apocalypsehowcomm | Log | August Catch-all

Entry tags:

Log | August Catch-all | Closed

Who: Mercy Graves & Others
When: Throughout August
Where: Around Gloucester
Summary: Various happenings throughout the month.
Warnings: Nightmares, claustrophobia, large-scale industrial accidents/train crash, screaming, fire, hallucination, loss of home, body horror, sadism/cruelty, mentions of attempted suicide and gore

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switalia, DM switalia#1344 on Disco, or PM if you'd like to set something specific up!

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[Mercy found herself a seat at a table away from some of the patient beds after her conversation with Elias on the network. It was exciting, really, all of these people she was able to talk to at once without ever leaving where she was. Magical!

She glanced up when she heard the door open and saw it wasn't another person the medical scrubs of those who were working here, nor did he appear to be injured. Mercy stood, grinning. She was a tall, muscular young woman with the white cloth of a novitiate tied over her head. Her dress was simple and understated, as suited one of the faith in training. It was also distinctly not of this era. Although, placing it and its country of origin might prove challenging when she came from a place that was most certainly not earth.]

Mr. Bouchard, weren't it? I'm Sister Mercy Graves, sir. It's a right pleasure to meet you.

[Mercy held out her hand for a shake.]

[What an interesting meeting this promised to be.

Elias had no trouble finding the place, let alone her, but he still stopped and allowed his eyes to glance upon everything, memorize it. The weight of his gaze found her next, taking in the dress and the piece over her hair, eagerly trying to search for any familiar accent in the sound of her words. Clues. He was aching for clues when he was…denying himself the instinct he relied upon.

The curiosity gripped him tightly.

He took her hand and shook it, smiling a rather practiced, corporate smile, one that he had had a few centuries to perfect.]

And it is quite the pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Graves. I hope that I am not interrupting anything…?

Nothing that can't wait for a good conversation. My Grannie told me those are just as much a chance for learning as anything you'll read out of a book.

[The translation effect here seemed to have rendered her accent as some curious mixture of deep Appalachian with a touch of New Englander when it curled around certain words. Her handshake was firm, confident, but not overbearing, and she gestured for Elias to sit at the table with her.]

So, you been having trouble with sleep, sir? Is it getting to sleep or staying there?

Your grandmother was wise. I enjoy conversations; you can learn a lot about a person with them.

[Not British then. Not European at all. He raised an eyebrow, surprised about the American tone, before he took the offered seat. Hands folded on the table, and the thought of answering that almost made him laugh.]

Getting to sleep, I’m afraid. It’s been some time since that came easily. [Which was not untrue; it was just that he didn’t miss it when he couldn’t bask in the nothingness. Sleep was too much like death.]

Could it have something to do with this…what did you call it? A ‘dead watch’?

[And his smile was just wonderfully charming.]

Dread Watcher. [It's a quick and easy correction.] She's a right tricky one. She's the worst when she catches hold of you while you're dreaming, hooks her claws in like a jealous thing so she can pull you in the watch. But the clerics at the temple said there's another side to her past that. Her many eyes can see you when you're awake, as sure as when you're sleeping. And when she looks through you, that can rob the sleep right out of you.

If she can't have your dreams, then she'll try to keep you from having them at all.

“Pull you in the Watch”?

[It didn’t sound like The Eye, not…wholey. There were aspects that were familiar of course: the many eyes, the dreams. But the rest? It could be others. Spiral, perhaps, with those claws and the lack of sleep.

Hm, the lines were always so murky.]

You talk of clerics; was there a religion devoted to this, then?

Aye, the to watch. She keeps one of her many eyes on you once she's collected you with her boney claws. And... well, she has worshipers somewhere. But they been driven out of Leigland ages ago. Still, they're somewhere malingering, sir, else there wouldn't be bad dreams that come again and again.

I never met a devotee, personal-like. It's only the approved religions you see being worshipped in the Diocese. The Spring Tide's on the smaller side, and the abbey I grew up in was devoted to the Blind Mother. I was raised up with Brother Earth, mind. They just let us stay with them for tending the graves and blessing the harvest.

And you think that she – The Dread Watcher – is the reason for nightmares at all?

[It seemed a little farfetched, but most forklore had roots in some truth. Perhaps this was no different.

His mind turned to “approved religions”. There was a delicate arc to his eyebrow as he thought about that, about what it meant. Were these religions similar to serving the patrons back home? What the Blind Mother also The Dark? Brother Earth just another word for The Buried?]

What can you tell me about your religion? The Spring Tide? Do you know why it’s one of the smaller ones?

Aye. It's written as such. But... well, I mean it's written that way in my world. I seen some stuff in these books that don't match up with that, though. But... all this medicine's new. Maybe I ain't understanding it right just yet.

[She offers a self-deprecating smile.]

There's a lot to learn, sir. But for the Spring Tide, I reckon it's smaller on account of folks needing to know their letters to join the clergy. And, well... most of the followers who ain't clerics are learned folk who got an understanding of the healing ways. Most folk have simpler concerns. Whether their harvest fails or the sea takes their ship or the wars take their kin and lands. Other gods just matter more to some folk.

I have found that most religious texts do not align perfectly. What is the “medicine” made from?

[If he was honest, he expected a home remedy, something with roots and bark. Perhaps he would be wrong, which… he would almost welcome; there was a lot someone could do with the right medicine.

‘Know their letters’. It had been a long time since he had heard it put like that. The smile on his lips twitched up a little more, an odd sense of nostalgia in the back of his mind.]

There are a lot of horrors in the world that command our attention, I suppose. [So much attention.] Tell me, have you ever seen proof of your gods? A miracle? This monster itself?

[The ingredients Mercy lists are, indeed, the sorts of things Elias might expect. Powders and roots and essences designed to aid in sleep. The actual things going into it would make for a decent sleep aid, though. She might be behind the times in the modern era, but the Spring Tide has one of the most advanced understandings of the medical arts in her own time and place.]

Now, as for gods, I can't say I've had a personal conversation with any of them, but Brother Earth... he was my god afore the Spring Tide. I felt him with me more than once, hand on my shoulder when the weight of digging graves got too heavy. There's times when the earth needs fed so it can feed what's above, in turn, but some you lay down feel like they've gone before their time.

[So many dead before their time. Her mind flashes to faces of children. Too many children she'd known. Friends. Accidents and murder and war.]

I seen a cleric of the Spring Tide cure a whole quarter of the village of the chills and shakes that came calling, though. That was a right miracle with how fast it was spreading afore he turned up.

Hm, I see. Thank you.

[It was as he expected, but he wasn’t unphased by it. He wouldn’t use it ever – he didn’t need it – but having a sleep aid in his possession would come in handy if he needed it for someone else. Not necessarily a knowing party.

He listened about the gods, about feeling their hands, and he could still feel that curiosity. Brother Earth still balanced precariously between Buried and End, but they had often walked closely together. And curing a large group of people was hardly a Fear aspect, although-]

And the ones that lived, survived – were they always afraid it would come back? Find their village again? I imagined it would scar anyway left after something so traumatic.

Mm... [Mercy thinks about that for a long moment.] I'd say there was more hope than fear, sir. Knowing they could best something like that after it got so far along? That's the wonder of the Blessed Break of Waves, though. There's no sickness it can't cleanse.

[That last comments are spoken in a certain cadence, like they're something memorized and repeated many times.]

Hardship comes and goes. There's a weak harvest and your belly's empty for the winter one year, the next it's disease, the next it's war drums beating in the distance. I think those all bleed together for most folk after a time and it's the hope around it you remember.

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Log | August Catch-all | Closed

For Elias

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that should have been 'pull you in TO watch'

Sorry sorry sorry ><

No, no, no! That was 100% my typo! I'M sorry!

It's all good, friend!

cw: mention of child death

cw: mention of drugging someone

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