Parasite Dawn Part 4
Nina was doing her best to hide her excitement. But she was also wracking her mind on how she'd approach this.
Delilah was leaving soon, so Nina's window was narrow. She
had
to give them Its gift. Let Delilah leave Donstorf with a reminder... so that she may gift it to others, when the time comes, in Mollorn.
Sven, Jaque, and Angelica were already continuing with their plans, quietly weaving their way into the village, Angelica finding her and quickly appraising her of the current situation, keeping the meeting brief to be safe, but things were going smoothly. Jaque in particular had a direct way into the very family that effectively oversaw the village.
And she had the means to create an 'Agent', of sorts, for It, out of Delilah. An Agent whom would wait in Mollorn, ready to spread the gift.
But Delilah was Nina's friend. They were close, and she so desperately wanted to get closer, to give this wonderful gift. She hoped, however, that she didn't have to be so forceful from the start. She wanted to lull Nina into Its embrace before she struck. Both out of a newfound sense of predatory instinct for ambush, and because she genuinely cared for Delilah.
But how... that was going to be the tricky part. If it came to it, she would pounce the woman, she could not let the chance slip by. If she could avoid that immediately, however, she would.
As she was pondering to herself, she was suddenly intercepted by the priest, Bartholomew Cawl. She bristled internally, even if she greeted him with a warm smile.
"Oh, hello, Father!" she announced as she gazed upon his grizzled face.
He was not that old, and his face had a gentle kindness to it, but clearly what years he had lived - nearing on forty winters - imparted their share of ups and downs. His jawline carried the faint marks of recently shaven stubble, already starting to regrow. His upper lip sported a small white scar, just to the right, and his short black hair, combed but a little coarse, streaked with grey.
His black robes had patches of pale dust on them here and there, the white rope around his waist kept pristine, unlike the leather boots he drudged around in, save for within the church, which he kept meticulously clean.
Rosary Beads bearing the circular pendant etched with the five pointed, tree-like lines of the faith hung from his neck, carved out of wood and polished.
He was a somewhat thin man for his age, he didn't eat more than he had to, and lived quite an austere life, though he did not preach such a life to others; it was a personal choice.
His face was pale to reflect this, though not deathly so, he still got out. He often got out, but he spent a great deal of time inside the church.
His eyes though, they were hawkish. Blazing, blue, and terribly sharp. And many believed he had eyes in the back of his head.
'Barth' as many called him for short was hard to fool. And he represented the greatest threat to Its return. His dogma would see it burned again - and likely her and her fellows with It, no matter how much Father Cawl would've wanted to save them - and rob the people of this village and beyond enlightenment.
"Morning, Miss Nina. It is a fine day, but I have some questions to ask of you," he said.
Her internal bristling intensified.
"Of course," she answered, entertaining the priest and keeping herself composed.
"You haven't seen anything suspicious about, have you?"
"No, not that I know of. Why do you ask?"
Barth betrayed no emotions, just a slight downward tilt of his head.
"Just some concerns that have been raised. People skulking about, but no one caught a good look. Doesn't seem too unusual, people sneak about all the time for one reason or another. But just keeping an eye on things," he explained.
"Of course, Father. No, I don't believe I've seen anything out of the ordinary. Except ol' Grigori turning down his fifth flagon at the tavern."
Barth loosed a quiet hufff, his way of expressing amusement.
"Well, if you do see anything that concerns you, let me know," he said. He tipped his head courteously, made a gesture of blessing before his chest and face, and then headed on his way with the stiff, disciplined gait that made everyone stand at attention when they saw him coming.
"Farewell, Father," she said in parting, and continued on her way in her usual manner.
Inwardly, however, she was both relieved and concerned; Barth was a sharp man, he did not miss much. And she was worried that he might've suspected something.
Seducing him likely wasn't an option, even moderately handsome as he was. Even if he wasn't celibate, he would not succumb to mere seduction, he was too principled for that. He'd likely have to be taken, but that wouldn't be easy compared to even someone strong like Jaque.
She sighed quietly to herself; Father Cawl could wait for another time. Now, it was time to go meet Delilah.
---
Delilah's homestead was a simple place, like many of the farm houses around the village of Donstorf. Wooden planks forming the walls, greyed from exposure to the elements, the roof made of thatch and shingles, a single brick chimney poking out of the apex of the angled roof. The windows were smudged and framed with wood.
But the place was looking sparse; much of the equipment had been placed back in the barn, which she and Sven had cleaned out... before he so graciously gave her Its gift.
The yard around the house was bare dirt, and seemed so... empty, with no animals or carts, tools, or sacks left out where Delilah's husband could easily grab it. Those small 'lazy touches' farmers had.
Nina felt sympathy for Delilah, now and since their husband passed away. An illness had claimed his life, weakening him steadily until he died in his sleep.
Now Delilah had nothing to keep her in Donstorf. Nina was going to miss her, before they had received the gift. They still were... but now, Nina had something to give to Delilah, a permanent reminder of their friendship.
She walked up to the door front door, knocking on the wood.
Nina heard footsteps inside, and heard the latch clacking. The door swung wide, and there was the tired face of Delilah Herrod.
"Oh, hello Nina," Delilah greeted with tired eyes and a tired smile, their dark green shirt and grey skirt looking a little rough. Her simple brown shoes appeared to have been cleaned recently, however.
She was only a few years older than Nina was, but she seemed almost as old as Father Cawl did, despite her conventional beauty. A face slightly roughened from labour, but more from grief. Green eyes that struggled to find their spark, and thin, rosy lips that didn't frequently smile even when her husband was alive, feeling like an outsider in Donstorf.
Her chestnut hair hung past her shoulders, the ends curling slightly, though it was all a little dishevelled currently.
Her frame was less voluptuous than Nina's, but still, pleasantly curvaceous around the hips, with an above average bust.
It was a shame her skin had lost its colour, once quite bright and healthy, but now a little pale. She didn't leave the house much at all since her husband died, especially without work to do.
Nina felt a pang of pain for her friend, but her spirits were buoyed knowing that she'd be giving them a most wonderful gift soon enough.
"I came over to see how you were doing, before you leave tomorrow," Nina explained.
