Something Like Desire

The candlelight flickered over it's melting wax pillar as the wind howled outside, rattling the latched windows of the church study like a wild beast demanding entry into the sanctum. The shifting light swam across the pages of an open journal, a quilled pen scratching ink stains into the parchment in the common language of the people, the mind connected to the quill pouring itself out to the nonjudgmental pages that would listen to his somber rantings. Candlelight continued to dance it's way with the shadows across the room, glinting off the writers thin framed glasses and setting his eyes aglow as he murmured his thoughts aloud to himself. A low rumbling outside alerted him to the rain that was now pattering on the glass pane, replacing the roar of the windy beast with the curious whispers of water seeking to spy on the quiet brunette. Slowly, a smile pulled at the priest's lips as he turned emerald eyes towards the window, gazing out at the dark, wet and foggy night. He stretched in his chair before standing and making his way to the rain washed glass, gazing out at the haunted sky.
“I bet you'd like me to let you in, little hellions.... Wouldn't you?”
He mused aloud at the persistent rain with a soft chuckle, pulling a pack of smokes from his vest pocket along with a gold plated lighter, flicking back the lid and scratching the flint to life to light his addiction. His somber gaze returned to the world outside as he continued to murmur outwardly.
“ I wouldn't mind personally... I could use the fresh air.... But you see, they'd be awfully cross with me if you by chance brought a few more nasty friends inside with you... They're picky about who they allow inside these walls you see... So I'm sorry little rain, but I'm afraid you'll have to stay outside...”
Vincent moved to lean against the stone window sill, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily up past his glasses and towards the ceiling, pausing with the occasional puff as he inhaled or exhaled the bitter smoke. His brow arched as he saw a shadow move independently outside, making its way haphazardly towards the church steps before collapsing under the overhang of the Gothic arches. The flash of dirty blond made his breath inhale a bit crisply as he furrowed his brows above his glasses.
“ .... Sullivan?”
He killed the smoke against the stone sill and turned to head out the corridor to the front of the church. As he pulled open the large wooden door, a groaning creek from the old wood and a blast of cold wet air met him. Shielding his face for a moment, the young priest squinted down at the huddled, unconscious form on the wet stone. He pushed out into the rain and walked down to the other form, crouching beside it and turning the limp body over to lean against his knee, feeling both a wash of relief and concern as his suspicions were confirmed. The young Walter Sullivan lay soaked and completely out of it against his leg, dirty blond hair plastered across his pale face and his lips parted limply for the intake of ragged breath.
Vincent frowned down at his bedraggled old friend. Though, 'friend' might have been too generous a title for their relationship. They'd known each other off and on since they'd arrived at Silent Hill, but in belonging to two different sects of The Order, their paths took them in different directions. Vincent was taught into the priesthood of the God Mother, while Walter become the sacramented sacrifice to the embodied angel, Valtiel. Since then, they'd seen very little of each other... even so... Walters sudden presence was unsettling... especially in this condition.
Shifting his weight and pulling one of the blond's limp arms and dead weight over his shoulder and neck, the priest hoisted the sopping man off the cold ground and hefted him over one shoulder, taking him into the warmth and sanctum of the old church, kicking the door shut behind him and grimacing at the thunderous echo the monstrous door resonated with as it slammed home. That was bound to have woken up someone... like HER.... Claudia... Vincent grumbled to himself about her and what he assumed she'd have to say about bringing in Valtiel's shell of a sacrifice. Deciding to focus on one annoyance at a time, the brunette carried the younger man into his study and gently laid him out on his bed, discretely undressing him of his water logged and worse for wear outfit. He pulled the covers up around Walter to keep him warm, his eyes pausing at a peculiar scar on his neck. His rough fingertips brushed the paler scar tissue as he murmured to himself about the rumors being true.
Walter responded to the touch with a light tip of his head and a weak groan, causing the priest to drop his hand and move away, stoking the small fire in the stone fire pit at the foot of the bed and hanging the blond's clothes up to dry over the foot railing. Vincent then moved back to his desk and sank into the worn leather of his chair, pulling another smoke free from the pack in his vest pocket and lighting it, quietly watching the firelight dance across the room and the soft features of the young man in his bed. An intrigued smile curled his lip as he watched Walter and he took a slow drag on his cigarette, drawing it out and letting the smoke curl out from between his lips like a lazy serpent.
“...This is going to be interesting... I can tell already...”