[center][h1][color=rosybrown]Luca Petulengro[/color][/h1]
[b]Location:[/b] The church
[b]Tags:[/b] No one
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Luca had some...demons of his own to face. He had been avoiding this for some time now, but with the hunters in town and everything else going on, he knew he needed to get it done now or never. Father Walter's office seemed colder now. The pictures that lined his desk, his file cabinet, the various other mismatched furniture, they all held a once warm glow. Father George Walter had been perhaps more than just a mentor to Luca. He had helped raised funds to get Luca into America, he helped pay for his school, he gave him a home, and he gave him a [i]chance[/i]. He was like family to Luca, perhaps the closest thing he would ever know for the rest of his life. 

The young priest wiped his eyes on his sweater sleeve and slowly got to work. The files, papers, and belongings left behind needed to be sorted through. 

It took well into the evening. The hunters had mentioned something about a concert they wanted to go to, to investigate and perhaps get to know the townsfolk. They had invited him to come along, but of course Luca turned them down. He was too far down his own emotional rabbit hole, and crowds weren't really his thing anyways. 

He pulled open another heavy desk drawer and began sorting through the papers. Bills, notes, documents, and then a manila folder. He pulled it out and opened it, expecting more documents for the church's banking account. But, instead, travel documents, passport papers, plane tickets, and a few photos fell out. Luca's own name popped out at him, and his curiosity peaked. Surely, after all these years, Father Walter hadn't kept these papers? But sure enough, the aging priest's pack rat tendencies to keep any kind of even remotely important paper had prevailed. 

Luca thumbed through the papers, then put them in the "shred" pile. He woudldn't need those. His passport was long expired and he was already a legal citizen now. He flipped over the first photo, and the image was haunting. A teenage boy, probably about 18 or so, stared back at him, eyes hallow. He was thin, sickly, and wore what was once a white t-shirt. His feet were bare, despite melting snow on the ground. One side of his face was purple, bruised as though someone had taken to it like a punching bag, and one eye was swollen shut with infection. He felt a little sick looking at the image of what he once was. He wasn't sure he wanted to turn the other photo over now.

But he did. This was one better. The same boy, sitting in a hospital bed with a younger Oma by his side. He was smiling for the camera, his face much less swollen, and was hooked up to a hoard of IVs. Memories flooded back to Luca's mind. He'd never been in a hospital before, and he was terrified. He'd only known Oma for a few days, but he clung to her like she was his birth mother. He'd never been able to trust a single soul since he'd lost his family. He remembered the nurses fussing over him, being so nice because they pitied him. He remembered the doctor coming in and explaining to him that he had a disease that wasn't curable. He remembered Oma crying, and not understanding why. 

Luca slid the photos back into the folder. He didn't want them, but he figured he should at least turn them over to the Pearsons. He slowly got back to work, sorting and filing. 

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLjY4YjY4MS5TM2xzWlEsLC4w/casual-hardcore.regular.png[/img]

[b]Location:[/b] The concert
[b]Tags:[/b] open
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Getting out of the house had been a great idea. Kyle couldn't remember the last time they had a family outing. Or a concert in town. He spread the blanket he'd brought onto the concrete ground. The concert was inside the town's coliseum, which was mostly used for rodeos and various sports events. The floor had never been it's best feature. He laid back and enjoyed the music and the opportunity to be out of the house.