Tomás Finnegan Kearney

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Description

A broad, stoop-shouldered man with a priest’s collar and a bruiser’s hands, Father Kearney wears his faith like an old coat—tattered, faded, but still wrapped tight. His face is pockmarked and weathered, his nose crooked from the kind of fights that don’t happen behind pulpits. He smells like incense, sweat, and Jameson. The silver cross around his neck is nicked and dented. The Bible he carries is held together by tape and blood.

Personality

Father Kearney believes in sin because he’s soaked in it. He preaches forgiveness but doesn’t expect it for himself. He drinks too much, smokes too hard, and curses like a stevedore—but when the lads are in trouble, he shows up, sleeves rolled, ready to pull a bullet or swing a fist. He’s not the Church’s kind of priest anymore. He’s the neighborhood’s.

Habits

Lights candles for gang members—living or dead—every Sunday before Mass

Keeps a rosary in one pocket and brass knuckles in the other

Drinks from a chipped green flask marked “For Miracles Only”

Quotes scripture like threats: half sermon, half curse

Hooks & Angles

Was defrocked unofficially years ago, but still holds Mass in the back of O’Malley’s bar

Knows Veil rites older than the seminary—learned them from a dying woman who called herself a banshee

Still writes to the Archdiocese, hoping someone, somewhere, remembers his name

Has a deep, gnawing guilt tied to a death he caused—and only Riley might know what

Year of Birth

1904 CE 49 Years old

Birthplace

Cork, Ireland; immigrated to Canaryville at age 3

Eyes

Bloodshot blue, full of sorrow and steel

Hair

Graying black, thinning but combed like it matters

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Ruddy with broken capillaries, beard stubble never fully gone

Height

5'10"

Weight

201 lbs.

Belief/Deity

Catholic, lapsed in practice, devoted in pain