[center][img]https://urcdn.eu/forum/8bff4c47-2e89-4341-8896-19840ad5ebfa.png [/img][/center] [center][hider='Fit][center][img]https://urcdn.eu/forum/6aadbba8-56e5-4fc0-a758-467d824d153a.png[/img][/center][/hider][/center] [hr] [center] [hider= Interactions & Mentions] [center]Interactions: Mentions: Father McCarthy (@Ozzoqueen)[/center][/hider][/center] [hr] When Aran made it to [b]Fifth and Durum[/b], he took a moment to catch his breath. He was starting to panic, with his heart racing out of his chest. A few blocks back, he started choking on his tears and snot. Aran needed a moment, so he rested his back on the church, content with the fact that he was only a few steps from his desired location. From Father McCarthy, the last emblem of his childhood. It felt wrong, being here under these conditions. He wasn't even Christian, and it felt wrong that the only reason he was seeking a religious location was because people wanted to murder him. His backpack was heavier now, filled with old mementos and kitchen knives. His clothes from high school were also in his old school backpack, which laid atop his newer, heavier one. He figured that if he was holed up for the foreseeable future, it would be best if he had his own clothes. It was odd, returning to his house. It felt like he had forgotten all of the ins and outs of his home. It was barren without anyone else there, and the last time he had been around was a year or two ago when he briefly stopped by for Thanksgiving. He had left in anger and hadn't spoken to his brother since. He'd barely spoken to any of his family since, barring his mother. He was a stranger in this home, and he felt like a burgler taking the knives from the kitchen and his father's gun from the safe. He should've taken the television while he was at it. Taking a deep breath, Aran wiped his tears away and covered his face long enough to take a breath in. He tried to think about anything other than his father or his friends. Standing up, he made his way to the gate of the church. It only took him a few moments to see that it was barricaded, and Aran began to jiggle the gate ferociously. [color=adb80e]"Hello? Father McCarthy?"[/color] Aran called out, rising on his tiptoes. The church looked almost abandoned. It was never this quiet. The only thing suggesting that people took care of the building was the state of the garden. He began to survey the premises, walking the perimeter of the fence until he found the back. There was a small opening in the fence, one suggesting some sort of entrance. It was then that he found a latch and opened it, quietly. He was dimly aware of the danger in Fifth and Durum being so quiet, and it made Aran be even gentler with his movements. The gate only shrieked slightly as he opened it. It took him only a few moments before he was at the church door. He knocked, mildly aware that it felt like the only sound on the street even though only a few blocks over it was chaos. [color=adb80e]"Father McCarthy?"[/color]