paradisa | a se - until everything shines

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murphy macmanus

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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[so it's magic. okay. sure. he's ... seen enough of it now to be okay with the concept, as long as it's not used to harm.]

Anythin' with a lack'a dramatics is more'n welcome in my book. Where would you need t' meet me, an' when?

I will leave that you, so you may pick a time and location at which you may be at ease.

I'm free t'day, if you feel like comin' down t' town. Or I can meet'cha at the chapel in th' castle. Sooner I can be of help t' Rin, th' better, I figure.

The town will do nicely. Where shall I meet you there?

D'you know where th' church is? I can give y' directions, if not. [and he'll scrawl them into the journal]

Thank you. I will be there shortly.

[And she will be. She's been friends with enough of the resident Catholics that she's familiar with the inside of a Christian church by now, but she's never been inside this particular one. So, she takes a moment to look around as she enters.]

[it's a simple country church, nothing ridiculously impressive. there are a few simple stained glass windows, but most are plain, and the pews are all carefully oiled and cared for. the ceilings aren't too high, but they're a little vaulted, wooden beams forming eaves and arches above them, open to the roof. chandeliers hang down, fitted with simple oil lanterns - no electricity, but no dripping candles, either. at the back of the chapel proper stands the altar, the confessionals off to one side, a brace of candles at the other. at either side of the altar, there are doors - one a double set, the other a simple, smaller door that presumably leads to the priest's chambers.

when she enters, Murphy's up front, kneeling before the candles, rosary in hand as he sets his mind in order and prays for the Lord to guide his hand and his heart to the proper course of action, and to keep his mind steady and free from falsehood in the face of the trial to come.]

[She waits for him to finish, deliberately making some noise as she seats herself in one of the pews. She's discovered that it's less unnerving to people if she makes an effort to make her footsteps heavier and more noticeable.]

[finishing his prayer, he turned at the sound of someone entering, ready to welcome them - and his usual ready countenance turned to one of quiet awe at the sight of her. it wasn't just her beauty - no, it ran far deeper than that. there was something about her simple presence in a holy place that felt right. something about her radiated grace and ease, and peace. he knew she wasn't, but at the same time, Murphy's first impression was that he was in the presence of a genuine angel of the Lord. no wonder Rin trusted her to help choose her assistants.

Murphy's breath went out in a quiet rush, and he recovered his smile, moving toward her with a respectful nod]

Y'must be Galadriel. Welcome t'our church.

[She smiles softly and offers a brief nod of her own.]

I am. And thank you. It is quite lovely.

Thank y'. We don't own it - no one truly owns a church, save th' Lord - but he led us to it, an' it needed lookin' after, so ... we figured it was th' least we could do for the place, since it was shelter for us when we needed it.

A dear friend of mine is a priest of your faith. He has since left the castle, but it would please him, I think, to know that this church has been a place of sanctuary.

[She smiles and gestures to one of the pews.] Shall we sit?

Wait, y'mean Father Abel? [Murph perks right up at that, as he helps himself to a seat] Aye, he was a friend of ours, too. First person who really made us feel at ease after we got here. Helped us remember our purpose.

[he trusts her even more, now - perhaps as completely as he'd trust anyone here not from home. anyone who could consider Abel a dear friend was worth that sort of trust in his book.]

I do. [She smiles warmly, a genuine unguarded smile this time.] He is a good man. He brought me a great deal of comfort at a time when I was in need of it.

He was good at that, for th' short time we knew him. ... [he's silent for a moment, looking around]

Alright. How're we doin' this?

You need do nothing but prepare yourself. This may discomfort you for a time, but I will do you no harm. You have my word. [And the gravity with which she says the last statement should tell him that that's not something she takes lightly.]

You need only tell me when you are ready to begin.

[the gravity reminds him of his father, which is even MORE reassuring. he takes one more slow, steady breath, then nods]

Aye. I'm ready.

[he lets his eyes flicker to the cross over the altar briefly, before closing his eyes.]

Very well.

[It begins with a simple enough sensation, though, perhaps, difficult to describe for those who have never experienced such things. She brushes her mind against his, lightly, testing. She's a little hesitant, and much more gentle than she used to be, since she has seen that some in the castle are more sensitive than others.

But once she has been satisfied that he's not going to faint or lose consciousness, she will begin in earnest. She's careful, looking only for what she needs, taking care to leave him the privacy to which she believes all beings are entitled. She came here with a goal, after all, and to that end, she's focusing on all the things that might cause one to turn traitor- what drives him and how might it be exploited? What tempts him? Is he likely to cave to such manipulations? Who are you, Murphy McManus- what kind of man?

The end result is the feeling of being deeply and thoroughly questioned, though no words have been spoken.]

[she'll get a series of images - the crux of his history, as it's what's happened to him that's made him who he is. spending his formative years with his mother and brother, their father's only presence a prayer handed down from generation to generation. and as they board a barge, duffel bags over their shoulders, the prayer, spoken by three in unison, threads over all that follows.

and shepherds we shall be

they reach the shores of America, register as immigrants, receive long hours at hard jobs for meager pay, and spend their remaining hours either at the bar drinking away their aches, or in hostels helping tend to those even worse off than themselves.

for Thee, my Lord, for Thee

they make many acquaintances, but few fast friends - one of whom is a shaggy, dark-haired man with a quick wit and a slow mind. loyalty is the strongest emotion felt here: whoever he is, this man is family even though he is not blood.

power hath descended forth from Thy hand

then their small, humble world is ripped apart. men with murderous hearts enter their lives, threaten what they hold dear, and Murphy and his brother fight back. the images come fast and furious here, just as they did at the time: all of it bathed in red. so much murder, so much blood: first in self-defense, then in retaliation, in the name of the innocents who cannot act for themselves. everyone who dies at the brothers' hands has evil in their hearts, an undeniable, incurable wickedness. rapists, thieves, murderers, and the men who sit at the top of their heaps, pulling their strings. they set their sights on one of these, above all, and it becomes all-out war. he sends an assassin after them: pain and anger and confusion, but still, above it all, even as she might catch a glimpse of the three cauterizing each other's wounds in the aftermath with hot irons, there is will: rock-hard, unfaltering. a promise, an oath, something so deep within them that it's in their very blood.

that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command

they find the puppetmaster, and he falls, but the end is bittersweet. their friend dies at his hands before the deed is done, and they find themselves delivered from captivity by the man who'd assaulted them earlier: their long-lost father. confusion and grief are soothed by shock and a sudden surge of deep, unbreakable love and loyalty. the three spread their wings and are the vengeful, striking hammer of God. once they have done their piece, they retreat, go back to Ireland, hide themselves from the people who don't understand, who would jail them the same as the evil men they sought to erase from the Earth.

so we shall flow a river forth to Thee

the peace of simple farm life follows - a time when Murphy answers the question of who he is, for himself: a man who knows pain, but can find joy in its wake, in the simplest of things. who keeps his hands busy, lest idleness lead to things which would compromise his integrity. who cares most above all for his brother and his father, and would lay down his life for them in the blink of an eye, not a single question asked or regret voiced. a deadly sword forged in anger and sorrow, but tempered in peace and grace, drawn only in times of need. ... which come again, as the boys are called home to clear their names.

and teeming with souls shall it ever be

again, they take up their guns, their coats, their rosaries, and again they find friends to help them. there are things he can't quite touch - Galadriel will sense three shades here, the holes in his memory where three people ought to be. but that will is cast over all of it, only shattered momentarily by a black, thick, horrible pall when their father is gunned down by the man who framed them to lure them in. pain and grief nearly completely obscure the memory of their surrender - but it's washed away by sharp, stark confusion when they wake up wounded in Paradisa.

in nomine Patri et Fili, Spiritus Sancti

the man who lives in Paradisa is the same man who tended flocks of sheep in Ireland and worked hard labor in Boston. his will is iron - no, it is coal turned to diamonds under the pressure of adversity - and nothing will shake him. nothing. there is here, as ever was, a strong, unfailing desire and need to help those less fortunate, those beaten about by the whims of the cruel and the heartless. as for the castle itself, he knows it is like a God unto itself: equally cruel and kind, capable of great miracles and horrible terrors - but he will never actively call it His God. no, the Lord had His own reasons for bringing their family here, and he knows that He will make them plain as He sees fit. the work is still to be done - and if guarding Legato is part of this, he will do it gladly, to keep the dangerous man away from those he would harm.

and, yes, it's plain: if the opportunity presents, and this Legato presses his hand ... Murphy would undoubtedly kill him. but not yet. he knows how to wait, how to stay his hand]

[And that's enough to satisfy her. She withdraws her mind, gently, carefully, and lives him once again alone his in own head. Her eyes change and she's looking at him instead of through him.

Whatever she may think of his past, she keeps it to herself. She's certain she can trust him with the task at hand and that is all that matter at the moment.

But if he examines her face, he may see a few hints of her thoughts in her smile- understanding, certainly, if not approval. She may have her quarrels with his methods, but his motives...those she can embrace. And she knows better than many how circumstances form a man into who he is. But she says nothing of any of that. Instead, she simply looks him over again- this time with the eyes of healer.]

Are you well?

[if nothing else, as he comes back to himself in a sort of daze, he'll realize the shift in her gaze and focus. that she sees him, now. well, he thinks idly, she'd better fucking see him, because it feels like she just walked every inch of his brain in cleats for how thoroughly she searched him. he'd expected nothing less - but in a way, it does feel like confession as he comes back to himself. it was difficult, and painful in its own odd, internal way - but now that it's over with, now that the truth is known, he feels that familiar emptiness, the cleansing of it. he stares down at the rosary in his hands, letting it be both anchor and focus as he brings himself back up, fully. finally, he lifts his eyes to her]

Aye. ... Felt like ... like someone took a long dream and wedged it into one moment. How long was I ....?

A few minutes, no more. [She nods and offers the slightest of smiles.] Rin will be glad of the help, I think.

[Which is her way of saying you have her seal of approval for the project.]

[and that lifts the last of the fog from his mind. he smiles at her, genuine and broad]

Thank y'. ... Now I feel like y' came down all this way for not much t'all. Can I at least get you somethin' t' drink? Give y' the grand tour?

[and he means ALL of it - because after that, there's no way he'd hide the basement from her]

I would not object to a tour, if it is not too much trouble. [Oh, and before she forgets.] I will tell you also, your thoughts and your past are your own. What I have seen will remain with me alone, unless the safety of others necessitates breaking my silence. I do not foresee such circumstances arising. [So she'll keep her knowledge to herself.]

Not any trouble t'all. [he stands and offers a hand to help her up] Wouldn't have offered, f'it was. ... And Rin'd told me you'd keep what'cha saw in confidence, but ... it's even more reassuring to hear it from you. Thank you.

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inafadingcrown - 2012-06-20 17:32 (UTC) - Expand

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a se - until everything shines

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hope you don't mind a bit of copypasta from Arya's CR

Not at all

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if this doesn't work for you I can change it

this is perfect, thanks! prepare for teal deer

Glorious teal deer!

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