Re: rory/wren : church at night
He saw her with black smoke eyes that blinked human with pupil white and iris brown from too far away for her to notice.
The bird sat upon the altar, the stage of missing priests and aloft was the starved likeness of a savior better suited to another time, one when forgiveness didn't feel like so much of a something that needed to be destroyed. Between him and her, it was all vacancy. No late night sinners in this town, just the two of them. His boot steps echoed through empty pews.
Rory straightened his clothes, he pushed back his hair. The journey was made with slow strides, with full awareness that any misplaced step might plunge him deep into Hell's pit. The bruises earned on that egg hunt night, they were long gone. Short-lived even by supernatural standards, no trace come morning, just the familiar scent of something not quite dead. Different than he was, and yet familiar because it was something he'd smelled while tracking Wren's home.
"There is a vampire in town. Do you know him?" The question wasn't only thing on his mind, not with the unguilty white of her dress, the virgin pure of her shoeless feet. Rory licked piety from his lip, pacing briefly before the altar steps, before her, before the fall.