Drake & Rictor | First Mass of the Day | COMPLETE!
“I’d have to believe in Faram to care that He knows I’m here,” Drake pointed out quietly; no need to offend the other people around him. Ric knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t malicious - Drake had always held complicated feelings about religion in general. It was one of the things he actually enjoyed talking about with Ric, but now didn’t seem the time or place.
“And,” he continued, a dazzling grin on his face, “I’m beyond visible. I’m here, with you. In the front.” Which meant he had to stay awake. Win some, lose some.
“Yeah, I g—”
Before Rictor could finish his thought, the priest had taken up position at the front of the room. The two men settled into their seats, fitting neatly shoulder-to-shoulder and elbow-to-elbow. (Times like these, Ric could almost feel the rest of the congregation as a living, breathing entity around him, each of them pulling breaths in tandem.)
Unfortunately, Mass was a long and drawn-out affair, especially this time of year. The priest droned on and on, the incense rising through the air, people shifting on the extra benches set up along the walls. Occasionally he slipped into the old language, formal and archaic. Rictor stayed focused – he’d taught himself over the years how to pay attention during these long, quiet nighttime hours – but somewhere after the third reading, he felt Drake starting to sag beside him.
Ric nudged him and Drake blinked, straightening. How much longer could the priest go on about… Well, Drake couldn’t remember the last thing he’d heard the clergyman droning on about. Something about Ajora and Faram and rebirth or some similar nonsense. The readings, as far as Drake was concerned, were all the same. But he attempted to focus on the monotonous voice and discordant chanting.
Somehow, he’d managed to sit out the rest of the mass without incident. (He considered the two additional jabs from the Holy Knight to be a non-issue. If Ric had wanted him to stay awake, Ric would have told him to stay home.) He stood with the rest of the congregation and kneeled as the priest blessed the masses, closing out the service.
There were a few people who remained kneeling, head bowed, presumably in prayer. Drake said a quick blessing - his mother had made sure he’d known a few - and stood.
It was a strange and alien sight: Drake going limp and losing interest while Rictor had remained patient, his normal restless energy funneled into single-minded attention. They finally rose, stretching and relieving cramped muscles, “See, that wasn’t so bad,” Ric said, sending his friend another amused look. (It was also a relief simply being able to be friends again, without the tension of their various social entanglements bristling between them.) “Though I dunno if you’re ready for weekly yet, man.”
The aghast look on the monk’s face made it absolutely, perfectly clear that he wasn’t, and Rictor burst out laughing as they filed out of the Cathedral with the rest.