theme of grievance ✞ tanner&sawyer

Where else would Sawyer Lleget be but seated at the piano by the side of the Church? Fingers grazing the keys and feet by the pedals, he builds up with repetition in his muscles while nobody prays in the pews. Perhaps if someone was inside with him, he might play a song at their request while they commune with God, or he could simply take a glance at their expressions and play whatever he feels they need. His hands gloss over the board, over and over again, thinking about the past few weeks in the Church.

✞

Father told him once when he served as an altar boy that a time would come when all their prayers would be redeemed to deliver a member of the Church to salvation. "May he deliver you!" He remembers the chants from the Reaping square when Elijah's name was called forth in Todd's footsteps. Some chanted, some wailed, some rejoiced in Elijah's honor. Sawyer whispered the phrase amongst the crowd, hands cupped behind his back, a prayer of hope and fear rather than excitement and forwardness. None of Todd's followers had been reaped before that day. Father spoke about the moment which such excitement; the Church even sacrificed one of their own in Elijah's honor. Would it work? For every member of the Church who shouted those words to Elijah on the stage, there were hundreds more who stared down at them like they were aliens.

Sawyer grew red in the face earlier this morning in confession with Father Alban. "Were the disciples not breaking our Tenants of Faith by creating such a spectacle at the Reaping? Tenant Number Seven: Disciples may not interact with outsiders, and must direct them to a Divine in their place." It was a dilemma that Sawyer didn't want to address with Father considering it was His son would was chosen. He could see whenever they interacted in the confession booth or the Church's sacristy that Father was in a more negative mood. Better to wait for things to calm down than bring it up immediately when they arrived home from the Reaping.

"Why do you believe it to be a spectacle, Sawyer?"

"The way that the congregation was speaking, it was towards Brother Elijah, but everyone else could hear it as well. I saw this as an invitation toward interacting with outsiders. That's why I spoke softly– I did not want to break the Tenant."

Father paused for a moment behind the screen, and Sawyer rubbed the cover of his Bible softly while waiting for the response. "It was my son who spoke first, was it not? He is a Divine one. Perhaps you should see it as him speaking through them."

Sawyer's fingers fell still at Father's interpretation of the events. He hadn't seen it that way before. And He's right; Father Alban always seems to know how to quell his nerves and tell Sawyer why such fears are selfish to have in the first place. "I apologize for not seeing that. I suppose in the moment that I was feeling red and warm, so I assumed my heart was telling me they did something wrong. That's why I was quiet."

"Red and warm? It sounds to me as though you were embarrassed, or even ashamed, of your brothers and sisters exclaiming their faith in public." Sawyer began to interject, but Father's hand rose, silencing Sawyer back to his chair. "If God wanted you to be silent while others rejoiced proudly in Elijah's honor, he would have made you a monk in solitude. Do not use our Tenants as an excuse for your social ineptitude."

The words are harsh and strict, but Father always tells Sawyer what he needs to hear. Many consider him among the holiest of the Church for the amount of time he spends inside it, but he sees an opposite relationship. His many failures demand an attachment to the Church. Others come for a few hours a week because that is all they need. Those who spend as much time in the Church as him probably need to if they want to be saved.

"Those were not my intentions at all, Father. I love this Church and its congregants more than I love myself."

Those words could not be any more true.

✞

The aged doors of the narthex creak open, pulling him back from silent reflection. Tanner steps forth from the back of the Church. Sawyer minds the organ now, playing a hushed yet delicately pristine sound in the presence of the prodigal son. It has been a few weeks since they spoke last, walking home from the Church grounds on that cool night. The wedding was yet again postponed as construction for the new Church is underway. Soon enough, he'll play his piano in a brand new place. He'll miss the traditional structure they worship in now, but it's safer for all of the Church's members to be in a more modern and stable building.

Tanner waits ahead past the pews for him to finish, but it doesn't seem to be anything urgent. With each count of eight, he lowers the volume, piece by piece until there's nothing left but empty air blowing through the pedals. He greets Sawyer, speaking about a trip to town per request by Father. "The sooner we leave the better, but I will wait for you to ready yourself."

"It should not be too long, Brother. I just need to file these sheets back into their folders. Just a moment." Sawyer reaches behind him for a bin with dozens of folders. Each song within the Church's hymnal book is numbered. They go well into the three-hundreds, not counting the improvised numbers that Sawyer has to buy Father time whenever He needs it during a service. The bin has organized folders, each one holding ten different hymns. Although Sawyer knows the title of each song and the number it corresponds to, he keeps the bin up-to-date in the event that he finds himself too ill to attend Church. 113… 64… 82… 209. "There."

Sawyer pulls his dress sleeves down back to his wrists and rises, moving down toward the narthex with Tanner. Aside from Reapings, Sawyer has only left the Church grounds once. Back when he was a young boy, Sawyer had to undergo a procedure to repair a part of his left eye. It's all better now, with no scars or evidence of it at all, but he recalls his mother telling him that she needed to provide proof that the surgery was medically necessary and not cosmetic.

The pair venture outside of the Church, where Sawyer stops to inquire about the travel. "I do not mean to complicate the journey, but I'm not skilled with riding horses. Will that be a problem?" Maybe it'll be good for his legs to walk further than a lap around to Church grounds.