A gift for Oreias

"I'm quite tired of these outlandish uniforms, Clery Mercy."

"Nonsense, Father Kuro. Consider it no different than your bishop's attire. After all, would you not feel naked if you were made to attend sermons without your clerical collar?"

Kuro fidgets. He pulls at the bottom of his new Matentines uniform, fitting it to his thighs and around it head. His cheeks are almost the same color as the pink fabric. It's clear… such an amount of color does n o t suit his personal tastes. "There is a grand difference in my clerical collar and being dressed like the icing on a cupcake, Clery Mercy. Not that I expect you of all people to understand, considering you add a new petticoat to your skirts each day of worship."

Mercy stops fitting Kuro into his holiday clothes. Their hands fold over one another in front of their chest and a familiar cold and calculating smile spreads across their lips. Kuro continues to ask himself why he pokes the sleeping serpent if he knows he will always be bitten. They tilt their head to the side, feigning curiosity. "Are you suggesting my own choice in unholy attire is, oh what was the word… outlandish, Father?"

The master of punishment swallows. A bead of nervous sweat rolls town his wrinkled temple. "I would never do such a thing…"

"Oh, what a relief. Then I suggest you had better get on the road. You have many deliveries to make, don't you? Your arms are incredibly full."

Incredibly full they are; stuffed with chocolate, roses, and other Matentines gifts to hand out. He hides behind a bouquet of purple so he doesn't have to look his superior head on anymore. Without much more word with them, Kuro excuses himself from the church property out into the avenues of the burrowgatory. As for his outfit… Mercy has found it absolutely hilarious to dress him in a delivery suit of pink latex. His ass is barely covered by short shorts that hug him everywhere he doesn't want to be hugged. The top is split down the middle, styled like a polo if a polo were made of the least breathable material in the world and belonged at the dance hall instead of on the chest of the local bunUPS delivery driver. On his silver haired head is a pink bandana, tied over his ears so they flop through the side, and a pink ribbon sits at the tip of his tail. He feels how he looks… utterly ridiculous.

However, the first stop on his trip of deliveries doesn't seem to mind. The second that Kuro knocks on Oreiás door and the midnight blue bun is greated with a face full of golden roses - he's entirely distracted. Kuro feels as though he could be standing in Oreiás doorway ass naked and the greedy bun s t i l l wouldn't be inclined to notice anything beyond the gold at his nose. He sticks said nose immediately into the petals of one of his roses, tips his head back, and releases a cheerful laugh out into the air. Kuro has a headache the second the sound reaches his fluffy grey ears. "Ooohh did someone tell you what to get for me? The color matches my complexion, doesn't it? I was practically made to be bathing in gold-- haha!"

Kuro stares blankly at him, unamused. Ah. He's… annoying.

As Kuro turns to leave, Oreiás stops him. He slings his arm around him as he shifts his form, standing taller than the "old" man. His hand s m a c k in the middle of Kuro's back. Kuro hunches forward, eyes screwed shut with a wheeze of pain trapped behind his clenched teeth. "Whoever's idea it was to get me this gift… Give them my condolences, won't you?"

"I'll do anything you want if you let me go."

"Anything ~?" 

Kuro hightails it the fuck out of there before he can be bothered further, the sound of Oreiás' laughter haunting him as he books it down the road. He limps as he goes, one hand reaching back to rub over the pink latex between his shoulders. Does Oreias understand how strong he is, or is he just… that much of an idiot that he can’t see how Kuro is a frail old man? (Ah yes, the bun entrusted to doling out the worst punishments to the non-sinners, a fragile and easily bruised old man…)