ten_of_swords | (no subject)

Night had just fallen and snow drifts down onto the ground and on the various buildings surrounding him as he walks. Prague was a place of heavy memory for him. He pauses in front of the Týn Church, staring up at the great structure, and sighs. He remembers, vividly, slipping into the church long after night services, when only one priest remained behind. Ruin had gone in, sat in a pew, and waited.

Finally, the priest had seen him.

Ruin remembers how long he had spoken with the man. He had told him of the death of his wife, his hatred for the son who had caused that, all the pain he brought with him wherever he went, and the priest, as Ruin had expected, had begun to speak to him of God's love. Of forgiveness and letting Christ into his heart.

It had annoyed him.

So, he'd destroyed another thing.

He'd taken the young, celibate priest to bed.

Ruin shakes his head and walks up to the doors of the cathedral and lets himself in.

No lock could keep him out.

The tarot card sits in the same pew he had occupied so many, many years ago, and sighs, steel-grey eyes on the crucifix at the front of the church. Perhaps there was a young priest here he could seduce after confession...

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A few minutes later, a woman enters. She crosses herself, then takes a seat in the pew across the aisle from Ruin. Hands folded in her lap, she bows her head, lips faintly moving in prayer.

"Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae,
vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve..."

His eyes do not drift to her, though he is painfully aware of her presence.

On his left hand, on the fourth finger, rests a celtic wedding band.

"Ostende nobis Domine, misericordiam tuam."

She lifts her head, eyes still firmly fixed on the altar.

"Ad te clamamus, exsules filii Hevae,
ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
in hac lacrimarum valle..."

It's all out of order now, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't care, so long as he'll keep talking.

He is not Catholic.

It is a difficult thing for an anthropomorphic personification to have faith in much. He doesn't believe in an overriding God that watches and loves and punishes.

He doesn't believe in much, really.

Not any longer.

But his lips still form the words he'd heard from years and years of attending Catholic Mass, and he finds a small level of comfort in them.

"Indulgentiam," he begins, crossing himself out of habit. "Absolutionem, et remissionem peccatorum nostrorum, tributat nobis omnipotens et misericors Dominus."

Ruin takes a deep breath and turns to look at her.

"I do love you, Legs. And I don't regret it."

"Good," she answers, voice tight.

"Because neither do I."

The aisle between them isn't particularly wide; it just looks like forever. She crosses it quickly and sinks onto the bench beside him, left hand clutching for his.

"Not asking you not to run; God knows I probably will some time. Just asking you to come back."

He smiles faintly, holding her hand between both of his.

"I think I can manage that." Ruin takes a deep breath and looks back to the alter. "I... don't remember how to be a good husband. I think I was, back then, but I tried to forget it all."

"And I've never been married, so we're even."

She squeezes his hand. "We'll figure it out. We will. Just...need to talk about it, that's all."

He nods once.

"What kind of things? I think it's a bit late for a prenup, don't you?"

She laughs softly.

"Please, all my worldy possessions are guns, knives and a few changes of clothes. Things like..."

Like the biggest thing she can think of. She bites down on her lower lip before continuing.

"...fidelity. You want me to stop...to not be with anybody else, just ask. And I won't."

Cold turkey. Her stomach twists a little in nervousness.

He lifts an eyebrow at her.

"Fidelity?" Ruin casts his mind back into his past. Yes, when he had been with Coira he'd been faithful. He'd found more inventive ways of doing his job without the use of sex. But still...

...he liked using sex. It got the job done.

"You want us to be exclusive?" he asks her.

She nods once, the movement vaguely stilted.

"If you want it."

It's not just about the job. It's about the ring on her finger and words like 'cheating' and 'faithless.' It's about (for once) doing what's expected of her. It's about trying to be a good wife.

He chuckles and puts his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Mary Anne, I don't think we'd work so well with a traditional marriage, do you?"

Cause he doesn't think either of them would be very happy with that.

She laughs softly, nervous and relieved.

"Nothing traditional about us. I just thought...just wanted to ask, you know?"

She rests her head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply (missed how he smelled, would have slept in his shirts if you'd slept at all).

Ruin kisses the top of her head, also inhaling her scent and closing his eyes.

"I know." There is a quiet pause before he continues. "No worries, Legs. So long as you don't go and fall hopelessly in love with some other schmuck, we'll be good."

She smirks faintly, tracing out his hand with her fingertips, pausing now and then to feel out the ring.

"Psht, like that'd ever happen."

She loves; it's who she is. But a love to trump this...that'd be hard to find.

He's spent the last few days pondering them, speaking to some of his siblings, and casting the cards.

Ruin has a very good idea how their lives will go from here on out, and how it will most likely end. He doesn't have to talk to Ramon to know he'll hurt her.

But, he also knows there will be a lot of good years before the bad ones come. Those are what he's looking for.

"You Catholic, Legs?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

"Nope, Lutheran. Mom was Baptist, but she joined the church after marrying Dad."

She turns her head a little to look at him. "Why, are you?"

He laughs, shaking his head.

"Can you see me being any kind of religious man?" he asks.

She grins.

"Not really."

She doesn't ask what brought him to the church, though. That can wait.

"Then you answer your own question."

He smiles at her.

"Sometimes you just desire absolution, and the Christian faith is the best place to go for it."

Despite the fact that he found himself more annoyed when absolution was offered than when he first walked into the churches.

She nods against his shoulder.

"'S the order, or something," she muses.

The fact that there are lines for you to say, scripted responses with just a few blanks to fill in. The sense of having (read) done your part when it's over (go in peace, serve the Lord; thanks be to God).

He nods.

"I can also do my job here on occasion."

She arches an eyebrow.

"Do you now?"

Ruin now grins.

"Oh yes. There was a young priest back in the 16th century here. Beautiful man, really. He annoyed me with his 'God loves you no matter what' that I seduced him. Had him on one of the pews." Ruin snorts. "I do believe that was followed by him going mad with guilt and hanging himself."

Everything Ruin touches will not end well.

It's the nature of his very being.

"You always do tell me the sweetest stories," she murmurs, tucking her feet up onto the pew.

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