002 ✝ in the end only kindness matters

[ottimismo]

WHO: Sonny Carisi
WHERE: The Fountain, the Inn, House Number 7, House Number 24 (the Church-in-progress), and in-between
WHEN: January 17th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Religion? Will update as needed.
STATUS: Open!

---

The Fountain

It's night time. Or, at least, it's supposed to be, the previous day creeping into the new one. Normally, it would be so dark that he could see the stars. (He's never been able to see the stars before, not in New York. There's too many city lights, and he's never really thought about it before. But now he thinks about it a lot. Now, he spends a lot of time looking at them when they're out.) Normally it would be dark and starry, but lately it's been the opposite. Lately, the sky has been so bright with the aurora lights that it seems like daytime all the time.

It's strange. It probably means something, and it's not necessarily something good. But he doesn't care. He's sort of enjoying it.

Of course, it's not the same thing as the neon lights of New York City. It's not even close. But he's been enjoying it. Most people, he's noticed, have only seen it as a hindrance. Getting a good night's sleep isn't easy when there's light pouring through every window. Sonny, though, always trying to find the silver lining in everything, finds them to be pretty and calming.

Maybe a sign from God. But even he doubts that.

Still, he's enjoying the night, despite how day-like it is. Tonight, he's sitting on the edge of the fountain, wrapped in a thick extreme weather blanket, a cup of hot, bitter tea between his hands. For once, he's quiet, looking at the lights in the sky.


The Inn

Eventually, Sonny turns in for the night, grateful for the blackout curtains he received as a Christmas gift. But when he wakes up, it's to a plain brown box with his name on the tag. And inside? The ingredients for a good batch of cookies, with some milk to go along with it.

So for the first time in quite awhile, Sonny chooses not to leave the house that morning. Instead, he stays in and bakes cookies. He gets a good two batches out of the ingredients, two dozen cookies in all. They're not as good as his cookies normally are, lacking some of the special ingredients he likes to toss into his own recipe. And truthfully, the ingredients probably could've been used for something else, something a little more useful than cookies. But everyone needs that kind of comfort food every once and a while.

Maybe a little more often, in a place like this.

He makes the cookies and wraps them up, taking them and the milk with him when he finally leaves for the Inn around mid-morning. He steps inside, into the warmth, and kicks some of the snow off his feet to keep from tracking it inside.

"Morning!" His greeting is cheerful and directed towards anybody that happens to be inside. "Anybody want some cookies?"


Houses Number 7 & 24, and the Path In-between

Later on in the afternoon, once it's warmed up a tiny bit (though not enough to make a real difference), Sonny's out and about again. And this time, he's working.

He's not doing his old job. He's not really doing a job at all, at least not one he's getting paid for. But this is different. It's for a bigger cause. A cause that's much bigger than him. He used to want to be a priest, when he was younger, but was never called upon by God to do it. Somehow, though, he's found another way to serve God. Maybe this has always been his calling, and it took this situation for him to realize it.

It's not easy. Not that he ever expected it to be.

The morning is spent rearranging the furniture in house number 24. A house he was told was lived in by a man who had planned on creating a church himself, but has since disappeared. (Something he finds very concerning, but hasn't really had time to look into.) The man hadn't gotten very far — just a makeshift cross, half-ready to be displayed. That's set aside for the time being — he'll finish it later. First, he wants to clear out the living room and get some places to sit in there. So he rearranges the couch and some armchairs, and brings in the dining chairs from the kitchen, lining them all up.

It's not enough sitting room. He doesn't want to take any of the furniture from the empty houses, just in case they get more people and the houses are needed. So instead, he retrieves chairs from the only other place he knows of — his own house.

It's not like he has much need for them. He hardly spends any time in his own home, and when he is there, it's usually just to sleep. So one by one, he begins to haul the dining room chairs from his own home, to the one that's going to be the town's church. It's a little harder than he would've anticipated. He's pretty sure he won't even be able to do the arm chairs by himself. And he definitely can't get the couch by himself.

But he'll deal with that when he gets to it.

Comments

inn

[00nothing]

Alex's head lifts automatically when the inn door opens to let Sonny in, just as he has for every other person to enter the inn today while he was planted in one of the tables along the back wall. He eyes linger just long enough to register Sonny as unlikely to pose an immediate threat, before dropping back down to continue studying the rubik's cube in his lap.

Only to jolt back up again at Sonny's question, quiet disbelief flashing quickly across his face and cube slipping out of his hands to clatter noisily on the floor at his feet. Just as quickly he ducks down under the table, both to retrieve the cube and hide his expression until he can get a better handle on it.

When he does come up again he has the cube in hand and his expression has at least transitioned into something only mildly discomfited instead. He hesitates for a moment before answering Sonny. "Where did you get cookies?"

[ottimismo]

Sonny's gaze doesn't settle directly on Alex until he hears something clatter against the floor. When he looks over, it's just in time to see the younger boy emerging from beneath the table, a rubik's cube in hand. Sonny never had much luck with those things — he was never math-oriented enough for them. But somehow, he's not surprised that Alex is.

He moves a little closer, still smiling, and holds the plate out in offering.

"This package just showed up on my doorstep. Had all the things you need to whip up a good couple dozen cookies. Now, they're not as good as my cookies usually are — no sea salt or dark chocolate to go in them. But they're still pretty good."

He pauses, then holds out the gallon of milk he got with them. "I have some milk, too, if you want some."

[00nothing]

Alex makes a face that speaks plainly of his thoughts on the dubious origins of the cookie mix, but just in case Sonny still doesn't understand he'll voice his thoughts out loud as well. While he very pointedly doesn't take a cookie from the proffered plate.

"They just... showed up? At your front door? They didn't even have a name tag like the Christmas presents?" Because even as wary as he had been about those, at least with a name attached to them he could eventually put a face to the item and potentially make a note to keep a closer eye on them if the gift was strange enough to warrant it.

But no name? Alex didn't trust it.

[ottimismo]

Sonny is too trusting, probably to a fault. He always tends to give people the benefit of the doubt. Always likely to trust them until they give him a reason not to be trusted. It's not the sort of instincts a cop should have, really. He should be more guarded, more wary. But that's how he lets his job ruin him, and he's not going to let it do that.

But — hes not an idiot. Sure, they've gotten gifts in the past, ones that are good and helpful and fun. That doesn't mean all of them will be. He wasn't about to pass out cookies without knowing if they were harmful.

"Don't worry," Sonny says, wearing a faint smile, and holds the plate out further. "I've already had a few. I'm pretty sure they're not poisoned."

[00nothing]

Alex gives Sonny a flat, astonishingly disapproving look consider that it's coming from a slight fifteen year old. "Pretty sure with poison can be just enough to kill you." And now he really is looking at the cookies like they're poisoned.

He didn't know much about poisons outside of what he'd been exposed to in the poison dome (which, unfortunately, put ingested poisons right out of the running, so his knowledge there was more or less useless in this case). And even if his impression of this place and the people behind it so far didn't exactly support the concept of poisoned cookies, it didn't make him any less weary, in the end.

"Aren't there slow acting poisons?" It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. It's not paranoia if...

[ottimismo]

"Sure," he agrees with a small shrug. "Not very many, and most of them are really hard to get your hands on and are pretty traceable."

That's not the point, though. Actually, he's not sure what the point is, but he wouldn't be handing out cookies if he thought they might harm people. It's part of the reason he tried them first. The other part is that he really likes raw cookie dough. He pulls out a chair across from Alex and sets the plate between them. Still an offer, though he won't be offended if Alex doesn't end up taking any.

"Think about it, though. So far, we've been given plenty of stuff. All sorts of stuff on Christmas, and plenty of things even before that, right? Some of which has been edible. And nobody's died from it yet. Besides, whoever's brought us here keeps giving us tools to survive, ways to keep making it. Why would they suddenly poison us with a batch of cookies?"

He did think this through. He might be impossibly cheerful and optimistic, but he's also not an idiot.

fountain

[notabirdcostume]

Sam was used to not getting sleep, but usually that reason was because his mind was preoccupied or he was avoiding rolling around and thrashing from nightmares. He could actually function pretty well without sleep, especially now that he had a few things to occupy himself with: cards and even a few books.

The aurora's were something new, something Sam made note of in his notebook (another Christmas gift) trying to look for patterns or answers that were never there. Since they were lasting longer now, Sam had decided to take a walk and maybe get a different advantage for his notes. It couldn't hurt and Sam was feeling restless anyway. That was what put him on the path to the fountain anyway, as it had also occurred to him that the aurora's could also mean a change for the fountain. It wasn't likely -- but anything was possible here as he had learned after half a year of this place.

He wasn't really expecting to find someone out here at this time of evening, let alone at the fountain. Briefly, before he got closer, he wondered if the other was new. However, he wasn't wet and Sam was pretty sure he'd seen his face around the village. Sam wasn't sure he knew his name, they hadn't officially met, but when you were in a place like this you were bound to pass each other a few times.

So he held up a hand in greeting as he drew closer, slipping the notebook into his coat pocket, "Hey. Enjoying the nightly show?"

[ottimismo]

It was quiet and peaceful and still, until somebody else arrives. Sonny senses a presence half a second before he sees another man approaching, and then it's just another few seconds before he's greeted. Sonny doesn't mind the sudden company. He welcomes it, actually. He always prefers being around people rather than being alone.

"Yeah," he says, holding up a hand in greeting in return. "Haven't really gotten a chance to yet. I figured I would before they go away again."

If they go away again. Who knows how long they'll be there, and if they'll continue to be so bright. In the grand scheme of things, they don't really know anything about this place. And that includes the mysterious auroras.

"You wanna sit down?" he offers, scooting over a little on the fountain's edge. "I'll share my blanket. It's still pretty chilly out here."

[notabirdcostume]

Sam can understand that. He wishes he could appreciate it for just being a beautiful phenomenon, but he's been here too long. Over six months and now every occurance makes him suspicious of what it could mean and what will happen because of it. He knows it isn't a good place to be in and he probably should just relax. It's just very difficult to do.

"I've been keeping an eye on them myself," he admits, looking up at the sky, "but I have to confess it's mostly been to try and figure out what the hell they could mean and not really appreciating them for being pretty or anything." He lowers his gaze back to the man before shrugging, "Couldn't hurt. Mostly came out this way to check the fountain." He pauses and glances over at their entry point and sees no obvious change, "And it looks the same, so mission accomplished I suppose." He doesn't sound too excited about it, but he'll record his observation later. He crosses over to the fountain, taking a seat after brushing away the lingering snow.

"Can't wait for it to start warming up honestly."

[ottimismo]

Of course, Sonny wondered what they could mean, too. Everything that happens here seems to have a reason for it, and he figures the lights in the sky aren't any different. But so far, they haven't done anything. Not anything other than making it hard to sleep at night, anyway. That doesn't mean they won't do anything else, but until they do, Sonny's content to watch them shine in the sky, the colors wavering gently.

It's peaceful and calming, not unlike how he feels when he's sitting in a church, with sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows and candles flickering at the altar.

"Yeah, I'm getting a little bit tired of all this cold." Sonny shifts, pulling the blanket from around himself and draping it across the both of their laps, like it's the most normal thing in the world for two grown men to be sharing a blanket in the middle of the night. "And I mean, I'm from New York. I'm used to the cold."

This seems like a different kind of cold, though. Maybe it's the lack of central heating, but he can never seem to beat the chill away completely.

[notabirdcostume]

It was cold and it was practical, Sam wasn't going to think on it much beyond those two facts. He almost wished he had thought ahead enough to bring something warm to drink, but it wasn't like there was a thermos to use or a coffee shop nearby. Wouldn't that be nice? Hell, he'd never even been a big fan of Starbucks and he was even missing the convenience of those stores.

"Tell me about it. I'm from New York too actually...though when I got back from my tours I moved to the DC area. Family's still there though, so I visit." Sam glanced up, watching the lights. "This is different though...we can't layer properly and even when you go inside you aren't really escaping the cold."

[ottimismo]

"Yeah?" Sonny smiles, looking up at the sky again. "My family's scattered across the boroughs, so I still get to see a lot of them. Church on Sundays, dinners sometimes. That kind of thing.

He likes meeting other people from New York. It makes him wonder if he ever saw them before, back at home. Walked by them on the street, stood behind them in line for questionable street vendor hot dogs. Probably not — New York's huge. But it gives him a little bit of comfort, for some reason.

"That's it," he says. "The layers. That's why I can't get my chill out of bones. Even when I'm sitting in front of the fire for hours."

[notabirdcostume]

"That and these houses are probably not insulted like they are back home," Sam added. He didn't know a lot about construction, but he remembered something about insulation in homes being used to keep out the cold and he's pretty sure that was a modern idea.

"It must be nice to be near family," he observed. He'd certainly been thinking about his family more that he was here. It was sad really, one of those things you took for granted. "I mean, I moved out of the city, but it wasn't like I wasn't calling my mom on a regular basis. Mostly cause if I didn't I'd get an earful. I can only imagine how much I'm going to hear about this whenever we manage to get out of this." It probably isn't the conversation Sonny wants to be having, but it's what is on Sam's mind and he lets it spill out into the air before he can really stop himself.

House #24

[bit_fairytale]

"What're you doing?" Amy demands bluntly, when she comes across a bloke carting around furniture between one house and the other. She's learned that this place might not be normal, but it's definitely not the strangest thing she's had to deal with. Besides, one thing is clear - it's not New York City, which means that she just has to wait and the Doctor might come back for them. Maybe their story isn't actually over yet. Maybe they have a chance for something more.

Right now, though, she's got the village's happiest little furniture mover. "If you're really bored, I've got a bed that needs shifting a few inches to the right," she jokes, leaning against the entrance as she gives him a wary look.

[ottimismo]

"I'm--"

The rest of his sentence is cut off as the chair he has on his back starts to tip one way, and he has to allow it to slide to the floor so he won't drop it or hurt himself. He wrestles it into place, the old oak heavier than what he's used to dealing with, and gets it lined up next to two other chairs, which are placed behind a couch.

"I'm moving furniture from my house to here. I'm building a church." He exhales hard, brushing his hands off on his pants, and glances up at her, offering a smile. "But if you really need me to move your bed, I can do that."

[bit_fairytale]

Amy steps forward when it looks like he might lose that battle with the chair, but luckily it hits the ground without taking anyone out in the process. "My bed's just fine," she promises, feeling a little silly for teasing like that, so forwardly, but hey, a girl can try. Maybe if it ever comes to that, she'll be able to shove Rory in this guy's direction. "A church?" she echoes, wrinkling up her nose in confusion.

"I thought everyone was trying to escape," she says, "but you're building someplace they can sit here and pray?" It's not really his fault that Amy and faith have a tenuous relationship after the whole ordeal in the hotel prison, but the whole topic sort of unnerves her, even now.

[ottimismo]

At least he's used to the skepticism. New York is one giant cultural mixing pot, and as such, he's met plenty of people of different religions, and some who don't claim a religion at all. So the way she scrunches her nose isn't anything he's unused to.

(Besides, it's kind of cute.)

"Yeah," he says, a little bit breathless, and offers a smile. "I mean, sure we're all trying to get home. But a place to worship will bring a lot of people comfort and peace. And that's important, too."

[bit_fairytale]

"It could also bring a minotaur down on you to force you to show your hand and then kill you before you blink," is her cynical response, though she knows that it's not a typical thing for people to get randomly beamed up to a prison and then shown your worst fear so you'll reach out to your faith. As far as she can tell, he's not constructing a separate room to fill with clowns and photographers and gorillas and whatever else frightens you. "Sorry. Bad personal experience," is all she says, curtly.

She gestures forward to where he's still hauling things around. "Want a hand? I might not be your number one customer, but I've definitely got two arms and no shortage of ability to move things."

[ottimismo]

Sonny blinks, and then his brows arch high up his forehead, almost disappearing beneath the fringe of his messy hair. Normally, he'd have it fixed and pushed back, but the village happens to be severely lacking in hair product, and it's not one of his top priorities anyway.

Right now, actually, one of his top priorities is that the girl in front of him might be a little bit crazy.

"If you want to." He's still smiling, despite her unexpected response. "Basically, I'm wanting to line all this furniture up, like in place of church pews."

house 24

[notsocommon]

Helen would have had to have been blind not to notice all the commotion in House 24 along the road. It was unusual, in that she hadn't seen anyone with such a fervent desire to redecorate any of the houses and it was enough to make her peek her head in to see if she could contribute to this interesting if dubious cause.

"What on earth are you doing? I was under the impression the houses had quite enough furniture all on their own. Did you decide you needed more?"

[ottimismo]

So far, Sonny has managed to get all the dining room chairs from his home into the house that'll soon be a church, and is now wrestling with an armchair in the living room, trying to navigate it around the couch that he'll have to deal with later. He doesn't notice anyone peek inside until he hears a voice, and only then does he glance over his shoulder.

"What? Oh-- oh, no, I--" He abandons his current mission, turning to face the stranger as he wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Sweating is such an odd feeling when he knows there's still snow in parts of the village.

"I'm building a church. Sort of. Right now I'm just moving all of my furniture into this house so there's more places to sit."

[notsocommon]

A church isn't something that Helen had ever thought about building and she thought that her father would scold her for saying the same. She might be a scientist, yes, but she was an Anglican first and it meant something to recognize the glory of God in all creation.

"A church? Well, that's something we haven't had and is probably sorely needed, if only to give the people some place to carry their anxieties and fears. I suppose we're going to be looking at a non-denominational sort? I'm an Anglican but I know of at least one Catholic here."

[ottimismo]

Sonny smiles, looking visibly relaxed by her response. He's gotten mixed reactions from the villagers he's told, but for the most part, they seem to agree that a church wouldn't be a bad idea. The few negative reactions he's gotten haven't deterred him at all, but it's always nice to be among like-minded people.

"I'm Catholic, too," he says, pausing to push the chair a few inches to the left. "But this place will be totally non-denominational, yeah. I figured a place for people to come and talk to whatever higher power they believe in might be nice. I know it'll bring me a sense of peace."

[notsocommon]

"A lot of times people need prayer to carry them through the darkest of times. It's a good idea to have a place dedicated to it," Helen agreed. It had been a long while since she'd gone to regular services or prayed but she followed God in her own way.

How could she not, when God was there in every creature, in every blade of grass? Even in this forsaken place, she could see beauty and majesty. It felt natural enough to attribute it to God.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

[ottimismo]

Sonny still prays, even without the church. He prays when he wakes up and he prays before bed and he says grace before every meal. But there's something different about praying in a church, something far more grounding and relaxing. This church won't have the stained glass windows or the worn velvet pews, but it'll serve the same purpose. It'll still bring him peace.

And he hopes it can do the same thing for other people here, too.

"Yeah," he says, and it's really an answer to her first statement, but it also applies to her question, too. "Yeah, yeah, um.... I'm wanting to arrange all the chairs and stuff in rows facing that wall." He gestures to the far wall with one hand. "I can wrestle most of it into place, but the couch is the heaviest if you don't mind giving me a hand."