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( though it'd been a surprise - and a little suspicious, given the city-wide latent paranoia, but miai was quick to brush that off - to hear wataru had wanted miai to show him around the church for their next outing, miai, predictably, was plenty happy to do so. wataru wasn't interested in attending the actual service, so they would go in the evening - very well, very well; miai almost preferred that, as he wasn't intent on socializing with his church friends at present.

in truth, miai had not been so good at consistent attendance these days, his contemplation of freedom from rosetis weighing heavy on his shoulders in the presence of church, guilt's claws sunk heavy in his heart. yet, god was still his area of expertise and miai had wanted some way to make up for his poor showing in class. he had done about as well as one might expect someone who's never danced before in his life, even if he might have latent skill for balance and precision deep down from his circus skill set, but wataru's excessively strict teaching was, to say the least, demoralizing and disheartening, and left him feeling as if he'd disappointed him somehow.

wataru probably remained disinterested in god, at best curious because of miai's occasional references to him, but it is the only area of knowledge miai knew how to be at least somewhat impressive.

so this isn't a date, but he's dressed in his nicer sunday clothes, in looser white silks and chiffons, and then light cottons. these are in the style of dress favored by rosetis's upper echelons, and in part his own style. he'd taken to the flowy style of dress from the angelic costume he'd regained, and, most important, it was much easier to breathe in these. )

Well, it's not particularly riveting at night, since, as you might imagine, this is a more popular spot in the mornings, but . . . ( he says this as he lets his hand trace along the backs of pews as they walk along the aisle, the path to the altar long - it's a particularly impressive church, as though itself a cathedral. ) . . . There is something calming about it at night, too. As if you have audience with God Himself, if you believe in that.

Of course, besides the parishioners who volunteer for the church's upkeep in the evenings, you won't find the priests at this time. So, for instance, were someone need a priest for confession, or a pastor for advice . . . Generally they'll have gone home for the night. Well, if you're particularly desperate, they may take you all the same— most men of the cloth tend to live near the churches they serve, after all.

( idle conversation, idle conversation as he acts as somewhat of a tour guide. there's no one else here this time of night, and behind them the grand doors are shut. the only indication the church had been open for visitors still was the low candlelight of the room they're in. the one in charge of the church grounds at this time of evening, gradually shifting into night, is nowhere to be seen. )

[ though their earlier outing had been miai's treat, it'd been wataru's idea; and thus, this time, though it's wataru's idea, it's miai's area of expertise. somewhere he's more comfortable, where wataru can find that solace anywhere— it is also, in a way, a treat for a job well done. he's not as disappointing as he might feel; wataru's looking forward to next wednesday evening.

he's looking forward more to tonight, a thought he catches and crushes with his tongue against the back of his fangs. not the time, though miai is decadent in white silk and chiffon. wataru, hair up in its usual and dressed tip to toe in fitted black—as he's been doing lately, sleeves long and covering bandages he'd felt the need to wrap around his arms—follows quietly, admiring the sight. the church, too. religion isn't... something he's interested in, but the buildings have always been beautiful. even more so in france, old but well-taken care of. ]

I know a little of that, monsieur. [ accompanied with a smile, wataru canting his slightly. ] I stayed in a church for a short while... Some of them are kind enough to allow a student a few days to get his bearings.

[ he just had to do chores, and all. ]

I've never gone to confessional though. [ god, and all. wataru returns to admiring the church, keeping a careful distance. ah, his heart's pounding, with how easy it would be to simply... no, it'd be best to wait. evening parishioners might decide to step in for a peek around... somewhere more private—

it sparks and catches in his mind, and he laughs. ] Well, I suppose that's obvious enough, non! Ah, but maybe I would benefit from having someone hear me out...♪

[ a hand on his heart, theatrical as ever, and he turns his gaze back to miai, a little sly. ]

Perhaps monsieur would do me the honor? You did want to learn more about me, non?

( a laugh escapes his lips at the proposal, taking it as a sort of game on wataru's part; a little like the yes-no answers wataru had proposed when they first met, if this time more viable. )

You, confess? And what for? Here I thought you were an honest man, pure as his adoration for France.

( a light joke, not seriously presuming wataru to have so little depth. there's not a single person above mistakes - it is a trait that makes them all human. (presumably human, of course.) )

I am qualified, though— did you know? I've heard plenty of confessions in the past. Well, as it's your first time, perhaps I'll go easy on you . . . Once of us has got to be the merciful one between us.

( joke,

as he speaks, his steps do gradually wander toward another entrance - one that leads them to a chapel, where a confessional booth comes into sight. jest or no, he is very curious about wataru, still, and leo has done enough to make him welcome confessionals as a means of - well, flirting, in leo's case; a conversation piece in this one. (presumably.) )

[ wataru chuckles, pulling his attention to the confessional as it comes into view. ah, so that's what those looked like... perfect. he tucks his hair behind his ear slightly, giving a small shrug. ]

Ah, if you think that wasn't mercy... then you're not going to survive the rest of the month, lionceau. [ a joke, maybe... maybe.

...not really. ] I always go easy on those starting out. ♪ Especially ones who have proven themselves to be a little short of breath, at times.

( ... well, now he felt bad for complaining, even if only jokingly, or finding the menu difficult at all. it's true his breathing and lesser stamina had made it somewhat difficult during the lessons - aggravatingly so, given they were all things he's sure he could have withstood with ease just some months ago - but he had done all he could to try and hide it. not enough, it seems. )

I won't be happy if I'm learning at a handicap, you know. I don't expect to complete what your more advanced students can, so I have no issue being treated as a beginner . . . But if I can't keep up at this level without special treatment, then I won't get very far at all, will I?

( should he be so stubborn? maybe not; perhaps it's only a fool's errand to insist he receive the same treatment as everyone else. besides, he knows wataru doesn't do it to condescend; and, in fact, it really may be what miai needs, since - though wataru doesn't know it - he's still adjusting to his new limitations. still, it leaves a terrible taste in his mouth— it makes him feel frustratingly incompetent.

he pulls back the door of the confessional as they get to it. it's wide enough for an adult male to kneel in, but there is a raised platform for those who may need to sit, too. there a screen along the upper portion of one wall, decorated by loose wooden thatching, mostly meant to help obscure the priest's face. it separates this half of the confessional from the other - where the priest is meant to sit.

miai attempts to recover his spirits. )

Well? Should I take to the other side, or will you need moral support on this end?

( you know. since he doesn't expect a real confession out of wataru, it's fine to do whatever. )

[ oh, choices... wataru glances miai up and down, running his tongue along the inside of his teeth. can he even stand to be in the same cramped space as him........ ]

Whichever you prefer, lionceau, though I'd like to keep you close at hand. My first confession is this, without even stepping into the box: I've been getting a feeling something terrible is going to happen.

[ which, well, it already has. two days ago. but details, details. he steps into the confessional anyway, debating kneeling or sitting— he'll sit if miai makes to follow him, seeing as that might give them a bit more room, but otherwise he'll kneel, like a perfectly penitent man. ]

You as well? ... I've heard similar from my coworkers and friends lately, and I've wondered if it's just the weather.

( the ominous glow of the moon, et al. he feels it too, but, well, he's not so inclined to admit it, feeling it might make him look the fearful sort - even though wataru's just admit to the same thing.

... he regrets so casually suggesting he enter the confessional with him once wataru gets in. confessionals seemed smaller than he remembered, but maybe it's because wataru's stature is so grand; clamoring into the booths with leo had always left more than enough room, whereas this might be a little bit more dark and intimate than he was sure he should allow.

it's cowardly given he was the one who had so thoughtlessly offered it, but he ends up letting wataru go in alone, the nervous beating of his heart for a moment suspended as wataru seems to blend in so effortlessly with the shadows of the black interior. miai could no doubt be coaxed in, but, left to his own devices, he's quite loathsomely shy when he's in want of a particular someone's good esteem. )

Then, for your darker secrets that the Monsieur can only whisper, I'll be sure to stay by your side to hear it . . . But for your very first confessional, why don't we attempt some façade of formality?

( deciding for himself that this is less a conversation piece and now more faux play, he lets the door slip shut behind wataru, climbing into the other half of the confessional himself. he of course assumes wataru has no darker secrets he wishes to share with miai, nor will he genuinely invite him in; wataru had quite expertly avoided miai's advances when he was single and skated nimbly past certain deeper conversations, and miai hopes that will continue to serve him well here.

in the confessional, it's particularly dark. the slight light spilling in from the screen of the ornate wood panels of the upper doors lights lights the silhouette of miai's face as he sits. there's unlit candles contained in glass on either side should they need it, and miai chooses to light the one on his end. from where he sits, he can see the faint curve of wataru's hair, but not much else. ah, so he's really kneeling.

he murmurs something; it's audible enough for wataru to hear, and it seems to be words of praise for god, in hopes that he will spare his good graces unto the sinner before him, who wishes this to be a canticle in god's name, and so on. he does it with a practiced reverence, and an almost melody to his voice. then, there is nearly a smile in his voice - he is certainly more comfortable here, most at home, despite everything. )

. . . Very well. After the blessing, you refer to the last time you came to confession, and you begin with the sin that's hardest for you to say.

But if I should, ah, go easy on someone only just starting out, ( he tries to turn his point of frustration from earlier into a sort of joke(?), ) then I'll say you can begin anywhere you like and proceed down any line of secrets you might like to share.

[ some façade of formality, and how formal it is. wataru stays respectfully quiet, head bowed and eyes closed, fingers locked together in his lap. even if he doesn't believe in it, even if he isn't inclined to it, he listens— he exhales when it's over though, a soft laugh going with it. ]

Thank you for the kindness, lionceau. [ but where to start? infect, infect. miai is just on the other side of there, so close yet so far, and wataru thinks about dark secrets to spill before he opens his mouth to his lesser ones. ] Let's see...

[ he falls quiet again, evidently giving it serious thought. ]

...I lied to my mother frequently when I stayed with her and my younger sister. I didn't want to worry her, of course! Neither of them. To know that her oldest was in France, but on the streets instead of in some warm bed... [ it would break her heart. ] I stayed in many homes though, aside from that. Classmates, churches—my teacher's, for a spell, very early on.

[ which, given his tone, was not exactly a Happy Stay. well, it was perfectly happy until his wife showed up... wataru opens his eyes slowly, staring at his hands, knuckles white; he forces them to relax, relieving the pressure between them. sins, sins... ]

But I was homeless for a great while off and on, finding ways to provide for myself. Mm, it's why I try to turn mon petit oiseau from running away and living on his own—it's not as easy as it looks. [ he can remember the chill, the hunger, and thinks it feels a little like the emptiness he has right now, infect infect inf he forces his tone cheerier, masking the voice pounding in his head, silencing it back to planning. ] Ah, but you see? As I've said, none of it is too interesting...☆ Thousands of people lie and live in squalor every day! I was hardly any different, lionceau~.

( his eyebrows raise, having expected something a little more arbitrary and conversational, and not a genuine truth. well, perhaps to wataru this is simply fodder for a conversation - but it is still a shame, a pity, to hear, and yet faintly enthralling to feel as if he's been trusted with information more than superficial. )

It may seem uninteresting to you once you average out the whole of human experiences, and yet - for one person to bear the average of bullions - it's still terrible, and terrible to hear. I had thought you went to France with an exchange program, or a sponsor.

( well, his sponsor would have been his teacher, he supposes. hm . . . )

. . . Still, it is incredible that you've regained yourself as you have now, and remain so wholly self-possessed. Tori is a little like me, you know - I ran away when I was young; younger than him. It is hard, you're right, to survive on your own. It's why, I think, I ended up letting God into my heart when Rosetis found me, to help me stand . . . I don't think I could have managed on my own, like you.

[ he did: his teacher, but, well. the equal parts pity and praise coaxes his gaze up, studying miai, before he shakes his head and chuckles. ]

Spite is a surprisingly wonderful motivator, mon cher. [ spite and a handful of other vices. ] Shall I continue? I have a few others to share before we move onto the things I'd like to murmur into your ear.

( ugh, don't say it like that. he knows he said it like that, but wataru doesn't have to repeat it, little parrot that he is. )

Spite . . . How surprising— I wouldn't have expected it of you.

( and yet he doesn't seem to mind, nor does he find it entirely out of place. he hadn't expected it, and yet, when he attempts to fit it in with wataru's demeanor as if it were a puzzle piece, he finds it does well to match. )

Mm, continue as you like. The rest of my evening is for you, after all.

( he doesn't mean it to be particularly meaningful, but, self-conscious as he is, he can't exactly take it back now that he's said it. he chooses to sweep past it. )

[ how bold ★ but he's hardly going to brush it off at the moment, content in the knowledge if this particular attempt doesn't work out, for whatever reason, he still has more time to spare. he lowers his head again, humming shortly. ]

I lied about not liking animals—I don't get along with them, that's true, and I don't like most of them, but le petit lapin de mon lapin charmant... Ah, Jimechin, I believe it was... He's quite cute, and I adore him.

[ this is such a radical shift in confession and he Knows It. ]

( he makes a sound that's almost a laugh, but he manages to mostly restrain himself. this is more in line with what he initially expected, as much whiplash as this shift gives him - but, well, that seems to simply be the wataru experience, he's realizing. )

My, that is treacherous. You turned down a date with my Alexander under false pretenses and instead turn to Nazuna's rabbit...?

( for shame, monsieur. )

But I suppose I must forgive you. We all have our biases when it comes to things . . . It seems only your biases are more pronounced when it comes to animals. I do like rabbits very much myself . . . Adorable, if fragile. And?

( he lets that question hang in the air if wataru would like to continue confessing his love for jimechin, or if he'd prefer to continue his train of confessions. )

I only met him because of one of those little quests, monsieur, I would have never been so fond of him otherwise. Mon petit lapin let me pull him from a hat, like a true magician.

[ so, look, it isn't his fault, maybe if alexander was also small enough to pull out of a hat and, ]

...I never let Tori eat dessert for dinner, but sometimes I'll have some myself. Ah, hypocrisy. [ ah, hypocrisy. ] I punish him for such foul language when such things were the first things I learned to say when I was living on my own, I prefer short hair to long, and... Mmm, I remembered something recently, but I can't make sense of it.

[ a beat; a confession, but not a sin, and wataru chuckles. ]

But that's neither here nor there, non? It was a sad story, and it seems I was as much of a bleeding heart in the past as I am now...♪ It brought me to tears as quickly as it did him! Your monsieur is quite the crybaby, lionceau, be gentle with him.

( just get a bigger hat, jeez,

he listens to wataru's continued confessions with general interest, finding them arbitrary but welcome information all the same. the last one, though . . . so he had received his first memory. miai thinks it didn't take long for him either to remember something once he'd gotten the app, so this seems about par for course. )

Oh? I wasn't aware you were such a sensitive soul. ( this sounds like teasing, but it's also true - wataru seemed so brisk in his extravagant pace, brushing against others so brusquely and shameless, miai had thought wataru would receive all hardships in the world with the same blitheness to which he had dismissed there being anything natural on this earth that could scare him. ) And what was the story— Can I ask? If it wouldn't make you teary to repeat again.

( maybe he shouldn't ask; memories are intimate, after all. but... he can't help but want to know. )

It shouldn't! It was... [ ...hm. ] An echo of those feelings, perhaps... Mmm, je ne sais—mais je raconte, je raconte.

[ to begin... ]

It's a funny story, he says. A fairy tale, which always have endings to that point. [ but he brings a hand up to swipe the edge of his eye, frowning slightly. ] About an orphan, who was taken in by an old man and an old woman... He was raised with love and happiness, and so he wished to repay that in kind. To them, to the world he loved so much.

He learned to do many things in his quest for this. He sang, he danced, he did magic tricks, vocal mimicry, and so on and so forth, and people were delighted. They praised him eagerly, and he fell in love... Non, le mot... The word he used was "entranced". The boy was entranced by this praise and this happiness he had caused, so he refined his tricks, mastering them one by one. A true genius, a diamond among ordinary gems.

[ wataru pauses, both for dramatic effect and to get his bearings, to remember the story, even as it sits clear as day in his stomach. focusing on this draws his focus from his task at hand and, well, it's a bit of a welcome reprieve from the instinct pounding in his veins. ]

But ordinary gems—normal people grow bored watching the same tricks every time. They begin to yearn for things more and more exciting, more and more outstanding than the last. The boy knew that and was terrified, so he continued to learn, to do tricks that were more incredible than the last. As soon as one grew old, he'd move onto another. He spent his days like that, his sole reason for living being "making others happy".

He had a rose-colored life, feeling fulfilled as he performed, as he saw the delight on people's faces as he showed them new and different tricks. But... [ wataru exhales, lifting his head to stare at the wall in front of him. ] ...one day, he showed off a new trick, as usual. It was the most wonderful trick, one completely unimitable by other people.

But no one was happy. Not a single person smiled, was delighted, any of that, despite how he'd tried for their sakes, how he'd continued to reach higher and higher heights as they had wished him to. They complained, instead, they hadn't understood the trick—that it was too complicated. [ and then he had laughed in the memory, but wataru doesn't laugh now; he doesn't cry either, though he still brushes the heel of his hand across the top of his cheeks.. ]

And that's where the story ends. [ ... ] He repeated a name over and over, but I couldn't catch it. He was telling it to a young boy who called him Captain... Tomoya-kun, I believe his name was.

10/7

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~11/16

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