#stragglers are punished for stepping out of line and failing to keeping up

[kelocitta]

Figuring her out a lil bit

[the-colony-roleplay]

Reverend Enoch Lynch | Forty Nine;  Elite

House: Torren Status: Infected — Increased Vision Elite Specification: Therapist

History

First there was Enoch and his mother and his father. She was happy and robust. She fed the animals, kept the house warm and her two boys fed. His father was healthy and worked the land. He took Enoch out onto the rolling hills with a rifle the moment he was able to hold it. Enoch knew how to shoot a rabbit before he knew how to read. He knew about Death before he knew about Life. He knew about God before he knew much about other people. The trio lived a simple life for a decade.

Then there was Mordecai and Reuben. A healthy pair of boys. His mother was still robust. His father was not unhealthy but he stopped working the land. Enoch helped to feed the smaller livestock, lit the fires, and he went out into the hills with his rifle by himself. It wasn’t long after that his mother’s belly grew once more.  

Then there was Eunice and Dinah. A frail pair of girls. His mother was hollowed out. His father unhealthy. Enoch was only twelve years old and he fed the livestock, cut the firewood, lit the fires and cared for his father. He still believed in God more than people. Hard work, quiet and unforgiving work at the whims of a fallible mother made it more and more obvious that humans were not perfect and never would be. He prayed on the lonely hills and always found a rabbit when he needed a meal.

Silent and observant Enoch began to understand. He saw his mother not as most children saw their parents; infallible, all-knowing, like how most people view God. He knew she was simply a woman, scared and tired of watching her husband die. A woman who wanted to yell at God till he gave her answers, till he gave her a miracle. A woman desperate to finally have a daughter and knowing her husband’s health was about to nose-dive rushed into the pregnancies. She thought the four children were a cruel answer to her fervent prayers, that if she asked for something God would give her too much to handle as a poetic punishment of sort. Enoch had opinions on that, he never shared them. He kept working hard, ran what little he could of the farm. Just enough to keep himself and his family fed and warm.

The Lynch family became something like pariah’s living in their isolation with an ill father, failing farm and fanatic mother and her small brood of kids she could hardly contain. Except for the eldest who seemed to belong to an entirely different family. Many called Enoch unnerving. Unaware or unwilling to see how much was piled onto the young boy’s shoulders when he did well in school, turned his steady unflinching gaze onto a task and completed it. The closest thing to a friend he had was the school chaplain. Even then, Enoch would arrive too early for school and settle in the school chapel, no-one quite sure what the boy was looking for. No-one asked so Enoch didn’t share.

Enoch’s interest in medicine had many assuming some sad story relating to his father: a naive wish to ‘heal’ people. Instead, he wanted to understand people like his mother. He wanted to help others in a less tangible way than fixing a failing body. It came down to it, Enoch thought, that the mind was the greatest struggle anyone could face illness or not. Human’s greatest gift from God but they’re the most sorely misunderstood of them

Pursuing his education meant choosing between his family and himself. His mother called him selfish and wicked; Enoch knew he could do more for them with a career and income than if he tried to prop up the failing family farm without any help. It was the first time his mother disowned him but not the last. Enoch always knew she was unstable, it was no surprise.  After that she’d made sure Enoch understood to never show his face anywhere she would see him. Easy enough, except for Sunday mass. It is how he found himself in an Anglican church. Whilst from an outsider’s perspective Roman Catholic to the Church of England wasn’t a big difference, Enoch found it to be an entirely different world. Without knowing about his mother, he finally found some sort of belonging.

Finishing up his masters and finding work, he proved to be a natural. When he was working, Enoch was to his patients a constant calm presence. Kind but not coddling. The work suited him, mostly. There was something missing. A few more years of working alongside getting more involved with his local church something finally clicked. People often ask about the ‘moment’ that would make someone decide to become a Priest. Enoch found that he never could pinpoint the exact moment. At some point, the thought occurred to him. Then a little while later he decided he should. So he did. Like with most things Enoch set his mind to he succeeded in it.

That was the second time his mother disowned him. When he told her that he hadn’t realized she’d ever ‘owned’ him, she’d only called him a wicked boy and he smiled at her for the first time in a long time. Enoch forgave her but that didn’t mean he was going to let her slither her way back into his life. Good didn’t always mean nice.

Enoch had his own parish, a greater sense of belonging and he could help anyone who came asking for it. It was good, he was happy. The happiest he’d ever been and at thirty-six, to be feeling truly happy for the first time, the melancholy of that wasn’t lost on him. Still, Enoch never let it stop him, it simply meant he wanted to do better by those around him.

Eleven years of this happiness and D-Day struck.

Enoch Today

Enoch woke up in the wreckage of his modest apartment. Crawling out of the rubble he felt sick to his stomach and the world spun. Normal, he assumed, for having a building collapse around him. With no serious visible injuries, he feared he had a concussion. Enoch set out in a confused haze towards the only place he could think of: his church. It felt fitting to find it, one of the only structures in the town left standing. A few windows shattered: but it still stood, proud and tall among the rubble and a desolate landscape. Pushing through his nausea Enoch sought out official help, seeing if anything was left of communication lines or the emergency services.It became apparent there was nothing and no-one but himself and God to rely on. He waited out the sickness and double vision. Later it would become clear he had an Infection: Increased Senses. Sight, specifically.

The first few years he spent based out of his church working methodically through the town. He sought out the living, first, knowing they couldn’t wait. After he’d found what seemed like the only living left in town he began to seek out the body of parishioners, just to give them proper burials. The church became what it was also supposed to be: a beacon of hope. Fortunately for his new flock, anyone who thought they could take advantage of the ‘kind’ priest were usually met with his rifle and unnervingly good aim. Hunting rabbits all those years came in handy.

The congregation ( as they began to call themselves ) were self-sufficient when the first Crusades began. It was optional, at first, for people to join the nearby Colony that cropped up. Enoch was tired enough that he considered the offer but politely declined. He stayed put, finding stragglers and once in a while people from the nearby colony would drop in to see if anyone wanted to come back. The third time they visited something felt off.  Enoch found that if he listened in on conversations between the Crusaders and his own people, it was less of an offer and more thinly veiled threats. They seemed particularly interested in those with gifts — infected, they called them. Called him.

It was a beautiful day in July when Enoch felt compelled to pack a bag, his rifle and leave. He told everyone in the building to leave tonight. Some listened, most didn’t.  The second wave of asteroids destroyed the church entirely. Enoch watched the building fall, knew that he couldn’t have convinced them all to leave. He’d done his best. And he was tired.

This last year has been spent alone: just Enoch with a bag of belongings and his rifle. He was alone but not lonely. He spoke to God still. Never lost his faith even as he picked his way through rubble and chaos. Even as he hid in the shadows watching Looters destroy and pillage he never lost faith.

Practically walking the length of England he came across a lot of people but found that more often than not, he never felt compelled to join them. He was still so tired, so unsure what his next steps were. He simply kept moving, settling down for a week here or there before he’d spot more survivors and find he desperately wanted solitude.

One day, he came across a crusading group which didn’t make him immediately turn tail. Enoch watched from afar and quickly realised they were simply scavenging for supplies. It was a ragtag looking group, not the usual gruff men who came to his church collecting his strays. He waited for them to settle down for the night and decided he’d done enough these past six years and he could let himself be taken someplace safe. Enoch approached with open arms, rifle tucked out of sight. Hands held out in greeting. Putting on his clerical collar may have been overkill but it tended to put people at ease. The next morning, he walked into Colony 22.

As a brand new arrival, he hasn’t had much chance to settle in yet. He’s still on high alert from years in the Wastes but truly it’s from a lifetime of exhaustion. Enoch found himself relieved to be in Torren after hearing the descriptions: Delmas sounded exhausting, Brinks insufferable and Calysets seem like a bore. Even if he seems a touch quiet or too thoughtful for his house, he’s always done what he set his mind too and if passion were their unifying trait Enoch has it in spades. It’d be easier to pry a dog from its bone than shake Enoch from a cause he believes in. Physically he’s not a formidable opponent in the games or training, but, give him a gun and a perch and he’ll terrify anyone.

TAKEN; ORIGINAL CHARACTER