lambsmarrow

[lambsmarrow]

inherited your dad's crazy eyes

history repeats our whole damn lives

[lambsmarrow]

"God never gives you more than you can handle" is survivorship bias. People who got more than they could handle are dead.

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Toller was distracted, momentarily, by the contortion of Harmony's face-- the perfection of her proportions, of that awesome mouth. It reminded him of every book he'd read with the patterns made in nature, of a beauty so proportionally precise it couldn't be accidental. When her clawed hand touched herself before landing on him, the crackled repetition of her translator began to make sense.

Same... the corner of Toller's mouth twitched up, even if the weight of Harmony's hand on his head made his nose wrinkle. As he peered up at her, part of Toller mourned the lack of complex communication; he wondered if she had any concept of divinity beyond the physical world, and it was a shame he couldn't ask about it.

"Yes," he said in the end, both hands taking Harmony's wrist to guide her palm off of him. Toller nodded his head to emphasise his understanding. "I suppose we are.

"I'm warm, and so are you. And we both bleed, though my blood runs red instead of green."

Thanks to Harmony, he didn't have to. Even if he was the only one left to bury the mess of bodies left behind.

Toller wiped at the blood on Harmony's leg, disinfecting her wounds along the way. Without any further interruption, he'd replace her bandages, too.

"We're lucky your body heals like a human's," he murmured, making sure the bandages were wrapped taut without crushing anything. "I was worried..."

If Harmony had died, Toller wouldn't have a clue how to give her the proper rites in death. Or even if such traditions existed in the first place.

"I owe you." Eyes raising once more, Toller met Harmony's gaze unflinchingly. "Even unintentionally, I do."

for @lamsbmarrow // cont. —

Confusion was universal, Harmony had discovered, and the way the human in front of her reacted to her needed no translation. Her clicking sped up to a more normal pace for her. After a moment, she removed her hand. How to better explain ...

With a deeper noise of frustration, she placed both hands on either side of the sparking translator ( ignoring that the green dripped into her lap as a result ). Claws tapped the metal, and Harmony looked at it intensely.

click. [ SAME. ] click. [ SAME. ] click, click, click — [ SAME, SAME, SAME. ]

She did not know if the crackling human noise made sense. Harmony released the translator, thumped the area of her chest above her breasts with her fist, and then touched Toller in the same place. Something strange happened to her mouth : it contorted, turning up, as if she were attempting to mimic a smile. Her solid blue eyes fixed on Toller. My blood, your blood — we share similarities, you and I. Harmony had scanned the basic anatomy of humans before, but it amused her to point out these things to this particular individual. He was strange, and intriguing, and had managed to utterly captivate her in spite of the weaknesses of his species.

Harmony's clean palm rose, and she touched it to the top of Toller's head. She hissed. The creature had only been truly awake for two days, having existed in a half - awareness before during the worst of her recovery ; that she possessed more energy now meant that her personality could come through. Harmony was brutal, but she was also young and curious.

[lambsmarrow]

It perked up when he came close to inspect the wounds on its body -- or she did, more aptly. They had attempted to fit together some identification for her through their broken means of communication. She was female among her kind. Her name, ran garbled through the half - dead sparking translator on her chest, was ironically a word usually intended to be peaceful in human tongue.

Harmony.

The silver - and white - Yautja clicked when Toller moved closer. Her mandibles parted, revealing her striking pink mouth. As always, she showed her teeth but made no move to snap at him. He had proven himself to be curiously loyal to her -- changing her bandages, giving her raw small game, and speaking in a way that seemed pleasant for her to listen to -- and it fascinated the creature.

Harmony cut open the now - filthy rags that covered her thigh with her claw. She hissed at the feeling of the blood as it came up, bright green and glowing. click - click, click - click. The timing of her vocalizations slowed, echoing Toller's heartbeat. Harmony tilted her head and reached forward, massive hand pressed to Toller's breast. This close, she smelled like wet river beds full of mint and clay. It was sharp and earthy.

Your blood, she seemed to say. Her opposing digits dug into the flesh of her leg, drawing up more and more green. My blood. If it hurt, Harmony showed no signs of it. The many symbols carved into her upper arms and the plate on her face showed how deeply self - mutilation moved their people.

Toller ought to be used to this by now, but the ease with which Harmony's bandage came apart to reveal the messy green of her wounds made him exhale softly. She was made of sturdier stuff, clearly-- the marks on her told him that pain was an old friend without complication. But her wounds affected him all the same, more so when the bright green oozed up as she put pressure on her leg.

They looked nasty, but she sustained them when she killed the thing that razed through his camp. Toller doubted the aim was protection, and he was certain his role was small in the grand scheme of Harmony's life, but he wanted to believe God made this happen for a reason.

Witnessing the meat of the dead led to Harmony's presence in his life for something.

But Toller willed those thoughts away, offering the creature a small smile. "I'm sorry." And as he had been since they started communicating-- he had no idea if it even made a difference, if gestures were easier to understand than spoken word-- he signed at the same time.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

She did touch him, though, and he wondered. Toller crouched by Harmony's leg and anchored it gently with his palm.

"Do you not want me to cover it?" His head lifted, blue eyes sweeping over the deliberate lines Harmony made in her own flesh. "It bleeds too much, still. You might get infected."

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Though it was no surprise Harmony hadn't had anything, the expectation failed to quell the concerned furrow between Toller's brows. He said nothing, of course-- the blessing of routine domesticity meant he already knew what Harmony might say-- but watched her even as he slipped the pill into his mouth and drank enough for it to slide heavily down his throat.

"Thank you," he said, pretending he didn't notice the exhaustion on Harmony's face. If nothing else, at least the effort she expended to care for them made her bloom. Harmony always seemed happiest when she could be of service.

As he considered the tray of food before him, Toller bit back a sigh. He never felt like eating after those sessions in the hospital. But for Harmony's sake (she wouldn't eat if he didn't, and it never failed to astound him how easily her well-being was held hostage for love), he picked up the fork to slip food between his lips. The eggs, in the interest of keeping his stomach from upset, tasted like nothing; Toller comforted himself with one hand pressing flat on Harmony's back, taking her warmth in place of seeking flavour.

The mention of dreams made him hum. "I don't remember." Eggs swallowed, he wet his lips, fingertips drifting up the back of Harmony's neck before they slid back down to her back.

"I might have been too tired to dream of anything."

He watched her, though, as he ate, stroking her back as if this might ease the hunger she must no doubt feel. "I didn't shake too violently last night, did I?"

Or did he dream about waking up and whimpering for Harmony to hold him?

Harmony did not move to assist Toller in getting up — all she offered were words of murmured encouragement, soft and reassuring. She firmly believed in allowing him to try ; it was not for her to decide what he could and could not handle. That was between him and the good Lord. It helped that ( now ) she trusted Toller to tell her if physical help was needed.

They had been through this enough times.

A hand smoothed her hair back over her shoulder, and Harmony shook her head. ❝No, I haven't,❞ she replied, with no hint of bitterness or upset about that. Her fingers moved from her locks to the front of him. Harmony ran her palm down the fabric, ridding his shirt of wrinkles, and smiled. The bags under her eyes were evident when she did. How the bridge of her nose scrunched up when the curve of her lips was genuine emphasized them.

❝You and Isaac are my concern. I'll eat later,❞ Harmony said. She selected one of the bottles, shook out a small white pill, and handed it to Toller with water. This she did linger with, just to prevent any tremors from wetting their bed. ❝Nausea first ...❞

When that was finished, Harmony carefully set the tray across his lap. ❝... to keep down the breakfast you need for these.❞ Her nails tapped the other bottles, moved to the bedside table. Harmony stretched her spine with a groan. She then leaned against Toller's legs, fingertips tracing circles on to the top of his thighs lazily. ❝Did you dream, Ernst ?❞ Simple, gentle — her voice was so damn soothing. It was no wonder she did well with the baby.

[lambsmarrow]

@thisiamowed, unprompted.

Harmony set her tray down on the bedside table before she sat gingerly on the bed. Her hand cupped the side of her lover's face, thumb stroking his cheek. As much as she hated to wake him up, she knew he would need the array of orange bottles she had brought with her. They were arranged neatly beside a simple meal ( plain eggs and buttered toast, easy on the stomach ). Each bore Harmony's notes, which were taped next to the long labels bearing ominous warnings.

❝There you are,❞ she said, unable to hide the bit of relief in her voice. The days that followed his chemotherapy were always so hard ; luckily, they were past the worst of the isolation and gloves this period. Harmony smiled, eyes glittering in the sunlight. ❝Your cheerleader has already been up and back down again.❞ She referred to, of course, their baby boy.

Harmony leaned over Toller, lips pressing against his brow. ❝Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad he was easy this morning ? I get you all to myself.❞ Her laugh was abrupt and too loud, but it was genuinely hers.

The first time he'd awoken to Harmony by his side following treatment, Toller had wept for a long, long time. He did not sob-- the Lord had at least granted him that dignity-- but in the overwhelm of his fogged brain and weak muscles, knowing that someone was present to love him had been so overwhelming all he could do was cry. And because he could not stand, the wet stain on his pillowcase had been unavoidable.

Today, Harmony's kiss only made him smile, even if the nausea threatened to ruin it all. It felt so good to hear her laugh.

Voice rough with fatigue, Toller leaned into Harmony's touch. "Perhaps Isaac planned for it to happen that way."

He rose slowly, leaning back against the headboard of their bed, and exhaled against the dizziness that threatened to swallow him. The hardest part of his day was rising from sleep-- once he did that, everything else would be easy.

"I missed my alarm again," he murmured as he faced her, and it was not a question.

For years Toller hadn't required one, but cancer treatment made it so that his emergency alarms went off without his notice. Harmony was the only reason he was healing at all, he was sure, and he tried not to feel shame for it. To feel sorry that he was so helpless.

Instead, he asked, "Have you eaten already?"

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There was something comforting about the simple act of cooking for one you cared about. The ordinariness of standing in his kitchen and beating eggs with a fork as he spoke with someone soothed him in a way that was as relieving as it was undeserving.

He took Harmony's rejection with grace. But when her expression changed, and her head bowed, and he heard the swear that left her lips amidst sounds of misery, his fork stilled in its movements.

Toller's lips parted. "Harmony--"

And when she interrupted him, and moved instead to stand, the bowl was set aside altogether.

He had consoled her in touch only once since finding Abel's body. Hearing Harmony force a laugh out of her trembling lips made the second time happen.

It was strong, this desire to hold her, but Toller did not give in. Though he stood before her, all he did was touch her shoulder, then allow his fingers to drift down her arm until he was taking the hand over her mouth in his own.

"I do," he said gently. "I do have a bathroom. And you're free to use it, Harmony, if you'll do this one thing for me."

He allowed her some moments to process this. Only when he was sure that she was listening to him did Toller squeeze her hand.

"Don't be sorry. Not for me. All right?"

His smile was soft-- careful without being closed off. "In Christ's teachings we learn the importance of compassion for one another, of presence. I offered my home to you because I wanted to.

"I don't want you to be alone."

With that, Toller gave the directions to his bathroom. The house was small enough they weren't complicated at all. And once Harmony was gone from him, he set to work on that omelette, making sure hers was prepared by the time she returned.

Harmony looked up abruptly at Toller's offer. It stunned her — and so did how quickly she wanted to say yes, without any thought for his other suggestions. Was it her bitterness toward the rest of Snowbridge and its seemingly endless muttering ? or the fact that he was familiar to her in a way no one else was ?

She lifted her arms and folded them on top of the table. It helped to stretch her back. For a moment, Harmony held his gaze as it looked back to her. The sorrow in her own eyes was deep and damning ; her blues looked like the rough, dark sea of her home. ❝I ... couldn't,❞ Harmony answered with a gentle shake of her head.

❝It is sweet of you, Father,❞ she continued, ❝but you have done too much as it is. I couldn't ask more, since I feel ...❞

Harmony's statement broke off. Her gaze lowered to the table, and the fingers she had wrapped around her bent elbows tightened their grip. A simple shift back allowed her to hang her head and hide behind her blond hair. Tears dripped from her lashes. She cursed every burning, glittering droplet.

❝Shit.❞ Harmony whispered it hoarsely, sniffed, and then wondered if it was wrong to swear in front of a priest. A hand rose up and set, trembling, against her pink lips. ❝I apologize. Father, do you have a bathroom I could use ?❞ The stability of her voice astounded her, but she was grateful for it. Harmony rose to her feet slowly. She neglected her heels, cast away under the table forever now. ❝... the price of creating new life and all that.❞ Harmony attempted to laugh, but she knew it came out too loud and forced.

I feel guilty for ever involving you, she wanted to say. It should have been me who found him, not you.

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Toller could never have the power to withhold anything from anyone. Despite the clear joking in Harmony's tone as she spoke of forbidding— and his own attempt at smiling in turn— that thought was loud in his head. No good could come from an attempt to control the world and its variables, not even for a woman he'd wish would rest more than anything. The moment man thought he held any power, he was lost (the moment anyone’s fate lay in Toller’s hands, they would—).

“I know some people,” he said, though swiftly recalled how many of those people were also involved with Abundant Life. Would it be right of him to direct Harmony their way, when she so clearly preferred the smaller congregations? She was so new to the faith, the idea of sending her to Abundant Life evoked the image of taking a lamb to slaughter.

Slaughter. He had no right to think of them that way.

“I’ll ask some of the members of our church. We have—we have able-bodied men and women, who I know usually have time on Sundays if nothing else. And I’m sure they’d be happy to help for free.”

With the vegetables washed, Toller began chopping. He found comfort in such simple tasks and the roteness of them; even before all this, he always knew how to put food on the table. Carrots were diced, corn was removed from its cob, and then he set about chopping onion and garlic into smaller pieces.

It’d been a long time since he cooked for anybody. How blessed he was to do it for Harmony and her son, and to feel lighter because of it. Service had always been a fulfilling act, but there was something about the groundedness of this—to do good without the church, and more importantly to be allowed to.

That was the reason for what he said next, surely.

“If you’d like,” Toller began, moving now to whisk eggs with a fork and looking behind him as he did, “I’d be happy to offer my help, too.”

❝Thank you,❞ Harmony said as she accepted Toller's arm. Her gratitude was not just for the gesture but meant to encompass everything. That she had become a social pariah following these painful last few days did not surprise her. Still, it was lonely, and the bitterness Harmony felt as a result of it sometimes threatened to overwhelm her. It had taken all of her strength not to stand up in the middle of the service and scream out the burning grief and anger inside of her.

If it was any other priest up there ... maybe she would have.

Harmony repeated her thanks when she was invited in. Her hands rubbed at her upper arms after she relinquished her coat. What struck her first was the emptiness of the place. There was very little furniture, and the distance from one side of the main room to the other seemed an impossible gulf. Harmony's lips hovered open as she followed Toller to the kitchen, though the questions she wanted to ask were swallowed back.

She sat, tucked her hands under her stomach, and quietly slipped off her heels beneath the table. Harmony issued a soft groan at the relief of removing those. Her blue eyes wandered around the kitchen until Toller returned. The lack of vestments was strangely comforting. Suddenly, without the snowy white fabric and slew of crosses, he seemed more human. It was the same sentiment she thought during his first visit to the Walkers' home.

❝I don't mind talking,❞ she said, attempting to smile. ❝It is the least I can offer in exchange — I get the impression that I will be forbidden from joining you.❞ It was a good - natured remark.

❝I built his crib today.❞ Harmony's thumbs stroked her bump idly. ❝It was a much - needed distraction. Besides, he will be here sooner than I care to admit. I still have so much to do in the nursery. Abel was going to —❞ She cut off abruptly with a wince. ❝It needs painted, and the rest of the furniture is still in boxes.❞

Harmony raised a brow at Toller's back. ❝Do you know anyone in town who is handy, Reverend ? I could offer some compensation for a few hours' help.❞ She inhaled deeply. The baby was a safe topic, one that she could talk about for hours in order to stay stable.

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“Maybe not,” Toller conceded, reaching out to wipe the tear that dripped down her cheek, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

He’d told her many times that the space they had between them was safe. Harmony’s despair could take root here if it was her despair that plagued her—he was equipped for this, he’d said. Jesus wanted his disciples to be pillars for the weak, and no man was capable of true faith without knowing suffering.

“I’d be happy to cook for you, and for him.” The hand that came to rest gently on Harmony’s swollen belly was an act of celebration as much as it was a greeting, an invitation to the unborn child to feel welcomed in Toller’s modest domain. If he could provide any semblance of warmth to this grief-stricken family, then it would be enough. “But with legs like that, I'm certain he needs it more.”

He ducked his head, too, to smile even if the child could not see.

When Harmony was ready, Toller rose to his feet, offering her his arm should she need it. He walked without hurry to the home behind the church, shivering only slightly at the chill of the evening wind beginning to blow.

There was nothing in his living room save for the unlit fireplace, but Toller offered the seat in his kitchen for Harmony to take once he’d relieved her of her coat. He hung it on the coat rack in his bedroom for lack of space with his own tossed haphazardly into his bed. The rest of his effects were hung in his closet; by the time he returned to the kitchen, he was only in his shirt and trousers, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

Water splashed into the sink as he washed his hands (it was impossible to clean the death off one’s skin). Toller glanced briefly over his shoulder, tracing the lines of Harmony’s profile.

“Would you tell me about something you did today outside the funeral?” he asked, voice kind. Inviting. “If you’re all right with speaking.”

from @lambsmarrow —

It'd been hours since the funeral, and yet Toller remained. Sitting by Harmony's side, hands in his coat pockets, the silence rested between them without being stretched to snapping. It was miserable, but at least it wasn't lonely. It was sad, but at least it stayed human. He'd already told her he was sorry for her loss of a husband (and for her unborn child's loss of a father) once. There was no need to repeat what was already known, as was there no need for him to remember the scent of bloody death each time he blinked. But only one of those things was reasonably avoidable. "You have to eat," was the first thing Toller said, eventually, eyes only briefly glancing at the swell of Harmony's belly. The sun still hung in the sky, but it wouldn't for long. "I can take you somewhere, or get some takeout while you wait. Or maybe... if you'd like, I can cook you something instead." He didn't need to take care of her, of course, not to this degree. Frankly he'd never intervened to this degree with any of his ministry before. But what shepherd would leave their broken limbed sheep behind?

Harmony blinked as the priest spoke. She didn't know how long she had sat on the wooden bench, staring at the now - empty pulpit ... Harmony cleared her throat, sniffed, and swiped at the tops of her cheeks with her fingertips. Long enough for the rest of First Reformed to empty out, she confirmed with a glance. It was just the two of them, the creaking old wood, and the empty place where Abel's coffin would have been. Though he requested to be cremated, Harmony still insisted on having a service — something to make him feel more human than the vessel of ashes that would be making its way to her inevitably.

Her hands fell to her rounded belly and cradled it protectively. For the funeral, she wore a beautiful gray dress and tall dark heels. It was a far cry from the oversized coats, thick boots, and sweaters that she normally donned.

( but, maybe, that helped, made it all feel less real — like she could still wake up from this if she willed it enough. )

Harmony's son nudged against her palm. Her hands lifted away to tuck gold - hued hair behind her ears, and a chuckle left her. Finally, she looked at the priest, a bit of light returned to her red - rimmed eyes. ❝It's ...❞ She inhaled deeply. ❝He kicks now — as of yesterday.❞ Harmony neglected to add that she wished her husband had been able to experience it, but perhaps that was a given.

Tentatively, she touched Toller's forearm. Her intention was to bring the priest's hand to her stomach, if he allowed it ; perhaps this glimmer of new life, so sweet and true in its innocence, would grant him the same thin smile that was on her face.

❝He needs to eat,❞ she agreed, voice quiet. ❝If you are open to cook ... when I go out, people stare. I tried to take a walk yesterday, and it was relentless. This poor, pregnant widow — her husband attacked her and then took his life. They whisper, and whisper, and I can hear it.❞ A single tear dropped from her lashes. Harmony drew another shaking breath. ❝I'm sorry, Father. You don't need to hear that.❞

[lambsmarrow]

First Reformed (2017) dir. Paul Schrader

[lambsmarrow]

rev. ernst toller of first reformed (2017). writer is 21+, deeply problematic, and will only write w/ plotting done beforehand, thanks ✌️