paradisa | a se - until everything shines

[as usual, Murphy's up with the sun, crawling out of bed to toss on his clothes and swiping his journal on the way out into the church proper. rubbing at his eyes, he plops the book down on the counter - the Paradisa equivalent of putting on the news - and starts making coffee. once his eyes have opened up sufficiently and his brain's online, he dictates idly as he goes about making breakfast]

Mornin', everyone. .... I gotta say, movin' out here to th' church was th' best decision me an' Connor made, so far. I'm gonna stop countin' the number of times I've been glad I haven't had to deal with all that random bullshit. No pretty little dresses, no riddles, no huffin' an' puffin' an' blowin' people's houses down ... s'been a pretty decent week. 'Course, we all know what goeth before th' fall, so I'll probably hafta answer fer that at some point or 'nother, but there's not much point in worryin' about it, is there...?

Anyways. Connor's got his own lil' project he's workin' on, lately, so I figure I may's well put my services out there. Anyone need any work done? Stuff fixed, or built, or whate'er? I can do a bit'a everythin', so just try me f'you do, and I'll see f'I can't get it done. Y'don't even hafta pay me, m'just lookin' to keep busy.

[speaking of busy. the coffee finishes and he pours himself a mug, then grabs a pencil from a cup on the counter and scribbles up a filter]

[Galadriel]

Good mornin', ma'am. Sorry t' bother you, but a girl name of Rin said I'd be wantin' to talk to you.

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[Noah's moving around his room in the castle, moving books around, tidying up, making tea. His own journal is open on the table. There's the sound of a bit of singing under his breath. He's in a fine mood.]

I'll be lookin' forward ta movin' in. Speakin' of, I'm ready t'get the bloody hell outta here. Carson's lettin' me outta jail.

Edited 2012-05-09 21:58 (UTC)

Well, s'about fuckin' time, too! [Murphy grins, the usual kitchen sounds audible through the book as he sets about cooking]

We're gonna be havin' company. Friend of ours, Renee Montoya. She'll be stayin' at th' church till she finds a place've her own. She's pretty sick of livin' up there in the ol' pile'a rocks, herself.

I don't blame 'er. This place works on th' sanity. I woke up this mornin' and the floor was made of grass. Dirt an' all.

[It was kind of nice, though. Cool soil and spongy, new grass between the toes has a sensation all it's own.]

Grass! You're fuckin' kiddin' me. [he doesn't phrase it as a question, though, just a sort of exasperation - something that's been a low-level constant since they settled into the church and started hearing the stories coming over the journals]

Well, I'll double-check yer room an' make sure there's none'a that shite here 'fore ya even set foot in th' place.

[A laugh. He really is in a good mood today.]

It doesnae bother me too much. Could be worse.

[He pauses for a moment.]

Yer lass, shell be safe there, safe as houses.

How big is the church, anyway? 's like a... eh, what was that programme on the telly your mum liked t'watch... oh, aye. A tardis?

[Murph snickers. he ... hasn't exactly learned that the castle has two of those of its own, yet]

Nah, s'just a nice sized lil' stone church, got a little fellowship kitchen space wi' a table, an' the priest's quarters where me an' Connor been stayin'. Could add on though, f'we need. Thought we could redo th' groundskeeper's shed for ya, so's you have space've your own fer your leatherworkin'.

[It'll blow his mind, or what's left of it from being here in the first place.]

That'd be lovely. I'd me more'n happy t'stay out there as well, more room for yer strays.

['Strays' isn't meant in a derogatory way. Just another name for people what need a safe place.]

[he chuckles] We seem t' be gettin' more an' more of 'em whenever somethin' happens.

I dinnae blame 'em one bit. Everyday livin' there is disturbin' enough. Wishin' up shit? There's strings attached, an' I don't want t'be around when the piper comes.

Aye, 'zactly what I been thinkin'. Miracles are one thing, but they're meant t' be few an' far between. Whatever force's behind all'a this ... I can' say I trust it farther'n' I could throw a sumo wrestler.

[A rare laugh, though they're coming more often these days. It's lovely to hear.]

Dinnae if we'll ever know, but I'm not keen on leavin'. Though I'm feelin' a bit restless, need t'take a walkabout at some point.

Aye, never a bad idea. ... Have y' met Cardinal Sforza an' Father Tres yet?

No. I'd like t'remedy that. If they stand by my sons, ready to slaughter the darkness, I want to know who they are.

Aye, an' y'should. I'll see f'I can't get th' lot of us together soon.

a se - until everything shines

[dictated right back atcha]

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