knelt beside her and hesitated, as if he wanted to touch her, but felt that his sins would wash onto her with a simple touch. After a long pause, he leaned forward, clasping her tightly to his chest. Gently wrapping his arms around her, pressing his folded hands to the small of her back, he bent down so his forehead rested atop hers. He could feel her warm tears seeping through the front of his robes, and he closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking.

"I am…so sorry, Avim," he choked out. "Forgive me…I never meant for you to see me in such a way…"

In silence haunted by sin, he held her to his chest. He held her until she had fallen asleep from exhaustion, and continued to hold her as if he would never let go. From behind foggy glasses, sad, wintry eyes gazed upon the face of an innocent angel and wept.

Father forgive me…for again I have sinned…

I'll be the one to protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason

Early in the morning, as the sun began to rise, she awoke once, rubbing her bleary eyes to clear away the tears from last night's ordeal. She was resting in a shadowy place, away from where the sun could touch her. With his knees pulled up to his chest, Father Nightroad sat on the floor near her. His head was bowed, and he hadn't yet bothered to retie his long silver locks. They hung about his face like a curtain, shielding him from her sight. Memories of last night distorted his form for only a moment as the light passed over him.

He lifted his head as he heard her stirring and turned to look at her. Guilt was clear in his eyes as he forced a smile.

"Oh, g-good morning Sister Avim," he said, managing at least a little enthusiasm. "Again, I apologize over what you saw last night…"

His voice became softer, holding a hurt tone as he looked away. She looked after him, allowing silence to fill the air between them. Laced with tension the atmosphere suffocated both of the remaining passengers aboard the Benedict airship. She shifted uncomfortably as she struggled for words before lifting her gaze to his.

"Father…thank you for saving me," she said finally.

She leaned into him, putting her arms around his waist in a hug, and pressed her forehead into his ribcage. Putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, he let his head fall forward as his sorrowful eyes closed.

Do not resent me, he hoped silently, Do not pity me…And please, do not try to save me…

I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices son
They're one in the same
I must isolate you
Isolate and save you from yourself

"Stay close to me, please, Sister Avim," Abel encouraged quietly, holding out a single hand to the young woman.

Quietly, she turned her wide blue eyes away from the sunny skies she had never seen to look into his azure eyes. When he smiled now, it no longer reached those sad blue eyes, and she wondered if it had anything to do with their frightening experience aboard the airship Benedict just two nights ago. Since that night, he had seemed distanced from her, not even acting as he once had when she was a child. He was no longer a father or a friend, in the way he acted; he was simply an escort.

"Yes Father Nightroad."

She took his hand and returned his smile warmly, nodding her head in affirmation. The ache in his eyes intensified, their color fading as he looked at her pretty face. Concern written in the lines on her face, she reached up one hand to his face, her delicate fingers brushing the thin wires of his glasses as they grazed his cheek.

"Are you alright, Father? You've seemed upset the past few days, and you're looking a little peaked now," she murmured, only to have him withdraw with a rosy hue coloring his cheeks.

"I-I'm alright, Sister Avim. You needn't concern yourself with me," he said kindly, clasping her other hand in his and lowering it down from his face. "Let us continue on to the assembly, shall we? We're expected and shouldn't be late."

He left it at that, still holding her hand as they walked along towards the magnificent building that was their destination. Out of the corner of his eye, he cast regretful glances every so often towards the beautiful creature he traveled with, sighing inwardly. It was better, this way; that they were distanced. He had frightened her, and had finally seen what he had ignored years ago. He was a monster who was intended to drink the blood of Methuselah, and who was employed by the church to do just that when it was called for. She was a Methuselah, and much too young besides that.

The way she looks at me…, he thought hesitantly, catching the solitary look she'd given him, Perhaps she needs to be saved from more than just myself…

Swayin to the rhythm of the new world order and
Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums

Methuselah and humans of varying styles and temperaments gathered in the assembly hall for the meeting between Empress Augusta Vladica, the Vatican priest Father Abel Nightroad, and the young Methuselah who traveled with him. They crowded under the high glass dome, vampyres gathered to half of the auditorium and Terrans to the other. All eyes were focused upon the glass table placed center of the marble stage as a slender figure, her face veiled and her body swathed in varying shades of vibrant emerald greens, approached and sat at the center chair. Despite her fragile appearance, she walked without guards, carrying herself powerfully despite her obvious femininity. She was joined shortly by the lanky priest, stumbling to his chair with half the grace of her highness. He was quiet and kept his head down, only lifting it to reveal sad smiles and expressions of flat joy. The lovely young woman who followed him, introduced as Avim Maria Lavandière, seemed only slightly less melancholy, with a gentle smile on her lovely features. She took her seat to the left of the Empress, and the talk began.

For eight hours, the three discussed before the Assembly, intending to prove that the Vatican and the Methuselah could coexist peacefully. It had been proven for years that the Methuselah and Terrans, at least while under the guidance of Empress Augusta Vladica, and with the Vatican priest and Methuselah nun at her side, she now showed to her people that peace was possible between all three powers in the world, rather than simply two at a time.

The boogeymen are coming
The boogeymen are coming

From the top of the hotel complex, the entire city was displayed under a pattern of dazzling lights. A light breeze wafted in from the window, carrying the sounds of a sleeping empire under its wings. With her arms crossed on the windowsill, the lonely Sister stared pensively down towards the dark streets. Her delicate ring finger traced resonating patterns softly along the rim of her half-filled glass as she rested her cheek upon her arm.

The assembly had ended with mixed feelings, many good, but still under a tense threat. It was to be continued the next day, if those who opposed the ideas it brought forth would allow the meeting. The thought of what might happen between this night and the next tied her stomach in nauseating knots, leaving her barely able to finish her nightly glass of blood substitute and left to stare pensively out the window as she waited for what would come.

Keep your head down, go to sleep, to the rhythm of a war drums

A knock at the door startled her, her glass nearly toppling down to the streets below her window.

"C-come in," she managed, steadying her glass and looking across the room.

The door creaked open to reveal her traveling companion, dressed simply in a pair of blue and white pajamas. Slinking quietly into the room, he tripped over his bare feet on the plush cream carpet, landing face first on the floor with a comical whimper. Mild amusement flushed her cheeks with a heat as she laughed softly and walked over to the fallen priest. He was pushing himself up as she knelt in front of him, tenderly cupping his chin in her hand as she placed his dislodged glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"Are you alright, Father Nightroad?"

"Ah, y-yes Sister Avim," he stuttered, pulling himself back to his feet with an embarrassed blush crossing under his eyes. "I just came to see if you were alright tonight." As she stood, he paused, and his eyes dropped to look over her shoulder and out the window. "I…had a feeling you'd still be awake, somehow," he finally murmured, bringing his gloomy gaze back to hers.

Finding she was no longer able to force a smile in his presence, she had averted her eyes and turned to the window at his last words. She rubbed her hand up her arm from her wrist to her shoulder as her mind was lost in her heart. Another breeze wrapped around her in her thin black nightdress, enticing a shiver up her spine. Her eyes had gone distant and sad—much like his had been so recently—and he felt his heart wrench. Akin to their secret moment in the garden, another thought fluttered between the two like a fragile butterfly's wing beats—there one moment, and gone the next.

Is it really such a sin to love…?

"Avim…," he began, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

The contact of skin upon skin jarred her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the world in which he stood just behind her; as put off as he could manage. She looked over her shoulder at him with inquiring eyes, and he spoke down to her quietly, his eyes answering with concern.

"You really should get to sleep...Don't fret about the assembly, if that is what's bothering you. Everything will be fine, I'm positive!"

Stay with me
Safe and ignorant
Just stay with me
Hold you and protect you from the other ones
The evil ones
Don't love you son,
Go back to sleep

A moment was spent in silence, and as he saw her lips tremble, he thought that perhaps he had said something wrong. In an attempt to right the wrong, he swallowed hard and gently turned her towards himself, his hands on both her shoulders and his lips parted to speak. He received no such opportunity before he found her tender lips pressed to his, her eyes shut tight in frustration. Rational thoughts became muffled myths in his clouded mind as he relented and let himself, for once, taste his forbidden fruit.

Warm tears mingled on their cheeks, sprung from her eyes, as she broke the kiss. Her head bowed as she rested her forehead on his chest like she used to as a child, and he stared down at her, perplexed by her actions and his own.

"Father forgive me," she pleaded, "but I believe that I have fallen in love with you…"

At a loss words, he merely held her loosely to his chest. Her delicate body never moved from that spot, rooted by fear and indecision that caused her breath to come in shaky hiccups. With time grew the conviction he needed—perhaps a sign from God that love was not a sin in His eyes. Gently tipping her chin up with two fingers, Father Abel Nightroad brought his lips to Avim's once more. Her hands clutched at his nightshirt as he took one hand and placed it to the back of her head, bringing her lips more fully to his.

"And I you, Avim," he whispered as they parted breathlessly, clasping her tightly to his chest.

Father forgive me, but if it be a sin to love her then let me sink farther into eternal damnation…

To reiterate once more: I own nothing but my original character Avim and the plotline. Thank you to the creators of Trinity Blood for their creation and the opportunity that I was given to write a story such as this because of it. All rights belong to their respective and original creators; no copyright infringement intended.

Special Thanks to my friends Zephyr and Chess!

Zephyr helped me to create a lovely banner [unfortunately unable to be seen on this site], and did an amazing job on it! Far better than I did on my own.

And Chess~ 3 Without you this story wouldn't be, as you were the one who requested it. Thank you, again, for asking me to write this story; it was a great pleasure.

Also, credit to the band A Perfect Circle for their song "Pet" and the YouTube user who created the video in use in the Preface. Again, no copyright infringement intended. I am not/will not be making any profit off this story, that song, or that video.

A final thank you belongs to my readers, if there are any out there. I hope you all enjoyed, especially you, Chess! My apologies if Abel or any other characters seemed out of character, or if the ending was rushed, but I simply went with the flow on this one, as it were. The rush came from a sort of self-imposed deadline to finish this story before I began school.
Questions or Comments about the story, as long as they are not flame, spam, or hate messages, are welcome in my message inbox. I adore feedback.