The Abbey

[relentless]

/The day after the cultist attack/

The transept was dimly lit, and mostly empty. The angelic glow of the candles flickering as wind blew in through grates dotted around the abbey, and the whistle of prayer seemed to hum through the interior of the Abbey.

In the left side of benches that lined the transept, sitting in the middle of a bench near the front, Duval sat at the front. To think that the notorious hitman of the Eastern lands, and renowned womanizer would appear in such a sorry state.

His black wool overcoat draped over him like a warm blanket, though its appearance of material was creased, the collar was upturned and unbuttoned. His hair was also in a shaky state, caused by his hands constantly running through them, frazzling it when his intent was to 'keep his cool'. Altogether, his charismatic and jolly nature seemed to have deterioated over night at a slow, and steady pace. His hands shook as he brushed them across his forehead and brow, desperately seeking for composure. And so, would Duvals hands clasp together tight in this transept, his back hunched and head leaning against his clasped hands, remaining there in silence with only the rasp of his defeated breath to cackle in the silent interior.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace wandered into the main part of the abbey, smoothing out her robes as she went and actually smiling for once. She happened to see Duvall and was rather surprised to see him. "Duvall? What are you doing here?" she asked simply.

[relentless]

Duval flinched violently as he heard the warm touch of a womans voice tickling his ear, giving him a violent fright. Eventually, he resettled and remained braced in his seating position.
"-No-nothing. Just takin' in the lovely structure, hehe.."
Duval chuckled awkwardly, though his eyes remained closed and the faux smile that formed on his face was not only weak, but died quickly after chuckling. He anxiously bit his lip and breathed in heavy, whilst he continued to sort his hair out to no avail.

It would appear blatantly obvious to Grace, hopefully, that Duval seemed quite stressed, unlike himself in the slightest.

[Outisakanobody]

"Then why do you have your eyes closed?" Grace asked, moving to sit next to the man.

[relentless]

Duval opened his eyes momentarily, and slowly shrunk his arms back to his knees and straightened up slightly. His skin composure seemed to be quite pale, as if he was sick. Duval gave off a distant stare toward the candles that flickered and provided homeage to the holy idol known as the light.

"Ju-just tired. Didn't sleep, last night.."
Duval stuttered, rubbing his eyes in a way that looked like he was gouging them out.
"The attack, givin' me nightmares!"
Duval chuckled in a half arsed manner, only for it to falter. He was weary as Grace sat down next to him, running his hands up and down his thighs nervously, trying not to make eye contact as his throat seemed to tighten.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace put a hand on Duvall's shoulder. "What happened during that attack?" she asked, concerned.

[relentless]

Duval flinched violently, a phantasm seemed to move through him as Grace put her hand on his shoulder, violently shaking it off and moving to the end of the pew. Although he didn't move far, he seemed to shrink even further on himself as he held his shoulder.

"S-sorry! I-i'll take the white, I'll take the.."
Duval broke off into a series of whispers, before he eventually reopened himself, cold sweat breezing across his brow as he turned to face Grace once again.
"Mm, aye, aye... didn't go very well! Least' on my end!"
Duval blundered with a forced smile and weak chuckle.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace looked at the man with a troubled expression. She had not met this man more than a scant few times, but she knew this was very unusual behavior. It was strange to see him acting so shy, but also trying to hide it as well. "Nick, would you like to go someplace and talk more? Perhaps get some more...privacy?" she suggested, glancing around. There wasn't much of a crowd around, but privacy was always appreciated in delicate matters.

[relentless]

"S-sure.."
Duval conceded as he shakily rose to his feet, his back hunched over and his arms crossing over to hold as his shoulders in anxious intent as he choked on further words, his skin seeming to grow more pale in complexion.
"W-whe-where to, Grace?"

[Outisakanobody]

"Let us go to my office. We should not be disturbed there." Grace says as she starts to walk that way.

[relentless]

"A-aye, wh-whiwhitewin.."
He mumbled as he pushed himself up from the pews, and shakily fished for a flask of whiskey that was almost empty. The man awkwardly tore off the cap, and downed the rest with a sputter and cough, his whole demeanor appeared sickly, and afflicted with some form of illness. The man didn't hold much grace, he simply held his sides and shivered, his baggy, tired eyes cloaked across his face as his hair remained frazzled.

For the first time in years; he looked like his true social class, a commoner. Scruffy overcoat and pants, a face that had run afoul with lack of sleep and perfume. It was Duval, his mask had fell, his grace had shattered.

"S-sorry, haven't slept... at all. Nightmares, y'-y'know?"
Duval sniffled and drawled on in a sleepy, almost depressed tone of voice as he stared at the floorboards, his eyes shut as he mindlessly followed the footsteps of Grace to her office.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace entered her office and would close the door after Duvall walked in. She would then walk over and lean against her own desk, looking at the man again. "So, you have been having nightmares?" she asks, to get the conversation going.

[relentless]

Duval feebly slipped into the office, and he reached behind his head to scratch, doing it raggedly, and sluggishly as he moved toward the table whilst shaking his head from left to right. A sensation of anxiety became awash through him, and he tried to speak, yet felt choked as he sat down. It would take him a minute to speak, through stutters and chokes as he stared at the tabletop.

"Y-yes. Nightmares."
Duval sniffled as he leaned back into the chair with morning light pressing onto his emotionally distraught face, and paling skin. His hand brushed at his cheek, then below his eye, rubbing it softly.
"...Bad ones."
He choked out with a minor squeal, before he let out a shaky breath.
"I-... i can't tell them apart from... this."
Duval portrayed the room with both his hands as he looked up to Grace, before he shuddered and closed his eyes, looking away from her as he brought his left hand back, nibbling on his thumb.
"Whatever life is. I don't know, it's just... I-I don't know."
He quickly dismissed with a wave of his hands, slipping both of his hands into his overcoat pockets and letting out an almost pained sigh.

"I hope t-they're nightmares. I-i do."

[Outisakanobody]

"Nick, why can you tell me what it is you are seeing in these nightmares?" Grace asks, looking at the broken man intently, mostly to make sure he didn't do anything dangerous to her or himself.

[relentless]

The man recoiled as the sweet voice of grace licked at his ears, making him hiss and look to the right of the room, as if he had been bit by a snake. His eyes were closed, and a streak of cold sweat ran down his head as he stared downward, shaking his head.

"Monsters. Liars..."
He let the last word drawl on in murderous anger seething quietly in the undertones of his voice, before he shakily raised his hand to stroke at his eyebrows.
"Gods-the white wine... I should've..."
He choked again, moisture building up in his eyes, stroking them with the back of his thumb before sniffling.

Eventually, Duval forced himself to lean forward, stroking the bridge of his nose carefully, cautiously.
"The... cultists. They did something, wh-whilst we weren't lookin."
Duval admitted with a reluctant nod, looking elsewhere to the room, avoiding eye contact with Grace as if his lie depended on it.