Deiniol's Apartment (currently uninhabited)

[Deiniol]

The jacket to the suit was laid carefully across the back of a seat and the buttons of his waistcoat were undone. It was about as relaxed as Deiniol Fey ever got and while some might think it was not too relaxing – he still looked as if he was at work and ready to spring into action at any given moment. The young man pulled the silver pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and rubbed his thumb over the cover lovingly. Carefully, he clicked down, letting the catch spring open as he took in the time.

What to do with the rest of my evening… Deiniol didn’t feel like painting or drawing and he was at home which ruled out most of his work… he sighed, and shook his head as he closed the watch again and returned it to his pocket. Plenty of hours left in the night and nothing to do with them.

It was on nights like this, that he missed his family, the Welsh community and countryside. There, you could be quiet and shy and still be surrounded by people who cared. Here, the only people who cared where the people he worked with and for. And the Lord.

[Deiniol]

Deiniol was just starting to think that maybe he would try to plough though The Silmarillion again – he’d never finished it or ever met someone who had; he was of the belief that it was impossible and that about one hundred pages in the publisher gave up and just starting printing random pages and lines inside that nobody ever noticed because nobody ever got that far. Still, it looked good on his bookshelf, even if it was a little pretentious.

His phone rang suddenly, the harsh sound making him jump slightly in the otherwise silent apartment. He reached out, fumbling slightly as he grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?” Deiniol spoke into the voice, his Welsh accent easily recognisable, even in that single word. “Father MacKenzie… yes… of course I can.” He nodded even though the man on the other end of the line had no way of seeing his acknowledgement. After a few more moments of listening to the voice on the other end of the phone he promised to be there soon, said his good byes and hung up.

A small smile spread across Deiniol’s face, pleased at the call. Father MacKenzie needed his help, which meant going to the Church and being productive. Instead of sitting alone in his quiet apartment. He did up his waistcoat buttons, smoothing out tiny creases and brushing away imaginary specks of dust as he did so. Then the dark suit jacket was pulled on and the knot of his tie tightened in three little tugs. All his usual rituals in fact, to calm himself and reassure himself that he looked like a professional, as good as he could. Deiniol grabbed his keys as he went, heading for the cheap car he had bought to get him around the city.

Continued at: The Parking Garage