Fall From Grace

Moonless and dark, the night inches over the city. Spring fog rolls along the streets, drifting in and out of the alleyways. Little bumps, and the sound of echoing footsteps are rampant in this part of the city at this time of the evening. Heels upon pavement, errant stones skipping across it. Cries of those being mugged or otherwise attacked linger in the air. Tonight is not a night one would want to be out. Tonight is not a generally safe night — then again, with all the creatures that lurk in the darkness no night can really be safe.

A woman with an ankle-lengthed dress that is fitted nicely to her body Enters the church. The sleeves hang, trumpeting down her arms. Her hair is perfectly braided and twisted up beneath a small linen coif, with a hanging veil. Tonight there will be no temptation, only frankness. Tonight, Isobel Skye Fraser Symon, granddaughter of Sir Alexander Fraser of Cowie, and Mary Bruce - sister to Robert Bruce, King of Scots, has come to speak with her chosen.

It is a trouble filled time in the city of Dallas and most of it not because of the creatures that go bump in the night. Vampire exist, as do wolves that apparently have a pension for attacking innocent people, but human beings are just as much to blame. The creatures do not force them to mug, to vandalize and to rape. That is their doing and part of the reason that the church is a safe place to retreat to when the sun disappears beyond the horizon.

Despite the conversations held on delaying his vows, the same man can be found sitting in the front pews of the church. His gaze is distant as he stares off, lost in thought of what all is occurring around him. Dallas is shut out, a world away from his own behind those solid doors. Even as Isobel enters he does not immediately move. Elliott has a decision or two to make, he realizes, even though he honestly is not considering all of the options. It is actually his desire to speak to the Sheriff of Dallas so he will actually be surprised by her appearance; when he realizes who exactly has joined him.

Before disturbing the young man's private meditations, the oddly garbed woman slips into one of the confessionals. There she remains for some time, her voice lowered for only the priest to hear. When she finally exits, there is a swift yet graceful movement that carries her to where Elliott is seated. The most he will feel is a gentle breeze as she speeds past him to take a seat at his side.

"I believe the colloquiallism is, 'Penny for your thoughts'," Isobel says in a voice that is hardly above a whisper. "What seems to have you so troubled this evening?"

While the hour is rather late for one to use the confessional it is certainly far from unheard of. This raises no alarm from the young man; gives him no reason to investigate. It is a private act and to even glance in that direction could mean disrespect. So he continues his process, not realizing that someone has actually passed by him until the blur and the slight breeze registers. What Elliott finds is that he has an extremely beautiful guest and one that he was thinking of not too long ago.

He stares at her for a brief moment before the faintest hint of a smile is offered to her. "Heavy thoughts for a young soul, or so I've been told. They've pushed back the date of which I am to make my vows." Elliott does not appear troubled with this but rather is the serious man that Hope has tried so hard to get him not to be. "It is a pleasure to see you this evening. May I ask what brings you to the church?" Of course he looks only at her eyes, something that he always does unless he has reason to look elsewhere.

Being more than properly dressed this evening, it amuses Isobel that the only place the young priest-to-be looks is at her eyes. He most definitely is an old soul, and it touches her. Almost enough to make her simply up and leave, not wishing to hurt his chances with his chosen vocation. Instead, she merely sits there. Quietly. Staring up at the altar.

Until he speaks.

"Was that by your choice, or theirs?" It makes little difference in the end, but it does cause the Sheriff of Area 9 to have a slight bit of human curiosity. "You." A singular word answer to his only question.

An old soul is a good way to describe the young man looking for so many answers. As she asks her question he looks away from her, not out of disrespect but rather to focus on the same image that he had been. "They agreed to it yet it was my decision. It would appear that there are a few things that have given me pause; at least in acting so quickly. It would be in poor judgment to continue acting in haste, I believe."

It registers then what she's said and so Elliott looks back to Isobel. His eyes dare fall, just enough to view her proper clothing and then continue to fall, ashamed that he's allowed himself to view her so fully. "What may I help you with?" He is assuming that that is why he's been sought out.

The woman's eyes follow his, seeking out that which he has been meditating on. She does not bother to look back at him now, merely staring at the image of his focus. "These things do take time, Elliott, and it is not something that God would ever wish anyone to rush into." Vampire she may be, but she has carried her beliefs with her for centuries. Even through her most debauched times.

The dress is very obviously not new, bearing signs of wear and delicate restitches to ensure it stays as it is. "You know of our kind now. You have met my Maker. I was merely coming to see if you bore any further curiousity toward it, or had considered becoming one of us."

The image that he was staring at is nothing special; it is merely something unoffensive to stare at while pondering life's great mysteries. "I have considered that. In all honesty I have been spending time with a particular woman who has made me wonder about other aspects in life. I do not seek out a relationship with her, only friendship, even if she did decide to kiss me." It was such an awkward situation. "There are particular…"

His words stop short, his eyes moving back to hers. "I have considered many things." Elliott is not so openly repulsed by them, to say the least. "I had considered entering into a relationship although I know that it is not the path for me. I have considered that I can still do God's work even if not a man of the cloth, not officially. I had considered what it would be like to be immortal, to see those things that your Maker has seen." His answer doesn't immediately come, though, as to what he has decided. She merely asked if he had considered it.

Unoffensive things are oft good for staring at while meditating upon the mysteries of life. "You seem to have been considering much, though that still does not explain your worries." Despite her young appearance, Isobel allows her hand to settle upon Elliott's shoulder in a distinctly matronly fashion.

"God does not merely roll the dice to send you down one path or another. He gives us free will so that we may choose the best course for our own lives. Nothing is ever predestined fully." The hand falls from his shoulder, to rest in her lap, and there the vampiress sits, unmoving. "Have you considered that if you were to become one of us, it would mean that you would no longer get to experience life? No longer have the choice of a family?"

"I believe that Miss Tyler said it best when she mentioned how difficult things can be the moment that you realize that what you have guided yourself towards turns into something else." The time that he has not heard from Hope has allowed for much thought, indeed. "Children are a blessing but are not for everyone, I'm afraid. I had already come to that conclusion when I considered the church." Elliott turns back to that image, uncertain as to the nature behind her questions. "The idea of immortality is tempting, but not for immortality. Good or evil, I would welcome the opportunity to see such change as you have seen. To spread the word of God for more than my lifetime. It is tempting, yes, but nothing I would ask for if not offered."

"Life is not meant to be easy, nor are relationships for that matter. Were things so simple, life would become boring. Especially for those of us who live beyond our normal years." Raising to her feet, Isobel offers her right hand toward the man. "Come, dear one. We have much to discuss, and I have much to show you. There are certain things I refuse to do within the walls of God's house, however, so we must take a walk." There is no glamour behind her words. No force. Simply the words that certain things are better for certain places. "Et ne nos inducas in tentationem…"

It takes until now for the man to smile, even if it is not the brightest or the most charming. He simply finds humor perhaps in something that has been said. "I do live for a challenge. I do see where life would be dull if you faced no adventures in all of your years." It almost catches him by surprise, the fact that this woman is now standing. He looks up at her but not at her hand. As always, his eyes are at hers. "As you wish." Elliott's hand finds home with hers as he stands even though he does not use her for support. It is a simple action and one he thinks nothing of. The smile does find more support when he hears her last bit. Temptation, indeed.

A slow journey through the church, until they reach a bench across the street from it. Wherein they can both look at the church, but not be disturbing the sanctity of His house. Isobel releases his hand, only to bring hers up to his neck. Fingers gently caressing along the line of the carotid artery. "You have come through with your promise to show me the sights of the city. You are not fully swayed from the church as of yet, but do you wish for me to show you some of the pleasures that you are missing?"

He doesn't attempt to move away from her or guide her as their footfalls move them from the church. It is actually a welcome sight in the background even if they are speaking of matters that are seemingly important. The stoic man actually appears curious the entire time, still carrying the uncertainty of her actions. Elliott faces her as her hand touches his neck, his expression soft. He almost appears as a significant other would to those who do not know the situation. "I am not fully swayed from God. Yet until a reason to leave presents itself, I have vested myself in the c…" The words fade away as he just watches her, considering the situation. The decision is heavy enough that it should not be immediate. "If you are willing to show me, Ms. Symon."

With a swift, delicate movement, both woman and dress have shifted so that they are atop the poor man's lap. Isobel's finger continues to gently stroke along the skin that covers the carotid artery. Her head angles so that they can be face to face, foreheads nearly touching. "Which pleasures do you wish to be shown first, Elliott? Flight, or how wonderful it can be to have someone feed from you?"

He wouldn't have the time to act if he knew what he would do. Suddenly there is a woman on his lap and his eyes widen, even if only marginally. This is not something that the man has experienced before. Still he watches Isobel, keeping his eyes on hers as best as possible. There isn't fear, not in the least, but he was acting from the surprise. "Flight?" It's something that Elliott hasn't considered before, a different sense of freedom. The last time a woman was this close to him she kissed him. The thought causes his eyes to fall to her lips before he looks back to her eyes. "Have you eaten yet?" Her status is the concern, of course. She is priority.

There /is/ a woman atop him, and she seems content on staying there. Icy blues lock to his eyes and she allows the corners of her lips to curve up into a smile. "The closest most of our kind has to it. I have yet to master how to /actually/ fly, though it is a trait we can and do possess." There really is no point in flying, as running at top speed generally works just as well. "I have eaten for sustenance. It has been a long time since I have eaten for pleasure though."

It is an odd yet surprisingly comfortable position for the man to be in, literally and figuratively. He doesn't look away from her through any of what is said. "Flying is not something that I had even associated. You already move with the speed of wind." It isn't as if Elliott hasn't noticed this. He doesn't attempt to move as he debates his next response, his next action. "Even one as yourself should enjoy life." As Hope would say, everyone has to live a little. "Why have you not fed for pleasure?"

"The velocity at which we are able to travel can be almost as flying," Isobel muses quite quietly. To her, that means flying is not a necessity. "It is cumbersome to find a man who is both pleasing to my eyes, and to my tastes. These have been few and far between." Though there are at least two within the city that currently meet this criteria. "I could show you how pleasing it can be, though we are /very/ public at the moment."

They seem to have mirrored thoughts but he will not comment on that for now. Right now he is attempting to not picture Isobel in the dress she was wearing the other evening; a task that is increasingly difficult with her straddling him. "I could note that you are already in the midst of something rather personal in a public location." Elliott would never if he actually thought about it, but this is all spur of the moment. "Though I would much rather you not fall victim to possible harm due to us being in public. If you prefer we can relocate."

The smile upon Isobel's lips is warm; even a tad affectionate. Her hands settle to the back of the bench behind the man, and she leans in to whisper, "To be honest, the skirt will hide much if I maneuver it correctly." There is no breath felt against his ear, warm or otherwise. What he will feel though is a taunting, teasing tongue licking down the length of the artery she was toying with just moments ago. A little card, upon which is simply an address, is slipped into his pocket. "Meet me here within the hour. Should you not appear, I will accept that as your ultimate decision."

Now this is quite different than what he experienced with Hope. This is not an innocent little kiss, or a kiss at all. It takes great effort but he doesn't even squirm beneath the Sheriff of District 9. She will, however, feel him swallow as her tongue decides to make its debut. Elliott's mouth opens in order to speak yet not a single sound is made. She's nearly broken the man and with very little effort. The no longer to be priest merely nods at her request, the movement so slow that it barely happens at all.

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