Snippet #2440191

Father Darrow hated travelling. Always had, always would. Ships, carriages, they all set him on edge. He considered it a blessing that he slept through the carriage ride up to the castle, and was only awakened when the carriage shook as the others left. He looked around, muttered a brief prayer of thanks, then took his valise and exited the carriage with the other scholars. He didn't know any of them yet, but suffice to say they seemed...interesting, at least. He wondered if any of the were Catholic themselves, or even Anglican. Anybody to help him celebrate Holy Mass. He already had a dispensation because of the extraordinary circumstances of his study, but he still felt ill at ease at potentially missing three, four, even five Masses. His hand travelled to his pocket, fondled the bundle of twine crudely knotted into a rosary.

He got his larger bag from the driver, thanked the man, and looked up at the castle. The severe lines were a sharp contrast to the Italian architecture he knew, as well as Edinburgh and the United States. He overheard some of the other passengers discussing the castle's connexion, or lack thereof, to the Nazis. He let out a short but sincere laugh on hearing a quip about the castle's age from one of the women. "Nazi or nae, it's a beautiful castle," he said, his brogue thin but present.

Dinner sounded nice. Perhaps then he could catch up on what he missed while asleep.