Gratia Plena [NSFW, closed, open to readers!]

A modern Beausie (Bosie) AU, featuring a freshly ordained Catholic priest Boletus (renamed Beaufort for modern AU’s sake) and a nail tech Rosie! Closed RP, but feel free to lurk! @Ell (Tav: Rosie and Co.)

>:333

POTENTIAL TW: It should be obvious, but there’s gonna be a lot of religion talk, themes of religious guilt/trauma, and potential plot lines about the more unpleasant aspects of the Catholic Church. I try to keep it to a minimum, because that’s not really what I want to focus on. But if that’s a potential trigger for you, steer clear! OK LOVE YOU GUYS!

[TW: brief mention someone on their deathbed] Today is the day where a lifetime of work and dedication has finally led to something. His father’s words still ring in his ears as the bishop’s monotonous speech rings off the echoing walls of the church. “Beaufort, I am not long for this world. I fear I will not see our dream come true. But I have faith in the Lord, as I know you do, too, and I know you will spread His word.” His father, once so full of life, lie there on his deathbed, skin and bones and a voice that sounded like a whisper in the wind. “Holy Mary, pray for me.” “Saint Joseph, pray for me.” “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, assist me in my last agony.” Beau stands there, clad in white robes, just about ready to fall asleep. Must the bishop’s voice drone on this much? “…consecrate this chalice…” “…ordain these brothers…” “…Beaufort Edulis.” Ahem. “…Beaufort Edulis?” Beau snaps out of his trance at the sound of his name being called by a rather annoyed looking bishop. He walks forward, his body moving on autopilot. In front of him, another bishop in even more elaborate robes sits in a chair. He kneels before him and the bishop grabs his hands and begins to speak. “Do you promise respect and obedience to me and my successors?” the bishop asks. Sure, I guess. “I do,” Beau replies lifelessly. This whole thing, the culmination of a childhood spent in service of the church, countless interviews, and 8 years in seminary, is about the most boring thing Beau has ever experienced in his entire 27 years of life. Thank the Lord he has an afterparty to look forward to. He needs it.

Later that night…

A freshly ordained Catholic priest walks into a bar… Thankfully, priests can still go to bars and drink. The Roman collar that Beau wears on his neck, however, is a constant reminder that eyes are on him at all times. He must set a good example for himself, the Church, and God. It feels like a huge target rather than a symbol of his faith. His eyes scan the bar until they land on the unmistakable sight of his friend. His tail, accursed thing that it is, wags happily back and forth. “Jen! Hey!”

A young woman with black hair tied into an elaborate ponytail jumps off of the barstool and skips right up to her friend. “Beau! Hey!” the dark haired woman exclaims, small arms wrapping Beau’s body in a familial hug. She pulls away after a while, hands remaining on her friend’s forearms, as she looks him up and down. “Look at you! Mr. Priest! Looking real official! Come, come, sit and have a drink! We have a lot of celebrate!” She pulls Beau to the bar and prompts him to in the empty seat next to her. The two speak for a while, Beau updating his dear friend on how he’s been, how his ordainment went, and other various topics.

Rosemary very rarely goes to bars by herself. They’re never her favourite place. All the drunks, unwanted sleazy compliments, the throwing up in the toilets. She only ever lets Morgana drag her out. But, the boxer (now retired) has bigger fish to fry. Like, cook dinner for her shiny new husband and look after her son. So, tonight. It’ll just be her. What good will come of it? She has no idea. She just…wants to give it a go. Be brave for once. With a deep breath, she swings the door open eyes scanning the room for the emptiest, not so sticky table. She makes a beeline for a table nearer the back of the establishment, sighing with immediate relief when she’s sat in her chair The nail technician scans the bar’s menu, picking her poison of the night

While Jen speaks at length about her new girlfriend, Beau’s mind begins to wander, his friend’s words becoming static white noise in his ears. A girlfriend. He just remembered that’s nothing he will ever be able to have. The heart beating in his chest feels empty, as if each squeeze of the muscle does so with no purpose at all. Whenever Beau feels like this, he prays. Lord, I give this day to you. Guide me, protect me, and help me to remembered that I am never truly alone. Thank you for your faithfulness and for your constant presence in my life. In Jesus’ name. Amen. There. That pesky feeling is gone. He should be celebrating tonight. He knows his father is watching him from above and smiling at his son. Beau has become what he was meant to be, a vassal for the Lord to spread his will. And he deserves a fucking drink for that. The tiefling orders a simple beer. Best not to do any hard liquor, he thinks. Eyes are always watching. He sips idly when Jen starts to talk about her new pet chickens…

She sighs, eyeing up the bar. Maybe she should try sitting up there again. It doesn’t look too busy. And it looks a little sad if you’re sat by yourself. So, Rosemary sidles on up to the bar, ordering a strawberry daiquiri to nurse. She eats the strawberry garnish and takes a sip, enjoying the sweetness on her tongue despite the sourness of the alcohol

She gets the feeling her friend isn’t really listening to her. He has not seemed present at all tonight, actually. Wasn’t this supposed to be a big thing for him? Every time they spoke omg the phone, Beau would chatter incessantly about how seminary was going. Maybe he’s just in shock? Out of boredom, Jen begins to scan the bar. Her eyes fall upon a beautiful dark haired woman sitting alone and sipping on a daiquiri. “Woo, hey Beau, look at her! Ugh, if I were single…”

Beau doesn’t think he can roll his eyes any harder. “Weren’t you just talking about your girlfriend for the past 10 minutes?” He smirks when Jen scoffs and tries to walk it back, explain that just looking is no big deal. The life of a priest is a celibate one. Beau finds checking women out to be utterly pointless. He’s just here to drink alcohol that will barely give him a buzz and go home. This was supposed to be a celebration, but listening to Jen talk about her life: a new girlfriend, a new car, a new job, traveling… she did all of this while his nose was stuck in a book, ears straining to listen to sermon after sermon. He gave away his entire youth to his faith. What is he to get in return? He does not bother to look a the girl she is fawning over. What’s the point?

She looks around at the flyers, the one reading “Karaoke Night” It has today’s date. Hm. She looks up to see the staff setting up some form of equipment nearer the back of the room by some sort of stage Maybe after another…four daiquiris, she’ll be more confident to give it a go. Maybe.

She sees the sign too. And unlike Beau, she has been drinking freely for most of the night. She is TOTALLY drunk enough to get right on stage and embarrass herself. Maybe it’ll make Beau cheer up. She really does care for her friend. It doesn’t take long for her to pick a song. “Adore me, Hold me and explore me, Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one, Adore me, Hold me and explore me, I'm so fuckin' horny, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one…”

He almost spit his drink out. Beau was never one for modern pop music. He avoided it like he avoided most things that were cool and hip and ever-present in the current zeitgeist. Half of that was on purpose, and the other half just stemmed from him being terrible with technology. He still has a flip phone, for crying out loud! Is THIS how filthy today’s music is!? How… immoral. He just pouts and looks at the wall as Jen sings this song with all the grace of an elephant, stumbling around and belting out offkey, off-rhythm notes. His eyes focus on the countless bottles of alcohol that line the walls. He physically winces when Jen sings the word "horny." No, this is not cheering him up.

She sways to the song. She loves this song. It’s her favourite. She’d been practicing Carpenter’s dance to it in her bedroom like a teenager. She even sings along, under her breath of course, before opting to order a piña colada. Something to lift her spirits

Without realizing it, his tail is swishing along to the music. Again, this thing really has a mind of its own. Beau has to turn his body slightly to the right to catch it mid-flick. This damn tail! But now, an impossibly beautiful woman briefly appears in his view, sitting not too far away from him. Is this who Jen was trying to point out earlier? He immediately looks away. No. No point. He downs his second beer and decides that’s enough alcohol a priest should allow himself to drink for one night. His sharp nails click-clack impatiently on the wooden bar. It’s been a long day. He wants nothing more than to go home, but he knows Jen would never let him out of this damned place until she said so. She’s always been pushy like that. Under his breath, he beings to sing: “You make me wanna make you fall in love…”

She claps when the song is over, taking another long sip of her drink “What’s on the list…?” She wonders aloud, picking up her glass and taking a look at the list of songs on offer “Hm…”

“You make me wanna make you fall in looooooove!” Jen, who is clearly white-girl wasted, holds out the last note for way too long. She hops off the stage and skips her way back to her friend. “Beau! Beau! You gotta sing something! Pleeeeease! I don’t care what it is! It can even be, uh, some Jesus song!” Her chest puffs out and she takes a deep breath in preparation to sing yet again. “JESUS LOVES ME THIS I KNOOOOOW” “FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO!”

Ugh. You let her get way too drunk. “Jen, shh. You’re being too loud!” His friend covers her mouth and just starts snickering. “And no, I’m not singing anything. Here, let’s get you some water and get you a little more sobered up before we start walking home. He flags down the bartender and asks for water for both of them. Whatever small buzz he got from the beer he drank is gone, and his stomach just feels gross and heavy. When he glances over at his friend, she is pouting at the water, sticking her tongue out at it an making a face. She can be so immature sometimes. Maybe that’s why he’s only ever seen her as a little sister type. “Hydration is important when you’re drinking, Jen.”

“Uh…that one, please” she points to one of her favourite songs, allowing the alcohol to be her courage She takes the microphone and sits down on a stool, feeling like she might need it. She allows the song to play out, feeling herself relax into the familiar melody “*If there’s another universe, Please make some noise Give me a sign This can’t be life If there’s a point to losing love Repeating pain It’s all the same I hate this place*” -Saturn, SZA https://open.spotify.com/track/1bjeWoagtHmUKputLVyDxQ?si=bTiqphJzS7qK8pgoMA_AjQ

Beau has been trying to hard to ignore this woman all night, but as she walks up onto that little stage and begins to sing, he cannot look away. His eyes open wide, golden pupils growing larger to take in the sight before him. The world seems to stop. The words she is singing drag out, sounding like an angelic chorus, though hers it but a singular voice. Temptation. This is it. Temptation is right in front of him, and it’s in the form of a woman. His eyes are glued to her long hair, her sinfully curvy body and she sways back and forth to the song, the meat of her thighs spilling out of her high-waisted shorts, the… Stop. Stop. You cannot go down this path. But his eyes don’t stop drinking her in. They trace the lines of her tattoos: flowers, planets, butterflies. She’s like a walking museum. His tail is swishing about in the air, and Jen is just staring at this besotted fool and laughing right in his ear. He doesn’t register it at all.

“*Life’s better on Saturn Got to break this pattern Of floating away*” She knows the vocalising isn’t a part of the karaoke. But it makes her feel like she’s back in her room, rearranging her books. Or in her car, on the way to the salon. It makes her feel safe It’s almost as if she can feel the tattoo on her shoulder, keeping her rooted to the stool “*Find something worth saving It’s all for the taking I always say I’ll be better on Saturn None of this matters Dreaming of Saturn*”

His tail is swinging to the beat of the song, the twinkling electronic noise of the backing track making it seem as if the girl really is surrounded by sparkling stars. I’ll be better on Saturn. There’s a tattoo of that planet right on her upper arm. He continues to stare at it as she sings, trying to get as complete a view of it as he can. Suddenly the Roman collar around his neck, which he had been so proud to wear, feels like a noose around his neck. None of this matters. Dreaming of Saturn.

This song really was her favourite. Such comfort, it was. She remembers a time where she had never heard of it. And how different her life felt. She felt seen. There have been too many times where she’s felt like she does belong on another planet. But, if she got to hear this song, and sing it to a room full of people, maybe she was in the right place after all

Her bellowing laughter in his ears wasn’t getting his attention, so Jen elects to wave her hand right into he tiefling’s face. “Earth to Beaaauuu! Hey!” She puts an arm around him and pulls him close. “I TOLD you she was hot! Damn, I bet you’re regretting…” She stops herself from finishing that sentence. As drunk as she is, she knows how much him becoming a priest meant to him. How much it meant to his father. “Well, God never said you couldn’t look, right?”

That’s right. Priests are allowed to look. Priests are allowed to fantasize. That is the closest Beau will ever get to a woman like that. “Jen, quiet. I’m trying to listen.”

Her beautiful melody continues. Until the song finishes, and she bows, handing the microphone back and sitting back at the bar with her piña colada with a sigh, taking a long; hearty sip

The tiefling dares to glance at her as she takes her seat, but then he feels hands around his collar, pulling his gaze back forward towards the now-empty stage. There’s lump in his throat that he just can’t get out. “Jen… I think I’d like to go home now,” he says as he hops of the barstool. “Thank you for taking me out. I’d stay longer, but I had a busy day today, as you probably already know. See you around.” His words on their own are friendly and kind, but his voice sounds rather dead.

“Right… I’ll stay here a bit longer. Call me when you get home?” Beau nods to her as he walks out of the bar. She almost feels bad, this celebration turning out like this. Who knew some hottie was going to show up in the bar and take his breath away? Well, it’s just a girl, she thinks. He will likely get over it after a good wank or something.

She finishes her cocktail, and downs another before packing it in for the night. She Ubers it home, calling Morgana while she makes her way home to make sure she doesn’t get fucking kidnapped. She hasn’t had any problems thus far. But there are often outliers. And she doesn’t want tonight to be one of those

Thankfully, his tiny one-bedroom apartment was just a ten-minute walk from the bar. It’s the middle of the night, but as a tiefling, Beau never really felt like he was in any danger. Though the innate power his kind had was long gone, their appearance, especially in the dark of the night, was rather intimidating to most. As soon as the metal door closes shut behind him, he rips his collar right off. He feels as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. His unhappiness disturbs him. Is this really just the shock of finally achieving your dreams? Or is this just plain and simple regret? Beau doesn’t bother to take the rest of his street clothes off as he flops right into bed. A slightly overweight calico cat jumps right onto his stomach mere moments after. “Oof. Pho, baby. You are far too heavy to be doing that.” He picks up the cat, not an easy thing to do by the way, and puts her in the bed next to him. What was that song she sang called? “Alexa, play Saturn.” “Stuck in this paradigm Don't believe in paradise This must be what Hell is like?” He closes his eyes, and sleep soon comes.

The next day...

It’s hot. Scorching. Not an ideal condition to be sawing back and forth with a nail file in. Rosemary can feel her sweat stick her bra to her skin, the damp of her forehead and above her lip. Her chest is heavy with breathlessness, finding it hard to breathe even with her fan on, the window open and her extractor fan whirring away. “I can’t fucking do this” she turns everything off, storms out of her nail room and hops in her car, cranking up the air con and deciding to take herself to her favourite coffee shop. I hope they have that blueberry lemonade still…

He just got done with his first sermon. It came easily enough. Those prayers could be recited in his sleep, as long as he’s been studying them. Studying and studying. All while his friends traveled overseas and partied. He hopes his father is proud. It’s hard to feel like this was all worth it when the man who pushed him to do it is gone. The bell of the coffee chop door jingles pleasantly as he walks in and takes a seat by the window after picking up his mobile order. While he sits, he reads. Today, it’s The Count of Monte Cristo.

She parks up and wanders through the coffee shop’s door, smiling at the jingle of the bell Her long braid swishes behind her as she joins the queue to order, acrylics tapping on her phone screen as she waits

For a moment, Beau swears he must still be dreaming. Of course, as soon as he had gone to bed last night, he dreamed of her. Stars in the sky illuminating the vastness of space. The rings of Saturn, but instead of gas, they were made up of little butterflies. Is God punishing him right now? Is this because of the dream he had last night? Or is this a test? Is his faith to be tested for the rest of his life? He digs his sharp claws into the meat of his wrist. Ouch. Ok, not dreaming then. She’s really there. It can’t be anyone else. Because there is that tattoo on her forearm. Saturn. He can see it so, so clearly. His collar feels tight again. In a panic, he throws his head back into this book. ”When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever.” Right. He cannot have anything like her in his real life, but dreams? Is he safe in his dreams? This must be what Hell is like.

Her phone buzzes in her hand. She rolls her eyes when she sees the caller ID, answering it and pressing her phone to her ear “Hi, Rion. Is something wrong?” She greets, listening intently to the other end of the line “I can cut your hair- The morning of?! No! There’s not enough time in the morning of a wedding for a h-. No! I can’t get myself ready and you. I’m in Eli’s wedding party anyway. I will do it, the day before. You’ll come over to mine, I will manicure you, wax you and cut your hair” there’s a pause before she laughs “What the fuck am I gonna do with you? ….Okay. Okay. Yes, I love you too. I gotta go. Bye” She hangs up and shuffles forward, preparing her order in her head Hi! Can I have a blueberry lemonade please? With extra lemonade? Thank you. …by card, please

While his nose is stuck in his book, his ears are glued to her voice. It is every bit as beautiful as her singing. This is bad. His internal crisis is interrupted by the buzz of his ancient flip phone. Very few people text him, so he already guesses who it is. From: Jen ”Hey, Beau! Get home okay last night? You forgot to call me!!!!! >:[ Anyways, I’ve got a a friend getting married soon. Mind coming down to give your blessings? They’re a gay couple, so I know you can’t ordain it or anything, but one of them is a Catholic. Idk. I’ll give you the details later, because I already know you’ll say yes. See ya!” A wedding? He always did enjoy them. He wonders if he would now, knowing that he could never have one himself?

She orders, going over that mental script word for word before she does so, patiently awaiting her beverage. She admires her acrylics. She’d have to change them for the wedding. She could shorten them too, put on some nail art and- “Order for Rosie?” “Yes! Thank you!” She takes the blue drink in its to-go cup, places some money in the tip jar and wanders back out to her car, sipping through her striped straw. That was much better.

Rosie. Rosie. So that’s her name. Why is he not surprised? This really is a test from God. Flashes of red and pinks appear in his vision. His mother and father would spend all weekend pruning their beloved roses. The bushes in front of his old family home threatened to swallow the porch. The entire yard always smelled so strongly of them. But as his parents got older, and as his father became ill, they had to sell that house to downsize. The woman of his dreams just had to be named Rosie. What the fuck is his life. Beau physically slams his head onto the table, his horns knocking over the fake flower arrangement that acted as a centerpiece.

As she reaches the door, she hears a thud behind her. Her head snaps in the direction of a horned head bowed to the table’s surface; flower arrangement now arranged on its side. She raises an eyebrow. Unsure of whether to see what the matter was. Was it frustration? Did they pass out? …what if they did pass out and they need help? She couldn’t just leave. …could she? Before she can talk herself out of it, she backtracks, placing a gently hand on the tiefling’s shoulder: “…uh…hello? Are you…alright? …awake…at least…?”

His body jolts. Fuck. Please be a dream please be a dream ple- “Oh. I’m fine,” he says, voice muffled by the table that his pressed against his mouth. WHY DID YOU TALK TO HER? “I just… got to a crazy… plot twist in my book. Made me just… slam my head right into the table.” His head is still down. He dare not lift it up to see the dream within his reach. “It was a crazy twist, I tell you.” STOP TALKING. His cursed tail just thumps against the legs of his chair. Thump, thump, thump.

“As long as you’re okay. I didn’t wanna leave you in case you…y’know…passed out. I hope you enjoy your book!” …That was stupid She makes the short journey back to her car. Once safely inside, her head comes into contact with the steering wheel. “Why?! Why-?! Oh- you and your-“ she grumbles, biting back a screech She just sits back upright and takes another long sip from her straw “For fucks sake….at least he’s alright. Random act of kindness for the day, sorted”

When the coast is clear, he lifts his head back up slowly. A young child sitting at the table across from him is pointing and laughing while her mother is trying her damned best not to making eye contact with him. “Lord, give me strength…” Hope you enjoy your book! Right, his book. He tries to remember where he even left off. ” For all evils there are two remedies- time and silence.” How could someone with a voice like that with the kindness to check up on him, a complete stranger, be evil?

~ The Clock Ticks… ~ . . . . .

Weddings She loves weddings. She’s got hers planned to a T. …if she ever married. She stands on the edge of the dance floor, listening to one of her distant family members drone on about how “she’ll be next! It’ll all come at once! When you least expect it!” But she hasn’t been expecting it. Not for years. So many swipes and drinks and dates and she got nowhere. Not even in high school. But she was never an object of a horny high school boy’s desires. In some ways, she was thankful for that. She watches her brother and his groom over the other side of the room, stealing a moment just for themselves. It makes her smile, watching them. She was the one that brought them together, after all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but it was worth it. Especially if they ended up here. She smooths down her pale teal bridesmaid’s dress before excusing herself to grab another flute of champagne. She cannot stop thinking about that wedding cake. That she’ll be happy to indulge in later. Fuck the calories.

What a shame, he thinks, that the Church still has not come far enough along to accept a love like that as sacred and valid in the eyes of the Lord. But the Church has come a long way after centuries of strict traditionalism. It’s not everyday he gets asked to bless a lovely same-sex couple such as these two. His mind searches through a vast array of memorized prayers, trying to find the best one to fit this specific couple. He spends a moment looking at the newly-married couple. They look elated. No matter what people say, he could not see God as someone who would look upon this and call it sin. His tail, low to the ground, swishes happily back and forth at a moderate tempo. Weddings are one of his favorite things. The idea of a union so strong and scared, that it lasts the rest of your life? It truly moves him to tears. A shame that it’s the one thing he’ll never have. However, as an ordained priest, at least he will get to officiate them. He’s looking forward to getting to do more. So Beau stands off to the side, waiting for a good time to interject, eyes glued to his notebook.

She watches around, ensuring none of the Santiago children were running amok or keeping an eye on any of the drunk family members. Her dad, was surprisingly sober. Not completely. But, she supposes he’s getting a little too old to be the drunk fun at the family function he was from her childhood. It was also his son’s wedding. Possibly, the only wedding between his two children. So, she didn’t blame him. Once the grooms have stopped stuffing their faces with each other, she watches a beige tiefling make his way over to them; Roman collar around his neck. A priest? Please don’t tell me mom sent him She internally facepalms, taking another hearty sip from her glass. Huh. Empty. The fizz was going down surprisingly easy. Maybe she should have a Coke or something. Save face. And potential embarrassment.

There. A moment. The couple is alone, hands clasped together, just taking a moment to look at each other. Bea adjusts him collar and approaches them swiftly, before anyone else can come to interrupt them. “Congratulations to the lovely couple, blessed by our Lord on this day. Spare a moment for me to offer my blessings on behalf of…” He can’t remember who exactly asked him to come bless this marriage, or which one of them is Catholic. Often time, it’s more something for the parents. It makes little difference to him. “…on behalf of the Lord, I suppose.” The couple nod, and Beau smiles as he gets to do the favorite part of his job. Warm hands grasp the hand of each man, and he closes his eyes. He enters a headspace that makes him feel as if he’s floating. “We thank you, O God, for the Love You have implanted in our hearts. May it always inspire us to be kind in our words, considerate of feeling, and concerned for each other's needs and wishes. Help us to be understanding and forgiving of human weaknesses and failings. Increase our faith and trust in You and may Your Prudence guide our life and love. Bless our Marriage O God, with Peace and Happiness, and make our love fruitful for Your glory and our Joy both here and in eternity.” “Amen.” It was a bit of a wordy prayer. His eyes had been closed the entire time, heart feeling at peace, tail swinging back and forth slowly. The couple thank him for his blessings, going off to enjoy mingling with a multitude of other guests. His job done, Beau goes to grab something to drink: a simple glass of water. As he turns around to make his way to an empty seat to watch the celebrations, he bumps right into a woman who was standing behind him, spilling ice cold water all over himself. Despite the freezing cubes that are slowly sliding down his shirt, he is feeling the hottest he has ever felt. He is still being tested. He is always being tested. And the tests just keep getting harder.

She sees Morgana wave her over, sat at a vacant table with her eldest son on her lap as he colours in the provided activity. Romeo was never any trouble. It was his brother that was the issue, but even he's sat playing nicely with the toy cars that the nail technician had bought him last Christmas with his dad. The Santiagos never dared to leave the house without Camillo and his cars. They fear the tantrum he'd throw. With a smile, and more of a spring in her step, Rosemary begins making her way to the retired boxer. Before she walks straight into the same beige tiefling. Spilling his water all down his front. Her face burns the colour of wine, cheeks flushing and eyes blowing wide as embarrassment begins to course through her. You fucking clutz. "Oh- My God- I'm so sorry," she stutters out, "I didn't see- Fuck-..." Good job.

He is mortified. Please, please, just tell him that this is just a dream. “Oh, oh my goodness! I am so sorry!” Beau is starting to panic. His head whips around to a pile of napkins. Even though most of the water spilled on him, he begins to pat the few wet spots on Rosie’s dress dry. It takes him way too long to realize that he is rubbing the rather thin napkins all over the space dangerously close to her breasts. Never in his life did he jerk away his hand so quickly. “I-I-I-I-I… please forgive me, miss! I am really making a fool out of myself here…” Beau! Why are you still talking!? He stands frozen in place, his tail swishing so quickly, it knocks over an abandoned cup of beer. So far, he is failing this test that God has given him. F’s in the chat for Beau.

3

Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

Clara - Tav: Mim / Anareya

claraoswaldttv

Ell (Tav: Rosie and Co.)

polarized2023

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She's mortified at first. Panicked, almost frightened. Before his attempt to dry her dress, despite the drenched front of his shirt, causes her to erupt into giggles. "I'm more worried about your shirt rather than my dress. It'll dry! Are you alright? I really came outta nowhere, huh? I'm so sorry." She smiles, taking one of the folded, thicker cloth napkins and beginning to press it to his top. "It won't completely dry it, but it'll get the worst of the water out," she advises, "I'm Rosemary. Best Woman. Sister of the Groom. ...the dark haired one. Orion." An introduction is safe! Needed, even.

He chokes out his own name in response. “B-Beaufort. Beau.” His flesh feels like it’s been turned into stone. He’s touching her. The only thing separating her hands from him is a thick napkin. That’s it. His eyes are glued to her rather long nails. They are absolutely stunning. And, God, her *laugh*. This must be the sound angels make they greet you in Heaven. “T-than-“ He begins to cough violently; a small amount of his own spit having found its way down into his windpipe. God smite me now.

Another melodic laugh. "God, Beau. The universe isn't being kind to you today." She notes with a shake of her head. "If you were trying to thank me, you're welcome. It feels like the least I can do for you." After she's mopped up most of the water, she discards the napkin on the table, smoothing her dress back down over herself. "Would you like another glass of water? Or do you need something stronger?" She jokes, dimples not getting shallower as her smile persists. He was cute. In...a pathetic sorta way. But he was still adorable. Poor guy's just trying to enjoy the festivities.

He clears his throat into a balled up fist. “N-no thank you! I’m fine, really. I’ve caused you enough trouble.” Then, there’s a loud buzzing coming from his pocket. Beau takes out his ancient-looking flip phone. There’s an antenna on it and everything. Cringe. From: Jen “BEAU! Where the fuck are you?! The wedding started hours ago! Lae’zel is up my ass about getting her blessing! It’s not like you to be late, are you ok? Call me!” Beau almost drops his phone onto the floor as it rests loosely in his hand while he stares blankly at the wall. He went to the wrong fucking wedding.

“…more trouble?” She guesses. This poor fella. And she doesn’t even know where to go from here.

“Well, I just realized I came to the wrong wedding. Oh man, no wonder the couple looked so confused when I was blessing them…” His face is heating up with embarrassment. His claws at his collar as he feels it begin to tighten. “Well. Nice meeting you, Rosemary. But I’m not even supposed to be here.” Why did no one say anything?! The tiefling is about to turn heel and run away, but his brain is a mess. Just mush. “You look great,” he blurts out. Internal screaming.

“Hey. Before you go” She finds paper napkin and fishes a pen out of her clutch. Her trusty Bic 4-Colour. Never left home without it. She scribbles her phone number down on the teal napkin and holds it out to him “Drop me a text. Maybe we can go out for coffee or something. Y’know. When the universe isn’t out to get you” she giggles

Shaking hands take the pretty blue napkin and pocket it without much thought. All Beau does is nod his head while bowing slightly. His tail is literally wagging. And then he runs away.

“Safe journey!” …He took it at least! Good job, Rosie

“That was a fucking dumpster fire if I ever saw one. And I watched you fall for Rorick Kingsley” Morgana says from behind her, causing the nail tech’s shoulders to sting like a cartoon character before she faces her.

“It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even supposed to be here”

“But- Hey- he has your number now. Might lead to something” she wiggles her eyebrows

Rosemary rolls her eyes “Get a grip, Morgs. It’ll be forgotten about. Left on his nightstand. I know how this goes”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. You’ve always been “glass half full”. You’ll find your Elijah. Your Elias. You’ll get to use that scrap book. Now, come drink with me. I’ve not even touched the champagne yet today”

After an earful, and a very wild reception, Beau makes it back to his lonely little apartment. Pholiotia is there at the door, like always, begging for food even though the timed feeder should have gone off only 30 minutes ago. “Come on, girl. You can’t fool me.” Once again, he flops onto his bed with his formal wear still on. He takes out the little blue napkin. The fact that this woman gave him her number makes this whole situation worse. If he had not become a priest, he could have her. Well, it’s not like priests can’t… just talk. Hang out. Be friends. Would he be happy enough with just that? He doesn’t think he could live with himself without at least trying. Hours pass before he can work up the courage to text her. And then, more hours pass has he keeps deleting, retyping, and closing his phone in a seemingly endless cycle of indecision. ”To: Rosemary” “Hello, this is Beau. You gave me your number at the wedding. Would you like to meet up for coffee soon? I’m done with church service at 1pm most days. Let me know.” Sent. Does she know priests can’t date? God, he hopes so.

She lies awake. Thinking about everything that happened today. And about that poor, awkward tiefling. Luck really wasn’t with him, bless him. But…she found him charming. And he certainly wasn’t bad looking. Rather handsome, actually. Her phone buzzes. Why does it buzz? She looks at the notification. “No fucking way…” She smiles, blush rising to her cheeks and her heart races as she types out a reply. To: Beau “Hi, Beau! Rosie here! I was wondering when I was gonna hear from you! Coffee sounds good! Though I’m more of a tea drinker. I’m good for whenever! Let’s set a time and date <3” Sent “Morgs might’ve been right…”

He didn’t mean to, but the little naive tiefling fell asleep as soon he sent the message, the cumulative efforts and stressors of the day hitting him all at once as soon as he shut his phone.

The next morning…

Beau jolts awake as his alarm clock rings. He isn’t completely sure that he isn’t still asleep, because he wakes up to a text from Rosemary. Rosie. That name. No matter whether it’s her full name or nickname, he cannot escape the vague discomfort that name gives him. Rosemary, favored plant of the Virgin Mary. When she escaped to Egypt, she rested under a rosemary bush and spread her blue cloak across it, turning the flowers from white to blue. Blue. She wore a blue top when he first saw her. Rosie, so close to rose. His parents’ beloved rose garden that he’ll never see again. Their legacy gone, just like they are. Should he even bother? This is a dark path to go down. Only temptation lies at the end. But what else does he have to do? “*To Rosemary:*” “*Thank you getting back to me. Are you free at 2pm today? Or tomorrow?*” When he sends the message, he feels like he just hit the final nail on the coffin.

She smiles when she sees his notification slide in, quickly typing out her reply. Of course she’d like to go for coffee! She suggested it. Excitement begins to course through her veins To Beau: “2pm tomorrow sounds good! I’ll be sure to clear my diary. Can’t wait to see you!”

"Aaaaand the next day!"

Morning church service goes smoothly. If there’s one thing Beau is good at (I know he is pretty cringfail in this RP, but just stay with me) it’s reciting prayers. It’s second nature to him. Even while his heart is pounding with excitement from his… well… date, and even though he has to restrain his tail by holding it between his legs, he is still able to read smoothly, calmly, and without interruptions to that calm, priest-like drone of his. What are you doing? You can’t date! Of course, he knows this. He feels eyes burning into his skin about it. But deep down, he just wants to see her again. Hear her speak. God is merciful. He knows this. All you know about her is her name, and that she’s attractive. You’d be willing to break the rules of the church for this? The thing you dedicated your life to do? It troubles him that it comes this easy to him. Beau decides to stuff that discomfort away to freak out about later. So as soon as service ends, he rips off his frock, his collar, and puts on a simple Tshirt and jeans. And he gets to the coffee shop an entire hour early.

Her morning is a nightmare. Unbalanced till, empty essential products and at least one Karen. What a fucking mess. She leaves the salon an hour earlier than she planned, hoping it was in capable hands. With a hose down in the shower, a fresh face of makeup and a successful infill of her nails; Rosemary feels ready to tackle the rest of her day. Her date. She arrives at the coffee shop ten minutes early, eyes scanning each table to see if Beau was there. And, to her pleasant surprise, he was. With a spring in her step, she exits her car and enters the coffee shop; smile widening at the jingling of the bell and widening further when she sees Beau. She saunters on over to him, embracing the racing of her heart and the butterflies in her stomach. “Hi! Beau, right?”

Unfortunately for Beau, Rosie arrived to greet him mid-drink. He tries to sputter out a hello, which causes him to begin choking as the liquid goes down his trachea. COUGH COUGH COUGH. “Y-Yes!” COUGH COUGH COUGH. “T-that’s me!” COUGH COUGH COUGH. “B-Beaufort. Beau. Yes, that’s me.” His tail thumps against the leg of his chair, just to add to all the loud noises this quiet priest is making, causing several other patrons to turn and looks at him with mixture of looks, ranging from mild annoyance to extreme sympathy.

She giggles. This poor guy “I’m Rosemary” she beams, “But you can call me Rosie. People calling me Rosemary makes me feel like I’m in trouble” she confesses, “May I take a seat?”

“P-please do.” The tiefling tries his very best to compose himself, but his heart is seemingly beating a million times a minute. “So. Rosie…” He’s getting nervous. The end of his tail flickers much like a rattlesnake’s. “Thank you… for coming to meet with me. Honestly, I’m shocked. I mean. You… uh…” Just what am I trying to say? “I’m surprised you wanted to meet with me, is all. Why…?” That’s not the right way to open a conversation… You can discern her intentions later. “I mean. How are you doing today?”

“Can’t a girl ask out a cute guy?” She giggles, “I mean…I’m not…stupid…I…saw the collar. And this…isn’t exactly allowed. But…” she sighs “We can be friends? I hope” She had to Google a lot of stuff before now. Priests and their vows and the church’s expectations. She was disappointed when she found out dating was off the table. But, having time to adjust her expectations was helpful. Made this thing a whole lot easier

Cute?! He grabs at a collar that isn’t there. It feels nice not to wear it. Wait, what? He feels watchful eyes burning into his soul. It only makes his anxieties grow, a pool overflowing in the form of words out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just… well. I didn’t want to lead you on. Don’t get me wrong, you’re GORGEOUS. Heaven sent. Your eyes, your hair, the way you speak, your hands, and the tattoos? Gosh, they’re gorgeous, a pretty canvas adorned with pretty pictures… what kind of man wouldn’t want to…” Wouldn't want to what? Wait. Did I just say all of that out loud? His brain is telling him to run- this was a mistake. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen is sitting across from him, aware that he cannot have her, yet wanted to meet anwgays. And he just… confessed the most embarrassing thing he ever has. No confessional he’s had to listen to comes close to this. Yet, his feet are firmly planted to the ground. His tail hangs motionless behind him.

The openness and boldness is refreshing. But no one had ever been so complimentary of her before. "..Thanks, Beau," she rubs the back of her neck bashfully, a furious blush blooming across full; freckled cheeks. "I don't feel lead on! Like I said, I can live with friends. No pressure."

She might say that, but I don't see how she could. Isn't everyone looking for something more? "Do you mean that? I have to be honest here, but I find that hard to believe." The God he follows is much more merciful towards his creations that Beau is. "It's hard to find people my age to connect with in this field I've chosen. Catholicism can seem so... heavily traditional, old-fashioned, it pushes a lot of people my age away. I'm trying to change that. But I..." Beau has to stop himself from rambling. Surely, this beautiful woman does not want to hear about the trials and tribulations of introducing more progressive ideologies into a heavily conservative religion. "What I'm trying to say it that having a friend my age would be nice. I appreciate your understanding toward someone who is essentially a stranger who you met under odd circumstances..." His tail swishes nervously behind him, the very tip is it rattling much like a snake.

“I promise. Friends is good” she smiles “I’m also trying to meet people my own age. I also find it hard. But not because of religion” she readjusts her sitting position. Sitting still was never her favourite thing to do. “It’s just…harder for me”

"Really?" She just gave me her number with no hesitation at that wedding. And the way she sang in that bar... "I figured you'd be the extroverted outgoing type. Perhaps I was wrong?" His tail starts swishing faster. It almost seems a bit playful.

“It’s…better on some days than others. Alcohol can also factor in” she laughs. “And the noise level. And who I’m with” Her explanation is vague intentionally. This poor guy doesn’t need her to explain the extent of her problems to him. And especially not so soon. That’s a whole disaster on its own.

"Right, right..." Beau knows one thing: he would never, EVER, have the courage to go up on stage an sing like that under any circumstances. Even if she was drunk, it's still a tremendous act of bravery to him. "That makes sense. I normally would never find myself at a bar like that, but my friend had dragged me out to celebrate my ordainment. Interesting place to celebrate right? Priests are allowed to drink, we just have to be careful to not overindulge." Not that I would have. Being drunk in public like that... far too risky. The tiefling taps his nails nervously on the table, discomfort growing within him as the spotlight, so to speak, is on himself. His tail swishes apprehensively as he racks from brain for questions to ask Rosie. That is what people do when they're first becoming friends, is it not? Learn about each other? "So... I don't believe I asked what you do for work?"

“I’m a beautician and hairdresser. I specialise in acrylic nails and vivids for hair. I own my own little nail salon! I also take friends and family in my home. I’m trying to develop my own nail product line at the moment” she smiles “When I’m not working, I’m researching”

He raises an eyebrow. At some point, Beau finds himself leaning over the table, demonic yellow eyes staring holes right into the woman across from him. A beautician. No wonder she always looks so nice. "Wait, researching?" he inquires. "What kind of things do you research?" His tail starts to swing playfully behind him.

“Manufacturers, the best colours to start a line with, that kinda stuff” she smiles “I have notebooks filled with all the info. I just need to pick a manufacturer now. And…fork out the money. But- i have the savings for it! I can’t wait to see where it all goes”

"Oh, you mean you want to start your own nail polish brand?" What is such a cute dream... huh. Is that weird to think? That someone's dream is cute? "Well, congratulations! It's nice to have it all figured out, right? I wish you all the luck on your endeavor. Oh, I guess my follow-up question will be if you've got a name for your brand yet."

"Nail polish, gel polish, acrylic equipment. That kinda stuff. I hate naming things. It's so hard. I've had no luck so far" She shrugs. "It'll come to me. Do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Oh, I..." He's blanking. What does he do in his spare time? Oh, no. Now I'm get to show off how boring I really am. "I guess I, uh..." he begins, trailing off because he's not sure if it really counts as a hobby. "I like to arrange flowers sometimes... I don't know if I do it often enough for it to count as a hobby, but... yeah. I do that. Flowers." His sharp nails clack nervously against the table, matching the energy of the tail his tail swishes back and forth at an uneven pace. He's been trying not to stare at the woman's lips while she speaks. "So, you just need a name? Oh, gosh. I'm awful at coming up with that kind of thing, but maybe we can put our heads together, right?"

"I like flowers! I like all the colours they come in. The shapes and the sizes. The different smells. Hydrangeas are my favourite" she rambles with a smile. "If you wanna help me pick a name, that'd be helpful," she giggles, "Two heads are better than one."

"I suppose something Rose-themed is too on-the-nose?" he says with a chuckle. "You know... because of your name. Rosemary." What on Earth and I rambling about? And why am I about to keep going? "In scripture, the Gospel of Matthew to be exact, there's a story explaining why rosemary flowers are blue, you know. During Joseph and Mary's escape to Egypt, Mary took a moment to rest under a rosemary bush. When she hung up her blue clock to dry, it turned the flowers blue, too." He sinks his claws into his arm to stop himself from rambling on and on about the Flight into Egypt. There's no way a woman like her would be interested in such a story. His mind tries to relate this tangent back to what they were talking about. "So... maybe there's inspiration for a name hidden in there somewhere. You do... wear a lot of blue. Funny coincidence, right?"

She sits a minute, mulling it over. "...Blue Rose Inc. sounds good! Well- to me at least. My polish bottles could be shaped like a rose, I could have garden themed lines. Maybe I'll work out a makeup line in the future!"

"Wait. What?" Are you telling me my random bible fact actually inspired her? WHAT. "That... that's a brilliant idea, Rosie. Even if you just stuck to a rose-themed naming convention, well, there are an endless variety of roses. Noisette, centifolia, drift, Damask..." He starts to list off at least fifteen more rose cultivars. "Ahem. I think I've... made my point then. Haha. Makes me wish I could wear nail polish, even! Imagine that..."

“You can. If you wanted. It’s not a ladies thing” she shrugs “You don’t have to be scared of colour on your nails just because you’re a boy. Wear nail polish if it makes you happy, Beau. Hell, I’ll apply it myself”

He subtly raises his eyebrows as if he's actually considering it. "My nails? You'd do them?" Beau can't really argue with the woman in front of him. There's nothing in the bible that says that men can't wear nail polish. Sure there are plenty of people in society proper that might consider it a strictly feminine practice, but someone like Beau prefers to follow the word of his Lord. He finds Him to be more accepting than a lot of other people. "I've never really tried. Tiefling nails are, well. Mine are quite dark." He shows of his large- orange-tinted hands. His nails, which would typically be quite long and pointed, are a medium length. They grow so fast, it's tough to keep them short like he feels like they ought to be. They're a dark gray-ish color, reminiscent of coal.

“I’m more than happy to give it a go” she smiles “I’ll try anything. Gel might be better than traditional polish for those kinda nails”

The smile he gives Rosie is quite dopey. The prospect of her hands touching his for an extended amount of time is way too enticing. Sure, they can't date. He can't sleep with her (and isn't even thinking about that right now. Perish the thought!). But small moments of intimacy, even if they are done in a professional setting, is something. That will be enough for him. At least, that's what he tells himself when he agrees to get his nails done by a stunningly gorgeous nail tech. "Then... I will hapilly accept your offer," he replies. his tag wagging happily behind him. The wide sweep of it prevents anyone from being able to walk behind him. It's mildly annoying for customers trying to get to the bathroom...

“I’d love you to have you! We’ll take excellent care of you” she grins “I’m gonna go and get a drink. Do you want anything while I’m up?” She offers, “Tea? Coffee? Anything else?”

“Oh! Uh… tea would be great. Green tea. Thank you so much…” He stands up a bit right before Rosie leaves, his chair making a loud scratching sound. “You’re not going to pay for it, are you? I couldn’t have you do that for me…”

“I got it, Beau. Don’t worry about it.” She beams “Green tea yeah? With sugar? Milk?”

“Oh, just plain, please. But I must insist on paying for our drinks.” He looks quite serious as he holds his debit card in his hand. His tail swishes back and forth.

“If you insist. I’ll have a blueberry lemonade please” she smiles, sitting back down How chivalrous…

"Of course. Blueberry lemonade." As he makes his way to the counter, he keeps repeating that in his head. Blueberry lemonade. Blueberry lemonade. Blueberry lemonade. When he makes it to the counter, he blurts out "BLUEBERRY LEMONADE" before the barista finishes their very rehearsed greeting. It gets him one earnest laugh, which in turns, earns him a huge blush on his face. Soon enough, he returns with the tea and lemonade. "For the lady," he says a chivalrously as possible as he places her drink in front of her. As he sits, his eyes dart between Rosie's face, her hands, the wall, the floor... he just isn't sure where to look.

She can’t help but giggle when he blurts out her order. When he comes back, her face is painted with a kind smile “Thanks Beau”

⏸️