Oct 22 12:15:30 107 PA - Prayer and confusion
From Chronicles
Oct 22 12:15:30 107 PA.
PLAZA PARK: Prayer and confusion
Perhaps appropriately, Zeus may be smiling upon the moment, if smiling were the right word. While it is high noon, the sky is completely covered over by a thick layer of clouds, so heavy as to cast upon the ground more of an early twilight. Further, Ganymede has opened the heavens to a veritable deluge of large drops of rain that come down as if being the other end of a super-soaker mini-gun. You might think that the park would be empty, but it has actually become a haven for those coming in off of the streets seeking shelter beneath the boughs of trees, the cover of artificial steel and concrete having been already filled by other bits of humanity. Deep within one of the more tangled sections, the man named Gabriel can be seen - alone. Something is keeping others from sharing his shelter. He is down on his knees, head bowed.
Neither clouds, nor rain, nor even the flocking humanity deters Daeni from the park. While the trees of the wilderness beyond the gates are far grander, they are also far more quiet. She is currently perked in the upper reaches of one of the larger specimens within the park, attention focused earthward upon those skittering below.
Alonzo has found himself shelter from the rain, having been out and nearby when the downpour started. He stands underneath shelter with a particular frown upon his face as he contemplates the quickest route back to the 'safety' of the city, and it's roofs.
The floppy jungle hat that should probably be sitting upon Gabriel's head remains off... in fact, it's on the ground, forming some kind of miniature cavern. Under the relative safety of the thick tree, the rain is far reduced, but still strong enough to cause the older man's hair to drip. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that he's holding a lit candle in his hand, sheltered from the wind and rain by the other. His small silver cross, the one that is obviously a religious artifact, not a supernatural deterrent, is draped over the hand holding the candle. He is otherwise essentially motionless.
Daeni's study of those below identifies no less than two known figures, and she descends from her former perch. A leap or two relocate her from one trunk to another, where she subsequently descends upon the silent Gabriel and his feeble source of light and warmth. Once she reaches the lower branches, she makes a simple inquiry. "Why make fire here, in rain?" She can fathom that he may be chilled, yet there are many more efficient alternatives.
Gabriel doesn't look up from what he's doing to answer Daeni immediately. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that on the ground, within the safety of the cavernous jungle hat, lies a small 3x3 color photo, Gabriel and a woman, surrounded by children of all ages. A 6-inch length of pink ribbon lays across it at an angle. The man speaks quietly, rubbing his thumb against the silver cross. The rest of the world for the moment, does not exist. "Eternal God, You made the union of man and woman a sign of the bond between Christ and the Church. Grant mercy and peace to Natasha, who was united in love me. May the care and devotion of her life on Earth find a lasting reward in Heaven. Look compassionately on her children and me, as now we turn to Your mercy and love. Strengthen our faith and lighten our loss. Amen." The candle is the reverently lowered, and blown out, the cross lain carefully upon the photograph. Only after another moment of peace does Gabriel's somewhat damp face turn to the huntress. It's both sad and peaceful at the same time. "This marks the second month after Natasha's death, Daeni. I'm mourning, and celebrating her life." He smiles shallowly. "I'm sure that you and yours have your own ways about these matters, no?"
"Yes." Daeni confirms the supposition without offering any details. A slight leap, and gravity, bring her to the ground adjacent to Gabriel. "Is better celebrate, remember, not mourn. Tears not make return."
Alonzo seems to have little interest in the praying man, though he is relatively nearby, still taking shelter from the downpour. He hmmns just a bit as his gaze briefly scans for the route with the most tree cover.
The cross, ribbon, and photograph are scooped up, the ribbon and photograph being deposited in a chest pocket, the small cross being once again latched around the man's neck. Gabriel retrieves his hat and plants it onto his head before standing and looking out at the slippery concrete. The huntress is apparently momentarily dismissed, and he either bravely or stupidly walks out into the open, placing himself square beneath the wet wrath of the gods. His face wears a feral grin, oddly enough. One that kind of mocks the weather and invites more punishment. He just remains there, hands in pockets, water bouncing off the waterproof hat, and sliding off of the treated fabric of his pocketed jacket. There seems to be no one that he actually recognizes in the area.
Alonzo makes his way out as well, he doesn't quite have the luxury of rain gear at the moment, but seems to be headed in the same general direction. "Nice weather, huh?" he calls out towards you as he walks, getting pelted by the rain.
The short, older fellow turns to the sound of the other man's voice, an interested expression on his face. He speaks with a thick Kentucky drawl. If anyone in this world knows what Kentucky is. "Well, it's a damn sight better than Guadalcanal, I can tell ya that," Gabriel says with a punctuating nod. His head quirks to the side a tad. "You seem kind of drenched, friend. Bitch of a day for people caught unawares." A right hand is then extended in greeting. "Gabriel."
"Where?" Alonzo asks, "And I'm Alonzo. I think we met several days back." He says, offering out his hand and shaking it, "And it could be worse. I'll dry off when I get back home." He says.
Gabriel shakes his head, eyes closed, a laugh on his lips. "I'm sorry, Alonzo. Two months and I'm still totally out of place. Name and faces are a little difficult to remember when you're trying to understand how someone can squish your head by thinking about it." He winks, apparently hoping for some understanding. Then, "Guadalcanal. You know, South Pacific, Operation Watchtower. '42 to '43, kicked the little Nip fuckers back to the Solomons." He then stops abruptly, and offers an ironic smile. "Not to be insulting or anything, but you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Alonzo seems quite lost at that and he shakes his head, "Not a clue, no. And you're right, it is disturbing to think someone can squish your head with a thought, and a lot of them will do that without much concern too if you give them the slightest reason."
"Hah, yeah, I've noticed that. I never though that I'd yearn for the days when a man would just try to punch you in the face if he was angry." Gabriel's eyes seems to twinkle at the idea. They then quickly examine the other fellow. "You a military type, Alonzo? You seem to have the stature for it." The drawl really slides out as the final statement ends.
"You'll still get that, but if you're a lowly human you probably need armor, and a laser pistol to put up much of a fight." Alonzo replies, "And I've done some merc work, yeah. Not many standing armies about these days." He adds with a slight shrug.
"Really?" Gabriel quirks an eye. "I heard something about a city militia. Sounds like steady work, but I've been out on some rather unique services for the past twenty years. Not sure that I could be expected to line up every morning to pass inspection." The rain seems to be letting up, but is being replaced by distant lightning and thunder, necessitating the normally quiet Gabriel to raise his voice. "You been here a long time?"
"Here in Kingsdale? nah. Only a few months. Moseyed up from the Pecos Empire following work." Alonzo says, "And the Militia ain't really the sorta work you want to get into, if you ask me. 'specially in a place like this, bound to get crushed by the CS once their attention turns towards it." he comments.
Gabriel nods and frowns at the mentions of the Coalition, murmuring out, "Fucking Nazis." But for the moment, his interest seems to be on something else. "Okay, Guadalcanal versus the Pecos Empire. Touche. Where and what is it?"
"Nazis?" Alonzo asks, brow raised a bit, "And it's down near Lone Star." he adds, brow lifting a bit, "Pretty close to hear really, southwest a ways."
The other man frowns. "Gotta find someone to sell me a goddamn map. I only have a vague idea of where I am right now. I know where Quebec and Chicago are. These other places? I don't like relying on relative navigation." Sunlight suddenly bursts out of a hole in the clouds. It's not a fairy tale illumination of the park. No, it actually strikes some of the smoking towers over in the industrial sector. Lovely. Gabriel takes in a slow, deep breath, then lets it out in a quick exhalation. His hands come out of pockets and are clenched into fists for a brief moment before he sketches a sloppy two-fingered salute to the other man. "Sorry, man. Time to go find work for the day. Here -" a small pad of paper emerges from another pocket, and in exquisitely neat penmanship, he indicates a radio frequency. "Keep in touch. I'll catch you around, Alonzo."
