|carver is made of (waterandwine) wrote in repose,|
@ 2016-06-15 02:37:00
|Entry tags:||*log, carver anderson, ella gainsborough|
Who: Carver, Ella
When: During this
What: Carver is suspicious it's a hobby of his
When Carver first got into town, there wasn't much in the name of competition between the Catholics and Protestants. It seemed that families of Repose simply went where they had always gone, where their grandparents took their parents and so on. It had always been that way since he was a boy and always saw relations cordial if not friendly. Carver liked that small town tradition and did quiet, unseen things to keep the friendliness between the two places alive. He'd talk the priest into helping after damages caused by the Easter Egg hunt gone wrong, he donated to their yard sales, he encouraged his own Confirmation students to attend a community prayer. Faith was beautiful and needed to be shared, even if the religions were slightly different.
That changed once the new preacher showed up. Carver was walking past the church while the Texan was talking about battles of heaven and hell (the devil's favorite subject) and sneezed so violently he swore he could feel his heart stop. Carver looked up and instead of seeing the welcoming glow of a holy house, he saw fire. He heard screaming instead of singing. It lasted a second, just enough for Carver to stop sending the church any more good will.
And, he intended on investigating, he really did, but the to-do list of an Inquisitor is always long. This and the old god and Casper and Michael and the B&B were all concerns that needed to be categorized and taken on one at a time. The strange new flavor of the church down the street could wait, or so it was until the flowers. Flowers that shouldn't exist, that bloomed like God had kissed their petals himself. Flowers that made the Catholics jealous, tugging on Carver's sleeve and asking why they didn't have flowers like that. Why couldn't they do better? The tall, serious man sneered something about envy and no one asked him for them again.
So, here he was. Curious as always and standing in front of the Flower Girl shop. There were rumors the flowers came from here and if not, maybe he could get a lead without actually talking to the new preacher. He was dressed neatly in jeans and a black button up shirt. Soft, wonderful hair left to look like a shampoo commercial. Dead serious eyes focused on the inside of the shop before he even stepped foot. Today the only Saint riding along was his beloved Cecilia who was singing something sad distantly in his head like a radio turned almost the whole way down. He walked inside the shop, letting the smell of flowers hit him with a feeling like he wasn't supposed to be there for very long.
Carver took a deep breath and wandered towards the flower crowns. He couldn't help imagining his Bella in one.