Father, My Father... [Aileenansidhe x Father Figure]

[Aileenansidhe]

Abigail (Abby)
Age: 19
Occupation: Student, church-assistant

Abby watched the remaining attendees to this evening's sermon disappear into the snow-blanketed gloom. It was not normal for the church to hold sermon's in the evening hours; however, here in the holidays, many people grew so entrenched within their seasonal madness. It was sometimes difficult to pay the proper respects to their Lord in Heaven. She understood that, as well did her Father, the pastor.

It had actually been his idea to hold these late day sermons and they had proven popular. Abby had been seeing faces that had not graced this chapel in quite some time. She smiled at the thought and looked up at the sky. Clouds had begun to cover the moon, threatening the city with even more snow. They already had received more than a foot, how much more could they handle? She silently prayed that her fellow church-goers would make it home safe.

She turned from the frozen outdoors and slipped back into the church, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her. This church had been in the many centuries: a historic landmark. The whole place felt old; heavy with the stories it had acquired over the years. Abby loved it. It was why she devoted so much of her free time to helping her Father care for the place.

Her father was in the main part of the chapel, gathering his bible and other supplies to be put away... or so she assumed. She smiled at him as she approached, her cheeks rosy from the outside chill. "I think that might have been our largest turn-out yet, Father. I wonder if it will grow even larger as we grow closer to Christmas next week."

Abby unzipped her puffy coat and gently set it on the pews, shaking herself off. As she did so, she came to noticed her nipple had grown harder from the winter bite. She felt herself blush harder and crossed her arms over her chest. She still did not know why they did that: only that it was inappropriate and improper. With time and the chapel warmth, she hoped that they would stop rebelling against the fiber of her bra shortly.

"Speaking of Christmas," she continued, hoping to draw attention to anything else. "What do you want me to cook this year? I would like to do away with the shopping this weekend, before the insanity really takes hold." She laughed at her thoughts of last year, where she had waited until the last minute. Proper cooking supplies had been impossible to get at that point, so a proper Christmas dinner had been impossible.

Still, her Father was not angry. He never was with her. For as long as Abby could remember, it had just been the two of them. She had never known her mother, who had died shortly after childbirth. Her Father had raised her alone, without the assistance of a girlfriend and hardly any help from the church. Part of Abby wondered if he was punishing himself for the death of her Mom. However, she would probably never know and never felt comfortable asking such a personal question. She forced the troubled thoughts away and smiled again.

Things were just fine, the way they were.

 

[Father Figure]

RE: Father, My Father...

He worried so very much about her.

HIs beautiful Abigail, what was there to truly say? She was young, beautiful, and intelligent. She looked so much like her mother, something that he often tried to overlook in his attempt to be a good father to her, to be a good man, and to allow the past to lie in the past. An avid student, she had easily surprised him with how intelligent she was, once again so very much like her mother. It was a source of hidden pain for him, something that he had never revealed to his daughter, that she was so similar to the woman he had once loved...and so very different from him. No, the only true thing that they shared was their dedication to trying to live up to that memory of the woman who had given her life and the woman that he had lost in childbirth, and perhaps for them both that was enough of a semblance as they truly needed to share.

There was no real need for his daughter to truly ask whether or not he punished himself over her mother's death. The truth was evident in every act the older man undertook. He had raised her with a quiet determination that very few men ever had, the purpose of keeping her safe and away from the mistakes he and her mother had made evident. It had protected her innocence to be sure, but it had done nothing to prepare her for the world. Yet he had also done far more than merely raise her, he had moved away from the city and found a lovely community to live in, a small northern town that provided a respite from the hardbitten world that truly existed out there. Here they had thrived, his small church growing just as she had commented, and he had doted upon her. Where other parents had given their children PS4's, he had given her his love, and he hoped she understood it was a much more precious gift than any piece of technology or merchandise he could have purchased with his meager salary.

Even more so he had become a pillar of the community here, working with several to perform charitable acts. They often worked hard for the local food bank, donating and collecting, aiding in a variety of ways. His attitude had infected his congregation, for this was no fire and brimstone church, but one consecrated with the fervent belief that to provide was to receive, and to give was to better not only others but yourself. That had been something he'd had particular problems with when he first arrived, but it was something that they had worked through after he had taken over the small church from the previous pastor. Not everyone had the right of what Christ tried to teach, not even the man standing there that Abigail was speaking with.

Looking up at his words he gave a wane smile, his hands moving to place bibles back up into one of the cabinets before walking down the pews to pick up hymnals. His voice held a measure of solemnity to it as his eyes took in the sight of her, once more trying not to compare her to the past as he answered her words. "I am sure people will come for whatever reason that come, in the end it doesn't matter the why, as long as we get them the message. Sometimes that's all that really matters in the long run." He took a moment, not answering the query about dinner, instead something else seemed to be on his mind. His eyes showed a bit more sorrow than usual as he considered her before turning to keep working, his voice thoughtful as he asked.

"Abby, hon, have you ever considered moving away? Following your own road in life?"

 

[Aileenansidhe]

RE: Father, My Father...

The question caught Abby off-guard more than it probably should have. Move away? Following her own road in life? Where in the world had that comes from? She faltered visibly and frowned, evidently disconcerted. Her whole life had been this church, this community. She had devoted every bit of her essence to this place: her home. So what had brought about this sort of question? Was there a rumor going around town that she was preparing to leave? If so, she would have to have words with the source: possibly ones that the Heavenly Father might not approve of. It bothered her that someone might say something so upsetting and disturb her precious Father in such a way. Abby slowed her thoughts, shaming herself for making assumptions and letting her emotions get the better of her. Such assumptions were just as bad as starting rumors.

Her father's eyes, which usually held a little bit of sorrow in their warm depths seemed to be heavier than usual today. It bothered her to see him this way. Why did a man as wonderful as he, have to suffer all the time? Why couldn't he be permitted happiness? It was one of the few parts of the church that had never fully made sense to her. He was a good man: a hard worker and a kind soul. She had never seen a single ounce of cruelty out of him: in fact, she wasn't sure he was even capable of such things. He always had compassion for anyone who approached him: willing to go the extra mile to see that their needs were met. He was her example: her shining star that lit her life, illuminating the best path for her to walk. She wanted to be just like him.

So this thought... of dreams of her own... a path of her own: it was alien to her. She didn't know what to think. For a moment, she pondered it. What would she do if she were to ever leave this place? Would she start a church of her own and continue to serve God? Or would she find her own path, doing something else entirely. She could always attempt college and see about finding a better paying job than simply working for the church, but such things felt wrong to her: even if it meant living a little more comfortably. She felt like she would be abandoning her duty.

She bit her lip gently, as she often did when trying to wrestle something difficult in her mind. "I... don't know. I don't suppose I have," she answered him at least. "I suppose I could. But where would I go? I'm not really suited for life in larger cities... not that I would have any idea what to do with myself when I got there. And I would be so far away from here. What if you needed my help? Or someone else in town did? I wouldn't be able to get back here in time to make a difference."

But was she just making excuses? Now that she really thought about it, she wasn't sure. The whole topic was making her rather uneasy, as shown by her fidgeting with the obsidian cross that hung at her throat: another idle quirk that she had developed in her early teens.

"What's brought this on? Did someone say.... did someone tell you that I was thinking about leaving?"

 

[Father Figure]

RE: Father, My Father...

That sorrow in his eyes was reflected ten fold as she spoke and he worried deep down if he had not prepared her for life without him, for a life that existed without him. These kind of regrets were nothing new to him and they only resonated more and more the older that she became. He knew he had directly impacted her life in a way that other young women did not quite have, a single father was a rarity and even more than that a single father who was a pastor. It had been a hard road establishing himself in a church congregation without having a wife, many parishioners had a problem with the idea of a single man being in the position of authority, but the story of his wife and her death was something that had allowed him to impress them with his willingness to be the kind of man who would raise Abby and still follow the word of the Lord. That dedication though was what caused such sorrow in him, because he knew deep down that one day he would be gone just as her mother was...and what would she have then other than the memories of one parents and the absence of the other?

He gave a wane smile as she replied to him, his voice gentle and kind as answered her words. "No, nobody made a suggestion of the sort like that." He gave a shrug of one large shoulder as he tried to decide what he wanted to say to her, what he should say. He never had that problem when he was speaking before the congregation, never had that problem when he was aiding others with their travails in their life. Instead the words always seem to come to him as if they were magic, speaking directly to the soul of the individual involved, and yet that always seemed lacking when he was speaking with her. It always seemed like everything he tried to say caught in his throat the moment before he said it. He understood deep down what the problem was, he felt it to his core, that the problem was he knew whatever he said would not measure up to what she deserved.

Because it wasn't good enough for his little girl.

He placed the hymnals up in the large cabinet, shutting the solid wood doors before turning to approach her, his form towering over his young girl but nowhere in an imposing fashion. His strong hands reached out to touch her shoulders, caressing for just a moment in a comforting fashion before giving a firm hold upon her and she could feel the power in those hands. Even in his middle age the strength and vitality of the older man radiated from him, a youth spent in sports having not gone to waste later in life. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, inhaling the scent of her as he pulled her into a hug and he sought the words to say, not wanting her in any way to feel as if he was reprimanding her or casting her out. No, that would be the worst that he could do, that would be the ultimate sin was to make her feel unwelcome in his home. He could never do that to his daughter. As his arms wrapped tighter he could not help but feel that small inkling of a thought in the back of his mind...of how very much like her mother she felt.

His voice was calming. "No, it is just that I want you to be happy. I know that seems quaint and trite, that it seems silly, but it is the honest truth. There is a large world out there, a world you've never seen. I saw quite a bit when I was young, but I took you away from it all. I worry, just a little, that it might have been a mistake to have done so."

 

[Aileenansidhe]

RE: Father, My Father...

Abby smiled slightly as her Father drew her deep into his embrace: a place of warmth, strength, and security. She had always treasured this place, where she could feel the gentle sensation of his breathing against her skin... the dull thump of life in his chest firmly against her own. The monumental power that made her Father just who he was in her eyes. It was where she would retreat whenever the world had caused her pain as a child and even now served as a place of salvation as an adult.

She could feel his lips brush her forehead in what almost felt like a contemplated kiss and he drew a small breath. For some reason, she felt her heart speed up slightly with the closeness: a sensation that she had noticed a couple of times recently for reasons that she did not understand. She had been hugged before: cradled in the safety of this man's arms. But now, in the years of her late teens, it seems to carry a slightly different sensation with it. Like there was a language that her body was speaking and she was simply not privy to it. Like a nervous excitement that had wiggled it's way into her already existing emotions. Her Father spoke with a calm and gentle tone that carried words containing all of the kindness and compassion in the world.

"No, it is just that I want you to be happy. I know that seems quaint and trite, that it seems silly, but it is the honest truth. There is a large world out there, a world you've never seen. I saw quite a bit when I was young, but I took you away from it all. I worry, just a little, that it might have been a mistake to have done so."

She felt her cheeks flushed deeply at his words, feeling a stab of worry for her father and a pang of happiness deep within her chest. He was such a good-hearted soul, but one who blamed himself much to heavily in her eyes. He had never done her any wrong as far as she was concerned. She led a good, solid life here. Yes, perhaps it wasn't the most eventful in this tiny little town: but it was a healthy, modest, and wholesome way of living. And here is was thinking that he hadn't given her nearly enough. She smiled softly, emphasizing her blush and shook her head. She wriggled her right arm free from his grip and poked him lightly in the middle of the forehead: a gesture that she had adapted from her early teens, that symbolized when she thought he was being silly.

"You took me from nothing," she said with a faint laugh: not a mocking one, but one of love and affection. "I have lead a very good life here and you've taught me many wonderful lessons throughout my life. And I am happy with everything you've given me. So put these dark thoughts to rest. You've done no harm to me nor will you ever. Okay?"

She slipped her free arm around the back of his neck, pulling him a little closer to her height and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, which required her to stand on her tip-toes even then. Her quickened heart-rated elevated once more and she mentally pushed around it. Perhaps she was simply not feeling well... the weather had been so poor lately. However, one thing she was certain of was her Father... her precious, wonderful Father who knew nothing but love and kindness. "No more worrying, please. You've done good. You always do good. And I could never ask anything more."

 

[Father Figure]

He did good. Yes he supposed he did, deep down he tried to be the kind of man that could be said about, and in the end he hoped it would be enough. The way he had cared for her, the way he had reached out to the people around him, all for making up for a sin which in the end had been a sin of innocence and lack of understanding of the consequences. He could not have known how dangerous it would be to his young girlfriend's health to have a child, and in no way could he have known what it would be like to lose someone so dear to him at such an early age. It had forged him and he had never quite forgiven himself, never quite accepted that perhaps he might be a good man, and yet now he finally felt perhaps that he might find a resolution to that feeling in the arms of his daughter. That perhaps as long as in her eyes he was worthy, in her eyes he was something special, then maybe deep down he could begin to believe that he was as well.

Yet the smell of her was intoxicating.

When was the last time they had hugged so close? It was not as if he was a cruel man who kept her at a distance but there was not really many reasons to hug other than casually as she'd gotten older. He loved her from the bottom of his heart, but the truth was they had grown distant in so many ways and that was not unreasonable now was it? She was facing so many decisions in her life, so many things that mattered to her future, and he was a man who had devoted himself towards improving the lives of others. She was looking at the world through eyes decades young than he was and merely the generation between them would set them apart. It was a quiet distance, one that never had been spoken of, yet now he felt it even deeper than he had before and for that reason and that reason alone he hugged her even closer than she had perhaps originally intended.

His arms wrapped round her and he pulled her closer against him, letting her feel the reassuring weight of it as he puzzled his mind around why he merely enjoyed the closeness of her lovely young frame. The heady scent of her hair washed over him, not inspiring euphoria but inspiring a deeper sense of ease and comfort than anything else he'd been given in life. It was there in that moment that he found a tiny bit of the solace he truly wanted to have and he wondered if he could ever honestly give her up? Deep down he had tg admit he felt joy in her choice not to leave, felt perhaps the tiniest inclination of happiness that she was not going to go anywhere and he sighed out slowly...the heated rush of air warm across the skin of her throat before he finally spoke again and he whispered very solemnly.

"I love you, Abby." It was simple words, simple emotion, and one coupled with the undeniable fact that he realized in that moment that no matter what he had said to her...he would never give her up, he would never want her to leave.