A Gentleman's Confession

[Thomas Galilei]

Thomas takes his place in the wooden booth.

The church is dark and empty: shadows sit in the dusty wooden pews and the smoke of incense snakes about the stone columns and tiles.

It had been long since Thomas had taken confession, not since Michael Travis had wandered into his doors . . . The act, for him, is an effort at moving on, at believing in Sacramento and his ministry there again. He wishes Faith would alleviate the strain. Alas, what being worthwhile was ever easy?

A preliminary prayer: Help. Please. God. I offer myself to serve and listen and speak. Bring forth a son or daughter most in need of ministering. I'm afraid you'll have to do the ministering as well. I sit and wait in Faith, ready to do your will. Amen.

Thomas waits. He half hopes no one will come, and then shakes his head. Events of late had bruised his Faith. Maybe God would minister to him as well?

Jaqen August Galloway

[Jaqen]

Augusts mind had been heavy with many, many thoughts. The burdens of the First Estate, the unexpected trip back home to Georgia. The torture of course had been less ideal, but one can't change what's already happened. One can only move forward, and move forward he had. Advocacy was an important role, and he had taken it upon himself to vouch for the Lancea Sanctum within the halls of the first estate.

The doors opened, and slowly a cane came tapping across the floor. The Icarian entered the hall and a chill ran through him. He gripped the cane a bit more tightly and gave a deep breath. These were not the same group as his home. These were not Inquisitors....still the memories gave him pause.

Finally, deciding it was unbecoming of a lord to stand in a church hall with the door wide open, it closed again with a slight creak and the echo those heavy doors often make in such churches. The former priest-to-be inhaled the familiar scent of the holy incenses and felt a certain sense of calm wash over him.

Hobbling to the confessional, the cane echoed as it hit the tiled floor, finally after what seemed like ages compared to the Lords former walking speed, he made it to the confessional and took his place in the opposite booth, waiting for the sliding veil to move and only once it had opened did the familiar Georgia accent speak out.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been eight months since my last confession."