08-26-2014, 07:56 AM
Aria seemed a bit nervous about being in Mass, at least a first. But as the service progressed, the blessings and finally the sacrament, she seemed more at peace. When it was finished, they stood in between the rows as the few people milled around. She didn't seem to be in any great hurry so Lucas didn't mind. He always liked to think about things afterwards, to cement them in his mind. He came here for a reason. And he'd felt like he'd communed with God. He saw a few people making their way to the confessional. Normally he'd be one of them, but he looked at Aria. Not tonight. He'd do that on his own time.
They walked out the big doors into the cold. The contrast with the warm church was stark and he looked at her shawl. It didn't seem enough. He was about to offer his jacket when she took his hand and thanked him with a smile. For a moment he was taken aback. There was something about that smile. It was so...sweet. As if she was smiling at being able to smile. Remembering what he knew of her, perhaps that was it exactly. Whatever the reason, being with her made him feel...not alive, that wasn't it. But it was like he was seeing the world through new eyes. He just looked into her face, enjoying the moment. He liked the way her hand felt in his, her warm skin, a bit rough perhaps, but still nice, against his. Her hand was smaller than his, She only came up to his chin, maybe.
She looked up at him. "Ready to see a little bit of my home?"
she said and started toward the metro. He was curious. She was from Italy and they were in Moscow.
"Alright. You're the boss. Show me the way."
He grinned at her. "Just no haggis or tripe, ok? Because I can't eat gross stuff."
In truth he could and had. Living on the streets taught you what real hunger was about. Didn't mean he was going to go back to it.
They were quiet as they waited for the car. Finally, once boarded and seated- curiously there was only an older woman at the other end sharing the car with them- he said, "So your home, huh? I take it you've been to Moscow before?"
They walked out the big doors into the cold. The contrast with the warm church was stark and he looked at her shawl. It didn't seem enough. He was about to offer his jacket when she took his hand and thanked him with a smile. For a moment he was taken aback. There was something about that smile. It was so...sweet. As if she was smiling at being able to smile. Remembering what he knew of her, perhaps that was it exactly. Whatever the reason, being with her made him feel...not alive, that wasn't it. But it was like he was seeing the world through new eyes. He just looked into her face, enjoying the moment. He liked the way her hand felt in his, her warm skin, a bit rough perhaps, but still nice, against his. Her hand was smaller than his, She only came up to his chin, maybe.
She looked up at him. "Ready to see a little bit of my home?"
she said and started toward the metro. He was curious. She was from Italy and they were in Moscow.
"Alright. You're the boss. Show me the way."
He grinned at her. "Just no haggis or tripe, ok? Because I can't eat gross stuff."
In truth he could and had. Living on the streets taught you what real hunger was about. Didn't mean he was going to go back to it.
They were quiet as they waited for the car. Finally, once boarded and seated- curiously there was only an older woman at the other end sharing the car with them- he said, "So your home, huh? I take it you've been to Moscow before?"