rickitikitarr | 2. and the breaking point

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2. and the breaking point

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[He'd woken up this morning to a terrible new alteration to his body, and to Zane's (rather terrifying) network announcement. So, subdued, short;]

I don't know what the hell is wrong with you people, but this place is fucking dreadful. Someone let us know when the rampage killing lunatic has-

[Fuck. He stops himself, because he hadn't intended to let his temper get away with him. This isn't helping anyone. He, quite visibly, draws a breath in through his nose, lets it out through his mouth.]

I'm sorry. I hope there can be an announcement when the halls are safe again.

[Spam]

[The flood really hasn't been good to him. He gives up on staying holed into his cabin, and makes the trek to go get breakfast. He looks rather unusual, in a low slung pair of jeans and a sheet wrapped around his head and shoulders, held together over his chest with one hand, like a grandmother with a massive shawl.

It's better than going shirtless, which is his only other option. By the way his bedsheet tents up the centre of his back, something is clearly wrong with his spine. When he gets his tray, one handed, and the hood of sheet over his head spills back to reveal a dip at the top of his shoulders, a keen observer will catch sight of a ridge of uncomfortable protruding plates. They're interspersed enough that the movements of his spine are only a little restricted, though twisting side to side more than a bare inch is impossible.

So, he learns quickly, is sitting back comfortably against anything. He perches up gingerly on the edge of his chair, flings one end of the sheet over his shoulder like a scarf to free up his hands a little better, and starts to stab at his meal. He is in a mildly better mood than he was earlier.

Very mildly.]

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I don't know. That's what we do for floods, but... this ain't a flood.

[She doesn't think. Do floods ever go unannounced by the Admiral? Do floods ever happen at the same time as other floods?]

I think some of the wardens are working on something.

I hope you're right, Tiffany.

[Because otherwise he's going to really lose it.]

You've been here longer than I have. What do you do when it gets like this?

I stick around the people that I care about, 'cause the people are what makes this place worth it.

[Totally parroting Venus and others there.]

[He doesn't make light, because he's sure it's good advice for her. It just doesn't help him all that much.]

Keep your head down, hunker in.

Yeah, that too. I'm staying in my room a lot-- 'cause, you know, I don't want to get murdered.

Same here. Though I understand for some reason that's less permanent here than it might be otherwise?

It ain't permanent at all. If you die, you get resurrected. You feel like shit for a little bit after-- it was about a week for me.

Oh no- they didn't get you in this batch, did they?

[Very concerned; he hadn't heard.]

No, it was like a month ago. During a breach. I got eaten.

I'm sorry to hear it. I can see why you wouldn't want a second go-around.

[To say the least.]

It doesn't feel right to me. I don't think it is wrong and bad, not anymore, but I hate it and don't want it to happen again.

Wrong and bad on a metaphysical level, you mean? 'The dead shall rise?'

Yeah. It's just very different from how I thought things were supposed to be.

I don't blame you. It's hard to let go of expectation, particularly when they're related to such fundamental things as the absoluteness of death.

Yeah. But I've adapted, you know; now I think the Barge is just another way of doing things. And I ain't the only religious person who feels that way, either.

You're a religious woman, Tiffany?

I'm very religious. I'm a Christian.

I grew up evangelical.

[He admits, because it's a bit old- he's more than a little lapsed, but rather than making him want to bolt today it's just nice to have something in common.]

I've been wondering what my poor father would say about this as an afterlife.

That's what I am!

[She lights the fuck up, because she's only met Catholics here-- and while she's learned to be a hell of a lot more tolerant of Catholicism (it's been over a month since she last implied that Simon and Dillon worshipped the Pope!), meeting "her kind" of Christian is very exciting. She isn't even bugged by the probable meaning behind him saying "I grew up evangelical" as opposed to "I am evangelical". She finds herself leaning on religion less here than she did in Earth prison, but still-- she's grinning now in a way that she hasn't since her warden told her he was unpairing them.]

Okay, I-- I gotta ask. What are the churches like? 'Cause I didn't become a Christian until I went to prison, so I never been to a service or anything. Are they nice?

Well-

[Locking the feed, because this is going to be about his childhood now, and he isn't going to pull punches. She's a recent convert from the sounds of things, and he likes her, and feels like being honest.]

An Evangelical church, in the part of the world where I was growing up, was a small building with rough hewn wooden pews and whitewashed walls. We'd get there early, to try to beat the heat as it rose for the day. As often as not the space would be mostly empty, just me and the other mission kids, but as I got older and the faith found its' foothold, the people began to pack in. A lot of that was because there was a war on, and it was a convenient way to meet together and coordinate mission groups, but all the same- it changed the way the air felt. A packed church is... a high, is the closest thing I can liken it to, when the preacher is good.

[Ever so slightly bitterly, as he reaches for, finds and lights a cigarette, drawing in a deep and steadying drag.]

[She's enthralled, hanging onto every word.]

I would love that. I want to go to one someday.

It gives you strength, you know. Standing shoulder to shoulder with a hundred men and women, as the preacher shouts 'Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.' A good church, you tangibly feel- ecstasy and light.

[Another deep drag.]

Just don't do what my dad did, that's all I can say.

[She's feeling a little bit of that ecstasy and light right now, just from hearing it described. She closes her eyes when he starts quoting the imagined preacher, trying to picture it in her head. Eyes still closed, she asks:]

What'd your dad do?

When I was a kid I was in trouble, yeah? A little, at first, and then a lot of it, and he wasn't best pleased. He'd always been quick with a belt, but when I was... seventeen, I think, he turned some preacher friends on me to 'beat the sin out of me.'

[Aware that this is a bit of a drag, so he delivers the story lightly enough, bringing her to the bad part gently.]

They got me pretty bad. So bad I bolted, as soon as I could walk, never went home again. Haven't made it back to church properly, since, either.

Oh.

I knew a lot of kids who got beat, growing up.

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[audio] whoops I typed this up and then never hit submit

[audio] I do that ALL the time!

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