sureabel

[sureabel]

"I am not offering to buy it for you, child." What a shame it was -- what a shame it was that the man did not stop there, that he had to indulge the detail that he had already imbibed. While Abel was not the most forgiving of men, he was far less so. Oh, the man was lucky he had a target tonight... "I am doing very well." His eyes flicked from the man, to the target, then back to the man. "But are you?"

"Honestly?" he began at the other's question, "I could go for a decent soda, I've been dying for something sweet and I've already had a beer," he shrugged, knowing it was a pretty lame answer but, hey, he was talking to a priest in a bar so he assumed anything could happen in this settlement. "You alright though, man? You seem a bit out of it"

[sureabel]

@sable-hart

Abel wasn't sure he had ever seen her in the church. People, good people, came and went. Some experimented, tried out a sermon or two and decided it was not for them ( unfortunately, a very bad idea ). Others came in on the holidays and that was it ( also a very bad idea ). The best of them stuck around ( the only good idea ). All that to say, keeping track of all names and faces had become rather difficult. He knew the regular parishioners -- that was as far as it went. And he would know his victims when they came in -- he would know that cross. But if he wanted to get more, if he wanted more to feel loved and welcomed and like this was the home for them, he had to approach every face he didn't fully recognize with a bright smile. So Abel slapped on that bright smile and approached the woman. "Abel Barnes," he said, sticking a hand out. "Welcome to Calvary Baptist." He never did enjoy the 'Baptist' part, but you have to include what you have to include. "What brings you here today? Something on your mind? Come to sit in?"

[sureabel]

Abel would never be caught dead in a bar -- not drinking, at least. By the time all of the sinners came out to play, he had begun the process of surveying -- of scouting. Very rarely did he actually enter the bars, but an exception had been made when his eyes had landed upon one of his main targets. He would trail, he would wait, and when he was who He had chosen to carry out His work, he would pounce. Until then, he would play along. His eyes drifted from his target to the man who was now engaging with him. "I am here on business, my son." He looked the man up and down, gauging his... status, so to speak. "What do you take, child?" He had a feeling it wasn't water, but the sliver of humanity left within him wanted to believe that maybe... just maybe... this distraction was, at the very least, a decent man.

@sureabel

He was never the religious type, feeling that he'd burn up the moment he went into a church, so he avoided it at all costs. He didn't have anything against it, of course, it was just a personal choice to avoid something so.... controversial in some people's opinions. "So," he said as he looked at the priest, "I'd ask why you're in a bar but I'm pretty sure that's the set up for a really bad joke"

[sureabel]

What would Ruthie think? He had become the very thing that she used to scare him as a boy. Would she be disappointed? Would she be proud? All he knew was that she had been scared -- that the last memory he had of her was her pleading for her life, telling him that she'd given her all to God... but that wasn't enough for him back then. Mercy may be unfamiliar, but he knew the second that he snapped out of that haze that he was not some kind of werewolf -- no, he was the rougarou. 'That must be a heavy burden to bear.' Abel shut his eyes with a single, solitary nod. He hated it. He hated all of the bloodshed. He hated potentially ruining people's lives. He hated being a murderer. But he loved it. He loved being trusted to carry out His plan. He loved being able to help Him. He loved how close to God it could make him feel. Even if he were in his right mind at nighttime, even if he weren't all but an animal who knew only God's word, his love would still probably win out. Nonetheless, he feels undeserving as she goes to wash his feet -- undeserving of her care and undeserving of her humility. She has already done more for him than he would dare ask of anyone else ( no one else understood ). But he knew what it could mean for some, how important it could feel, so he decided against protesting. "I would love for you to visit my church. It would be an honor to have you." Abel loved all of his parishioners, but few stood to truly... understand. He believed they were all on the path to the Divine, but seldom had he seen anybody walking as perfectly along that path as Mercy did. "'So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, 'It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.'” He had read it, he had studied it, he had tried to dissect it and all that it may mean for him. "I would very much like that, Mercy. Perhaps you could help me finally... understand it."

Mercy shakes her head - rougarou is not a familiar term to her. She doesn't know any legends; only the stories she learned in the Bible. "That must be a heavy burden to bear," she replies. "But He must love you very much to entrust you with it." Mercy's own task was a pleasure by contrast. She got to see the relief of forgiveness on people's faces, and enjoy their rapturous pleasure in hearing the Word in sermons. It must be a good deal more complex to serve as His wrath.

She isn't sure she'd have the strength. But then, she never spent as much time studying the Hebrew Bible. Far more of her time was spent on New Testament, so she feels she understands Christ better than God.

Having cleaned Abel's torso, Mercy takes the bowl of water and kneels next at his feet. They are not bloody, but the washing of feet is an important act of love and humility for her. Looking up, she speaks as she begins to remove his socks and shoes. "It isn't for me to intervene with His plan. I'll leave you to your work, evening or any other time. Although if it wouldn't be improper of me to visit your church--" their faiths are different, after all, even if they are formed under the same umbrella, "-- one day I would enjoy reading Genesis 32:22 with you. It's not a text I'm as familiar with, but I wonder if it would be illuminating for you in any way." Jacob wrestling with the angel has always been one of the more challenging passages for Mercy, but the struggle and the violence and the confusion of it do remind her somehow of Abel.

[sureabel]

"Oh, you're going to regret this, my son." Not by his hand, but potentially by his. And if not by his hand? Then certainly by His. "I may recommend locking the doors tonight... and I may recommend thanking me for advising you. Not everyone gets that treatment." And this man did not deserve it either, but his fear was so very palpable, why not add to it? Locks had never been a problem for him before, and a little foreboding never hurt anybody, now did it?

"I don't know who your Lord is! I don't really think I wanna get to know him anymore, man!" Derek picks up his pace and tries to dodge the man, winding left and right across unfamiliar alleyways. Fuck him for trying to strike up a conversation! Fuck him for his bad memory! And fuck his luck for picking this guy to talk to! "Maybe he could take a message, tell him you sorta beefed talking about him to me, take the loss on this one and call it a day!"

[sureabel]

"'Who's the Lord?' Do you mean to say that you have gone your entire life unfamiliar with the Lord?" Abel shook his head in genuine disbelief. Had the flock of the Earth truly strayed so far from His light? Or was this coward an unfortunate outlier? Oh, he hoped for the world's sake that it was the latter. "I speak to Him all day, my child. If you know what's good for you, you would be wise to do the same."

A sin? The guy sounds like a nutjob! "Who's the Lord? I—" He stops himself, realizing that opening up to any possible avenue of discussion with this crazy guy is a recipe for disaster. Walking away, he sees the man wwalk after him and that tightness in his chest feels worse than ever. "I—I'm not your son! And I don't know who this Lord guy is, so maybe take it up with him if you're this mad about it!"

[sureabel]

FIN !

It was an honor, he believed, to be the chosen one. It was an honor to be chosen to rid the Earth of all its evil, of all the whores and the bloodthirsty and the abusers. But he would seldom kill the first time around. The ability to turn to His light and provide Him with more children always remained, even in those marred by evil.

All it took was a nudge.

Ripping off the tail of this child, modeled in Satan's image (or how he was pictured in modern day, at least), he held it in his mouth like a dog would hold a rat. He would not let it go.

But that meant his mouth was occupied. That meant that from, that moment forth, he had to rely on the claws of his handpaws.

However, this child was already so close to the brink. This child's blood ran hot and it ran in puddles upon puddles upon puddles. His piss, his shaking -- he would have to stop himself soon if he wished to give this child the chance to repent.

Thus, he took one handpaw and placed it atop the child's head, scratching at the horns.

And the last manner of business: the claws of his free handpaw lightly traced upon the child's forehead -- not deep enough to cause much more blood loss, but deep enough for the child to look in the mirror and see a cross between his eyes.

[sureabel]

It was an honor, he believed, to be the chosen one. It was an honor to be chosen to rid the Earth of all its evil, of all the whores and the bloodthirsty and the abusers. But he would seldom kill the first time around. The ability to turn to His light and provide Him with more children always remained, even in those marred by evil.

All it took was a nudge.

Ripping off the tail of this child, modeled in Satan's image (or how he was pictured in modern day, at least), he held it in his mouth like a dog would hold a rat. He would not let it go.

But that meant his mouth was occupied. That meant that from, that moment forth, he had to rely on the claws of his handpaws.

However, this child was already so close to the brink. This child's blood ran hot and it ran in puddles upon puddles upon puddles. His piss, his shaking -- he would have to stop himself soon if he wished to give this child the chance to repent.

Thus, he took one handpaw and placed it atop the child's head, scratching at the horns.

And the last manner of business: the claws of his free handpaw lightly traced upon the child's forehead -- not deep enough to cause much more blood loss, but deep enough for the child to look in the mirror and see a cross between his eyes.

the human brain is a fascinating thing. max himself feels completely detached from the moment, like he's watching from above. seeing blood splatter as claws rip through his feeble defenses, shrieks of horror and pain exploding from deep in his throat. his tail writhes in the wet beneath, the terrible beast digging in and refusing to let go. and yet, the emotion isn't there. he's just watching. it doesn't even feel like him, anymore. unfortunately, good things don't last forever. he snaps hard back into the thick of reality, hot blood steaming beneath him and filling his nose with its foul, sulfuric stench. he's on his stomach, claws digging hard into his back with enough force that he feels it in his head, a scramble of his senses that he's struggling to come back from. but just because they're scrambled doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. he does, intensely as anything in his entire life. he thinks it can't get worse. it does. strong jaws clamp around the base of his tail, sending a fresh wave of panic through him. "wait, no, please—" he finally speaks, voice pitched high and desperate. "please, don't, ple—" max is cut off with a horrible, throat-tearing howl, agony sending electric rage flying through every nerve in his body. he feels his tail. and then he doesn't. shaking violently, he can't help but throw up. and he's pissed himself, goddamn it. he just can't handle the pain anymore. it doesn't matter anymore. he's right back to the cold, dark beginning—he just hopes the end is coming soon.

[sureabel]

FIN !

"Your soul, my child." What was broken in the body could be fixed with ease. What was broken in the mind could be remedied. What was broken in the soul... "Your soul is unclean." What was broken in the soul could only be cleansed with new life. A new birth, or becoming born again... It was not quite so easy, but it was far more important. "A mortal man must cleanse his soul if he wishes to live in peace. The decades you walk the Earth are but a blip compared to the eternity that follows. You may wish to help your soul before time runs out."

[sureabel]

Not much ran through his mind as he tore through the sinew of this child's arm. It was not as important that he be left completely incapacitated as the beast, but it was certainly important that he understood the only way to save himself. The fury that ran through his blood, the rage that overtook his mind, was not his alone. He dug the claws of one of his handpaws into the child's back, an attempt to offer for better leverage -- and for a reason the child should not fight against him. Fight against him, the claws dig in further. When leverage was achieved, he bowed his head to bite onto and gnaw through the demonic tail the child possessed. So long as he had that, he could never be saved.

hearing the growl behind him, max has all the sense to roll his eyes before he finally turns to address the stranger—just in time to be jumped at by a raging beast. he doesn't even have time to yelp before claws and teeth are upon him, his own arms coming up only so that he can curl in a ball, and hopefully protect his face and neck. there's nothing else he can think to do to prevent an attack, especially not when the person in question is clearly much stronger and faster than himself. there's all the thought of a normal person. stop! wait! help! none of them bubble up farther than the base of his throat. what's the fucking point? there's nobody else around him, and even if there was, what good would they do against someone like this? yelling out might even make them angrier. maybe that's just a point in its favor though... at least that might make them get it over with.

[sureabel]

Abel had heard about the new church -- a Catholic one -- being 'constructed' through the grapevine. He didn't know what this meant for him. He didn't know if this would please him or if he would only accept sinners turning their lives around by attending his church -- after all, he was God's righthand, not this impostor! ... but, as long as he was fairly sane, it was nice to see.

"Ah, welcome to the neighborhood. You set all this up by yourself?" It was impressive -- small, clearly makeshift -- but impressive. Abel extended a hand. "I'm Abel Barnes, Pastor down at Calvary Baptist." - 'Baptist' being tacked on simply because... he pretty much had to to make it official!

open | Adam

Expression soft, Adam's hands rested on his hips as he looked once again over the small chapel he had put together. It was... modest, to say the least, with a simple cross hanging above an equally simple altar. Instead of pews, he'd had to make do with a hodgepodge of borrowed chairs.

The modest house of worship had yet to receive any visitors, but Adam was trying not to stress about that. Whenever the thought nicked at him, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he finally had a place of sanctuary, after years without.

Unconsciously, his hand found his rosary, and he began passing the beads through his fingers as he fussed around, straightening candles and wiping away non-existent dust.

[sureabel]

This child was not as important. This child was not as integral. But this child was one of the cogs that kept the machine running. And this child reeked of debauchery. He had taken his time with Clemens, for months of observing showed him that that beast was the largest draw to the worst sinners of Sol City. This child did not have that same power. This child was just another harlot. He would not need special treatment. It was only out of common courtesy that he snarled before making a move. This child was still directly disobeying his creator, after all. So long as he remained His right hand, he would not allow such disrespect to slide.

starter for @sureabel !!

"we're closed." stuck locking up, max doesn't even care to turn around, already exhausted beyond measure. "you'll just have to wait until next time, buddy."

[sureabel]

"Your soul, my child." What was broken in the body could be fixed with ease. What was broken in the mind could be remedied. What was broken in the soul... "Your soul is unclean." What was broken in the soul could only be cleansed with new life. A new birth, or becoming born again... It was not quite so easy, but it was far more important. "A mortal man must cleanse his soul if he wishes to live in peace. The decades you walk the Earth are but a blip compared to the eternity that follows. You may wish to help your soul before time runs out."

there's a sharp prickle of discomfort in the center of his chest, like his heart is being split open for all to see. "what makes you say that?" he asks, even a self-conscious at the idea. what other kind of help could he possibly need? he's done it all, at this point. he fells as well-adjust as he can get! "either way, just thought i'd ask." now that it's being turned on him, adrian is backing off. "i'm glad your'e alright."

[sureabel]

"Running from me? Ah, poor conversationalist with poor manners." If Abel were enough to run from in his current state, he could not begin to imagine how the scavenger would react to who he became when he was living up to his full potential. Nonetheless, the conversation was not worth continuing. There were far bigger things to deal with... until... "Now I do hope I heard you incorrectly, my son. You know it's a sin to take the Lord's name in vein."

Didn't he end the conversation? Weren't they done with this? Maybe his social skills were warped by decades in the Wastes, travelling from settlement to settlement in search of a place to rest, but he did try to end the conversation. "I am a poor conversationalist," he admits, his heart scared out of his mind. Maybe the guy is a threat. Maybe his body'll take him far from here. "But I don't know, I think I don't want to talk anymore—so right now, I'm running from you. If you didn't catch the goddamn cue!"

[sureabel]

For the weeks that the Birdies, as they had deemed themselves, were out, helpers like Jackie were always more than welcome. Nothing had held a candle to the lovely cooking of the old women, using recipes that had been passed down since before even Abel's conception in the cast iron skillets that had never seen a wash, but these casseroles and pies came close. After all, he was far too busy to cook, and the rest of the congregation didn't really know how -- they would try to cook meals to contribute to holiday feasts, but that was about where it ended... which, tragically, was probably for the best! "Thank you, Jackie." Abel opened his wallet and pulled out A$160.89, certainly more than the food was worth (and certainly an odd number to offer, but his mind still worked in USD conversions), but it was giving season! "I don't think you'll have to worry about the congregation not being part of the clean plates club." With a chuckle, he added, "I sometimes worry that they like these more than the Birdies' home cooking." And, unfortunately, he worried for good reason...

↪ grubhub ; @sureabel

Interactions with Abel had been few and far in-between. Jackie had never really been one for spiritual guidance so she would only really drop by with trays of food after the worship. And even then she doesn't stick around for too long! Hard pass on praising the lord and whatnot but feeding the community is what she's all about. "Green bean casserole and mini pumpkin pies," She states proudly, handing the trays over to the devotees before flashing a bright smile at the pastor. "Hoping for clean trays again or else y'all won't see me next week" She joked.

[sureabel]

Clemens dropped his hands. Clemens stopped fighting, accepted the ultimate defeat. And Clemens was not yet dead. It was now, he decided, that he could release the sinner from his hold. Rip his claws out of his neck, rip his claws off of his hands. The righteous rage that had filled him only seconds ago had subsided as Clemens reflected a wounded deer. But he was not quite finished. To ensure knowledge, to ensure the collapse, and to reassure Him, he brought the handpaw down one final time. He would end the non-fatal brawl with Clemens only after he clawed a cross above the harlot's heart. And thus, the brawl had ended. And thus, he stalked off. And thus, he would wash the matted blood out once a sliver of humanity returned. Until then, he would relish.

The shaking head makes Samson only want to cling tighter: refusing to let go. He can’t even tell he draws blood from the beast. It all mingles together in a heedy, copper smell. So much that he starts to feel sick. Light–headed. That may be due blood loss. The fight leaves him all at once. Claws rake down the back of his neck: slicing through skin wouldn’t be bad but it digs deeper. Hits bone, maybe. Samson can't tell. He lets go: Arms flailing to reach for himself, to finally stop trying to fight back and instead attempt to hold is now shredded skin together.  The moment he’s let go of, Samson will go limp. All his energy and rage focused on keeping himself breathing, on holding in the hot blood trying to drop down his back and that’s successfully blinding him. At some point Samson will hit the ground, at some point he won’t be able to hold onto his own wounds. For now he's a dying animal in a trap, with no help in sight.

[sureabel]

"From what I hear, child, and from what I see..." Abel gave the man a once over... he saw right, "you have not received the help that you need." Who at this festival had? Abel feared he would be able to count on one hand... if not one finger. "I do not recall asking for help, scavenger. I have all the help I need."

shaking his head, adrian finds his way back to a smile. "this isn't about me. i get the help i need." that's not true and he knows it, but it's not for a lack of access... just a lack of taking advantage of it. he can do it himself, given enough time. "i'm asking about you."