Shrouded

//The following sets the background (non-passage space), using Chapel's built in colour tint system. config.style.backdrop: "#008080" //The following sets the font to the default, in order of appearance, with a fallback of any default serif font on the device, size 18 font. config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/Constantia/Georgia/serif 18" //The following sets the colour of the text on the colour of the passage config.style.page.color: "gray-8 on #FFF0F5" //The following styles links, first as they appear by default, and then when they are hovered over/clicked config.style.page.link.font: "underline" config.style.page.link.color: "#CD5C5C" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#DB7093" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#DDA0DD on #FFF0F5" //The following styles the header and footer's appearance in terms of font styling and size- the title and RESTART command of the story. config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center><h1>[[Shrouded->1]]</h1> sophia de augustine {reveal link: 'ABOUT', text: 'Shrouded is a 500 word excerpt from the WIP The Love We Buried. This was entered into the Neo-Twiny Jam, 2024.'} </center>

The neon throw of lights from storefronts shines in the streets. Night in the city is never truly dark. The front steps to the church have been swept meticulously clean of the bric-a-brac that tends to accumulate: crumpled up transit tickets, receipts, stubbed cigarettes smouldering inches from the heavy oaken doors. Inside, [[cozy candlelight glows->2]].

There's only one man inside, sitting in the relative darkness of the building. Flickering candlelight casts his face in shifting illumination, thrown into sharp relief and deep shadow in turn, as the flames dance merrily. His head is bowed in prayer, hands clasped in supplication. He doesn't notice your arrival, initially- not until the [[door groans shut->3]].

“Oh, hello-” Joel says, though he looks startled to recognize you. He smiles, a little sheepishly, hands unclasping to run one through his dark hair. “I was just... praying,” Joel says. “If you're looking for Father Remington- he takes over the night shifts, here, Michael left for the night. It's late.” His gaze is fixed on the [[lit novena candles->4]].

He stands up, reaching for a bench scraper. Joel kneels, back turned to you. The slow pull of the metal through melted beeswax makes the muscles in his arm tense, as he collects curled shavings into a metal bucket. “What brings you to All Saints? Not many come by at an hour like this,” he says, voice light with amusement. “I find that the ambiance helps me clear my [[head, sometimes. Focus->5]].”

There's a faint golden sparkle around Joel's hands, focused particularly at the pulse point of his wrists. His voice is soft, slightly far away- lost in private thought. “It's difficult, sometimes,” Joel says. He sighs. “But it's like the bible says- 1 Corinthians 16:14, Do everything in love.” The light flares brighter [[for an instant->6]].

“Maintaining constant shielding on the rest of the family,” Joel says, rubbing at his brown eyes with a wax smeared thumb. “It's... exhausting. I can maintain it even while asleep, but it's a tall task: thank God for Irene,” he says. “Power amplification- I don't know where I'd be without her.” His voice is tender, as he speaks of her. “Of course- it's labour willingly undertaken, in the name of love- but labour, [[all the same->7]].”

Joel shakes his head. “But that's enough about what's troubling my heart,” Joel says. His chuckle is nervous, as he scrapes the tool clean on the lip of the bucket full of curled wax. “I shouldn't burden you with it.” He pauses, setting the bench scraper down. Joel's calloused hand clenches tightly around the bucket's handle. When he turns to face you, his smile is tired, even [[in its warmth->8]].

“I'll leave you to your thoughts, then- I hope you find whatever solace it is that you're looking for, tonight. All Saints is hallowed ground- and neutral territory. You'll be safe here.” Joel pauses, eyes dark with some inscrutable emotion. “You'd be safe regardless. I make sure of that, for us [[and our own->start]].”