theme of grievance ✞ tanner&sawyer

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Elijah is dead today. 

His father breaks the news in hidden agendas, a form of communication the Garcia's have learned from one another. It comes in the form of a list of supplies, Tanner being assigned to fetch rather than conduct sermon. It is revealed to him that Brother Bishop will teach in his absence today. This is not new to Tanner, having to release his duties to others in favor of what his father asks of him; only that now he is to do it alone. In the past, he would take Elijah alongside him, a brother of sorts, a groundskeeper in others. Tanner would speak for both of them and Elijah would do the back and forth, loading the wagon with whatever supplies their father asked of them. 

Today, it is supplies for yet another burial.

No one has died since Amadeus Finch, a sacrifice in the name of Ansgar Todd himself. A life traded for a life, Brother Finch had the honor of becoming a spirit guide for Elijah, and from today's request, Tanner can assume Amadeus has failed. He looks to his father understanding, careful not to ask questions that would upset the man. "Should I go alone this time?" 

"No, Marybeth will accompany you."

"Marybeth will do the back and forth? She may be a disciple, but-"

"Any disciple will do, boy. Make your pick and go," the father tells him, and it does not take much time for Tanner to leave the household, list in hand and currency in wallet. Today, he would miss the children, but truth be told he would enjoy this trip more without Elijah by his side. The two never cared for each other like brothers; however, in his wake, Tanner was conflicted on how to feel. Elijah would not follow in the footsteps of their God, he was chosen, and he failed, and the prodigal son wondered what that meant of his brother. Was he a nonbeliever? Was he not devote enough? Why did God not deliver him? 

Questioning God pressed on a boundary in his mind that he couldn't dare to cross yet, yet still found so enticing. There were always so many questions lingering that he knew he could never ask anyone, nevertheless he who should have the answers. Instead, Tanner busied himself with making his selection, tossing over the names of disciples until he landed on that of Brother Lleget, a reserved boy he knew little of. Whether there was much more to know, he knew not, only that on a day like this, he could use the company of someone devote. Someone to keep his thoughts in line, who wouldn't entertain the questions that seemed to overshadow his faith at times. 

Tanner Garcia finds himself once more at the end of the disciple's spiraling road, knocking once, then twice on the door of the shared Lleget home. A single flickering light is all that illuminates the inners of the home, he stands watching with his hands in his pockets until Helena Lleget opens the door. There is a startled state to her as she accepts Tanner's presence, but when he asks for her son, it should be to no surprise that her only child is once again stationed at the church's organ. "Of course, I do not know why I thought any different," the prodigal son says with a chuckle before ending pleasantries with the teacher. 

On the walk to their holiest structure, the noose sits still in the dead desert air. Not a breeze to sway, Tanner wonders if Brother Finch's ghost made it out of the gallows at all. 

The sweet melody of Sawyer Lleget's fingertips meets Tanner at the entrance, a sound that could cure minor sicknesses, he believes. If he were to ever question God, these chords would prove Him right time and time again. How could God not watch over them when he blesses one of their one with such talent? Tanner has learned to approach the boy slowly when he plays, careful not to startle him, a challenging task. The prodigal son passes the pews and the organ itself, positioning himself to the side so that Sawyer can acknowledge him on sight rather than on command. At his leisure, for Tanner wishes not for the music to end. 

In a way, he envies Sawyer, for the boy is rewarded the gift of music for his devotion, while Tanner is rewarded task after task to complete. 

"Good morning, Brother Lleget," he says with a bow of his head, a respectful introduction. "The father has a mission for me, and I have chosen you to accompany me to town," there's a twang of disappointment in his gut as he realizes there is not time to witness another of Sawyer's melodies. With how often the boy practices, surely there will be another opportunity.

"The sooner we leave the better, but I will wait for you to ready yourself," he says with a gentle smile. 

[MATTIO]

Where else would Sawyer Lleget be but seated at the piano by the side of the Church? Fingers grazing the keys and feet by the pedals, he builds up with repetition in his muscles while nobody prays in the pews. Perhaps if someone was inside with him, he might play a song at their request while they commune with God, or he could simply take a glance at their expressions and play whatever he feels they need. His hands gloss over the board, over and over again, thinking about the past few weeks in the Church.

✞

Father told him once when he served as an altar boy that a time would come when all their prayers would be redeemed to deliver a member of the Church to salvation. "May he deliver you!" He remembers the chants from the Reaping square when Elijah's name was called forth in Todd's footsteps. Some chanted, some wailed, some rejoiced in Elijah's honor. Sawyer whispered the phrase amongst the crowd, hands cupped behind his back, a prayer of hope and fear rather than excitement and forwardness. None of Todd's followers had been reaped before that day. Father spoke about the moment which such excitement; the Church even sacrificed one of their own in Elijah's honor. Would it work? For every member of the Church who shouted those words to Elijah on the stage, there were hundreds more who stared down at them like they were aliens.

Sawyer grew red in the face earlier this morning in confession with Father Alban. "Were the disciples not breaking our Tenants of Faith by creating such a spectacle at the Reaping? Tenant Number Seven: Disciples may not interact with outsiders, and must direct them to a Divine in their place." It was a dilemma that Sawyer didn't want to address with Father considering it was His son would was chosen. He could see whenever they interacted in the confession booth or the Church's sacristy that Father was in a more negative mood. Better to wait for things to calm down than bring it up immediately when they arrived home from the Reaping.

"Why do you believe it to be a spectacle, Sawyer?"

"The way that the congregation was speaking, it was towards Brother Elijah, but everyone else could hear it as well. I saw this as an invitation toward interacting with outsiders. That's why I spoke softly– I did not want to break the Tenant."

Father paused for a moment behind the screen, and Sawyer rubbed the cover of his Bible softly while waiting for the response. "It was my son who spoke first, was it not? He is a Divine one. Perhaps you should see it as him speaking through them."

Sawyer's fingers fell still at Father's interpretation of the events. He hadn't seen it that way before. And He's right; Father Alban always seems to know how to quell his nerves and tell Sawyer why such fears are selfish to have in the first place. "I apologize for not seeing that. I suppose in the moment that I was feeling red and warm, so I assumed my heart was telling me they did something wrong. That's why I was quiet."

"Red and warm? It sounds to me as though you were embarrassed, or even ashamed, of your brothers and sisters exclaiming their faith in public." Sawyer began to interject, but Father's hand rose, silencing Sawyer back to his chair. "If God wanted you to be silent while others rejoiced proudly in Elijah's honor, he would have made you a monk in solitude. Do not use our Tenants as an excuse for your social ineptitude."

The words are harsh and strict, but Father always tells Sawyer what he needs to hear. Many consider him among the holiest of the Church for the amount of time he spends inside it, but he sees an opposite relationship. His many failures demand an attachment to the Church. Others come for a few hours a week because that is all they need. Those who spend as much time in the Church as him probably need to if they want to be saved.

"Those were not my intentions at all, Father. I love this Church and its congregants more than I love myself."

Those words could not be any more true.

✞

The aged doors of the narthex creak open, pulling him back from silent reflection. Tanner steps forth from the back of the Church. Sawyer minds the organ now, playing a hushed yet delicately pristine sound in the presence of the prodigal son. It has been a few weeks since they spoke last, walking home from the Church grounds on that cool night. The wedding was yet again postponed as construction for the new Church is underway. Soon enough, he'll play his piano in a brand new place. He'll miss the traditional structure they worship in now, but it's safer for all of the Church's members to be in a more modern and stable building.

Tanner waits ahead past the pews for him to finish, but it doesn't seem to be anything urgent. With each count of eight, he lowers the volume, piece by piece until there's nothing left but empty air blowing through the pedals. He greets Sawyer, speaking about a trip to town per request by Father. "The sooner we leave the better, but I will wait for you to ready yourself."

"It should not be too long, Brother. I just need to file these sheets back into their folders. Just a moment." Sawyer reaches behind him for a bin with dozens of folders. Each song within the Church's hymnal book is numbered. They go well into the three-hundreds, not counting the improvised numbers that Sawyer has to buy Father time whenever He needs it during a service. The bin has organized folders, each one holding ten different hymns. Although Sawyer knows the title of each song and the number it corresponds to, he keeps the bin up-to-date in the event that he finds himself too ill to attend Church. 113… 64… 82… 209. "There."

Sawyer pulls his dress sleeves down back to his wrists and rises, moving down toward the narthex with Tanner. Aside from Reapings, Sawyer has only left the Church grounds once. Back when he was a young boy, Sawyer had to undergo a procedure to repair a part of his left eye. It's all better now, with no scars or evidence of it at all, but he recalls his mother telling him that she needed to provide proof that the surgery was medically necessary and not cosmetic.

The pair venture outside of the Church, where Sawyer stops to inquire about the travel. "I do not mean to complicate the journey, but I'm not skilled with riding horses. Will that be a problem?" Maybe it'll be good for his legs to walk further than a lap around to Church grounds.

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As the prodigal son awaits for his companion, he spends his time studying the cohort's backside. For a pianist, he has broad shoulders, a wide frame with a sturdy spine. It is hard not to notice how Sawyer carries himself with a quiet strength, something Tanner cannot help but find impressive. Since their last interaction, he had spun tales on Lleget's backstory, fishing for gossip in the strangest of places. His favorite of places: the Women's Conglomeration of Todd. This is a place of worship a half mile out from the main town, where you look back and see the tippy top of the First Church kissing the horizon with its peak. 

This is where the mothers feel most comfortable, and the daughters feel most insecure. This is where they stop being nuns for an hour or two and look so strangely ordinary. They will undress to just their decent necessities, and wash their hair, and tweeze the strands they wish removed. Tanner doesn't understand it all, and is fascinated hearing to their rumors. What is going on in town that the men like Tanner don't hear, half because they aren't listening and half because they don't care. But he does, everytime, Tanner Garcia always cares for their words. He holds them in his hand and drinks their laments through their ears, for that is his job. 

Compassion.
Patience.
Understanding.

Love, the Prodigal Son. "So who can inform me more on Brother Lleget? Strange one, him," he piped up as Imogen Walker filed away at his nails. He hardly watched, instead choosing to admire the woman and girls and ladies around him. Once, Nellie Buckley came and ruffled his hair with a kiss on the cheek, and he has prayed forgiveness thrice over for the impure thoughts that followed. 

"He is a quiet one, that."
"I heard his mother is seeking out a witch!"
"And why is that...?"
"She still grieves, Margaret. Have some empathy."
"Please, Todd rebirthed her son and blessed us-"
"She is still grieving."

"So... Sawyer?"

"Right. Prodigal Tanner, you mustn't worry over Sawyer. He is gentle for a reason, but he knows to protect himself now."
"What happened?
"He was jumped, once, by outsiders."
"What?"
"He didn't say more, not a word to his parents. Only Father Garcia knows."
"Father."

---

"I do not mean to complicate the journey," brother says, but Tanner only interjects with a wave of understanding. A nod of the hat, gentle with the tip of his own. "But, I'm not skilled with riding horses. Will that be a problem?"

"Only if you are afraid to hold me, Brother Lleget," Tanner says with a grin. He motions towards the church's exit without another word, starting his stride as he knows obedient Lleget will follow on his own accord. "I have ridden for years, it was the first thing my father taught me. We Divines cannot afford not to travel, and- you cannot share this- but with the Proprietor seeking a Mercenary, it will only be a more important skill from here." 

Mercenary - (in Toddism): One who has been chosen to spread the Word of Todd, and convert others to the Religion of the Light. 

It worries Tanner, the idea of inviting outsiders in. Most of the second generation were born into the Town, and might be easily influenced should they let the Devil in. The two walk in tandem, small talk like grains of sand that they walk over. He keeps his hands wrapped together in front of him, eyes wandering everywhere but at Sawyer Lleget. They two arrive at the stables, and Tanner halts.

"May you wish to join my prayer?" He says, offering a hand to Brother Lleget. [ Sawyer Decision: To Join or Refuse Tanner's Prayer ]

"Very well."

---

"Dear Heavenly Father and the Surviving Son Below, Please, Hear my words and Embolden my wishes. Embark with Brother Lleget & I, and take us in your hands to the way of the light. Travel with us, and ensure our safety under that of Saint Christopher. Protect us from the evils at bay, and ward off that of Hyacinth Mortuus, the Temptation of the Succubus that Lurks in District 10. Should we find her reincarnate, Blessed be the Waters to Cleanse her Undesired Host. Free Us from the Fears of Freedom, and Let us Follow Your Steps Unprecedented. Grant Me the Wisdom of Free Thought, and Grant Me the Gentle Guidance of your Love. No Matter What, From Here to Grave; Watch Over, not only myself, but Sawyer Lleget, too, For His Quiet Confidence is not to be Mistaken. Heavenly Father, Thank You for Your Time, For your Patience, and your Love. In your name- oh, and Remind Me to Check on Hank Buckley. His Flowers have been Wilting, I can Only Presume that to be a Sign of Your Work. Bless Us as we End the Year of 94. In Your Name, I Say, Amen."

[ If Sawyer Rejects: cut him out this prayer ]

---

"Okay, Brother, follow me," Tanner starts, after a moment of bowing his head, closing his eyes, and breathing rhythmically. This is the part where he always loses himself, as if Ripred himself has come to cleanse him of his impurities and he is but a dirty washcloth, subject to his drying breezes. "If you could fetch the supplies out of the shed there, I will gather the steed- today we will take my favorite. I named him Molasses," although he is a husky, burnt brown of hair, Molasses is the slickest, the strongest, and the shiniest. 

"Oh, and remember our waters. Hydrate or Die-drate, as Clementine says." Silly, strange girl, always coming up with new phrases.