Captain Francis John Patrick Mulcahy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
collaronhisneck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-09-02 06:49 pm
collaronhisneck) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-09-02 06:49 pm
Dear God, Give Me Courage, for Perhaps I Lack It More Than Anything Else
WHO: Father Francis Mulcahy and others
WHERE: Various, check starters
WHEN: September 2nd through 4th
OPEN TO: Everyone, but only the last prompt will be an open in full. The rest are first come, first served in order to prevent Topic Fatigue.
WARNINGS: None so far; mentions of wartime problems may come up
( fountain, September 2, open to Major )
Considering he'd gone to sleep in his normal rickety cot, the familiar sounds of an April night outside Uijongbu drifting through the lashed-down sides of his tent, the rumble of engines passing by on the road in the distance...
Well, the last thing he expected to wake up to was water.
Jolting awake with the sudden plunge and the screaming lack of air, instinct kicks in just like his feet, and Mulcahy surges in the direction he hopes is upwards, towards light and away from the darkness, a stray thought passing through his mind that he hopes he's not heading for The Light just yet. There's so much left to do, after all. The coughing starts when he founders into the early morning light, because he'd managed to swallow some of the water before he surfaced, though fortunately it seems to be coming out fairly easily. What he doesn't realize right away is that his glasses seem to have disappeared; he's more concerned with catching the rim of the fountain and clinging to it while he spits up the water that invaded his esophagus. Not the most comfortable of welcomes, this.
( inn, September 2,open to two closed )
Recovered, more or less dry, glasses firmly in place, pack still on his back, and more befuddled than he'd ever been in his life (which is saying something, considering some of the shenanigans he's witnessed), Mulcahy has managed to make it to the inn in time for the noon meal. He's still not certain he's not hallucinating all of this, but it hurts when he pinches his arm and everything feels reassuringly solid, the grain of the wood a noticable texture under his fingertips, the air warmer than he's expecting and with almost a sleight weight to it. At the very least, he's certain this isn't a dream, and the rumbling in his stomach seems to reinforce that idea.
If he isn't waylaid, he's going to approach the first person he sees that isn't occupied with something else, smile warmly and a little nervously at them, and ask the first relevant question that comes to mind. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was told I could find something to eat here - how does that work, exactly? I don't seem to have any money, but I don't mind lending a hand if it's needed."
( hospital, September 3, open to two )
The hospital isn't at all like the ones he's seen and especially not like the one he knows best, but in his quest to learn the village the building had easily drawn his eye since it was so close to the inn and he'd decided to explore. The 4077 is a temporary camp - it's a mobile surgical unit, after all - so a structure this solid is a change by itself, not to mention the age. The village reminds him so much of some older places he's seen throughout New England and Europe it's uncanny, and in many ways it's similar to several villages in Korea as well, although those similarities aren't so happy. Run down and the upkeep not kept up with, people living day to day and just trying to survive - it's no surprise that a lot of the buildings seem a little shabby, a few into actual disrepair. The hospital looks better than many, which encourages him - it means people are doing their part to keep up areas that may be needed. It's a good sign of a community pulling together.
Still, he's not about to go poking around in places he may not be wanted, so Mulcahy sticks to the hallways and carefully peers in any doors before he enters a room, in case he's about to disturb any patients. He's fairly sure there aren't any there, but better safe than sorry, and he'd like to see if there's any staff so he can volunteer his services should they be needed.
( church, September 4, open to any )
The makeshift cross outside the building had drawn him like a needle to a magnet when he'd spotted it, and while the structure is obviously a house that's been repurposed, Mulcahy can't deny feeling more at peace at the sight. Obviously someone's felt the separation from their congregation much as he has, and apparently for quite awhile if there's been steps taken to convert a dwelling. He stops in the road outside the building, head bowed and hands folded in front of him for several seconds as he silently prays, and then releases a deep breath before climbing the steps to the porch and opening the door. Seeing what needs to be done will be a good way to keep busy, and perhaps he can find some way to help or prepare for a dedication. He's no Bishop, but there seem to be a lack of them in the area, which leads to a distinct possibility of "winging it."
WHERE: Various, check starters
WHEN: September 2nd through 4th
OPEN TO: Everyone, but only the last prompt will be an open in full. The rest are first come, first served in order to prevent Topic Fatigue.
WARNINGS: None so far; mentions of wartime problems may come up
( fountain, September 2, open to Major )
Considering he'd gone to sleep in his normal rickety cot, the familiar sounds of an April night outside Uijongbu drifting through the lashed-down sides of his tent, the rumble of engines passing by on the road in the distance...
Well, the last thing he expected to wake up to was water.
Jolting awake with the sudden plunge and the screaming lack of air, instinct kicks in just like his feet, and Mulcahy surges in the direction he hopes is upwards, towards light and away from the darkness, a stray thought passing through his mind that he hopes he's not heading for The Light just yet. There's so much left to do, after all. The coughing starts when he founders into the early morning light, because he'd managed to swallow some of the water before he surfaced, though fortunately it seems to be coming out fairly easily. What he doesn't realize right away is that his glasses seem to have disappeared; he's more concerned with catching the rim of the fountain and clinging to it while he spits up the water that invaded his esophagus. Not the most comfortable of welcomes, this.
( inn, September 2,
Recovered, more or less dry, glasses firmly in place, pack still on his back, and more befuddled than he'd ever been in his life (which is saying something, considering some of the shenanigans he's witnessed), Mulcahy has managed to make it to the inn in time for the noon meal. He's still not certain he's not hallucinating all of this, but it hurts when he pinches his arm and everything feels reassuringly solid, the grain of the wood a noticable texture under his fingertips, the air warmer than he's expecting and with almost a sleight weight to it. At the very least, he's certain this isn't a dream, and the rumbling in his stomach seems to reinforce that idea.
If he isn't waylaid, he's going to approach the first person he sees that isn't occupied with something else, smile warmly and a little nervously at them, and ask the first relevant question that comes to mind. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was told I could find something to eat here - how does that work, exactly? I don't seem to have any money, but I don't mind lending a hand if it's needed."
( hospital, September 3, open to two )
The hospital isn't at all like the ones he's seen and especially not like the one he knows best, but in his quest to learn the village the building had easily drawn his eye since it was so close to the inn and he'd decided to explore. The 4077 is a temporary camp - it's a mobile surgical unit, after all - so a structure this solid is a change by itself, not to mention the age. The village reminds him so much of some older places he's seen throughout New England and Europe it's uncanny, and in many ways it's similar to several villages in Korea as well, although those similarities aren't so happy. Run down and the upkeep not kept up with, people living day to day and just trying to survive - it's no surprise that a lot of the buildings seem a little shabby, a few into actual disrepair. The hospital looks better than many, which encourages him - it means people are doing their part to keep up areas that may be needed. It's a good sign of a community pulling together.
Still, he's not about to go poking around in places he may not be wanted, so Mulcahy sticks to the hallways and carefully peers in any doors before he enters a room, in case he's about to disturb any patients. He's fairly sure there aren't any there, but better safe than sorry, and he'd like to see if there's any staff so he can volunteer his services should they be needed.
( church, September 4, open to any )
The makeshift cross outside the building had drawn him like a needle to a magnet when he'd spotted it, and while the structure is obviously a house that's been repurposed, Mulcahy can't deny feeling more at peace at the sight. Obviously someone's felt the separation from their congregation much as he has, and apparently for quite awhile if there's been steps taken to convert a dwelling. He stops in the road outside the building, head bowed and hands folded in front of him for several seconds as he silently prays, and then releases a deep breath before climbing the steps to the porch and opening the door. Seeing what needs to be done will be a good way to keep busy, and perhaps he can find some way to help or prepare for a dedication. He's no Bishop, but there seem to be a lack of them in the area, which leads to a distinct possibility of "winging it."
no subject
"One time..." She began, hoping that she was vague enough for this to be okay to share. "I met a warrior of god. In the literal sense. He was an angel that was born with the soul purpose to fight demons. I asked him, do you believe in god?" She paused and looked down at the cover of her sketchbook. "He said no. He was a decent of the nephilim but he didn't believe that there was a god. He fought for god. He stopped the demons from invading the world but... he didn't believe."
Jace.
It made it hard to know what to believe.
no subject
Still, what's Clary's saying takes him aback. He's always believed in God, but... a warrior of God? A literal angel? A- "I beg your pardon, but... You say you met an angel? A descendant of the nephilim?" His is a faith, that you have without material proof. And here Clary speaks of it in tones of such... normality. It's enough to throw anyone for a loop, and it sure does him.
no subject
"Yeah. He said he had never seen god but churches of all religions would provide statuary for the nephilim. All you had to do was knock at it's doors." That was what brought her here, she had said the oath of the angel but she had gotten nothing in reply.
"I wonder if he's really here." She paused. "God."