The cathedral was empty. The interior, a dark lair that echoed through ancient wooden floors. It felt like nighttime but it was a quarter to 10am. A cold draft hissed on Kennedy’s pale skin like a vampiric chill from afar. Her neck shivered. The ghost of her adversaries may have been present. Forever lurking; like ghouls, her enemies now haunted her in the shadows, possessing her very freedom, tantalizing her very success. Kennedy lit her cigarette unfazed. Green irises looked into the blue hues of a purpled haired priest; whom sat across from her in a sealed confessional. Beneath her veil, her face was sketched with various tattoos—-some holy woman, Kennedy thought.
Mezmeralda was ever the achiever. An Italian female that took daily confessions. Only in New York City could such liberalism succeed. For such values, Kennedy loved this city.
“What is your penance?” The woman said.
An exhale of smoke shortly filled the room. For a moment it felt like the 1950’s. Thus outside of this holy house, there was a bright culture that embraced technology and encouraged new ideals. Indeed it was a place where young men and women swore to live by their own philosophies.
“Father...I have sinned. And I confess.” Her voice was raspy like a true Italiana.
“What do you confess?” The Priest’s voice hardened with a tough accent of her own.
“Cherry Rose.” Kennedy confessed.
Mezmeralda knew of this name. Her eyes widened like pitted olives. “And who did she divorce?”
“Lonzito Romo.”
“You are forgiven. More importantly your father would be proud that you honored him.” Mez said.
“Romo was a rat bastard.” Kennedy spat.
“I know he was and your father paid twenty five years of his life because of this informant. What will you do now? Now that you’ve won?”
There was silence for a moment. Only the sound of a burning drag, before the cigarette was tossed in the nearest ash tray.
“I’m going to get really drunk and try to lead my tired army.” She chuckled the remnants of exhaled smoke.
Mezmeralda bowed, then spoke in Sicilian, “Ti auguro buona salute. Sei un campione.”
“Grazie.” Kennedy smiled.
When Mezmeralda lifted her head, an empty chair now sat across from her. Kennedy had already left the building.
Mezmeralda was ever the achiever. An Italian female that took daily confessions. Only in New York City could such liberalism succeed. For such values, Kennedy loved this city.
“What is your penance?” The woman said.
An exhale of smoke shortly filled the room. For a moment it felt like the 1950’s. Thus outside of this holy house, there was a bright culture that embraced technology and encouraged new ideals. Indeed it was a place where young men and women swore to live by their own philosophies.
“Father...I have sinned. And I confess.” Her voice was raspy like a true Italiana.
“What do you confess?” The Priest’s voice hardened with a tough accent of her own.
“Cherry Rose.” Kennedy confessed.
Mezmeralda knew of this name. Her eyes widened like pitted olives. “And who did she divorce?”
“Lonzito Romo.”
“You are forgiven. More importantly your father would be proud that you honored him.” Mez said.
“Romo was a rat bastard.” Kennedy spat.
“I know he was and your father paid twenty five years of his life because of this informant. What will you do now? Now that you’ve won?”
There was silence for a moment. Only the sound of a burning drag, before the cigarette was tossed in the nearest ash tray.
“I’m going to get really drunk and try to lead my tired army.” She chuckled the remnants of exhaled smoke.
Mezmeralda bowed, then spoke in Sicilian, “Ti auguro buona salute. Sei un campione.”
“Grazie.” Kennedy smiled.
When Mezmeralda lifted her head, an empty chair now sat across from her. Kennedy had already left the building.
You are on: Forums » General Roleplay » Good Therapy (Open)
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Auberon, Claine, Ilmarinen, Ben, Darth_Angelus