|
|
Post by ISAAC PENDRAGON on Jan 2, 2011 23:56:25 GMT -6
 There was just something calming about churches. Isaac had never been religious, even when he was little. His parents hadn’t made him follow any particular religion, leaving him to poke around in the various ones of the day and decide for himself what he wanted to believe in. He’d settled being comfortably agnostic, with no real feeling that that was going to change anytime soon. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in a God, it was just that he didn’t think any of the religions already established had it quite right. Not to mention that he didn’t like the idea of being told what to believe, given a strict set of rules for what was right and wrong. The world was full of shades of grey, and he wanted to feel free to interpret them for himself.
But even when he was little, he’d loved the atmosphere of a church. It felt holy, somehow, even though he didn’t believe in the Christian idea of God. Not so much the little churches, the modern ones; no, he liked the old stone cathedrals, with their towering ceilings and dusty stained glass windows. No one talked loudly in a cathedral like St. Paul’s, except maybe the tour guides, not that anybody took tours of the place anymore. Everything was hushed, and between masses the pews were mostly empty, but for a few people sitting alone with their heads bowed, thinking about their lives, or whatever it was that most people came to a church to think about. Isaac just liked the silence. He liked being away from the hustle and bustle of a city, sometimes. Even in the park, where Isaac usually slept, there were people. New Order goons rousting the homeless like him out every so often. That was what had driven him here today.
Faintly, he could hear the drumming of the rain on the roof. He looked up at one of the stained-glass windows along the side of the cathedral, watching the droplets of rain run down it. They collided and combined, or left smaller drops behind as they slithered down the glass. It was oddly fascinating. Isaac lost track of exactly how long he stared at the window, his mind exploring all the existential metaphors one could make with the rain droplets. That was the sort of thing he thought about; he didn’t really want to consider his life in such a peaceful place. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the peace the cathedral held with the echoes of bombs and gunshots and pain.
He considered the New Order, too. How they insisted that their aim was to unify the people under one banner and thus bring peace to America (and, he assumed, eventually the rest of the world), but all they really did was make everyone withdraw into themselves. No one could trust anybody else in this hell that Detroit had become. Nobody reached out to a stranger, whether casually or in a crisis. Nobody knew who was an agent for the New Order, and would turn them in at the slightest hint of discontent with the regime. Isaac let out a hefty sigh. What a sad state the world was in.
He felt someone sit on the pew next to him and turned abruptly, wondering if whatever higher power there was had sent a stranger just to mess with him. But no, he recognized the woman now sitting on the pew beside him, blood coursing down the side of her face from a gunshot wound through her eye. The empty socket gaped at him, and she stared at him wordlessly. One of his squadmates from his soldier days, Kendra. She’d been dead for years, her file marked KIA. He closed his eyes, willing her away, but when he opened them again she was still there.
”Go away,” he said after a moment, his voice pitched low so as not to disturb the other people in the cathedral. If anyone happened to be watching, it would seem as though he were talking to thin air. But he wasn’t concerned about that. ”You’re not real. We both know that. So why don’t you just go away and leave me in peace?” She blinked, but otherwise didn’t respond, continuing to stare at him with that blankly accusing look on her face, in her one remaining eye. Isaac sighed again. He was ninety percent sure that Kendra was a figment of his imagination, especially since this was not the first time this had happened, and he had had the same vision in other places, but maybe she was a ghost. If so, he didn’t know why she was haunting him. It wasn’t his fault she’d died.
He turned away from her, but could still feel her eye boring into him, into his soul. The muscles in his back and neck tensed with unfounded guilt, Isaac forced himself to look back up at the window, searching for the calm he’d had only moments before. He hated these hallucinations. They were harmless, in a physical sense, but… He shook his head and muttered to himself. Just another crazy old ex-soldier bum, waiting out the rain in the cathedral. ”Not that old,” he protested to himself quietly, not even realizing he was speaking his thought aloud. Great, now he was arguing with himself. ”You see what you did, Kendra?” he asked without looking at the specter. He shook his head again and closed his eyes. There was to be no rest for him today, it seemed.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by YSABEL TORRES on Jan 7, 2011 17:31:12 GMT -6
Churches were a place Ysabel was quite familiar with; she'd been going to them for as long as she could remember. In Brazil, here in America, everywhere she went there was a church she could take refuge and find peace in; peace some was something she truly needed in these most chaotic of times.
Standing att eh large wooden doors of the cathedral she stared at them, her hand resting lightly on the wood. Why was she so hesitant to enter? Did she fear being burned as soon as she stepped foot inside? As a matter of fact yes; she feared that her sins would bring on the wrath of God as soon as she pushed those doors open, but the fact that she was touching the doors and had yet to be burned was a good sign. Maybe He would have pity on her, knowing her circumstances and that she didn't enjoy knowing her sins. God was merciful that way, right?
Taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes, she pushed the doors open and stepped over the threshold, standing just inside. The doors closed heavily behind her and she walked forward down the aisle to the front alter. She glanced around the room, noting the various people that were scattered all about. Lost souls, looking for redemption. Like her.
Water dripped from her hair and clothes as she slowly walked, her bare feet leaving wet footprints behind on the red rug. Her blue eyes stayed focused on the large cross behind an altar that held a smaller, golden cross. Once at the front of the room she kneeled down, her hands resting on a wooden bar that blocked her and the rest of the congregation from reaching the cross. This was how it was for her; she was blocked from God's mercy.
Bowing her head she closed her eyes tightly and began murmuring to herself before making the sign of the cross over herself. She then stood up and turned back to look at the pews searching for one that was seemingly empty. It was then that she spotted a man sitting by himself; perhaps he wouldn't mind? There was only one way to find out so she made her way over to him. Once there sher gaave a small bow of her had and looked back forward.
Outfit: Here
|
|
|
|
Post by ISAAC PENDRAGON on Jan 7, 2011 22:45:38 GMT -6
It was beginning to get a bit more crowded inside the church, as more and more people decided to take shelter from the rain. In an effort to distract himself from the guilt-inducing gaze of his specter, Isaac watched a few more people come in, some wetter than others. Some of them hovered near the door, obviously reluctant to track water all across the floor of the sacred place, but others walked right in. One girl had bare feet, Isaac noticed, which was more than a little odd. Who on earth walked around Detroit without shoes on in the dead of winter, in the rain? She didn’t look dirty enough to be a street kid… how peculiar.
Despite himself, he yawned, covering his mouth with a hand out of some long-ago trained reflex. He was always so tired; from the glimpses he caught of himself in puddles and store windows, he knew he looked more than a little haggard, with a fair bit of stubble on his face and dark bags under his eyes. His alcohol habit didn’t help that, he knew. But what else was he supposed to do? He never slept without it, always kept awake by the hallucinations that haunted him day and night, following him everywhere with nary a moment’s peace. It was enough to drive a man mad. And maybe it had. Sometimes Isaac feared he was as crazy as everyone thought he was, that his act had become reality. He certainly wasn’t entirely sane; nobody who could fairly be considered sane hallucinated on a regular basis, let alone talked to their hallucinations. But at least he knew the specters weren’t real, right? That had to count for something.
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes for a moment, struggling to keep from falling asleep in the pew. This tiredness was misleading; even if he let himself fall asleep, his mind wouldn’t let him stay that way for long. The explosions, the screaming, the burning all down his side… he didn’t want to draw attention to himself by shouting himself awake. Not to mention he didn’t want to end up getting thrown out of the church into the rain. Better he keep himself awake and more or less lucid until he could find a better, more secluded place to sleep. Preferably out of the rain, though it would be far from the first time he’d slept wet.
”What do you want from me?” he muttered under his breath, his words directed at the specter, though he did not bother to look up. ”Why won’t you leave me alone?” Then, he looked up, and saw that he was no longer alone. A girl stood a short distance away, head bowed in his general direction. As he blinked, confused, she raised her head. What did she want from him? He’d never seen her before… that he remembered, anyway. Was she even real? Though most of his hallucinations took the same forms from day to day, occasionally a new one would crop up… it was possible he was imagining this girl. Then again, did it really matter one way or the other?
After a moment of just staring at her, he sighed and gestured to the empty space beside him on the pew; plenty of room for her to sit with the both of them still having plenty of personal space. ”I don’t know if you’re real or not,” he said, voice tired, ”But you’re welcome to share the pew with me, if you want.” If she was a hallucination, she likely would have come closer anyway, but the fact that she seemed to be asking for permission (albeit tacitly) was a small indication that she was real. In which case, Isaac was definitely more than happy to let her sit on the pew if she wanted. That was one of the other things he liked about this cathedral; all were welcome, and there was an air of generosity to it. As if, here, the petty squabbles of the outside world didn’t matter so much anymore.
He sighed again and clasped his hands, callused fingers rubbing across each other for a moment before stilling. After a pause, he glanced at the girl again. ”I should probably warn you; a lot of people say I’m crazy. They might be right. Hard to say.” He let out a short laugh, though a quiet one to keep from disturbing the peace. ”But I assure you, if I am crazy, I’m the harmless kind.” He shut up then, ignoring Kendra as best he could as her stare turned slightly more accusatory, as if blaming him for there being another person nearby. It was up to the girl if she sat down, or if she let herself be scared off by Isaac’s slight insanity. It didn’t matter that much one way or the other, in the end.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by YSABEL TORRES on Jan 11, 2011 20:53:41 GMT -6
Ysabel hadn't quite been expecting the man to speak to her, or even acknowledge her in any way; she'd assumed that he would just keep quiet and not say a word. Yet instead of doing that he spoke to her and actually gave her permission to sit by him. She blinked a few times in surprise before giving a small nod and sliding into the pew next to him on his left side.
She listened as the man spoke, warning her of his insanity that was claimed to exist. Most would have been somewhat frightened or disturbed, but Ysabel wasn't in the least. She shook her head slightly. "No one is really insane; everyone's minds are right for themselves. They only seem insane because no one else can understand the things that go through their minds." She spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as she'd been taught.
Her mother had always told her that it was rude to speak aloud in the house of God, and that if she spoke too loudly some day a bolt of lightning would come and strike her dead for her rudeness. Ever since she was a little girl and had been told that she'd kept silent during service, or if she had to speak made certain it was quiet enough to be heard by only those listening intently or close enough to her.
A small golden cross hung from her neck, and she reached up and held it between her thumb and forefinger. She brought the cross to her lips and closed her eyes, murmuring a prayer in her native language. The prayer poured from her lips quietly, flowing like water in a stream. As she murmured the words she felt peace flow through her body.
|
|
|
|
Post by ISAAC PENDRAGON on Jan 12, 2011 20:37:03 GMT -6
Apparently his admission that he might be crazy didn’t faze the girl, as she simply nodded and slid into the pew next to him, on his left side. Almost subconsciously, Isaac tugged the sleeve of his windbreaker down over his left hand, hiding the obvious scar tissue that stretched across the back of it. He wasn’t ashamed of the wound, but with the specter of Kendra so nearby, he really wasn’t in the mood to be questioned about it. Though he supposed it was a bit presumptuous to assume this girl would care enough to ask, better safe than sorry. Normally he didn’t mind telling the story, since with each retelling it seemed a little more like something out of a book or a movie, and less like something that had happened to him. But not today. Today he just wanted to sit in relative peace, without thinking about his past.
He smiled slightly at the girl’s response to his sort-of warning. Her words were wise beyond her apparent years. This girl had a tired sort of look about her, as though she’d been through a lot. Then again, the whole country had, when the New Order took over. No one was innocent anymore, it seemed, at least once they were old enough to notice the state that the world was in. ”I suppose you have a point, there, though not everyone would agree with it” he murmured in response, leaning back against the back of the hard wooden pew. Not designed for comfort, he supposed, though considering people sat in them for hours on end, one would think they’d be at least a little more comfortable. Though he supposed there was some sort of lesson in the uncomfortable-ness of the pews, it was beyond him. Religious doctrine very rarely made sense to him, anyway.
The girl who’d sat down near him clasped a small golden cross pendant in her hands, murmuring a prayer in what sounded (to Isaac’s admittedly inexpert ears) like Spanish. She spoke it very well, and he’d hazard a guess from her heavily accented English and the fact that she was praying (one of the most personal things a person could do) in Spanish that it was her first language. She spoke English very well, in that case, he mused. He’d never really learned much of any foreign language, though he could stammer his way through extremely basic Spanish from his lessons in elementary through high school. He didn’t remember much of it, though; it had been a long time ago, after all.
He turned away, giving her some privacy. He wasn’t much one for prayer, unlike most people who came into a church, but he liked to contemplate. He gazed absently at the altar at the front of the room, glad that it sported only a simple cross and not one of those vaguely disturbing crucifixes (there was something a bit off about displaying the withered corpse of a holy figure in your symbols, no matter what point you were trying to make). Without even realizing it, he hummed the only gospel song he knew and liked (Amazing Grace) under his breath. The closest to praying he would ever get.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by YSABEL TORRES on Jan 12, 2011 21:06:42 GMT -6
As her prayer came to an end she once more made the sign of the cross over herself before releasing hold on the small golden cross that hung from her neck. She opened her eyes to see the cross at the front of the room, larger than anything else in the room. It was simple and plain, only wood, yet it was so large that it drew ones eyes to it. She stared at the large cross, her blue eyes not breaking away from it.
As she stared at it her ears picked up the faint sound of humming. It took her a moment to realize from where and whom it was coming from; it was the man sitting next to her. She looked over at him and after a moment a small smile formed over her lips. "That song is one of my favorites," she said quietly. She had many favorite songs but the tune to Amazing Grace had always been one of her favorite to listen to and sing with.
Maybe it was because of the place or maybe she was just in less of a shy mood, but before too long Ysabel began to hum along with the man. She hummed through all the verses and choruses, and as the tune ended she smiled slightly and looked towards the man. "I'm Ysabel Torres; what is your name?" She didn't normally ask for people's names because she was either too shy or they seemed like they would be annoyed with her asking; this man seemed polite enough to at least give his name, and she felt at ease around him; maybe if she knew his name they would become better acquainted.
|
|
|
|
Post by ISAAC PENDRAGON on Jan 14, 2011 10:08:16 GMT -6
Partway through the song, Isaac noticed the girl finish her prayer and make that – what was it called? – sign of the cross or whatever on her body. She was evidently here because she was actually Christian, unlike Isaac. As if the prayer and the necklace she was wearing hadn’t been evidence enough. Isaac glanced at Kendra, but for once the specter wasn’t looking at him. She instead seemed to be studying the girl sitting beside him, with the same lack of expression as she always had. Isaac shrugged mentally, continuing to hum under his breath. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; he was just glad to have the specter’s stare off of himself for once. The girl couldn’t see her, so she wouldn’t feel the same discomfort he did at the specter’s (likely imaginary) presence.
Then his bench-mate spoke in her accented English, and he glanced over at her, pausing his humming for a moment in surprise. After a second, he smiled, resuming his humming as if he hadn’t stopped. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the pause. He ran a hand through his ever unruly hair, raking it out of his eyes in a habitual motion. He heard the girl start to hum along, her humming naturally much higher than his own, and his smile widened slightly. They went through the rest of the song without either speaking again. Isaac didn’t actually know all the words, but he’d heard it enough times to know the tune. Once they had finished, he glanced at her again, finally responding to what she’d said earlier. ”Yeah, it’s one of mine, too.” With more than a little surprise, he saw Kendra suddenly disappear into the air, and let out a slight sigh of relief. It wasn’t often that he was without one of his unwanted imaginary companions, but it was always nice when it happened.
He wasn’t much one for gospel music, in general. For one, he wasn’t Christian, so he didn’t really believe in what many of the songs said. And for two, a lot of the time it seemed as though the songs were sort of sucking up, heaping loads of praise on an apparently ‘mighty’ God. That, or they were asking for something. Or both. It seemed a little weird, to Isaac. He’d always been a do it yourself kind of guy, preferring to do what needed to be done on his own rather than go to someone else for help, though he didn’t reject help outright if it was offered to him. He just figured that if God did exist, He probably had better things to do than worry about one ex-soldier bum, especially with the state that the world was in right now. Let God focus on bigger things, he thought.
The girl smiled at him after a moment and introduced herself as Ysabel. Isaac returned the expression. ”That’s a beautiful name. It suits you,” he said without the slightest hint of insincerity. When he gave compliments – which he did more often than some, as he felt like everyone could use a pick-me-up from time to time – he meant them. ”I’m Isaac.” He blinked, realized he should probably give his last name as well, since she had, and added, ”Er, Isaac Pendragon. It’s nice to meet you, Ysabel.” He shifted slightly on the pew, settling into a more comfortable position. Seemed the rain was going to be coming down a while. Might as well be comfortable.
[/size] |
|
