tucky: (you've been no help at all‚ but thanks)
Tiffany Doggett ([personal profile] tucky) wrote2014-12-28 08:45 pm

♻ 002 | spam

[After a few days, Tiffany checks herself out of the infirmary. They were willing to let her go-- except for her teeth, she's mostly healed up; even her bruises are gone-- and she was starting to feel stir crazy, so out she went.

Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.

Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.

Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.

At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]


[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]
godsays: (87)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2014-12-30 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
For not murdering everyone I see?

Because if I could hear his voice, right now, he would tell me to kill you.
godsays: (135)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2014-12-30 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He looks at her for a long moment. He knows when a conversation hits a dead end, and he doesn't like pushing past that. It's never gone well for him in the past. He can't disprove what she says. She can't prove it. ]

I think a real God wouldn't ask anyone to kill. First, because he wouldn't need to. Second, because he shouldn't want to. He should want us to make our own choices, and learn.

[ He moves to his feet. ]

If you want to see more flowers, you can come to the greenhouse.
godsays: (97)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2014-12-31 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
It doesn't sound clear to me.
godsays: (17)

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[personal profile] godsays 2014-12-31 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
....you didn't actually hear his voice?
godsays: (148)

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[personal profile] godsays 2015-01-01 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Why not?
godsays: (03)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2015-01-02 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
You think I'm a prophet?
godsays: (40)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2015-01-15 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Probably not. I'm not sure I'd want to talk to your God.
godsays: (148)

spam - chapel

[personal profile] godsays 2015-01-16 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't sound like I would like him.

[ He turns to go, then, cloak billowing in his wake. ]