Under New Management

Bastien had run back to the Church as soon as he'd realised the light of the Sparkbird allowed him to do so. Staying in the Rathskeller where people he knew could see him was no longer an option, not in the state Safrin had left him in. Once he'd drunk himself into a stupor and suffered a terrible headache he finally got the courage to look at himself in a large bowl of water that could suffice as a mirror. He didn't look like himself. ...He didn't look like himself. Suddenly, Bastien knew just how he was going to survive his trial. Safrin had not said that he had to do it as Bastien. Just that he had to be humble and survive the months without begging for his out. So he was going to do just that - as Jedidiah. The name was mostly random. Something he vaguely remembered from the few church sermons he'd attended as a child. But the persona he adopted was anything but; a careful arrangement of veils and robes hid any recognisable part of his body and the only parts revealed were two old hands and his virtually entirely morphed face. When he looked back in the water, Bastien found it easier because now he was simply donning a costume. But he knew Safrin would likely not like this twist, so he did something else: he took down the trappings of his half-born brothel idea and reorganised the church into something much more traditional, pews leading up to an altar bearing just candles and flowers. On the door he hung a notice that just said: 'Under New Management'. The people would come, he hoped. As they headed to their homes, as they ran from the confines of the temple; they would see the soft blue glow from the door and the sweet smell of incense and enter. When they did they would see an old man draped in robes sat by the altar, seemingly praying patiently. Bastien Jedediah Tremble little lion man, you'll never settle any of your scores