you fellow philosophies ♱ sawyer&tanner

s a w y e r    l l e g e t   .

His fingers tire from the hours of recital for the holiest of matrimonies in years, but he plays on with a new sheet of music even as they're commanded to adjourn. There are months to go until the Church's next sacred holiday, but for a disciple boy such as Sawyer, that's too soon to go without practice. He's grown as a pianist since then, and the choir has learned to chant and sing such delicate and somber harmonies to praise the Gods. A year's time to master the Grave composition expected of him by Father.

Sawyer prays each night that he has the strength and muscle memory to be flawless the next day. He prays that the Gods hear him play and that They might see his dedication as a loyal follower and reward him with Their salvation. Father tells him to act faithfully as if his soul depends on it. The chords are meant to repeat while Father preaches in order to hold the Church's attention. From head to tail, over and over until He rests beside the altar. The low progression of chords is used as a way to force the congregants to remain on edge. They should be. Sawyer considers it a sin to deviate focus when Father is speaking. He speaks as a mouthpiece for the Gods. Miss a single word and they may never be saved.

It is a challenge for him to both listen and play. Even more of one when so many divine members of the Church speak in hushed whispers as they exit the building. He's careful to avoid eavesdropping upon the groom, Tanner, and the Proprietor as they converse in the pew across from him. Eavesdropping is like stealing from a private conversation between two non-consenting parties. With their stature and place in society, Sawyer wouldn't dare commit such a sin. The mere thought, though, is something he may seek guidance from Father to suppress. His ears wander outside the wooden walls of the church where cheerful voices talk freely in anticipation for the first marriage of the season and the excitement for those that follow.

Sawyer is to play for all of them but never call one his own. He wonders why that might be. Does the proprietor not trust him to create life? He's shown more dedication to the faith than most, he's sure of it. Why not me?

Like his worth, his fingers grow light. He releases a key– too quick– and the timing upon the progression becomes disorganized. He tries to catch up, then to slow down, but the result is nothing better than unsatisfactory. Sawyer's fingers twitch atop the keys until they eventually stop altogether. He shows restraint in not frustratingly slamming down the keys. To his count, the piece repeated eight times before failure on the ninth. With the duration of Father's homilies, he's not sure if that'll be enough to see through to the end.

"Why do you stop?' The voice is gentle, but it doesn't save Sawyer from the discomfort that someone was listening. His lower lip opens and he pulls his eyes to the left corner. It's Tanner, the prodigal son of Father. The groom-to-be in just a few days. They've spent minimal time together outside of the official workings of the Church. Disciples and divines are allowed to comingle, but Sawyer's nerves hold the divines at arm's length. Especially the descendants of the Holy Three. Tanner's wonderful, though. Sawyer listened intently to his youth sermons before Sunday services as he'd practice playing before the other congregants filtered in. They're always so lovely and insightful. Sawyer believes he'll make a great leader of the Church in the future.

"I think the Gods have truly blessed you with a talent." There's no reason for him to feel so anxious about this interaction. Tanner's smile encourages him to be, at the very least, a willing participant in the conversation. Father speaks highly of His son being a trustworthy and honorable young gentleman.

"Unfortunately, I made a mistake." Sawyer knows how that sounds to someone who doesn't understand. This is his path toward salvation; his mother can correct the errors she makes in her teaching, and his father's mistakes on the farm still yield food in the end. Everyone notices the mistakes in his music. The congregants, Father, God, Todd; and he can't amend it like everyone else can. It's right or wrong, and there's only one chance.

"Thank you, brother. I'd like to think so." Sawyer swaps out the holiday sheets for the ones he'd put together for the wedding. There are a number of them to sift through, but he wants to make sure that all of the songs are to his liking. If there's anything Tanner wants to be changed in the sequence, this is the opportunity to gain that clarity. He enjoys the style of music Father requested for the wedding. He wanted something enthusiastic and energetic for this generational event, and these compositions were the best that the Church had to offer in Sawyer's view. "I wanted to play you the music that I've put together. There are some sheets we didn't use in the rehearsals and I want them to be to you and Marybeth's liking."

He evens out the deck of papers on the stand above the piano, tired fingers stretching to prepare for another half-hour or so of playing. They fall delicately onto the keys. First up was the pre-ceremony music for when congregants line the pews. Sawyer almost starts to play, but notices the clock. It's getting rather late, and he doesn't want to waste Tanner's time. There's a more important song that he has in mind.

"I dug this out from the Composer Fields's belongings in the Church attic. This is a song dated all the way back to the date of Father's marriage to your mother." Sawyer points out the address at the top: for Alban. "Father might love to hear it again for someone who means so much to Him." He pulls the sheet closer to Tanner. There is a composition as well as some lyrics, making it a song, too, that sounds like a dedication from Father to His wife.

Sawyer hopes that his thoughtfulness brings the groom some joy above his nerves. This marriage deserves to be the utmost harmonious display of love in the Church's history. He'll do everything he can to ensure that nothing jeopardizes that.

s a w y e r    l l e g e t   .

Sawyer is surprised to hear that Tanner's willing to perform the song itself. Not that he would doubt the prodigal son's ability to carry a tune, but it's challenging to sing a song such as this one to shave the rust from one's throat. He remembers when Tanner was still a part of the choir. Sawyer bounced back and forth between watching the minister play his instruments and singing in the choir himself. The subtlety in his voice forced him towards the former. The minister of music expected his singing voice to fill out and become an instrument in its own right, but Sawyer's reservations kept it quiet, even when he tried to improve.

They're both so alike, Tanner and Father. They both watch over his shoulder, shadows that he welcomes to stick around. Sawyer wipes the worn creases out of the sheet as it's piqued some interest. The sheets have gone through decades of wear and tear, weighed down by the stacks of paper and instrument parts that the former minister of music, Brother Fields, left in his wake. No one in the Church plays more music than Sawyer, so it was only fitting that Father gave him permission to sift through old belongings. Father warned him to be careful with what he found in the attic. He told Sawyer that there may be deceptive documents up there from before Todd. In order to retain the identity and integrity of the Church, Father said he was to hand over any suspicious material. Newspaper clippings with doctored photographs of Ansgar Todd were swiftly handed over to Father. "Good kid," He told Sawyer. A red blush filled with honor appeared upon his cheeks.

"May I take a seat?"

Sawyer pulls to the side of the seat, the back of his knee resting on the edged corner. He flattens the sheets once more, taking one last run-through to make sure they're all in order while Tanner reads through the Latin text below the staff. Sawyer straightens his posture and turns his forearms parallel to the ground. The prodigal son, of all people, asks him to reserve his judgments as it's been quite some time since he's sung. "I would never judge you, Brother." It would be rich for a disciple to judge the second holiest human being in the Church. A disciple is just a grain of sand in the divine's desert. Without the divine's grounding presence, the grain would have no home. Impossible, it would be, for Sawyer to judge someone he aspires to be like, such as Father or Tanner. In his mind, that's the utmost dangerous precedent for him to set.

Tanner taps his foot to keep the beat as Sawyer begins to play. It's a pet peeve of his that he's learned to manage at this point. Someone who isn't as accustomed to reading and comprehending music needs the support more than a pianist needs the focus. He mouths the verses and whispers the harmony to the refrain as practice. He senses nerves and hesitation in the groom's voice, but Sawyer moves his fingers through the chords mindlessly to restore some confidence. The dip in Tanner's voice when he seemed unsure drifts away, bit by bit, until the refrain repeats itself and he chants through the line with more bravery.

Quam magnus es. How great Thou art. The lyrics display a high level of gratitude toward God for creating the world and the opportunities within it. It warms him to know that Father thought this way since the beginning. God saved Him, and He was gracious enough that He'd make a Church in His honor to save those brave enough to listen. Sawyer wouldn't be alive without the Church's inception, he knows this. How great Thou art, God, he thinks, for promising us a Savior in Todd.

He keeps his eyes on the piano as Tanner speaks about the piece and how Father and Marybeth might both enjoy it. Hopefully, the high regard means that he'll be able to play it at the wedding. He's led astray from the present for a moment by the thought of Father's pleasantly surprised smile beside the altar as the song begins. Maybe He'll even shed a tear– a happy one, at that– when He realizes that it's dedicated to Him. Everything I do, Father, is dedicated to You and the Gods.

Sawyer's body turns toward Tanner, still in the seat beside him. "Everything needs to be just right for your special day, Brother. You are going to be a leader of our faith, just like Father, and this song shows your dedication to God and us that you'll carry on His legacy." The thought of Father dying has always brought him great distress. Father is an irreplaceable figure in his life. What will Sawyer do someday without Him? He prays on this consistently.

"Your voice was strong considering your limited recent experience." Sawyer takes a pad of paper from the stack and notes a header. "Do you think we should add a couple of verses about the New God and the Church? I believe this piece was written long before Ansgar Todd won the Hunger Games. We shouldn't let it be outdated." He rips the first page of the notepad and hands it to Tanner, keeping one for himself to workshop.

"I don't want to steal your time though, Brother. It is getting late, and I'm willing to spend as much time as needed to prepare it." Tasks like these consume his day. Sawyer's not a lyricist, but the right words come along eventually. Whatever Tanner wants from him, he's willing to provide. Quam magnus es.

s a w y e r    l l e g e t   .

It surprises Sawyer, the amount of gratitude that someone of Tanner's status can have. He has a million things to do on top of the wedding he must organize and perfect, yet he finds the time to sit with a pianist and attempt a special gesture. He's so similar to his father. Father is a busy man who knows how to bide His time. When their confessional sessions go on for too long, and a priest comes to tell Father that there's a line formed outside, He tells Sawyer to copy the rest of his confessions and return them to Him in His office. Others need to be saved. He nods each time, walking to the back pew to put his sins on the page. After he delivers them to Father's office, they always come back with instructions for the next day.

Tanner's commitment to modernizing the song reminds him of Father. Especially as he offers to take a few days to write his verse. Sawyer doesn't protest the time, even if it may complicate things from a composition standpoint. He should have the time to perfect it, and if he doesn't, he'll make time. There are twenty-four hours in a day, and he's willing to spend all of them creating something exquisite for God.

The same can't be said for Tanner, as he admits that his mother might grow concerned should he not be home soon. Sawyer has heard many stories about outsiders not accepting the Toddist lifestyle. Some of them even view it as a threat to society. If they knew the great things that a community devoted to worship could do for their lives, perhaps they wouldn't be doused in sin. Satan burns a match for his sinners and drags them to the Underworld. They love the likes of Mace Emberstatt, Saffron Lowe, and Andal Searley, the new one. None of them have gone on a journey to find their people shelter from the Rapture. Who would follow those who'll drag them to hell over someone who's promised to save them? Heretics.

Sawyer nods to Tanner's request. He pulls together the sheets, writing down notes with arrows to help Tanner read the music should he be writing on his own. He folds them, delicately as the pages are aged and bound to rip with too much force. They fall into a manila envelope that he holds on to for the time being.

His companion in the church stands, bumping into Sawyer with the front of his knee. His elbow knocks into the bottom of the piano as he startles himself back from the touch. "Let me accompany you home, Brother Lleget." The offer takes him back. "Uh…"

For safety purposes, it's common for people to join one another while walking through the commune. In addition to the heretics, a number of young kids are known to wander through the desert and pester members of the Church. Sawyer dealt with them once when he closed up the Church after a late night's practice. Some boys had sneaked past the Church's walls and taken advantage of his shy demeanor. They kicked him to the ground and took his rosary and his Bible. A mockery of his faith, one ripped beads one by one and the book page by page while the other held the side of his face down against the orange earth. He cried there in front of them. That was their intention though– to see tears fall profusely from his eyes, humiliated by his lack of defense.

Once they left, Sawyer picked up every bead and page he could find, stuffing them into the front pocket of his shirt. He only told the person he trusted most of the event. Father said time and time again that the people of the Church are defenders of the faith just as much as they are followers. After hearing that sermon, Sawyer waited patiently for Father to offer confessions. As soon as they were available, he confessed to failing the test of his faith. Shadows bit and bruised him, and they were bound to consume him. His penance for allowing the desecration of holy material was to fast until the beads were lined up and sewn into their original place and the Holy Book's pages were put in chronological order. It took him a day and a half between the sewing, recovery of the pages, and handwriting the ones still missing, to complete his penance. A pianist's hands are smooth but not nimble.

"I would appreciate that, Brother." Agreement comes as an understatement. He feels guilty for his dependence on Tanner. There's so much going on in his life, and to ask for too much of the future leader of the Church worries him. Sawyer loves Father unconditionally, but he wonders if eighteen years of the attachment has left Him strained by his presence. What might a lifetime of that do to Tanner?

Sawyer bends the envelope shut and hands it to Tanner. "You may need these more than me when you're writing. I've gotten better at developing music from memory." He moves to the front of the Church, preparing to close its doors. Sawyer bends to one knee before the altar, climbing up the steps. He blows out a pair of candles at the north wall and turns the switches. Dim light from the moon is all that remains, shining through one of the stained glass windows on the eastern side. He descends the steps, bowing in deference to God once again.

"I'm all ready!" He pulls a pair of keys out of his trouser pocket. Of course, with the amount of time he spends in the church for a variety of reasons, Father gave Sawyer a pair of keys. He opens the doors to the church roughly three mornings a week. It's an honor to open God's ears for the people to speak freely. And it saves Father and the Arch Lector from hearing a knock on their doors early in the morning from a pianist eager to pray and practice his music.

The night is brisk, colder than usual for mid-Spring in the middle of the commune's half desert. Sawyer heard that Father has been working on getting permission from the mayor of the district to expand the Church's territory further into one of the nearby prairies. It'll be nice there. A lot less dry, at least, and a pleasant view of the green earth God has built beyond the church's lines. Sawyer folds his arms together. His polo shirt does little to keep him warm against the breeze. "My house is down the road. The third one." Sawyer speaks with pride. The house may appear big, but the Llegets actually share it with another family in the community. In comparison to the divines of the Church, it is nothing special. His smile shows an engrained sense of humbleness and gratitude.

Dress shoes scuff the hard surface of the desert ground. "Betrothals have been good to the Church's in-born generation so far." For the past two months, its preparation has been on everyone's minds. Sawyer wonders how excited Tanner must be after two years of waiting, and how honored Marybeth, a disciple of all people, is to be married to the future leader of the Church. "I think it's wonderful that God was so diligent in choosing Marybeth as your partner." He knows little of her other than basic traits from the census, but Sawyer prayed daily that God would pick the best of their generation's crop to marry the prodigal son.

"May I ask, Brother Tanner, are you looking forward to being wed?" Sawyer thinks of Moira and Kanin. Bang. Tanner and Marybeth. Bang. Each one another shot in the heart to his chances. The holiest of men wait and try their best to do so patiently and faithfully.

s a w y e r    l l e g e t   .

The goosebumps cross Sawyer's forearm as they push through the patched road. "Even though she is a disciple…" How those words let him down time and time again. The barrier between the elite and working class of the Church was built in an attempt to demand order. Rank and file; everyone has their place. As a disciple, Sawyer always felt somewhat submissive to the divine. They're priestly, closer to God by nature. With blood much less pure, he has to work that much harder to be cleansed. However, Father always promised him that disciple and divine were equal outside of the status. Tanner's comment makes him think otherwise, goosebumps grimacing with a stigma. Even he who knows everything about everyone holds Sawyer at arm's length due to an ascribed status. Sawyer shrugs it off, rubbing his arms for warmth. Certainly, he didn't mean for it to sound the way it did.

"Lord, here." Tanner stops in the middle of the road and removes his outer coat. Sawyer picks at the backs of his elbows. "Please, Brother. I'll be alright." He shakes the leather in his hand, insisting. He shouldn't accept material things as gifts, even if they're just for a short while and a kind gesture. Sawyer turns ahead in an attempt to decline, but Tanner holds his ground. With a long sigh and reluctant acceptance, he grabs it and covers his polo. Hopefully, no one sees them in this state and questions what Sawyer's doing with a coat that clearly doesn't match his status. Most days, he wears solid and neutral shirts and pants with either a belt or suspenders dependent on the day. On the rare occasion that he's allowed to leave the Church grounds, there's a green flannel with a pleasant pair of denim jeans in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Rope sways from the gallows as the wind brushes in their direction. The jail is straight down the road. Sawyer minds the Tenants of the Church etched into wooden signs past the executioner's platform. Every turn is a reminder that the Church's traditions are designed to protect him from stumbling off the faithful path. Be good. Be kind. Be obedient. If Todd returns for his generation, that lifestyle of dedication may be enough for him to be saved. Fearful, Sawyer is, of losing true sight, and judging by the prodigal son's tensing, he might be worried for his followers, as well.

"What about you, Brother Lleget?" Oh.

"Surely you are to be married, for who meets your devotion more." Oh, what a question.

"When you think of it, who do you picture yourself betrothed to?" Oh, what a question with an answer unknown.

The Proprietor, Vigilanco, struggles to answer such a question for Sawyer. He hasn't put much thought into the who after Father reminded him that only the Proprietor knows the appropriate answer. When, he asked. The answer? God's plans for you will be realized. His mother and father were paired off immediately upon their entry into the Church. His mother was running out of time to have a child that might live rather than die. The Church needed a population, and she would provide Sawyer, a member of the populace who now acts with the spirit of ten. Either way, when the Church needed his mother, and his mother needed a partner. That is how he was born: a necessity of creation.

He thinks about his response. Is it even appropriate to say which unpaired woman on the grounds he hopes to wed? "Hmm…" Sawyer looks to the line of disciple residences. His father would scold him for imagining this sort of life. He was single until age fifty. The first time he had intercourse was the night he wed in the Church. Never happier, he said. When urges began in his teen years, Sawyer sought the help of his father to overcome them and remain pure in all forms.

Sawyer closes his eyes as their turn onto the disciple's road. What does he see in his future? He sees himself in a black tux, a bit too tight as it's been adjusted from the Church's last wedding. He sees three children: two girls and one boy, kneeling to pray with him in the third pew, helping the next generation find God and be saved by Him. There's a woman there, too, a partner. And Sawyer can feel it, he loves her as much as God, Father, and the kids. The Proprietor will choose well for him.

His eyes open and they're twice as close to the house. "I'm sorry… uh…" Sawyer feels obligated to give him an answer. "Clara is very sweet. Out of everyone in the choir, I think her voice is the prettiest." It's not so much a vision as it is an observation. He hopes that Tanner doesn't judge him for naming a divine: will he see it as greedy for Sawyer to answer this way? "If Father Vigilanco asked me to marry her, I would do it without a second thought. Should she accept me, of course." He blushes at the word acceptance, a concept that has kept him cradled for all his years.

The lights aren't on at home. A common occurrence. His mother and father are getting older and their bedtimes are earlier. The same can be said for their housemates: their child moved out to live with another. Paired off, of course. Sawyer thinks about asking Father for permission to move into one of the new homes built recently to account for the new couples. He has no partner, but some more space away from his parents to focus on himself would not hurt.

"I will be blessed and grateful for whoever I marry. God has a plan for me, and I'd be a fool not to follow Him."

They approach the front steps of his house. In comparison to Father and Tanner's home, it's nothing special. The disciples' homes were built for one point: housing. Luxuries are far and few between for them. Sawyer points to the far side. "That's my room. It's pretty cozy." His bedroom is walled off from his parents', which he considers himself lucky for. His bed makes up half the room while a dresser and a mess of pages fill the other side.

Sawyer offers his hand with gratitude. "I appreciate your company, Brother. I get rather nervous walking home alone. It was nice to catch up with you, Tanner." His words are earnest. It's been far too long since someone of his prestige, outside of Father, has done more than entertain his presence.