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Father Berislav      Berislav's service takes place in the Faded Print, a Watchtower and general-purpose base of operations for the Blade Lineage, and now their Yurodiviye allies as well. Tucked away in an irrelevant neighborhood in the Backstreets of District 12 (a district better known for being the former seat of Lobotomy Corporation), travel here by car is difficult. The Print sits at the terminus point of a winding, serpentine road, tucked between rows of failed or failing businesses.

     Before it was a Watchtower, it was a hostel, and before it was a hostel, it was a local news bureau. The people of this neighborhood say that the bureau once had either the blessing or the ire of a capo from the Syndicate known as the Thumb--hence the name, a double entendre.

     With a brick exterior and a wrought iron waist-high fence around the outdoors stairs that lead down to the kitchen and bar, the Print is one of the oldest buildings still standing in this neighborhood. Despite half of it being below-ground, its age gives it a kind of dignity that's inspiring, in the midst of so much failure. Years of lean times have taken their toll, but no one can bring themselves to be the person who tears it down or paves over it.

     What was lost can be found again--that's what the old hostel represents. The beds upstairs are hardly extravagant, but they aren't the ones that were there during that stage of the building's life, and certainly there weren't any when it was a news bureau.

     Today's service-and-luncheon is held downstairs. Barstools and booths serve as pews--the food offerings, wrapped variously in tin foil, towels, sealed tupperware, et cetera, are laid out on the bar--though Berislav has asked that eating doesn't start until after service. He promises that's going to make it all the much more delicious--'give yourself time to work up an appetite!'

    As he noted in his announcement, this is a hostel--so you're kind of barred from being the person who brings the plates, cups, drinks or silverware. There's a cooler for cold items, or items which keep better *in* the cold--Berislav asked anyone who planned on bringing something cold to let him know, so he could source an appropriately sized cooler. Fridge space is at a premium due to the difficulty of keeping the fridge powered with the current generator setup and the difficulty of keeping the building cool with one window unit.

     As you enter (even if you're late!) there are mimeographed programs that not only lay out a rough schedule, but also provide possibly much-needed instructions for the call and response portions of the service. You can reasonably guess, based on the fact that Berislav is sat in a booth playing a second-hand battery-powered keyboard, that you're still in the 'prelude.'

    Berislav wears a billowy purple garment, almost like a poncho, plus a simple but pretty stole in the same color. Both sport gold trim and embroidered crosses. Underneath those, he wears a flowing white gown, and beneath *that* is his usual cassock--the clerical collar of which can still be seen beneath the layers. He looks very grateful for the beat up window unit, but it's fighting an uphill battle.

     After a hymn (the words and notes of which are on the back of the programs, painstakingly written out) comes the words of welcome, during which Berislav remarks on the state of the hostel. "Lent is a time of penitence, reflection, prayer and self-denial. Those of us who keep the faith during this time often choose to fast and to go without certain things, in reverence of Christ's forty days in the wilderness. I suppose with the blackouts, even those of you who don't keep the faith will still be giving something up."
Father Berislav      The programs end up being necessary; Berislav's denomination seems to like standing up and sitting down as much as call and response. It starts at around ten in the morning, and steadily progresses down the program portion of the pamphlets until you reach 'Sermon.'

     "I'd like to begin the sermon with a reading from Mark--" Berislav flashes the congregation a sly smile. "I know, I know," he says, holding his hands up and smiling impishly. "Our first-timers are probably thinking, 'oh, brother, how much is this guy going to read?!' 'You mean all that other stuff wasn't the sermon?!'" He chuckles, leaning with one arm on the improvised pulpit--a pair of ailing barstools and a long-suffering coffee table, kludged together and given new life.

    Pointing amusedly at the congregation with his free hand, "Well, you're right! But I promise, just like everything else I've read and spoken today, it's all connected to a bigger point." The sunlight streaming in from the window, casting Berislav's smile in natural tones, is the only light the Faded Print is going to get for the next long while.

     "Even the Psalms I sang, the Invitatory--you can think of them like meditations."

     "I put services together with a mind for the needs of the people attending them, on that given day, at that point in their lives. So I hope you'll enjoy this sermon--that's the part of a service where I really let you have it," he says, to the tune of another brief but decidedly impish grin. "Where I can give my own personal inference about the scripture, as a means of instruction."

     Berislav clears his throat and begins, focusing on the Bible laying open on the pulpit before him. "All the country of Judea, and all of Jerusalem were going out to John the Baptist, and were being baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair and wore a leather belt around his waist, and ate locusts and wild honey."

    Berislav pauses, looking out over the congregation with a little smile. "It doesn't sound very appetizing, does it? Well... maybe the honey, right? But John had a kind of fulfilment that's very rare. I look out across this congregation and I think I see it in your eyes, your faces and your bodies. There's a certain type of spiritual fullness you get, when you know that you've done something for the good of everyone around you, no matter how difficult."

    "Those of you in the Lineage know that very well--we have beds for you now, here in the Print, but you could make do--*have* made do--sleeping on benches and alleyways, because your work protecting the City's meek warmed your spirit even when your body was cold at night."

    "John preached," Berislav continues, reading from the Bible, "Saying, 'after me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I have baptized you with water, but *he* will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.'"

    "In those days, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John, in the river Jordan. And when he came up out of the water, he saw the heavens being torn open, and the Spirit descending upon him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: 'You are my beloved Son, with you I am well pleased.'"
Father Berislav      "The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. And Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan."

    Looking up from the Bible, Berislav again makes eye contact with several of the congregation. "'Satan' is an allegory; not a literal person, but a force of spiritual temptation. We can think of him as the opposite of the Holy Spirit; a prosecutor, not an advocate."

    "So why would the Spirit do that, as his advocate? Well... one of the reasons we call Jesus the Son of Man is because he's as human as he is of God. Begotten, not made. That means... he could have listened to Satan. The advocate was building a case for the righteousness of Christ. And when is our righteousness most tested, but when we stand to profit from shedding it?"

    "The book of Matthew has a little more about his fasting," says Berislav, thumbing to a different page marked out by a little sheaf of paper he's used as a bookmark. "And a little more about the temptation from Satan. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to him and said, 'If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.' And Jesus could have done that! But..." He holds up an index, "Despite having no walls, no roof, no bed to keep him warm at night or safe from wild animals, at the end of forty days of fasting--Jesus said, 'It is written: Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

    "*Spiritual fullness,*" Berislav says, both hands clasped together tightly. "Temptation is a powerful thing. Satan tried to tempt him twice again--to tempt Jesus to use his power for his own benefit. To save himself at the expense of others, to enrich himself by serving what's transient over what's lasting. He fought that temptation, and he won. And for it, he was ministered to by angels, who healed him and fed him after his ordeal."

     "Did he, then, decide he could hang up his hat? 'I've done my good deed, I've gotten my pat on the back, now I can kick my feet up?' Does a Blade Lineage samurai cool her heels after one day of work protecting the City's vulnerable? Does a member of the Yurodiviye shed their colors, after moving one crate of food to those who need it most?" Berislav smiles and shakes his head. "No."

     "After John the Baptist was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee after, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.'"

    "I chose these passages for today's sermon because I know that the Backstreets are a lot like the wilderness. It's cold, it's hostile, and refuge here is scarce. And like Jesus in the wilderness, all of us will be tempted by Satan, whether we know it now or not, all in the midst of the very physical dangers that exist here, too. When the gardeners of sin discover what we're trying to do, they will send people--to test us, to tempt us, and failing that, to break us."

     "They won't tempt only with creature comforts or promises of power. When they realized that we're used to not having those, then they'll try to tempt us with fear. After all, how much *more* like the wilderness must the Outskirts be? Life here is hard, life *there* is harder, but it *is* life. I mentioned they arrested John--that was because he criticized the King of Galilee, and because he had a great influence over the people, which the court feared. They'll come after us in the same way--but just like King Herod, that will be the ruin of them, as long as we hold fast to what's important to us. As long as we resist temptation, and listen to our advocate, the Holy Spirit."

    "Ultimately, King Herod had John the Baptist beheaded," continues Berislav, driving one hand into an open palm for emphasis, "But still, when Jesus began his ministry, his twelve apostles practically jumped at the chance to follow him. Even when word of him and his miracles spread, and the authorities began to bar him entry from this town or that town, people came and sought *him* out. Why?"
Father Berislav      "Because they wanted to believe in the message of Jesus even before they knew him. People from all walks of life, no matter how far they've gone astray, tend to want a kinder world." Berislav smiles serenly. "And so... if there's ever a moment when any of you are feeling temptation, if any of you are feeling feeling fear, feeling frustrated by the strength of our enemies, I'd like you to remember that, and to remember that it's what we're fighting for." Berislav smiles. "Remember that voice in your head, who comforted you on long and difficult nights, who balmed your soul when your feet ached from running and your arms felt numb from the weight of wielding swords in defense of the meek."

     "Remember that voice when your back aches from loading and unloading much-needed food, clothing and medicine, telling you it was for people who otherwise never could have afforded it. Remember it when your voices are hoarse from speaking for the voiceless. None of that you did because it was easy, because it'd make you rich or powerful and certainly not because it'd deliver you from harm. You did it because before you knew the name of that voice--before you knew the Holy Spirit by name, you knew the truth of what it was telling you."

    "You knew then, as you do now, that the City is sick and needs medicine. That things are backwards here. That when a Wing dies, we should be running to help our neighbors, and not running to be the first to fatten ourselves by picking the bones clean. If we fill ourselves with the Holy Spirit, with the word of God, we can weather worse than even these lean times."

    Berislav clears his throat. "Thus ends the sermon." That must mean it's 'Prayers of the People' now!

    "With all our heart and with all our mind, let us pray to the Lord, saying, 'Lord, have mercy.' For the peace of the City, for the welfare of the Holy Church of God, of the Watch, the Blade Lineage, the Yurodiviye, and the unity of all peoples, let us pray to the Lord." He gestures to the congregation, then, forgetting most of them have no context for any of this call-and-response stuff, chuckles and says, "Ah... I didn't notice I'd left it off of the programs until I'd already mimeographed a dozen copies... so, that's where you all say 'Lord, have mercy.' Haha." After the response, Berislav takes to his little electric keyboard. "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen."
Father Berislav      A little hymnal processional follows, which must be the Peace. It's probably not hard to imagine, at this point, that usually, priests don't do *everything* on these programs themselves. When it's finished, he stands up from the keyboard, heads over to the table with the food, and blesses it with a short, sung prayer: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Praise him all creatures here below! Praise him above ye heavenly host! Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost!"

    "...let's eat," he laughs. "There's a microwave in the kitchen if you need it, but let me know if you're going to use it--we'll have to disconnect the window unit from the generator to get it running. I think someone brought a hot plate, too, but obviously that won't work for everything."

     Berislav's own offering is one he hops behind the bar to serve, due to the fact that it's served to-preference. He looks *very* happy to hang up and stow away his stole, chasuble and alb, stowing all three away in some kind of burning orange subspace, to replace them with a comparitively much lighter apron.

     He's got his offering set on a folding table behind the bar, so as not to take up valuable space, between the big stock pot and the several smaller containers beside it. Helpful notes on a chalkboard set up behind him rattle it off:

WATERS' CINCINNATI-STYLE CHILI!
TWO-WAY: spaghetti & chili
THREE-WAY: spaghetti, chili & cheddar cheese
FOUR-WAY ONION: spaghetti, chili, onions, & cheddar cheese
FOUR-WAY BEAN: spaghetti, chili, beans, & cheddar cheese
FIVE-WAY: spaghetti, chili, beans, onions & cheddar cheese

    As Berislav explains it, "It's not really chili..." Anyone expecting thick, red, southwestern-style chili is in for a surprise. His is more like a thin meat sauce, without the chunky consistency of a chili con carne, and the flavor profile is more mediterranean.
Angela The Yurodiviye have down their best to take advantage of the blackout hitting The City and one of the big ways they've been helping out is by directing people to the Faded Print or, when they were unable to do that, leaving them with supplies. They even went so far as to hand out small little burner phones so they can watch the sermon from home if they can't make it for a variety of reasons, but suffice it to say the Fall of L-Corp certainly has more people flocking to the Yurodiviye and their Blade Lineage partners than charisma and good deeds could ever accomplish. But how many of those people just want help and how many of them want to help others...who knows? But the Yurodiviye sees it as an opportunity to recruit, and recruit hard and even the Blade Lineage is looking for people with good sword arms that have an interest in fighting back against the injustices of this world.

Sonya the Saint is curious about how Father Berislav conducts his services so he has come along bearing his own meal that hep repared himself (The Yurodiviye has brought along their own samplings as much as they could afford, but most of it is simple and keeps well), but Sonya was able to get ahold of a preservation box and has set what he has brought along with the other meal items. And what he has brought along is...

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDjp9s-a-ck

Is a platter of beef stroganoff! Meow!

Near the end of Berislav's sermon, a tall man in a Hana Association Uniform--familiar to some of you as Olivier--arrived and stayed at the back of the Church, arms crossed. He doesn't interrupt the sermon, nor does he interrupt when Berislav moves to dole the potluck out. He doesn't make a move for the food at all, nor does he approach anyone to talk with yet. Perhaps he figures Berislav will approach him when he is ready. He's not exactly unhurried these days, but he's a guy who has his ways of going about things and rushing around isn't his style.

Chance and Gamble, the two RAPSCALLIONS that Berislav had met before, fell asleep about halfway through the sermon. They did their best, but they wake up once the food is unveiled because of course they do. They rush forward to the table to try and get first dibs on food and the members of Blade Lineage, who include Aeng-du and Bamboo Hatted Kim (among others) have elected to wait for everyone else to partake of the potluck before everyone else gets to it.

The Blade Lineage have set up candles around to provide some additional lighting as the generators are mostly being used to keep out the elements and keep the place warm. They take shifts to make sure that the people entering are those with legitimate reasons to be here, rather than Syndicates intending to try and ambush them or steal the food. So far, neither Kurokumo nor the Thumb have sent anyone, but they have had to spook off the occassional small Syndicate looking for an opportunity to raid the potluck. It's still dark in the District right now.

When Sonya steps next to Berislav to help dole out food at double the pace it could go if it was just him working. "Does it bother you, that most were just here for the warmth and the meals? That's a silly question, isn't it?" He smiles. "Helping others is a gift, but for me--teaching others how to help, I think that's where the true joy lies. Wouldn't you agree?"
Rowdyruff Boys Brick isn't here. There are many reasons for it, and the simplest of them is that today is one of his and Blossom's scheduled days off. They had to actually do things on the weekend this time around, and so, one of their off days was re-scheduled. Aggressively. At the moment, he's actually in Grindavik, Iceland's Blue Lagoon, sitting alongside Blossom in 102 degree water, submerged up to just below his nose. He's had enough of practically everything except her for a little while, and the idea of going to a Church service of all things boils his blood for all sorts of reasons. One of them is that one of his fathers is, in fact, literally the devil, and while he isn't demonic himself he does have strong feelings about God.

All of them amount to a middle finger, though.

Between deliberately antagonising an ally over vaguely adjacent but definitely separate theologies, the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys just figured it was better if he sent his brothers to this.

Boomer knows how to attend a Church service, though he has only ever really gone to cause problems at one. That's not the case today-- he's here with Bubbles, and perhaps a little uncomfortably aware of his devilish origins. He's dressed nicely but not as subdued as is appropriate to Church services, in a black suit-and-tie with a blue button-down fastened with silver-plated cuff-links. He also has an overcoat, though it has either been over the back of what he's sitting on or hung from his elbow. He low-key wasn't certain whether it would be too cold for himself or Bubbles, so he elected to bring it just in case-- but so far he hasn't been bothered.

Butch is dressed like he came from a boxing match, but smells freshly-showered, as this was his concession to 'dressing nice'. Which is to say he would otherwise smell like he came from the gym or some other strenuous activity, which he did.

Boomer took three programs, because he was sure Bubbles would grab one for herself, and equally sure that Butch wouldn't take one, and Buttercup was a coinflip. As their food contribution, the Rowdyruff Boys have brought two large platters of deviled eggs made by Brick, who could not resist spitting in God's eye from afar, even if it was in an incredibly stupid way, and did not trust his brothers to actually bring something themselves. He was right about Butch, but Boomer did at least pick up some buns, pulled pork, and bbq sauce to add to the mix.

Butch surprises his brother by actually joining in on the hymn, though he doesn't seem especially moved by the spirit so much as passingly interested in the music itself. It's obvious he's never done it before-- and equally obvious that he's a skilled vocalist, because his stumbling and adaptation doesn't last long.

It doesn't sound very appetizing, does it?

"Nah, sounds decent to me," Butch answers, "little like peanuts and honey. I prefer ants, but grasshoppers are fine." He understands the showmanship of preaching well enough not to actually answer aloud again unprompted.
Rowdyruff Boys The brothers glance at each other on the subject of Satan being an allegory, and do not join in the murmurings of spoken prayer. They keep quiet, and don't look bothered, but there's definitely something about it that discourages them from participating directly. Probably, once again, their actual dad.

"Oh, uh... if you need stuff powered, I can do that without a bunch of switching around happening," Boomer offers, on the topic of the microwave. He pinches two fingers together, electricity sparking between his fingertips.

Surprisingly perhaps, it's Butch-- who pushed forward to get a plate and is trying Berislav's chili with a curious expression, who speaks up towards Berislav and Sonya. "People need stuff. Couple hours isn't much of a price for the stuff, s'pecially if it's short-supplied."

Notably, the serving he's taken is way, way less than he normally would. It's the size of a sample from Costco-- enough for a good two or three bites tops. Historically, the boys have eaten like they needed at least five thousand calories a day, and Butch is especially unrestrained around that.
Liza Grier     Liza remembers bringing the backup generator here herself. She'd lugged the gas cans downstairs back when Blade Lineage was first getting started here. It was little more than a basic precaution at the time; or even less, more like something she added to the list of necessities as automatically as checking the rear view mirror when pulling out of park. The fact that it's being put to use like this, after the inconceivable total collapse of the power company that effectively funded an entire country, makes her feel as if she were a wise guru whose feet don't touch the floor, and also a little frustrated that she didn't source a bigger one instead.

    The bar is usually her job. That she leaves it to Berislav is probably more of a sign of trust than 'can't be bothered'. It's often forgotten, since her fixation is bartending, but she can actually cook, too. In order to take the load off the gens, she's brought her portable nanostove for the first time in a hot minute, and is using the spare slot to heat up whatever can tolerate a hot flame while using the main stand herself. Her own offering to the potluck has nothing to do with what she feeds Rita, which everyone should appreciate and nobody can prove, mostly comprised of fresh vegetables from the hobby garden she keeps on her vessel sorted into a number of exotic salads and stir fries with store bought meat.

    Her presence for the sermons was quiet bordering on weird. Her familiarity with Christianity is so secondhand that most of her expression was expectantly waiting for Rita to explain it after with stray looks. Without a particular 'Sunday best', she'd still ditched the mech hangar-grade clothes she wears more than half the time off the clock, and put on something with sleeves and buttons and leggings that would pass at a reasonably upscale bar, following along the audience directions with something like one tenth scale intrigue. She doesn't even smell like blood and gunpowder.

    It's not until she herself is working the line, in her own way, fresh from replacing batteries in the security units upstairs, that she indicates she was thinking about the service at all.

    'Does it bother you, that most were just here for the warmth and the meals?'

    "Do you get that 'spiritual fullness'? When you do it. Handing out the warmth and meals." Liza says, bland-toned, eyes down on the utensils she has to shift. "Always, or just at times? You think our mutual friends feel it with every swing of the sword, or just when they put 'em away? Whoever's here just for the food, you think they're proud of it?"
Tamiel Luxis     It's the first time that Tamiel has had to come to an offical Watch meeting--that's what this was, right?--And she's nervous. No doubt, her mother would want her to present herself as a proper angel, but Zazel had just laughed. "You should present yourself as you'd like to be seen, little light. Do you want them to see a proper angel?"

    So. That was that.

    She rises from the ground from a shadow in front of the Faded Print, wearing dark leggings, a white tank-top and a sleeveless gray vest. She fiddled with a little rainbow-wing keychain hung from her belt in one hand, the other clinging a paper bag close to her side. Her iridescent wing-shards gleamed behind her, hovering as though suspended, like the halo over her head.

    The light she gave off in this dark place made her a little uncomfortable, as she looked around. Eagerly, she pushed through the door into the building.

    Tamiel hadn't exactly imagined the potluck to be religious, and when her eyes found the schedule, and she began to worry at her lip. "Um." She distracted herself with busywork, holding up her bag, "Where do I put this...?"

    Her addition to the potluck appeared to be a large batch of rainbow sugar-cookies--her third batch, if she was being technical--after the other tests had been given to her cousins and the library staff respectively. "I hope they're good," she worried aloud, looking self-conciousless to the five serving course Berislav had pre-prepared. "Um...Enjoy."

    It was always a toss-up, the way a religious group would see her. Some would see a walking, talking heresy. Others, just someone with glowing wings. Her least favorites decided that an angel was an angel, whatever the shape.

    But so far, she wasn't treated special, so she just sat down with all the others, trying to vanish into the crowd. The fact that the City was new to this fancy new religion that Berislav was peddling was probably part of that--for which she was grateful.

    Her guard began to slowly drop as the sermon went on and on, and it became clearer exactly what kind of lessons Berislav meant to teach. Until...

    "The advocate was building a case for the righteousness of Christ. And when is our righteousness most tested, but when we stand to profit from shedding it?"

    Her mouth made a little line, and her eyes drooped down.

    The press of people and crowds was a lot--Tamiel drew her wings close to her, trying to give everyone more room. Still, it was inevitable that someone would brush against them--they were warm to the touch, and refused to cut the skin. She pressed through the crowd regardless, making her way toward Berislav.

    "Does it bother you, that most were just here for the warmth and the meals?"

    "People need stuff."

    "Trust starts with a full belly and safety." Her voice is soft, her tone a little different, as if repeating something rote. "If you can't give them that, why would they listen...?" A pause. "...Um. Hello. I'm Tamiel."
Odette Raskins Religious services aren't anything new to Odette. Whether she was on distant mining colonies or floating behemoths in the deepest reaches of space, sermons have simply been a part of her daily life even if the names change here and there. She's dressed a little more nicely for today's service, too, because that's just what you do during these. Her hair's straightened out a bit more (even if it's still curly), she's wearing a beige sweater and jeans under her usual EMT jacket (which she takes off once she's actually inside), and even her usual overstuffed bag of things is replaced with a significantly less lumpy gray messenger bag.

She didn't show up empty handed, either, having brought in two loaves of croissant bread wrapped up in foil. She doesn't bother putting it in the fridge, leaving valuable space for anyone else that really needs it!

After taking one of the programs from the entrance, Odette picks a seat off to the side that's still near the front of the congregation. She's quite good at following the printed directions, too, between actually reading them and also just following along with the regulars like it's second nature. Her mind wanders all over the place during the first chunk of the service, though, mostly in wondering what kinds of food she'll see here and when she'll ever be able to observe Father Lucius doing one of these same services.

When was the last time she's been able to actually relax like this?

She still has the polite chuckling down for when Berislav enters the sermon portion of the service, and it's from there she actually starts listening to what he's saying a little more attentively. Although much of it is directed at their allies in the Blade Lineage and Yurodiviye, the EMT finds herself drawn towards what he's saying before long, and the distracted thoughts soon settle into just...

Listening. Some of it starts to feel like he might be talking to her directly. Some of it feels like he's talking directly to the message of the Watch. Some of it even feels like things she's heard from her own communities at home and beyond, from those that pushed her towards becoming an EMT, then those that pushed her towards the Watch itself. It doesn't take long for her to hunch forward with her elbows on her knees, one fist held up over her mouth loosely while the other raps against her forearm gently while she's just absorbed into all of it.

She's almost in a trance by the time the service reaches the call-and-response section, sitting up after who knows how long to get right into it. She's pretty good at projecting during that, too, although only for the first round when she might very well be one of the few people to actually do that before Berislav explains what to do. She's significantly quieter for the rest of it, only picking back up by the end once she's mostly sure nobody can pick her voice out from the crowd.
Odette Raskins Once it's time to eat, Odette finally realizes just how hungry she's feeling, and she's just as quick to help Berislav and Sonya serve the food if there's room to do so. Her croissant bread loaves finally get their time to shine, too, clearly made with a lot of time and effort to offset the somewhat cheaper ingredients available to her. The larger one has a fluffier consistency, and the smaller one is slightly denser and richer. Both are extremely flaky.

"Thanks for the service, Father Berislav. That stuff you talked about with 'spiritual fullness'... Uh. I mean. D-do you have time?" She starts, catches herself, then asks in rapid succession while trying to recollect some visibly troubled thoughts even as she slices up the bread and passes it out. She's doing a lot of mental math to try and make sure everyone here can actually get a slice of the bread, but she definitely underestimated how many people would actually be here.

"... What does it mean to be doing these kinds of things if your reasons aren't... Um. Completely pure?" She asks after a while, glancing at the uniform partially sticking out of her messenger bag. "Like... If the pay's good. Does that mean I-uh. Someone doing that would already be in the middle of being tempted? Does that make their contributions worse, if it's not... Like. Really coming from a good place?"

She's quick to try Berislav's chili, of course, going for the five-way right off the bat to sample everything he's prepared. The beef stroganoff catches her eye and her stomach, too, and the pulled pork makes its way onto her plate before long as well. She has no suspicions about what isn't in the salad and stir fries whatsoever, as she either hasn't made the connection between Liza and Rita yet, or just hasn't thought too much about it. The sugar cookies are picked up separately so that they don't melt into all the meat and salty food.
Powerpuff Girls The Utonium household had been busy while Blossom had been doing her showbusiness routine and tryouts along on-and-off Townsvillain Princess Morbucks for breaking good and going full-time honest. The jury (Blossom) was still out on deciding if the yellow would make the cut on more operations, and she was putting off final decision until after her vacation.

This had left Bubbles and Buttercup to be the ones to take calls like the one that blew up the new non-clown themed phone in the Pasadena living room of the most safe suburb on the planet.

Or, rather, their father did on their behalf. "Hmm? Why, Pastor Berislav, what a delight that you've called!" The aging Professor Utonium had greeted. "On Monday, Blossom's going out, but Bubbles and Buttercup are free! Of course they'd love to attend your church service! Mmhm. Of course. And also with you, Pastor!"

Sensing a disturbance, Buttercup felt an obligation. "Did you just sign us up for something?" The green called down the stairs.

"That's right!" The professor confirmed through the living room. "There's some sort of emergency supergroup church group meeting that's happening!"

"Hooray!" Bubbles called from the living room, zipping upstairs to get changed in a sapphire woosh.

"It's a very serious resistance fighting organization direct line, *dad*!" Buttercup had complained, to no avail. What was worse was that it was a potluck, and good ol' dad had obligated them all for a standing-and-sitting church service and sermon!

---

In the 'pews', as they are, Bubbles gets two programs and then laughs as she tries to get Buttercup one and finds Boomer had already acquired an extra - and Buttercup had gotten one for herself anyway, muttering something about 'if they showed up here anyway'. Despite complaining the most, Buttercup had called up Ace Gangrene and arranged a short notice tamale party with the abuelas to furnish a good post-fasting meal for everyone (and make a heck of a lot of food besides), and thus was able to furnish two coolers full of beef and chicken corn-wrapped tamales which kept just fine over the recitation of prayers and sermoning.

Bubbles wears a yellow sweater over a blue top and white skirt, comfortably soft-fuzzy Sunday set up, while Buttercup wears jean shorts over leggings and leather jacket over a green flannel shirt, with a beanie over her dark hair and the top quarter of her eyelids that she transfers to her lap for the duration of the service and then snaps back on right as things end.

Both girls could lead the choral parts if they knew the songs - and they *sound* like they do, though Buttercup is actually the better singer of the two on mechanics. Besides her stool - Buttercup sits on an outermost-seat - she brings an acoustic guitar case, but she doesn't get it out for the one man band effect of the sermon.

It's impressive! Enough for both Powerpuffs to seem more impressed (than Buttercup is annoyed at all the wink and smile I Know I Know, One More Hymn Before You Go act between her and food) with it all, and neither very insistent on getting in on the food before the locals.

There are a *lot* of tamales.
Rowdyruff Boys "I know people who do, but I'm not really one of them," Boomer admits to Liza, on the topic of spiritual fullness. He looks a little uncomfortable at the notion. "It's sort of the girl's thing? I think Brick gets something out of being community-minded kinda."

Butch glances at Tamiel. "I'm Butch. He's Boomer. Our missing third is Brick. '-el' means 'of God', right?"

//What does it mean to be doing these kinds of things if your reasons aren't... Um. Completely pure?//

Boomer adopts a performatively grumpy expression. "Nothing. People are the same amount less hungry if you feed them selfishly. Or so our brother would say, probably... I'm sure he'd keep going on and on about it."

Butch ends up hungrily eyeballing the tamales. He knows the wizardry of Ace's food network, and for that exact reason he doesn't take a single one, because he understands the purpose of this gathering well enough to know that there are people here who can't get anything like this easily. He's got plenty of access to that back home, if he really wants it. It's like the good lord says: If you want a good tamale, buy it out of some Spanish lady's trunk in a K-Mart parking lot.

"Are we playing any parking lots soon?" Butch asks Buttercup, longingly.
Father Berislav      "Sonya," says Berislav, smiling amiably as he ladles out helpings to those in want of chili that isn't chili. "Do we have you to thank for passing out phones? That was an excellent idea, and not only for attending service. Staying connected to loved ones during all this is very important."

    He takes in the aroma of Sonya's beef stroganoff with a deep, induldgent breath, still ministering over his chili but not so much he can't appreciate what others have brought. "That smells delicious! I can tell just from looking you're no stranger to a good sautee."

    "Chance! Gamble! No running! There's plenty for everyone," he laughs, sparing a smile for Olivier in the back. Is this the same man who all but interrogated the Hana Association's liaison over intentions and allegiances? "Besides, I haven't had time to varnish the floors yet. You don't want to trip and get splinters!"

Helping others is a gift, but for me--teaching others how to help, I think that's where the true joy lies. Wouldn't you agree?

    "I feel my share of joy in one as easily as the other, I think," says Berislav. "If a hundred people came here, and only one asked how they could help, I'd be satisfied. But I do know what you mean. Tending a garden doesn't only mean that we pull up the weeds. We also have to make sure the soil has what it needs for flowers and fruit to grow there. That's actually how I got my start, if you can believe that."

    "My world is... absolutely inconsequential, in the grand stage of the Multiverse," he says, ladeling out some of that meat-sauce for someone's 'order.' "But when I heard how bad things were, on so many worlds, I felt compelled to do something. As I'm sure you know..." He sighs, looking towards the Blade Lineage members who guard the door. "As you've *seen,* the people who exploit the vulnerable aren't often enthused by someone building solidarity among them."

    "But," he says, staying optimistic, "That's why *I'm* so pleased about having you here. The Yurodiviye, the Blade Lineage and the Watch are stronger together than we are as singular entities. We can learn a great deal from each other, and give the people of this place something nobler and kinder to hope for, bit by bit."

Oh, uh... if you need stuff powered, I can do that without a bunch of switching around happening.

    "That would be lovely, Boomer, thank you," Berislav serenely smiles. "I see you brought deviled eggs! I'm glad someone shares my appreciation for them," he asides. "Is that paprika I see on the filling?" Hopeful. It's hard to tell whether he's in on Brick's joke, just on looks alone--and it's not as if Brick himself is here to gauge it, but anyone with the means to glean beneath the surface can tell I wonder if that was intentional? That's funny.

    Boomer will find that the Print's appliances are old and simple enough not to require much power.

People need stuff. Couple hours isn't much of a price for the stuff, s'pecially if it's short-supplied.

    "I'm delighted by the turnout, personally," says Berislav with a little nod. "Not just the people who've come outside of our little circle, but the food we've managed to gather up for them."
Father Berislav Whoever's here just for the food, you think they're proud of it?

    "That's an important question, Liza," says Berislav, nodding with a thoughtful frown. "What I want--and what I imagine Sonya wants, if he doesn't mind me offering my opinion--is the destruction of the impulse towards shame over needing something. Like I said in my sermon, the City is backwards, don't you think? The people who should be the most at-ease are made to feel the most shame. ...your stir-fry smells delicious, by the way. I smell garlic, of course, but what else did you use? It's such a wonderful fragrance."

Um. Hello. I'm Tamiel.

    "HellO!" says Berislav merrily. "I've heard your voice, but it's nice to put a name and a face to it. Those cookies of yours look delicious," he says. "And they're so colorful! It's nice to have a little cheer to spread in times like this."

That stuff you talked about with 'spiritual fullness'... Uh. I mean. D-do you have time?

    "Of course I do, Odette," he says. "It's possible you've even felt it yourself." Once Berislav and Sonya have served everyone (including Kim and Aeng-du!) he sheds his little apron and helps himself. Some deviled eggs, some of Odette's bread, a cookie from Tamiel, Liza's vegetable medley--he's avoiding anything with red meat in it, in fact.

Does that make their contributions worse, if it's not... Like. Really coming from a good place?

    "It's said that friendship with the world is enmity with God," Berislav reflects. "But when I look at you, Odette, I don't see a friend of the world. I see someone who wants very much to do good, but feels overwhelmed by all the harm around her. Most of the City works to survive, too, you know. Those people aren't wrong, to expect something in return for work that makes someone else richer. It's the person who steals the value of what they produce to keep for themselves who's wrong." A pause, to nibble chastely at his food, and then...

    "You're beginning to see it, aren't you? How far and how thorough the webs of money and power extend. What it means to be tempted is not to be given whatever scraps the spiders don't finish, but to be offered the chance to weave your own, or to be promised that you'll never be caught in it and devoured. You should be kinder to yourself, Odette"

     "Bubbles! Buttercup! It's such a delight to see you two again." He smiles that impish little smile of his, adding, "Especially if you're here with tamales. It's a shame I've sworn off red meat for Lent... but that just means everyone else can discover what a joy those little treats are. By the way--you didn't tell me your father had such an effervescent presence! Somehow, I imagined a more... somberly academic type, I guess."

     "Oh, but excuse me a moment! I need to go see to our little wallflower."

    It's Olivier!

     "You cut an impressive figure in that uniform," Berislav says. "What do you think? It's a lovely old building, isn't it? Still standing after all this time, not the *same* building it was, and perhaps it never will be--but even something with as storied a life as the Print can be something new. Did you come to check in on us? Or is this a... social visit?" He smiles, wrinkling his nose playfully.
Angela ''Do we have you to thank for passing out phones?''

"I had--Here you go, Chance. Gamble. Take your time eating, I beg you--encountered a similar situation before and back then, ahh, curse my lack of foresight! I didn't have phones. But now I make sure we have a supply of burners we can use. The Warpgate makes it easier, though, if you don't mind me saying."

He nods to Berislav's followup words. "I'd love to hear the story of how you got your start, ''that'' is a sermon I'd find even more riveting, believe you can believe THAT." But he seems satisfied with the quick story Berislav provides. "Hopefully our tall friend there isn't here to confiscate our chili." Sonya quips back. "I hope I learn a great deal."

The Saint glances to Boomer, "Time is the most precious resource of all," offhandedly but he does take special notice of how small the portions they are taking. He doesn't know what they normally eat, but he can tell that they're holding back. He'd be surprised, though, if they didn't. It's normal. Maybe even expected when you're the one that gets to go home and eat all you could hope for and the ones here can't. "But if you're asking me that, Miss Liza, then I'd have to say that I do take pleasure when I hand our warmth and meals, though I do not know if I would call it 'spiritual fullness'. It is fulfilling but perhaps I am just spiteful rather than spiritual. And I imagine I still have much to learn about our mutual friends, but ... those that came here just for the food... Are they proud of it?"

Sonya tilts his head up as if asking heaven's input. But it's clearly just for show because he actually has an answer to that question.

"However they feel, ''I'' am proud of them." Sonya says, tone drenched in enough sincerity to burn the whole block down.

He then turns to Tamiel, "Well well...They call me The Saint, but this has got to be the first Angel that has graced my path. Is this your first Angel too, Father?" He offers his hand to Tamiel. "My name's Sonya, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tamiel."

He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that Father Berislav seems to read him like a book but Sonya's easy smile fades as he looks the Father's way. "...Yes." He says. "...The ones who should feel the most shame would never be in a place like this except as vultures."

He waves Berislav off, willing to handle the food line while he goes to talk to Olivier who is as stone-faced and serious-minded as ever. He doesn't actually say anything about confiscating food though, because he's not a maniac.

"Ah, that's right. I came in plainclothes when we last talked." Olivier says, posture relaxing ever so slightly. "It is a lovely old building. ... And it seems you were reasonably prepared for the blackouts..." He sighs. "I wouldn't be in uniform if it was just a social visit, as much as I prefer that it were. I'm sure you've heard of the Pianist by now. In addition to my duties with Trideag I've been tasked with uncovering the details of how it happened. We have a few leads and ... an old friend of mine is certainly crossing a few suspects of the list..." A flicker of annoyance mixed with deep sympathy in his tone there. "I wanted to ask what you know about the tower--where the old L-Corp stood. We haven't been able to push past the fog to get inside but ... We know Elites were involved, and I have the sneaking suspicion that Outsiders know something about it. I'd rather hear it from your mouths," Suggesting he may be visiting Lilian next. "Than from the Beholders."

Berislav wrinkles his nose playfully, Olivier manages a small chuckle and he adds, "Careful, keep that up and she'll ''really'' get on your case."
Angela Meanwhile, Gamble (a young girl with a missing tooth), flops onto a chair, staring at Bubbles. She fidgets in her chair and shoves food in her mouth after carefully seperating all the bits and pieces apart from one another to the best of her ability. She says, softly, "I know your secret..."

She leans further in and adds, conspiratorially, "You fell asleep too..."

Chance, nearby, comments, "You are fake whispering and not actually whispering, you know that right?"

"Sssshhh... it's a secret." Gamble humphs.

"I'm the press, I'll never sshshhh!"
Tamiel Luxis     "Those cookies of yours look delicious, and they're so colorful! It's nice to have a little cheer to spread in times like this."

    It lifts her heart a little bit to hear. And not a mention of her wings or halo. Nevertheless, she scratches at the back of her head, eyes falling askance. "I'm sure I could have done better, if I'd put in a little more practice..." She cleared her throat. "But thank you."

    "I'm Butch. He's Boomer. Our missing third is Brick. '-el' means 'of God', right?"

    "Yeah..." The angel gave a shrug, embarrased. Whenever it was pointed out, it always felt like borrowed glory. "It's tradition, you know...? You can just call me Tammy, if you'd like."

    Tamiel felt herself drawn to a serving of beef stroganoff and a tamale, once the big rush had already been served.

    "Well well...They call me The Saint, but this has got to be the first Angel that has graced my path. Is this your first Angel too, Father? My name's Sonya, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tamiel."

    "Sorry to disappoint," her smile was almost another apology in itself. "I've never met a proper Saint before." She was sure that Sonya wasn't the sort of one that would have been from her world, but Tamiel was used that that: no one ever was.

    "I know you've been struggling." Tamiel murmured, looking out the window. She was terrified to open her soul too wide to prayers, here. How deafening they must be... "If there's a chance. To bring a little more light here...There are some things I can do if people are sick, or hurt..."
Rowdyruff Boys "Mmmaybe I shouldn't pre-emptively compensate for assumed stuff so much," Boomer asides to Bubbles as he floats to man the microwave. This mostly takes the form of hovering near it and holding the cable, the occasional visible pop of electricity passing into it as he does so. On the subject of the deviled eggs, he gives a pronounced sniff and says, "Yeah, I think so. I've never really made them myself... I didn't do a lot of cooking until recently, so I'm still kinda learning."

"Brick uh, didn't want us in his kitchen."

Butch folds his arms over his chest, not so much to have a standoffish posture, but to put a little more effort between himself and taking tamales. "Yeah. Seems pretty good to me? Not too many sketch ass people, either." By which he means there are some, but he doesn't specify who. He might even mean himself, really.

It's a shame I've sworn off red meat for Lent...

"My dad stole Lent, once," Butch comments to give himself something to do, glancing around with a sort of nervous energy. "Or, more like, he stole all the things people swore off for it? Said nobody would notice until it was--" He imitates Mojo Jojo's way of speaking, "FAR TOO LATE!"

Boomer shrugs at Sonya. "I don't really have a good perspective on that, I think... Butch is even weirder about it."

"It's not weird to befriend bears so I can wrestle them without scaring them to paranoia," Butch says.

"It's... it's a little weird, Butch."

I'm the press, I'll never sshshhh?

Boomer is suddenly keeping an eye on Chance, genuinely a little warily.
It's tradition, you know...?

"Yeah. I was just thinking about how many names mean 'gift from God'. Humans are pretty much the same about that, so don't sweat it. Do you WANT to be Tammy instead of Tamiel?" Butch replies.
Tamiel Luxis     Butch's question turned aside any her usual evasions and struck right for the heart of things. Tamiel hesitated, looking sideways at her wings. "...It's nice, sometimes." She relents, sighing. "Letting it drop, here and there. With friends."

    "...It is kind of strange, isn't it? I bet most people don't even know, unless they look it up. It's just a name to them. But, it's all giving praise to heaven." She didn't really sound amused at the thought; just gloomy.
Father Berislav Is this your first Angel too, Father?

    "The first I've met in person," Berislav replies with a chuckle.

If there's a chance. To bring a little more light here...There are some things I can do if people are sick, or hurt...

    "It's been a wonderful thing to see our efforts start to pay off--to see more faces here, whether they've come to help or be helped. You've come to the right place, and at a time where it's going to be needed more urgently than before."

    He gently lays his fork across his cleaned plate. "More than that, we have very experienced, very qualified people who can help you apply yourself in the most productive direction. Aeng-du and Kim, over there," he says, with a gentle sweep of his hand towards the two of them, "Can tell you about the forces up against us, which are sadly rather numerous at present."

    "And Sonya here can tell you about the logistical challenges we're facing. Any of them--as well as myself or Liza, to an extent--can give you an overview of life in the City."

    "As a matter of fact--what's your assessment of our needs right now, Liza?"

I wanted to ask what you know about the tower--where the old L-Corp stood.

    "I've visited twice," says Berislav. "Met with employees a few other times. Mostly, my experience with it was investigating it. I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to hear that someone like me is inherently suspicious of something like a Wing--I wanted to understand, as much as I could, the nature of the power it held over this District, how the workers were treated, how much of the value they created was theirs, and so on," he says.

    "About the *structure* itself," he shrugs. "There's not much I can say. I was more concerned with the people in it. It's because of our chat that I took a measured approach in addressing what I saw the biggest problem to be," admits the priest. "I was able to get the workers of their Welfare department to apply pressure upwards for better conditions. While I'm not mourning the loss of a Wing in a vacuum, I'm not celebrating the effect it's had on the people who depended on it for employment or power."

    "If you haven't already, I'd speak to Lilian Rook. She was very closely involved with the company too. If you can't reach her, you might also try Petra Soroka, though I'm afraid I don't know where Petra is living these days."

Careful, keep that up and she'll ''really'' get on your case.

    "That's part of the fun, isn't it? I have a 'hunger,' she said," he recalls fondly between bites. A chuckle that sends a mirthful quake through his upper body, "And conduct myself with 'immorality,'" he adds, with mock-scandalized tone.

Or, more like, he stole all the things people swore off for it? Said nobody would notice until it was--FAR TOO LATE!

    "Really?" Berislav pauses, his expression mildly amused as a reply comes to him. "You know, Butch, in his way, you could say that he gave up 'the payoff for a caper' for Lent."
Odette Raskins "But when I look at you, Odette, I don't see a friend of the world."
Crap. Does that mean she's alraedy offending Berislav by being here? Odette doesn't have time to sweat much about that, thankfully, as Berislav clears that doubt from her mind in favor of just shooting her point blank with a better read on what she's been feeling than she could ever express properly herself. Her food service slows down quite a bit as she listens, scooping things a little more absent-mindedly and mostly relying on years of ingrained movements back home to compensate.

"Th... There is a lot of harm going on, yeah. The C... All of these corporations, the top pushing down everyone else to the bottom... I-it sucks. It's..." She lets out an uncomfortable noise and nods slowly when he asks...

No, he knows. He reads it right on her face, and he might have even seen the first signs of her recognizing it when she had first joined the Watch just a year ago. "Overwhelming, yeah. I-I just don't know what to do sometimes when... When people start stealing that value from others that barely have enough for themselves, yeah. I can fix some of it, but only after the fact instead of..."

She lets out a frustrated noise after that, pausing to grab some deviled eggs and tamales once she's finished most of the food on her plate. She doesn't eat right away, though, as she's still battling the guilt at taking anything after Berislav's service. "Maybe I can put some bandages over the wounds, but I can't really... Fix the problems those webs caused for the people caught up in all that. Not like..."

She looks over at the literally angelic presence of Tamiel. She looks at the awe-inpiring and sometimes-terrifying Liza. She looks at the widely heroic Rowdyruffs and Powerpuffs, and she looks at the locally heroic members of the Blade Lineage and the Yurodivye. "Not like them."

Her hand starts shaking slightly, held back for a moment as she passes out another piece of bread. "And whenever I think about cutting down those s... Those webs, even? I-I mean, it sounds good when other people say it and do what they say, but... It scares me just thinking about it."

Even trying to shoot someone she had no chance of hitting was terrifying enough. How could she possibly pull that off against someone she could?

"You should be kinder to yourself, Odette."
That, at least, gets a quiet giggle out of the EMT. "I-I am! I've been sleeping on time lately, and I even took a vacation." She announces somewhat proudly, although her puffed up stance doesn't last long. "Except that was... Apparently at the worst time, because then all the blackouts and things started rolling through here."

Clearly, this must mean she's cursed and should never take a vacation again.

"I'd love to hear the story of how you got your start, ''that'' is a sermon I'd find even more riveting, believe you can believe THAT."
Sonya's suggestion gets Odette to look up and over at him, distracted at first before nodding quickly at Berislav. "If you ever did that... Um. I'd be right there?" She chuckles somewhat awkwardly at that, still preoccupied with her thoughts, but sounding fully genuine about wanting to hear that story as well.

"I wanted to ask what you know about the tower--where the old L-Corp stood. "
"Isn't that.. Uh. Right here? Or near here somewhere?" Odette gestures outside, guesstimating the direction of the weird tree from where she is. She's gesturing in the wrong direction entirely. "I think I heard something about the blackouts being related to that somehow, but that's about it." She has some vague recollection of being inside.. Near the inside? Of L-Corp once before, but a lot of it has become a blur with time and so many other things that had happened since that one strike.

"Should we be worried about whatever that fog is? I-I mean, if nothing can get in, then... Has anything gotten out of it?"
Rowdyruff Boys "Sometimes," Butch repeats, in acknowledgment of Tamiel. He thinks he understands. He unfolds his arms and re-positions, hovering in place as if he had sat on a countertop, though he pointedly doesn't do so. "Strange? I dunno. I guess it's different when it's a non-human person not that we really think of ourselves as human but for humans it's kind of an observation of a cool thing happening. Like, damn, having this kid was such an ordeal that God had to be in our corner to make it happen. I don't really know any angels back home, occult stuff is Brick's specialty."

His attention swivels back to Berislav. "Uh, no, he really did steal that stuff. The girls had to go get it back. Dad went back to jail... the usual. He really liked trying to steal Holidays and abstracts for a while. One time he cloned the Easter Bunny, but the clones would steal eggs instead of hiding them."
Powerpuff Girls Butch can eyeball the tamales all he wants from the periphery, but Buttercup brought those for the congregation. There's still plenty at home, but putting the main charge of corn-wrapped bundles of sauce and savor in front of the locals was part of that 'feeding the self' with righteousness that Berislav was talking about.

When Buttercup had met the padre before, the sermon had been a lot more personal. Sometimes, 'growing up' meant knowing the words of the sermons and being the members in the community that was speaking-with and not speaking-to.

"Did you bring your guitar? We could get up on the stage and play something right now if you want. I'm not feeling like Amazing Grace but I could pick at a string if someone had requests." Buttercup drawls, eyes drooped in shadow under her beanie-line.

Bubbles is vibing, floating over to the food to help dish it out to people and turn the procession a bit more orderly and serviced. If she can rally a few people together to help her get everyone eating, everyone can settle down faster - and full bellies heal a lot of problems for at least a little while. The war couldn't be won on the thin sustenance of righteousness alone - sometimes, tamales and casserole were necessary!

'Bubbles! Buttercup! It's such a delight to see you two again.'

Bubbles waves from the food, grinning. "It's good to see you again too, Mr. Waters. You run a lot of these outreaches, don't you? You're too used to deflecting people being grumpy, aren't you?" She wonders, jovial from where she is, and quite pleased to work out the short firings of her servant's heart.

Buttercup, meanwhile lingers by the padre when he works his way over for a moment. "I asked about what you had for me, when we first met. I'm still looking to see what that is. As for what *I* can do for you, padre -- when the abuelas heard we were bringing tamales to Lent potluck they *made* me take chicken ones. They know what the men give up for their holy days, so try one of the ones with a 'p' on the foil wrapper."

'By the way--you didn't tell me your father had such an effervescent presence!'

Buttercup makes the scoff-and-ugh of a loving daughter who's not left her punk phase in twenty years. "Dad's always like that. All laughter and saying yes first before the crunch-day and then breaking his pencils with stress on the deadline date. He hates saying 'no', but..." He also doesn't really have to, when his daughters are the perfect trio of girls. "Sometimes he promises a lot for free."

But Berislav is continuing on, so, Buttercup doesn't see a reason she can't shift to the front of the room and start tuning up her guitar. Bringing the case with her, she flips open the well-worn top and drags the guitar to rest into her lap, brushing fingers on strings and faintly adjusting the pegs at the top.
Angela Sonya is confused by the apology. "Pardon?... I don't know what you are apologizing for." An angel is apologizing to him, he feels vaguely guilty about that. "If you can heal people, there's people here though even I don't know all of them off hand, but if you want I can set up a line for you?"

The Blade Lineage contingent hear this and murmur among themselves before they start to file up in a line. Yeah, they're ALL suffering some small wounds here and there, and aches and pains if not that. They fight. A LOT. But none of it is espeically serious.

''Butch is even weirder about it.''

Sonya quirks his head. "You are...... Are you brothers?"

Chance remains unkidnapped for the time being. He has that plucky reporter instinct in him, but he's probably cloiser to Newskid Legion than Lois Lane.

Bamboo Hatted Kim, who barely ever talks, tips his bamboo hat at Berislav when he's gestured to. Aeng-du, the one who actually tends to COMMUNICATE, laughs a bit and says, "Um, yes--! I'd be happy to clue you in. The Thumb and Index have been pushing at each other for the moment so they haven't been harassing any citizens but once the power's back--or maybe even before--it's bound to escalate. They probably want to secure their positions as much as possible before that happens." She pauses. "...And the Liu Association is being sent to support the Trideag but we don't know exactly what form that'll take. ... And there's bound to be old forces from the fallen Wing but...they were nearly as caught unawares as everyone else. Nobody thought it'd be this sudden." Not even those that knew the fall was inevitable, though Sonya seemed prepared enough with those phones.

''Has anything gotten out of it?''

"Good question. I'd like to know the answer to that too." Olivier says, pretending for the moment that Odette isn't also Trideag. "Feel free to let the Dame Commander I'll be asking about what had happened." He wouldn't feel right trying to catch her unawares about it. He trusts her. He has to trust her. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have concerns. This is the second big profile disaster, the first after Lambent Dragon--and he can't shake the feeling that she must know something about it that she hasn't told him.

But he focuses on Berislav, the man he came here to speak to. For the most part, he's not sure much of it is any help and he can't imagine why Berislav would WANT him ignorant of what happened, so his guess is that he's being about as forthright as ever. "Getting a Wing to cave to employee demands like that. You might be scarier when you aren't brandishing pistols,"

He sort of misses it, this kind of repartee, this back and forth between a colleague, even if this is a colleague who is decidedly apart of a different force. Maybe it just feels more severe because his old partner feels very far away right now.

''I have a 'hunger', she said.''

"I can see that." Olivier says. "But I hope you don't expect me to argue your case when you're not keen on denying it." The tone is fond, but then--something Berislav said hits him.

''You might also try Petra Soroka.''

Olivier's back to all business immediately. "...did you say Petra? She was one of the first responders... Is she one of L-Corp's agents?"

Was she hiding something? ... If she works for the Wing, that's to be expected. But this involves the death of a dear friend. He isn't going to fly off the handle his partner is but that doesn't mean he isn't determined to find the truth about that day either.

"...It will likely be easier for me to start with Director Lilian. I'll start there as you suggested."
Powerpuff Girls 'I know your secret'

Bubbles Utonium, paragon of good, defeater of evil, and angelic twin-tailed and sunny sort herself, stops passing out one last tamale to turn and look.

"You do?" She asks, interested, then squints, leaning in. "Which one?"

Finishing off her service, she turns about to float, hands on knees, and look at Gamble. "Let's say it, three two one-"

"I forgot to give up something for Lent-"
'You fell asleep too...'

Bubbles points, gasping. "You fell asleep? Oh my gosh don't say so so loudly!" Bubbles chides faintly. "You probably had low blood sugar. All the standing up and sitting downa nd singing and recital is supposed to wake you up some. Did you know, some churches make you stand the whole time? And they don't even serve lunch after! I think church is better with doughnuts, but some people only come to temple for food."

Bubbles tilts her head, looking at Gamble. "Do you have a comment. . . for the press?"
Rita Ma      Rita has, clearly, been well-taken-care-of after the incident at Lobotomy Corporation. She's also clearly still- in medically exact terms- crungled.

     So she's fed, but still slightly-dark-veined (which shows even through her human wrappings); rested, but still a tiny bit hollow-eyed; and hair-messed-up by a nap that must've still been ongoing when the sermon started, but wrapped up in one of Liza's too-big red-and-gray windbreakers for warmth.

     Tap, tap, tap. Limp little steps down the outside stairs; then the door grinds open, and she steps in with a basket under her arm: steaming rice fogging its tupperware, marinating fish, and beautiful-looking apples.

     "Sorry, Ms. Grier. After the alarm, I fell back asleep, and..." She trails off one step through the door, when her eyes dully focus on Olivier's back.

     She recognizes him. One of the really important Hana people, from that party forever ago. Her gaze tracks over his shoulder towards the priest.

     "Father Berislav. Should Mr. Olivier be here?" It's said almost listlessly, without any move towards tension, but she's still pretty clearly asking if he ought to be ejected.
Rowdyruff Boys Are you brothers?

Boomer nods. "Uh-huh. I'm pretty sure our hair colors and eye colors and stuff don't really look possible for us to be related, but we weren't born normally. We're kinda homunculi, I guess? We don't really age like humans exactly, either. We were born basically five years old, but the clock's slowed way down the last few years."
Father Berislav I asked about what you had for me, when we first met. I'm still looking to see what that is.

    "And I'm still hoping I'll be able to give it to you," nods Berislav.

Not like them.

    "It's true that... if some senator in California plundered a welfare program to build an extension for his deck," says Berislav, taking his now-cleaned plate back to the bar (for chicken tamales! Buttercup really brightened his day with that development).

    Stepping back over with his hands lightly clasped together, "He could count on a visit from Brick or Blossom that evening. But even our superpowered friends can't be everywhere at once. If they could, they wouldn't be in the Watch, would they?"

    "It's also true that Liza can show up at the stronghold of some abusive development company and give everyone who doesn't intend to die for profit the chance to leave. Five minutes, wasn't it?" he asks her, with a faint smile. "But, Odette, do you think Liza got to that point overnight? Do you think our samurai friends were born with swords in their hands? That the Yurodiviye always knew the best routes for redirecting goods safely and quickly?" He shakes his head.

    "It's just a matter of knowing your strengths and weaknesses; applying one productively and covering for the other. And thankfully, that's both a major strength of the Watch and what we're trying to build here. I think you could learn a lot from Sonya, in fact."

You're too used to deflecting people being grumpy, aren't you?

    Berislav grins. "Far from it," he answers Bubbles. "I don't know if I'll ever consider myself 'too' used to it. Or even if 'deflecting' is the word! There are some kinds of grumpy that you can fix with a smile and some kind words; others that only go away with food or care."

Sometimes he promises a lot for free.

    "Yes," says the priest with a gentle nod, "I've known people like that. It's a very stressful way to live, for the pencil-breaking. It's sad when the people close to us aren't as lenient with themselves as they should be. Especially when we know that they're generous people at heart."

...did you say Petra? She was one of the first responders... Is she one of L-Corp's agents?

    Berislav frowns curiously. "As of the last time I checked," he says. "She was, and she had a commendable sense of responsibility for her fellow employees' safety. They put her and that... Rufus fellow in charge of breaking the strike, as I recall. Is it possible they let her go as some sort of retaliation? It's regrettably common on other worlds, however illegal it might be."

It will likely be easier for me to start with Director Lilian. I'll start there as you suggested.

    "Of course," Berislav nods. "I can't imagine what he must be going through, that poor man. Hopefully you'll be able to make some inroads with Lilian. Most of my focus will be on providing shelter and aid to the people suffering from the Wing's absence, but I'll keep an eye out, too."

Father Berislav. Should Mr. Olivier be here?

    "Hello, Rita," says Berislav. "It's excellent to see you. Please help yourself to some food, if you'd like. Don't worry--Olivier isn't part of our operation, but he's welcome here as a guest. In fact, it's partly because of him that this little effort of ours began at all." He takes his now-clean plate behind the bar to deposit it into a tub to be washed later.
Tamiel Luxis     "Like, damn, having this kid was such an ordeal that God had to be in our corner to make it happen. I don't really know any angels back home, occult stuff is Brick's specialty."

    "I guess..." She mused, frowning. "It's not as...All around you." Brushing aside her hair, she pushed onward. "We've got a pretty big collection of that kind of lore back..." She was suddenly very aware of Olivier's presence. "...Back where I work. Demons back home, about the multiverse...That kind of thing."

    "Pardon?... I don't know what you are apologizing for."

    "Well...Um..." Tamiel's face adopts the incredible tension of a person trying to fight back the urge to apologize again...For Apologizing. "Yeah, I could so some healing," she was grateful for the change in topic. Her wing-shards flexed behind her, spread around her, almost in a little dome. Glowed.

    "Come on...One at a time..."It had a gentle warmth to it. The kind that creeps into your bones, holding out your hands by the fire. Scratches knit shut in moments leaving no scars, bleeding away even some of the exhaustion from the long days as lactic acid drained away. "Do you think you're done...? Is there anything else hurt?...Okay..." Tamiel beckoned the next in line into it, focused most of the light at the front of the line, but she wasn't careful. It spilled out all around her, and she let it.
Rowdyruff Boys I guess... It's not as... All around you.

Butch nods. "It's never really been my wheelhouse. Sometimes some fucked up mythical figure shows up and causes problems, but they're usually not Biblical. I kinda keep expecting one to, though. Like... Samson was definitely a wrestler, right? His whole fuckin' story sounds like some guy who flits in and out of getting his ass beat while doing crazy shit inbetween. And Thor's stupid ass is roaming around with a guitar axe instead of a hammer."

"Demons don't really bother us though. I mean, they exist, but most of them like us. Uh. My brothers and I, not the girls. They'll mess with the girls if we're not around," he continues, thoughtlessly omitting necessary details as he goes.
Angela Gamble gasps! "B...but... I saaaaaww...!" She wrinkles her nose as if she had been thoroughly betrayed!! And has betrayed her own secret in the process... "How did you even knoooow.?"

Chance smirks, "I'm gonna publish it."

"He's gonna publish it?? No you're not...!" She tackles into Chance and they go sprawling around on the ground. The fighting doesn't seem THAT serious. "Why you... You can't tell anyone! Promise you won't tell anyone...!"

"You can't intimidate me! The people have to know the truth!" Chance shouts.

"Noooooooo!"

Sonya waves a hand to Rita but is focused on Boomer for the moment. "Homunculi...? Well, I don't know the sorts of things you can handle, but---" He lowers his voice. "The Head takes what they perceive to be 'imitations' of humanity very seriously. I doubt that they'd be able to tell easily because you're an Outsider but if you don't want the hassle I'd be careful of who you say that sort of thing to." Then louder he adds, "But it's not so strange. Siblings come in many forms though those two--" He nods to Chance and Gamble. "The resemblance is real keen there."

The name Rufus. Olivier files that way. It's new to him--as is Petra, really--was she let go as part of some retaliation? He supposes it's possible. There's honestly so much unknown about 'Petra' that he doesn't want to start guessing lest it bar his vision from the truth. "...What sort of strike?" He asks, as ignorant of the term as the others. "I appreciate you looking out for the people here. The Zwei and Liu will be doing their best but they're spread thin and we're really relying on Trideag here. ... Listen," He exhales. "...We're still figuring out the bodycount from the Pianist. I care less about 'justice' for the victims than ensuring it doesn't happen again. The Nests don't care about what happen in the Backstreets but if something like that happens in a Nest? They won't leave it up to my discretion. And if some sort of closure can be provided for my old partner and the survivors? I'll go for that, but my first priority is to stem the bleeding."

He grimaces as Berislav throws him under the bus (of encouraging this 'little effort'. He's already imaginine Mirinae and Harold giving him shit over it. Sometimes he misses just being part of an Office again where he didn't have to worry about how these little comments could mean for the billions of The City.

But he turns to Rita. "But you're right I shouldn't linger too long. I imagine my presence is making your allies uncomfortable, guest or not, but before I go...Miss Rita--you are free not to answer, of course, as you are a Star... but I would appreciate it if you answered truthfully."

He crosses his arms. "Do you know what happened at Lobotomy Corp resulting in its current state?"

Meanwhile, the Blade Lineage take their turns getting healed. They are ... remarkably taciturn about it. Bamboo Hatted Kim and Aeng-du are last and the former murmurs something to the latter and Aeng-du smiles at Tamiel.

"Thank you for looking out for us. They're not very sociable, but ... we are grateful. Thank you, Tammy." She gives her a fond pat on the arm before moving away.
Odette Raskins "I'd like to know the answer to that too."
"Feel free to let the Dame Commander I'll be asking about what had happened."
"R... Really? But you're..." Odette murmurs, looking genuinely surprised at Olivier's revelation that he's missing plenty of information about that, too. "Huh. Will do. I can't imagine anything getting out without one of you noticing if you joined forces there..." She affirms with a cluelessly optimistic note in her voice. "I mean, if there's anything in there to begin with. Is it poisonous, or radioactive, or some other thing?"

If Berislav or anyone else here isn't mentioning it, it certainly won't be Odette's place to talk about things she barely knows about.

"After the alarm, I fell back asleep, and..."
"Oh... M-Miss Rita?" Odette can't quite believe what she's seeing. It's Rita! But she looks terrible. Stepping out from behind all the food, Odette reaches into her regular messenger bag out of reflex to start digging out a pill bottle, then stops while hearing that question to Berislav and circling right back to the table.

"Uh... D-do you need any painkillers or anything? Water? Something to eat?" Odette's already grabbing some water for Rita.

"But even our superpowered friends can't be everywhere at once."
A hand comes back to Odette's chin as she returns to Berislav, then to rub at her neck. "Th... That's true. And even if they could, they shouldn't have to. Expecting them to would just be..." She looks from Berislav to-Wait. Brick and Blossom aren't here. They must be dealing with a senator. "Moving the blame to them instead of the ones creating that problem. And that's... That's what people like that senator would want. Pitting us against each other so that we don't realize that the real problem is... Is them."

"But, Odette, do you think Liza got to that point overnight? Do you think. . ."
She shakes her head slowly shortly after Berislav shakes his, still looking a little down as more of those self-deprecating thoughts keep trying to fill in. "No... No, probably not. She's probably been doing this even longer than I've been alive." She chuckles lightly and lets out another discomforted noise, going quiet as she keeps listening to Berislav without realizing what she might have just implied about Liza's age.

"Strengths and weaknesses... Hnn. I'd still like to be able to cover my own weaknesses, though. If not completely, then enough that I won't be a liability to anyone else." She answers, taking a deeper breath to find some kind of resolve to...

She could still file that requisition with Trideag. It's probably not too late for that, even if it does mean taking advantage of one of the few good bosses she knows.

"I think you could learn a lot from Sonya, in fact."

That gets Odette looking right over at the Saint with a raised eyebrow. "Really? Um. Okay!" The gears haven't clicked yet, but Father Berislav has never steered her wrong before. "Thanks, Father Waters. I'll... I'll work on it. A-all of it. You'll see a new me in-" Wait. He just said that people like Liza, the Blade Lineage, and Yurodivye weren't made in a day. "... Um. I'll work on it."
Rita Ma      Rita bows politely. "Thank you, Father, but I already ate," is the polite half-truth. "And thank you for helping him, Mr. Olivier. It's good to see you're that sort of person."

     She's just straightening up, about to step around Olivier with her food, when his question arrests her. The tired-polite smile slides off her face, and her eyes slightly defocus.

     But-- Odette!! Rita sluggishly puts up her hands, interrupted just before she can answer, and pushes out a little laugh. "I'm okay, Odette. I mean... Ms. Grier and Kana and Bota are taking good care of me, I promise. I'm not dehydrated or anything. It's just, some bad things happened to me, and..."

     Eyes track back to Olivier, as she puts a hand on Odette's shoulder warmly. "... I've needed a little time to get better. That's all."

     All that done, she straightens up and adopts a Not-Unpleasantly Businesslike demeanor for Olivier. Little sigh.

     "Yes. I'm aware of what happened at Lobotomy Corporation. I was present." One beat. Prompting head-tilt, as she hands her food-basket off to Odette:

     "Is there a reason I should discuss it with you, Mr. Olivier?" It's a gift, really, to take that heiressly tone while puffed-up in an XL windbreaker.
Rowdyruff Boys "I'm just using it as an example because it's a reasonable cross-cultural way of explaining it. Or, well, that's what Brick says to use as an example. Our bodies are pretty beyond human, but to make a human you use the same ingredients we do," Boomer explains, tugging at his hair illustratively for Sonya. "You know. Snips, snails, puppy dog tails. That sort of thing. I'll keep it in mind, though."
Angela ''Is there a reason I should discuss it with you, Mr. Olivier?''

Olivier closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly.

"Yes. It may be connected to an event that killed tens of thousands of people." Olivier says. "And there's nothing to suggest it can't happen again. If there's something I can do to prepare for events like that, or stop them from happening, it would at the very least be better for people who can't defend themselves."

He curls his hands into fists and then unflexes them. He doesn't so much as reach towards his weapon.

But he adds, "...But like Is said, you do not have to tell me anything."

''I'm just using it as an example because it's a reasonable cross-cultural way of explaining it.''

"Aha... I'm sure. All I ask is you keep it in mind." Sonya adds to Boomer.
Powerpuff Girls Berislav has all of the flow to hang in with a whole crowd of people *and* smile gamely while sweating away in the robes, so of course Buttercup thinks the jovial cyber-padre is running a bit on performance. Bubbles isn't sure, and is willing to be convinced that Berislav is everything he claims to be. Respecting the performance was especially important when he was introducing concepts like his faith and the structure of it to the people of the City!

Buttercup had opened a few churches in schools auditoriums and played in the band just to help out friends or make an appearance. She was almost ready to spin up doing that again, and wasn't going to creak in on Berislav's flow for small mistakes. Solidarity was a kind of ministry too.

"The gospel I thought you'd be preaching passages from is a different book, padre, 'from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs'. But I guess that's not the sermon for today, for these people. Instead, it might go something like,"

Buttercup drums one finger on her guitar-front, end raises other hand to the neck, fingers taking posture on frets. She plucks, simple-chord and harmony, and falls into a breathy kind of melody.

"Oh God, oh God, it's come for me,"
"Oh God, oh God, I'm hungry,"
"And we've been riding hard for lands of plenty,"
"So why's, oh God, our road so bumpy?"
She plays for a bit, head bowed, bouncing heel against seat.
"In the dark, we crave to feast, so when's the given ti--iime to eat,"
"Waiting for the place we can stop the wait. . ."
"Don't place an empty swallow on my plate..."

Buttercup trails off. "Sorry," She sighs. "I need to get the high part on that one worked out, it's most just saying 'dang, this sucks' in a nothing progression." She admits, sitting up and reshuffling the guitar on her legs. "Do you think it's about satisfaction, padre? Or do you think it just means more to some people? Plenty of people go hungry for others, are they spiritually full? How should the song go, to make it something hopeful?"

Bubbles is a lot more sedate and less artsily strumming her guitar while brooding and songwriting, enjoying a tamale and a cookie herself. "It probably should be about eating something, Buttercup, you're going to be grumpy if you don't eat at *all*. Father Waters is right, food *is* healing."

Giving Chance a radiant smile and glance with sapphire blue eyes, Bubbles winks. "If you publish it, make sure to make a big endorsement of Father Waters' organization and message too. Use the press to draw the eyes, and then use the eyes to share the truth - good journalism is more than exposing negative things, but bringing attention to positive things too, don't you think?"

While Bubbles breaks into giggles about promising not to tell anyone, and nodding - "Of course, I promise!" - she's probably not the one who's going to engage in an Exposee on them. LOCAL BLONDE FORGETS LENT, Gamble Snoozes and YHWH Loses - headlines for the ages.

"Well, we're here tonight - do you need a couch moved or something?" Buttercup finally asks, nonsequiter, about superpowered friends.
Rita Ma      A little solemn listening and murmuring-into-her-radio-headpiece later, Rita inclines her head towards Olivier.

     Tens of thousands of people. More than a whole Union Busan. Did I do something wrong by supporting the Lobotomy project? ... No, the City wouldn't be recognizable if it had succeeded, right?

     So... everyone who chose Ms. Angela over the City's salvation... that bloody-swathe man, or someone similar, might come after them? I've been thinking for a while about whether I really hate them. But if it'd save even a few people from the Backstreets...

     "I see. In that case:"

     "Petra Soroka, Xion, Sarracenia, Rufus Shinra, Hibiki Tachibana, Kukuru, Riku Asakura, Flamel Parsons, Sougo Tokiwa, and Woz Tokiwa conspired to sabotage Lobotomy Corporation, Mr. Olivier, causing an improper release of its stored energies. I failed to stop them." It comes so fluidly from her tongue.

     "Since the energy has already been discharged, I don't believe it's possible to 'fix'. But, if it is connected to recent monster reports... I've been told that energy would seek out 'the people who need it most', probably those under great stress."

     Hands fold tidily. Uneasy smile. "I'm sorry. I hope I can help you more at a later time."
Angela The count will probably never be accurate, plenty of the 'bodies' no longer looked like bodies, for instance.

Olivier was fully expecting Rita to not tell him a thing. The fact that she does is a surprise. Olivier raises his eyebrows up high. Sarracenia and Petra, those names are less of a surprise. Xion, it's a surprise but he doesn't know her well. The other names he doesn't recognize offhand. But notably is the name that Rita does NOT provide.

"...So Lilian wasn't..." He seems relieved. "I shouldn't assume these events are related carelessly... But I appreciate you being forthright with me, Miss Rita." He bows his head. "I owe you one." He pauses, he's saying this to a Star. And one that's hanging around a place like this. It's dangerous to say that. But he means it. Especially if it means he can mitigate the disaster.

The Pianist is like a nuke going off in the middle of The City. In the short term, few of the people he reports to give a fuck about that. But in the long term...can The City even exist if events like The Pianist become common place? In the end that six billion of citizens could whittle down to nothing but monsters. And the thought unnerves him.

People under the most stress...

"...If it seeks out the people with the most stress... Then I definitely should get out of your hair. Continue your work, Father, if Miss Rita's correct it might save us all."

And with that he bobs his head once and moves to depart in a hurry,

Sonya cups his chin thoughtfully, watching Olivier go. He seems successfully spooked!

Chance watches Olivier leave before smirking at Bubbles. "Heh... Of course! I've been giving him free adspace every newsletter!" His reach really isn't that far, but people like Chance are the lifeblood of the Watch even if he doesn't know it.

"Haha, Bubbles won't say so you can't print it...! The eeper conspiracy wins...!" Gamble shouts back and they eventually tire out and flop onto their back, breathing and laughing. It's a good day for them, at least.
Father Berislav ...What sort of strike?

    "After a consultation, we decided that the best route to having those concessions made was to have the Welfare department--the one responsible for employee safety--perform malicious compliance," answers Berislav. "Following rules, policies and procedures to the absolute letter. It's often the case that organizations like that don't make those observances in the day-to-day, so, suddenly having to do so tends to grind things to a halt."

my first priority is to stem the bleeding.

    "I completely understand," says Berislav. "And I agree." There's a brief glance towards Rita. His brow lifts in surprise when she explains.

    *Sabotage?* What on earth for? I saw Petra very recently... could that be why she looked so exhausted? He'll have to talk about it with her later.

    "Thank you, Rita," he says after a noticeable pause.

Continue your work, Father, if Miss Rita's correct it might save us all.

    "God be with you, Olivier."

    With a polite nod towards Rita and Olivier, he turns to listen to Buttercup's thoughts--and then, unexpectedly, her work in progress!

    "No, no," he says, "I think the progression is actually quite good, if you resolve it like..." He heads over to the keyboard and switches it back on again. "This," he says, rising into a suspension that resolves major, but open enough to suggest more. "You could go other places with it, too, but that came to mind the most, with where you were headed lyrically."

    "But... that's not *entirely* what you asked me." He rests his chin on one hand, brows knit together thoughtfully. "Hm..."

    "I think that someone who goes hungry for others can be spiritually full. But, just like how we have to eat three times a day, you'll never find that you're only tested once. You can look at that test as a bump in the road... or you can look at it as another chance to eat."

    "It's funny," he says. "You mentioned Marx there. But where do you think he got the idea? 'All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as had any need.'"

    Berislav smiles. "Bubbles is right, about you needing to eat. But healing can come from more than just food and drink. 'Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people.'"

    "That journey you're making--how much less do you feel the bumps, with more bodies in the wagon? How much warmer are the nights, with more hands tending the fire? Sometimes, we get spiritual fullness from community, or from common purpose. Knowing that, maybe, we don't *need* to exhaust our bodies if there are other hands to share the work. And maybe, at the end of that work, more smiling faces means wider smiles."

     He tests out the progression she made on the keyboard, followed by his own addition, letting the open, hopeful chord ring out before his fingers let up. "Hm!"

     "Anyway, please stay as long as you like. I'm going to start working on dishes."
Rita Ma      "...So Lilian wasn't..."
     The way Rita inclines her head, eyes shut, is remarkably Angela-oid. "I'm respecting Lilian's privacy, but she did nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure she'll be willing to tell you more herself."

     Meeting Berislav's gaze again over Olivier's shoulder, she nods- it's true, and I can explain more later, the look says.

     "You're welcome, Father Berislav. And thank you, Mr. Olivier. I'm only sorry I couldn't prevent it."

     And smiling at him, more sincerely than before: "You won't be further in my debt if you have an apple, you know."

     Then he leaves; and she steps in past the doorway; and Tamiel brightens her, and the Puffs and Ruffs do too even if she can't quite look at them; and she follows Berislav along, absolutely insisting on helping with the dishes.