sixthiterationlogs | Another Town Meeting -- In Regards to Water Supply and Fountain Issues

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Another Town Meeting -- In Regards to Water Supply and Fountain Issues

WHO: Sam Wilson
WHERE: The Village and then Inn
WHEN: (backdate) September 15
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: Paranoia? IDK.
STATUS: Open and also VERY threadjack friendly. This can be as crazy as the last time they all got together to spout theories. Set up your own sub-threads for what discussions you want to happen. I figure we need a discussion about the fountain and Sam's plan to watch it, a discussion about the recently discovered spring's side effects, and possibly a talk about any new discoveries or progress that's been made since the last town meeting. Feel free to mingle and make friends.

Sam stood at the edge of town, feeling a little ridiculous. However, he felt bad for not trying to include the two mysterious arrivals that had sworn this was some kind of murder game before running off. He still didn't get that, but the girl he'd met had worried him and after he'd heard about the guy as well he'd started to put it together that the two were most likely from the same place.

That aside, they weren't going to earn their trust if they had meetings and looked like they weren't at least trying to extend a hand to two of the newer arrivals to the village. Sam had decided enough was enough and since it was time for another meeting of the village folk it was also time to extend a welcome to their neighbors in the woods. He'd heard enough people mention that they'd been spotted out there. It wasn't like he had a phone and he wasn't sure how much he trusted Peggy's little bird friends just yet.

This was going to be his best bet and even then he felt utterly ridiculous. Sam took a deep breath and then called out, "HEY! I KNOW THERE'S A COUPLE OF YOU HIDING OUT THERE!" He paused, waited, took another breath, "MEETING IN THE VILLAGE IN 15 MINUTES! WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT THE WATER AND WHAT WENT DOWN WITH MY PLAN TO WATCH THE FOUNTAIN."

He couldn't be sure if they'd heard him or not, so Sam leaned down towards the ground, and wrote a brief note in the dirt:

TRUCE. MEET AT INN. NEED TO TALK.

Sam added a happy face as a sign of good will and also drew an arrow pointing towards the inn. It was now time to get everyone else if they hadn't already heard him yelling at the trees.

---

After getting the word out to the rest of the village population, Sam made his way back to the Inn. There was still a lot of debris from the Earthquakes that had literally shaken things up a few days ago, but the cleaning process has begun. Unfortunately, the smell of the contaminated river still wafted through the village and made Sam's nose crinkle in disgust. Just one more problem on top of everything else.

Sam gets things set up, running through the topics in his mind. He needs to follow up on the fountain and what people had experienced during their watch. His timing had been poor, so he hadn't actually had the opportunity to see anyone arrive. He also wanted to see if anything new had been discovered beside that spring Emma and Margaery had found a few days ago. The water supply was important after all, they could survive without a lot but water wasn't one of them.

He hoped this went a little better than the last time a meeting like this had been called, though at least he didn't have to worry about people fighting over weapons this time.

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He waits until there's a lull--everything that's happened is more than it's fair share of special. That's the only word that comes to mind, save maybe wonderful in it's most archaic sense. Full of wonder--not necessarily bad.

He's learned things, though. By listening and only really interjecting when he needs to push the conversation along. He really does want to survive, of course--Boyd's not quite that opportunistic--but he feels safer when he has a plan either in motion or in his back pocket. Just in case. Right now, it's the latter.

"'The people who walk in darkness Will see a great light; Those who live in a dark land, The light will shine on them,' Isiah 9:2."

When he rises from where he'd been previously, it's an odd sort of gracefulness that one doesn't normally see in 40 year old men, but Boyd has a certain charm and way with confidence that it seems to make sense.

"Pardon me if I seem to be stepping on any toes, bein' one of the newer folks to grace your lovely establishment," he begins, and his smile could light up a dark mine, "but in times like this it seems that some Faith might be needed; for there is no greater light in the dark than the Lord Jesus Christ himself, or whomever you choose to worship, I refuse to discriminate."

And, almost immediately, his hands are up as if to show he's unarmed. "I ain't tryin' to convert as such, before y'all go getting the wrong idea. I'm merely pointing out that as a pastor of sorts in my home world, should anyone be interested, I reckon a permanent place of worship might be beneficial to the mental well bein' of all, should you choose to participate."

He can hear his grandmother's voice rattling around in his head, creaky and demanding, tener cuidado de los falsos profetas, but it's been a very long time since Cougar has been to church and there are so many sins on his soul that no matter how many rosaries he prays on his knees, he fears those innocent children will not be with God until he has repented enough.

The sacred heart above his own, Cougar feels it itch. He's not sure what to make of this new man -- anyone new brings wariness to him -- but somewhere to sate the thirst of his faith is enough for him to feel that yearning pull at him.

"Good idea," is all he offers, evenly.

Boyd's smile is light and easy, and he spreads his arms wide, a welcoming gesture. His posture is surprisingly straight for someone with a stereotypical hillbilly accent; carrying himself like a king despite his rural upbringing.

"I ain't saying everyone has to show," he agrees, "just that it's there if people so desire to cleanse their souls. Are you a God fearing man, sir? Do you follow the word of God and Christianity, or does your beliefs devote you to another sect?"

Cougar doesn't react at all when the preacher turns his attentions to him. He's used to enthusiasm, charisma, and energy. He's worked with men like this long enough to be ready to cope with it, but still, all he does is to raise his eyebrow at the question. "Catholic," is all he responds, an even tone that doesn't say his opinion about the other sects of religion that have passed him by in his time serving his country.

"Do you know what you are doing?" he asks, and it might be a layered question, but Cougar isn't about to let on that he knows that.

"That depends on what you mean," Boyd states, and his tone is light and jovial--he's careful not to add a bite to it like he would had it been someone in his crew, because that's not exactly fair. Not to anyone here--plus, it's a new start. A fresh start.

"I'm afraid you might have to elaborate on that rather broad choice of words, but if you mean have I run sermons and he like before, I have indeed."

"Good," is all Cougar says, still even-keeled as he tips his baseball cap to the man and sinks back to the corner of the room where he can watch the proceedings while staying out of the way, but he's definitely making a note of intending to go to this man's church, if only to find out what kind of pastor he is.

She felt her skin crawl as he spoke the words, the sudden rush revulsion and fear blocked out any noises but the sound of her breathing. Wrapping her arms about her waist, Margaery forced down the sudden feeling of blinding rage. Pious men had spoken like this to her before. Their haughty, arrogant attitudes had lead to the destruction of her world and torn apart the foundation of power, righteously assuming that they could replace it with their faith.

Now someone was seeking to do the same here? Offering up his beliefs as though it was the answer to keeping them alive? No! She could stomach this again. She could bear to suffer through another sermon from a similar man than the one who allowed the mutilation of her brother and whose lack of foresight caused her death.

She got to her feet, feeling her legs tremble beneath her. "Should anything sensible be further discussed, then perhaps I could be told of this later? I will not remain if the meeting decides to slip into the realm of the absurd." She turned on her heel and headed towards the kitchen, needing to be anywhere other than here.

Kate wears a cross, says thank you Father before meals, and she'd been waiting to see how the crowd reacts before saying anything. She misses church. She misses the sanctity of it, the rituals that grounded her when the rest of her life was disintegrating faster than she could rebuild it. She misses hearing sermons, she misses group prayer. She misses.

She's also not blind. Not to the reactions of various members of her little community, nor to the dangers of honey-voiced men claiming to speak the Word of God and really after a little fleecing of their flock.

(...a pastor of sorts

Why the clarification? She doesn't quite understand, doesn't like the way it makes her doubt)

But she'll take Mr Crowder on his word, for now, because she misses and maybe it's something she's been feeling like she ought to do. Find her fellow Christians here, join them in communal prayer. Regardless of how many other Catholics are actually here, she just misses. So much.

Kate doesn't, however, let her yearning distract her from the temporal responsibility she's decided to take on for herself. Miss Margaery is all razor-fine precision and fury before she stalks away, and Kate doesn't want her to consume herself alone.

She glances at Mr Sorellin next to her, manages to briefly and discreetly squeeze his fingers in a silent farewell, and gets to her feet.

Nothing's said to Mr Crowder. A little smile, a little nod of her head - not agreement, per say, but acknowledgement of his offer. She will follow this up later. Then, as quickly and lightly as she can given her limp, Kate slips out of the room after Miss Margaery.

She doesn't want to leave, but... Well. She lives with perceptive people, and has connections with more. She can ask them, later, how things went. For now, one person is her concern.

She finds Miss Margaery in the kitchen, and shuts the door behind her as she enters the room.

"Miss Margaery? Are you all right?"

Edited 2016-09-23 13:24 (UTC)

She hadn't expected anyone to follow her, Kate or otherwise. The company had been caught up in the discussions and the thought of someone being behind all that was happening. It wasn't something that she expected the others to be distracted from. These were answers that needed to be given and it required a collective effort.

Kate surprised her, both by her concern and coming after Margaery. Her figure filled the doorway, surprising Margaery from her place by the sink. Her breathing felt easier here, more accessible and comfortable, despite her proximity to the group. Gods, but she wished that she could control her response to men like the High Sparrow better. Instead, she felt susceptible to anger and blinding rage. It made her weak, something that she hated to feel.

She shook her head, hoping to dismiss it all, but finding it firmly planted in her mind. "I think I wish to return home. I'm not feeling very well, I'm tired."

"I'll walk with you, if you'd like," Kate says, quietly. It is a question of 'if', but she thinks it would be a good idea for Miss Margaery to have company. And she wants to know the why of that reaction, either to talk Miss Margaery down or simply to know how to smooth it over.

"It's a bit of ways to where you're stayin' with Mr Stark and Mr Snow."

"I would," Margaery said softly, grateful to have Kate's company, even if she wasn't the most pleasant at the moment. She at least tried to keep her irritation from lashing out at Kate, someone who didn't deserve that reaction. She was simply being kind. "Thank you."

She nodded, "I think they both might be there as well. I didn't see them in the meeting."

"Yeah," says Frank, leveling a squint at the newcomer. "We gonna put that up between the ice cream parlor and the spa?"

Because that's about how important Frank thinks that is. He gives a derisive snort, shaking his head, and leans back in his seat.

"Unless you're planning on feeding the multitudes here, pastor, I can think of about a hundred better ways to be spending your time."

Jo is glad that someone sane speaks up, with something that sounds like sense. Especially when all she's got on her tongue is 'the fuck?', because it really is one of the last things they need. Her faces even read's it as such, when she's leaned back in her chair from writing with a sharpened charcoal stick.

She bet he was going to try and make it to his one god and one bible, too. Which would be hilarious when -- not if -- the multiverse decided to throw a different god or five at him, not mention followers of dozens different types of religion.

Annie is simply confused. The man has charisma, yes, but she can recognise that easily after knowing Finnick since they were approximately five, and that doesn't mean it's anything bad. It's a talent, neutral.

What she doesn't understand is the reactions of a few of the people, disbelief and hostility. That she can read, but she doesn't know the reason, doesn't know the cause. That it's something common, yes, and she files it away as a Clue of some description.

But she doesn't understand what the man is talking about. Only that he's inviting people, somewhere, to talk about light and worship. To see if that'd help.

As Annie's only heard the term, really, as part of someone's adoration for someone else, or in terms of praising Panem, she is...

She's lost.

She glances up at Finnick, raising her eyebrows a little.

What do you make of this?

"As I've said before," Boyd answers calmly, "it's merely a chance for those who wish to talk or have some sort of spiritual guidance to do so."

He was expecting this of course--Harlan is a religious place, everyone going to church on Sunday, but he's been in and out of prison and knows enough to know people will challenge him. That suits him fine--he's not after them. He's not really after anyone, not yet. He's not sure if he will. But it's a nice backup plan.

"I fully intend to pull my own weight as well, if y'all are concerned about that, you need not be. My daddy taught me manners and the value of good old-fashioned hard work, and I intend to do just that."

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Another Town Meeting -- In Regards to Water Supply and Fountain Issues

Come to the light side

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