uncalendula | {rping} open post

[ The shelves are stacked to the ceiling with books, stretch from wall to wall with dusty pages, cover the room completely with tomes in dozens of languages (mostly Latin), contents eclectic, formidable in their massive quantity.

And Father Winchester is supposed to go through them all.

The young man pulls briefly at the collar of his clerical shirt, wrinkling his nose. It's a daunting task, especially for one person, but what can they do? They've been short-handed lately and he'd been asked; it's part of his many duties to to as he's asked, after all, and more than that, he wants to do this. The archives have needed a good looking-through for years and everyone knows that Sam is most up to the task. His dogged determination for tasks set out in front of him and undying love for knowledge are common jokes within the parish, though all made in good humor. Sam had volunteered for the task himself, though, looking up at it now... ]

Alright... [ He sighs, breath fresh against the stale, dusty air around him. Blessedly, they'd mentioned a specialist (had that been the word?) would be stopping by the church later in the day to pick through some of the old books, to see if there was anything he (it was a man coming, wasn't it, a scholar of some kind?) wanted. It was to be someone respectable and highly intelligent and loathe though he is to part with any of their books, Sam is interested to have the chance to swap theories and bookish banter with someone who seems to share his passions.

Some of them, anyway, he thinks, crossing himself before getting to work. ]

[Father Winchester, who Evelyn can only surmise is a genial, elderly priest (with a drinking problem, she's sure, all the Irish Catholics have one), must be the most blessed of saints to be willing to organise a collection as extensive as the one she's arranged to see today. The research project on her plate requires religious manuscripts and, with such an expansive archive as this at her disposal, it shouldn't take more than several months to gather the pertinent information.

Smoothing the front of her dress - even out of respect for whatever the Church considers abominable womenswear, she wasn't about to change what she'd normally don - Evelyn click-clacks down one of the side halls, directed by a hand-drawn map and determination that she won't have to ask anyone which of the many doors she ought to take. The cathedral itself is a labyrinth in its own right, marble stretching far into the walls, every sound echoing up through gothic arches and pointed vaults.

Spiral steps down, two more narrow corridors, cool temperatures and the slightly-musty smell of old parchment. Grinning to herself, knowing she must be close, Evelyn rounds another corner and moves beneath a stone lintel with vague trepidation.]

...hello?

[Tucking the little sheet of paper away, she moves into a half-lit room crammed with wall-to-wall shelves and stacks of books, a single reading table in the center.]

Father Winchester...?

[ Father Winchester isn't what she expected just as she isn't what he'd anticipated. The young, handsome priest sitting at the table does a double-take, blinking in confusion and glancing around.

A mistake, clearly. She isn't, er... dressed for mass. He gets to his feet and smooths down the front of his shirt, recovering with a polite smile. It's a mistake and this woman just needs to be directed to the front, or to wherever she intended to go within the cathedral. ]

Yes? [ He almost hesitates, really looking her in the eyes; she's... striking, very beautiful, and he has a very brief and fleeting desire to whip around and walk quickly away.

He can think of at least three things that his brother would say (stupid, idiotic comments) if Dean were here. ]

Can I help you?

[The priest, who is decidedly not old, nor is he unfriendly-looking in any capacity, appears roughly as confused by her as she is by him. Evelyn is not dressed for mass because she doesn't go to mass, but that's another subject to be broached on another day when she isn't trying to make a good impression on the person who will serve as a research advisor for the next several months.

...Lord, but he's tall.]

Ah...yes. I'm Evelyn Carnahan, I'm the specialist from the university. They did telegram ahead, did they not?

[Stepping forward she offers him a hand in greeting, attempting to keep her eyes from wandering too far. Her primary exposure to priests has been nothing but gentlemen in their fifties and sixties - Father Winchester looks her age, sharp-jawed with neatly combed hair. Evelyn smiles.]

A pleasure to meet you.

Miss Carnahan. [ Going to politely assume she's a "miss," though he doesn't try and justify it within his own mind. ] Yes, they-- I'm sorry, I only caught your last name, not your first. I didn't expect--

[ ... But Sam smiles, off guard, shaking her head with a tentative grasp, as if he's never shaken a hand before. ]

Thank you for coming. [ He nods firmly, bright teeth flashing in another, brighter smile. ] Would you... like a tour of the church, or should we get right to it?

[ This isn't a joke of his brother's, is it? Sending a beautiful woman to... tempt him, as Dean might put it, wouldn't be a huge surprise. ]

["Miss" is indeed the most appropriate title, even if Evelyn is far from the missish sort. Her smile persists through his explanation, faltering only at his dismayed expectations. Who might he have thought would arrive, then? Someone older? A man, possibly? By no means has the mistake not been made before, by other researchers who found her presence objectionable in spite of her expertise, but Evelyn is far too used to such prejudices to let them grate.

Father Winchester's hand is slightly calloused, dry, and warm. Lacing her fingers together Evelyn rocks on the balls of her feet for a moment while staring at his chin and wondering how someone so young came to be in the seminary, to be a man of the cloth.

They all start somewhere, she supposes.]

Mmh. I'm amenable to whatever you think might be appropriate. I wouldn't want to interrupt any services.

[With great care, she drags her gaze away from the collar of his attire to meet his gaze once more, friendly and open.]

[ It isn't that he finds her objectionable, or even questions her knowledge; Sam has known his fair share of wise and wonderful women in his lifetime. He doesn't know her, of course, but suspects she's one of them, a woman who speaks her mind freely and is often chided for it. Despite their having just met, he feels a strange surge of admiration for her.

Calm down. ]

Well, the eleven o'clock hasn't started yet... [ He flashes another hasty smile, one exactly polite and not more; his mind is on the schedules, the procedures, forever stuck on official business and allowing no space for other things. ] If you'd like, we can just take a brief tour before settling in. I wouldn't want to waste your time; I'm sure that you're a very busy woman.

[ Scholar of some kind? Teacher? ]

[Evelyn is still getting over the fact that priests this young even exist, so they're both on the same page.]

No, not at all! I've the whole day free to spend here, as long as I'm not getting in your way. The research will likely be conducted in your archives, with your sanction, of course.

[She wouldn't dream of putting anyone out with their job on the line, but Father Samuel Winchester seems as though he doesn't leave the rectory or the cathedral all that often.]

[ The tour takes longer than he'd expected. Sam shows her "just the basics," he announces at the start, "just a quick look around." By the time they've circled the church, he's almost horse from talking and is somehow enjoying himself more than he has in... well, ages. Maybe it's because she seems so interested, because she asks so many questions about the history and less about the absolution of her own sins (not that he imagines she has many; not that he's imagining her or anything about her). Whatever the reason, Sam comes to a stop outside the library door once again and, rather breathless, turns to Evelyn. ]

... That was - Oh. I'm sorry. [ He clears his throat and looks both embarrassed and pleased, scratching the back of his head. ] I really didn't mean for it to be that long.

[ Had it been terribly boring? It isn't as if he's a great orator, but once he goes off on a tangent about something he's passionate about... well. ]

You might've stopped me hours ago.

[The tour takes precisely the amount of time Evelyn thinks it should, which is precisely the amount of time Father Winchester designated for it. While architectural history is not one of her strong suits, Evelyn is a proponent of learning, if anything, and delights in the enthusiasm of others when speaking of their interests.]

And risk going back to the stuffy archives early?

[She grins at him while he flusters, thinking it is grotesquely inappropriate to want to flirt with a priest and keeping a tight leash on those sentiments.]

I very much enjoyed it, actually. Will you, erm, be working with me while I'm here?

We'll have to back eventually.

[ But he glances back out at the church, considering. ]

We could probably work somewhere else. It'd just be easier to be close to the archives, unfortunately.

[ Oh, right: the question. ]

I'm meant to, unless the experience has made the idea completely horrible.

No!

[she answers too hastily, a protest too quick, but hastens to recover from what sounds terrible presumptuous.]

I-I mean, no, you shouldn't- I would like that. You seem...very knowledgable about the history here and the texts having to do with my research, so as long as it isn't a burden to you...?

[ Well. He's surprised, to say the least; he'd never found a woman since he took his vows who'd spent more than a polite amount of time in his company, let alone was interested in the same things he was. Sam's brows shoot up and he clears his throat quickly, glancing down, admitting an earnest smile. ]

Well, I appreciate that. I don't know as much as most of the others, but it's interesting, and... [ He's reading and studying more than he's praying or much else, so. He's a nerd, basically. ] It isn't a burden at all. I'm sure we could move the books somewhere less dusty, if that would make the difference.

[Evelyn brightens almost instantly, delighted by the prospect of working with someone both knowledgable and younger than she anticipated, which should bring an interesting perspective to her work. She did not, perhaps, anticipate how handsome he might have been, which has her flustering more than the usual, but that's...that's something she can work through, she hopes.]

It sounds wonderful. Some place aside enough to prevent interruption?

[Once one gets into one's studies, it is incredibly jarring to be removed from them.]

Of course. There's a sort of study off of the archives; it's much less musky in there, probably because they actually put a window in.

[ He smiles fleetingly, looking excited at the prospect of! Knowledge! And he chews at his lip for a moment before gesturing toward the shelves where they'd first started. ]

So, ah - Should we start? Or... a tour might have been enough for today. I'm getting ahead of myself. If you would let me know when you're available, I can mark you down on the calendar.

[ "'When she's available,' huh, little brother?"

Can it, Dean. ]

Whenever you can accommodate me,

[she chimes brightly, noting the scant light and making a mental reminder to bring a torch in the event that one of the dim electric bulbs fizzles out. While the collection appears to be fairly organised it is probably in dire need of updating - resisting the urge to overhaul their system whilst working may be difficult for her.]

I'm available just about every day. [Evelyn grins.] I suppose you have to be, living not far from here. In the rectory?

I am. [ As is to be expected. Never mind the unusual amount of times he's called away and harassed by his family who drops by every once in a while to try and get him to give up the ghost, as it were. ] It's just around the corner. But we should meet here- er, obviously, as the materials are all stored here.

[ Why would they ever meet in the rectory, anyway? Calm down, Sam. ]

Then, tomorrow? If that's too soon, we're usually less busy on Mondays.

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