tucky | ♻ 002

[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!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Truer words were never spoken.]

You're right. But - that doesn't mean they can't. Or shouldn't. [He looks at her, head tilted slightly.] You and I probably don't have much in common, but I've liked talking to you.

Really?

I ain't even in a good mood.

[Luckily, you're talking to someone who tends to rate other people's moods by the size and density of the things they're throwing at him.]

Really. Though - if you came here to be alone, I can go.

[She can do that for you someday, Merlin.]

Don't matter to me.

... Why did you come in here?

[It'll help with the homesickness.]

I never have before. I wanted to see what was in here.

[He doesn't know that he'd ever want to pray here. The gods never seemed to listen to him.]

But I'm sorry, if that's - disrespectful.

[She picks up the Bible she'd been looking through, holding it out.]

That's what's happening.

Thank you.

[He reaches for the book she's holding out, then looks at the spine.

Oh. It's the Bible. He doesn't know much about the New Religion; at home it stands uneasily alongside the old faiths, largely the practice of the ruling classes. He opens it to a random page, not expecting to understand a word, but - ]

This is in English. I've only ever seen this book in Latin before.

[Which he can't read.]

You want a Latin one? They might have one in that cupboard over there.

[She points.]

Oh - no, I couldn't read Latin to save my life, not many people are taught.

[He's careful about closing the book and offering it back to her. It's an icon of a religion he doesn't share, but its hers, and he can respect that.]

Thank you.

[She takes it back and settles it onto her lap again.]

You can come by and read it anytime.

[The chapel is not yours, Tiffany. He doesn't need your approval to do that.]

[There's still a sort of....generosity of spirit about it, which he likes.]

Thank you. I think I will.

[He pauses a moment.]

Is it - upsetting? To read.

[Which is his extremely roundabout way of asking if she's alright. This conversation was prompted by her crying into her book, after all.]

[She doesn't make the connection between his question and her current state of mind; she just shakes her head.]

No, no-- of course not. It's the word of God; it's supposed to be a comfort.

['Supposed to'. She doesn't seem especially comforted - but this feels like a place for private contemplation, and he doesn't want to intrude any further. Yet.]

I - I'll leave you with it, then. You can keep the handkerchief.

[Maybe reading more will help her. He can't know.]

[She looks down at it, still balled up and twisted in her hands. Then she nods, slightly.]

[He nods back, then gets to his feet.]

Nice meeting you, Tiffany.

[She just makes a little "mm" sound; nothing else.]

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