OPEN | look for the sign of daniel, consider the clues

[extramuralise]

Who: John Irving (extramuralise) + OPEN!
What: Catch-all for August! Various thread/event aftermaths, attempts at usefulness, and perhaps even a bit of Bible study?
When: Throughout August (with perhaps some overflow into September & allowance for older thread continuations)
Where: Milton & surrounding areas.

Content Warnings: Will be added as needed!




( Choose your own adventure! Feel free to PM / plurk me @ reggiemantle for plotting. Happy to also write/respond to personalized starters. )

Comments

[extramuralise]

[ Can he do that, just... have faith, and let her try? As much as Irving wishes he could still be the bright-eyed, trusting soul he once was, that man had died from his wounds — had gasped his final, broken breath as he lay bleeding out upon the sun-bleached shale — while a different man now lives on to bear the scars.

These scars, if not normally quite so... literally.

But while Kate may not be Jesus Christ (Lord and Saviour), Irving is hardly prepared to let himself become the kind of person who longer believes in miracles, either— because what kind of life would that be, and what would be the point of continuing to live it? Easier just to say that the man who stopped believing in miracles sometime during that long, cold, terribly desperate third year also died that day on the shale. Let this instead be a clean start, a second chance to atone for all his failures, mistakes, and sinful desires... assuming he isn't already suffering for them in Hell.

(Because Heaven, paradise eternal, could never be this cold. Not after everything else that's happened to him.) ]

I suppose there's really no harm just in trying, [ he says quietly, finally relenting. Hoping that's actually true. ] If it's only for my head.

[castitas]

[ Something in her face softens, a kind of quiet, thankful relief. She knows what she's asking is... a lot. And she knows Lieutenant John Irving is not... the most touchy of people, considering he's... very Victorian. Polite distance is very much what she's come to know him for.

But he's willing to let her try, and that means a lot to her. Kate hovers on the spot for a moment or two, looking about them. ]

Why don't you sit? [ She gestures. A bit sensible, considering. He's much taller than her, after all. Meanwhile, she turns, removing her outer-layers: hanging her coat and scarf before pulling off her gloves. Merry's already settling himself down by the fire now that the commotion's over. ]

Okay, okay, okay— [ She mutters under her breath and she moves over to him, trying to coax some warmth into her hands. She's got this, she's totally got this.

Standing in front of him, she raises her hands and then stops. ]

... I'm sorry if my hands are cold.

[ There's a tiny wince of a smile before she takes a steadying breath. After a few final hesitations of just how to reach for him, she finally settles on placing one hand on his shoulder, her other lightly pressing against his forehead, covering the marred line of flesh. ]

Just— [ She trails off for a few seconds. ] breathe, okay?