tucky | ♻ 001 | video/spam

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♻ 001 | video/spam

[It's Christmas, Barge residents. And as it happens, one of your new arrivals is a Christmas angel.

Well, okay, she's just dressed up as one. Interestingly enough, it was Christmas on her world too, and she just got done performing in a Christmas pageant: she's wearing a white costume robe, and has a tinsel crown on her head. The front of her robe is bloody and dirty, and torn in a few places-- and given how beat-up and damaged her face looks, it's probably safe to assume that at least some of that blood is hers.

Currently she's wandering into to common area on level 6, a bit unsteady on her feet. She's also filming herself, because she found a fancy phone so why the hell not. Soon enough she stops walking and poses dramatically, arms held wide.]

Be not afraid-- for behold, I bring good tidings of... of, uh...

[And then she collapses. So yeah, that's a thing that's happening.]

[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]

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[Like there's any way that Simon Monroe -- who is literally sitting by the altar in his bedroom when he sees her message, the icons of Jesus and Mary looking down on him and this new angel -- would ignore something like this. He forces himself to wait, though, until she's gotten medical attention, as sorely tempting as it is to whisk her away before the doctors can do anything hideous to her. It's only the sight of her blood, rich and red and living, that makes him pause. He'd know what to do if she were undead like him, but he's not a doctor, and he doesn't know how to treat what he's come to think of as the living undead.

Still, it's not long into her stay before he reluctantly drags himself to the infirmary to find her. He's very tall, dressed very warmly, and is very, very obviously dead. It would be hard to look more dead without trying. Nonetheless, he smiles when he sees her, and speaks in a soft and thickly-accented voice.]

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.

[Her expression is a mixture of interest (because he can recite the Bible, and clearly only certified Cool People can do that) and confusion (because you look weirdly like a corpse, bro). ]

And that's-- that's just how it went, too. I came down on her to show the glory of God's wrath, and she was afraid. Sore afraid.

[Tiffany, you have no idea how cool he is. He has a guitar.

He nods to the chair next to her bed, silently asking permission to sit.]

Who was she?

Edited 2014-12-27 16:43 (UTC)

[She glances at the chair and then back at him, misinterpreting the implied question and assuming he wants her to sit there.]

I don't think I can get up yet.

[He blinks, but manages not to miss much more of a beat than that.]

Can I? I'm Simon.

Oh. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, go ahead.

[She's noticeably surprised-- she's never been asked her permission for something like that.]

You a doctor?

[He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. Simon is over doctors.]

Definitely not. I saw your broadcast -- I wanted to come and meet you. I'm a... [cultist] ...minister, of sorts.

[Now that really gets her attention. She doesn't always get along with her fellow religious people-- she and the Litchfield prison chaplain are always at odds with each other-- but as far as she knows, he's the first one she's met here.]

Yeah? You a Christian?

Catholic. [His mouth quirks slightly.] I know you Americans don't always see those as the same. I've never been sure why.

Oh.

[She looks a bit disappointed.]

It's 'cause we don't worship the Pope.

[This is a little disingenuous of him -- he knows the reason, but he wanted to hear her answer. Now that he has, he appears to consider it.]

I wouldn't say I do, either. I'd guess you and I have more in common than he and I do.

You don't?

[She frowns.]

But he's-- ain't he trying to be a god all on his own self?

[He shakes his head.]

He speaks the word of God, but... he's not the only one. Not anymore.

[He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, expression warm -- like she's a friend.]

What's your name, Angel?

Tiffany.

[She's still looking a little confused, because people aren't usually this nice to her-- especially after she's just insulted their religion, which is not an uncommon thing for her to do.]

And you asked who she was-- the one God wanted me to slay for him. She was a devil; an Amalekite; the worst of all the sinners. An enemy of God.

[She gets a pass, as far as he's concerned: she's young and, more importantly, newly dead.

Of course, if she weren't, he wouldn't be talking to her at all.]

And then you woke up here? Like that?

[She frowns, thinking.]

... We was fighting. That's all I remember.

[He nods, pursing his lips thoughtfully.]

And has anyone explained to you where you are now?

Yeah, a new prison. A nicer one.

[Is this her reward, she wonders? She exposed Chapman and tried to kill her-- maybe she even succeeded? She doesn't remember-- and now God is giving her a place somewhere better than Litchfield.]

[Wow, really, fellow wardens? Between himself and her, someone is majorly dropping the ball on informing newcomers of... anything, apparently.]

Yes and no.

[It's not even like he minds being the one to tell her the truth -- he'd rather it be him than someone with less sympathy for the dead. It's just silly, though. He rubs his hands thoughtfully together, clasps them between his knees.]

Where you come from, Tiffany -- do they believe in the redemption of the dead?

Well--

[She doesn't actually know. Most of what she knows about Christianity comes from her lawyer, and they had never talked about death much.]

If you die and you ain't a Christian God ain't gonna let you into Heaven, but there-- there are some exceptions, sure. Like aborted babies.

[--okay, that's a slightly strange non-sequitur, but sure...?]

That may have true before, but things are different now where I come from. They're different here, too.

[He stands to move closer to the bed, offering her his hand: his skin is gray and cold, not like ice, but like the grave. He feels as dead as he looks.

He seems pretty happy about it, though.]

We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed; In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.

[He gestures to himself, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.]

Some more than others.

[She looks at his hand, and reaches out to touch it-- but changes her mind at the last second and pulls away.]

Is that from the Bible?

[Again, not quite the reaction he was expecting -- the question more than her reluctance. He raises a brow, sticking his hands in his pockets instead.]

First Corinthians 15. The resurrection of the dead. It says that man will rise from the grave just as Jesus Christ did -- that those worthy of it will rise again and be Redeemed.

[She nods, recognizing those words-- if not the actual passage, at least the idea behind it.]

You're talking about the rapture. You're saying this place is part of that?

Something like that, yeah. Might be best to think of it as sort of a... way station.

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