1861/09/15 Confessions
Scene Confessions
Characters Mercy Isolde
Place Grimwood Church
Date Sept 15th Afternoon
Scene Theme <Song>

Late afternoon finds Isolde standing across the street from the chapel, apathetically staring at the building. The bowl of the ceramic pipe between her lips is warm, the embers of tobacco glowing with disdain at their slow death, only to be rewarded with breaths of fresh life with each inhale. Maybe news of the taciturn German's arrival had reached this far, or maybe not. Either way, her brief forays out from her room at the Lucky have found her unarmed, or at least visibly unarmed.

Tapping the bowl out on the side of a hitching post, the woman's cold blue eyes lift from the pipe to the church once again as a frown wrings itself across her plain face. A moment of contemplative, pensive thought follows, and soon she's striding purposefully towards the chapel. Light from outside cracks a bright beam across the pews and entry as the door opens quietly to allow Isolde in. Those same distant eyes scan across the chapel, and it seems as if the blonde is hunting for someone.

When most people think of a Nun, they think of an elderly old motherly sort, well, the motherly might be true, if said mother was a hard faced, harder bodied amazon of a half cherokee half irish woman. That woman happens to be finishing up her afternoon rounds, sweeping, dusting, and making sure the church is good. Turning at the light comming into the church, she sees the youth, and the set of her eyes. "It's not often a new lamb comes into our church." She says as she sets the broom aside and strides twoards the girl. "Come in, out of the heat, this is sanctuary." She says with as warm a tone as she can muster, which is a slight bit better then her normal deadpan no nonsense tone. Though this is sanctuary, and woe be to anyone who tries to defile it, as some around the town can atest to.

Isolde isn't quite sure what to make of the nun in front of her, the corners of her eyes tightening as they study the other woman. "Mmn. I was looking for Pastor John," She replies, momentarily ignoring Mercy for the far corners of the building. A few more steps are taken, though, deeper into the sanctuary with some measure of hesitance. Once more her eyes lift up to meet Mercy's gaze, and even with the warm greeting, Isolde is still exuding awkwardness, as if her dress were ill-fitting or made of cactus nettles. "Is he here?"

Mercy frowns and clears her htroat. "John… is not here." She says, and hopefully he doesn't ever come back. "But I am here, should you need anything." She says as she moves past the girl to close the church door, best to keep the heat of the afternoon outside, that and Mercy doesnt want a stray dog getting into the church again. She then moves back twaords the alter and begins to make sure everything is in it's propper place. "Do you have a name child? or shall I have to give you one?" She asks a slight bit of mirth in her voice as she continues her duties.

"I see," Isolde replies, the touches of a German accent edging into her words. It's beleaguered, all of her words measured and chosen specifically. She follows Mercy up to the altar area, one hand coming to rest on the side of a pew's back for support. There's something in the way that Mercy talks to Isolde that bores into the blonde, mining little cores of emotion from her.

The question catches Isolde off guard, her head tilted to the side and eyes downcast to the right corner for a moment's pause of thought. A burgeoning, if weak upturn of her lips resembles something that might be confused for a smile. "Isolde." Another pause. "I thought this was … Mmn." Whatever her thoughts, they're left unsaide, but the inference is strong. "My apologies."

Mercy smiles. "This.. is a catholic church." She says before turning to face the girl. "Reguardless of what John said, it has and always will be a catholic church, and all are welcome here. I'm sister Mercy, though if things keep going the way they are, I'll probably end up mother superior of this church." She says with a frown, she is too young to even think about that. "There is rice and chicken soup if you are hungery… I usualy feed the children after their lessions, though, a few were out today and t'would be a shame to let it go to waste." She says as she extends a hand to Isolde. "Come, leave outsdie… outside, and relax."

Another glance around the church is taken, her eyes circling the windows and pews and architecture before settling on Mercy with the slimmest of smiles, appreciatively smug with the nun and her response. "So it is." A casual nod of understanding, or at least feigned understanding follows.

"I've ate," comes her terse reply. It's not upset or angry, merely succinct; Polite, for her. She does move to follow the nun, though, pushing off of the pew and rubbing one hand at the waist of her dress. "Do you do the part where people tell you what they done?" It's an odd sentence, and possible the longest one she's uttered since arriving in town. Further odd is the speech itself, the young woman's accent not fitting with the words in that combination.

Mercy blinks at the question. "Usualy no, at least, not for the men folk, that is usualy the job of the father… if we had one.' The former father got on the wrong side of some injuns… or davey ate him.. or mercy shot him, whoever you heard the rumor from. "I'm still waiting for the cardinal to send us a new one, but I beleve if you wish to give confession, I can hear it." She says as she enters the back room of the church, a tea kettle resting over some coals to keep it warm ,as well as the rice and chicken soup simmering. The nun moves the huge pot of soup, after pouring what is left into a large bowl. Her strength evident as such a pot would take at least two men to lift it. She smiles as she motions to the tea. "Tea? I also have lemons and sugar if you like to add to the tea." She says as she moves to a chair at the table, even though the back of the church is modest, it's still clean, even as grimey as grimwood can be, Mercy knows hot to keep a place clean, like she is expecting the pope or president to walk in at any moment.

Isolde is still visibly uncomfortable, but much more relaxed in Mercy's presence. Smoothing her dress out, the blonde settles down in the seat across from the nun, one leg crossing over the other and exposing a little more ankle of her flat-heeled work boots. The teacup is collected with a grateful dip of her head, the warmth leeching into the rough hands that cradle it.

"I'm … was Lutheran," Isolde explains calmly, drawing in a long breath as one hand breaks away from the teacup to rake warm fingertips through her blonde hair. "I don't know how all that works."

Mercy smiles. "Different paths and beleifs, Some would say one is more holy then the other, but if you have our lord in your heart, or are willing to allow him into your heart, then you have no quarrel with me Miss Isolde. The catholic Bible is a good read, and you appear to be the type who can make her own choices on the matter, but I am here for questions… now.. about that confession?" She asks, lending her ear to the woman. "No one will hear what you have to say, it's just us and our lord, and I certainly would never betray the trust you would place in me." She says with a nod.

Isolde's lips purse into a thin glassline, no amount of smiles and matronly warmth enough to temper whatever thoughts she's having from flushing across the blonde's plain, thin face. "Might be later's best," She says. Wind-cracked lips press against the rim of the teacup, blowing across the top to cool it. The slate blues of her eyes look past Mercy for a moment, alone with whatever thoughts have brushed across the forefront of her mind.

Isolde lingers in the cramped spaces of the silence, not seeming to notice it build around her, and equally unapologetic about disturbing it. "I bashed a Comanche's skull in. And shot a man for getting too friendly. And some other stuff." With her admissions out there on the table for Mercy to look over, Isolde avoids meeting the other woman's eyes, her own icy blues lowered and melting into the contents of her teacup.

Mercy blinks and leans back, her hands resting in her lap. "Those can be taken both ways, depending on whom you ask." She says as she looks the woman over. Of cours,e she has done alot more, though the reasons might be different. "Usualy one is firgiven their sins when they atone, usualy by doing things for the lord such as praye,r donation, or even work about the church." She says. "Tell me Miss Isolde, are you good with tools, a hammer and nails? I'm sure the Lord would look most favorably upan you were you to use those hands to help sturdy up the youngin's school room, or fix afew of the pews and the like?" She says with a smile.

Isolde swallows a heavy lump that she didn't know had built in her throat, hiding whatever emotions might be blossoming on her face behidn the half-moon of her teacup, before it's neatly placed down on the table. One finger gently turns it back and forth by the handle, while her lower lip is trapped between two teeth that fret with it.

At the mention of atoning, Isolde's eyes flicker up from the teacup and a long breath is taken in; The look on her face is one of restraint. But, she keeps her own counsel, once more looking around the room they're occupying. "I could, yes. I may leave," she cautions.

Mercy chuckles. "If you finish or not is between you and the lord. I'm just offering a suggestion." She says as she stands up to retrive the tea kettle, and refiles her own cup before offering a refill to isolde. "It's not my place to 'make' you do anything, simply to guilde you, or not, if that's your wish." She says as she tilts her head. "Hmm, should someone try and scare you off, know that I wont allow someone to abuse a person who has taken sanctuary within the church." Well, if she could help it, she wouldent allow someone to be harmed or abused within the town, but she can't go around dragging people out of their homes… but she can dream.

The offer of sanctuary earns Mercy a curt, short chuckle from the young blonde. "Might be something to tell all them, not me." Isolde smirks, and whether it's Mercy, the tea, or some friendly combination of the both, she seems more relaxed. With another long sip of her tea, the young woman's shoulders release their built-up tension.

This might very well be the longest, most involved conversation she's had with anyone yet. "I don't like people," Isolde tacks on, bargaining the start of her penance to the Lord through Mercy. "So no people."

Mercy smiles and nods. "I didn't eather, sometimes I'm still baffled by most of them, but my work lay in doing the lord's work." She says with a nod. "But you wont have to worry about that, the church is quiet, save for sundays when people come for mass. or mornings when Miss Charlotte teaches the youngin's their lessions." She says with a smile. "Though, there may be the odd shotgun blast, some people think it's a good idea to get on the wrong side of me and my shotgun." She says with a chuckle.

Mercy's joke about shotgun blasts falls flat; Isolde doesn't seem to be all that educated on the subtleties of religion, and why a nun with a shotgun might raise eyebrows. Her lips purse, a short nod following as the blonde takes the caution at face value. Her chair legs scrape against the ground as she pushes away from the table with one foot while uncrossing her legs. "I should go. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow." The last of her tea is finished as the young blonde stands, another one of those quirks of her lips that might be mistaken for a smile offered to Mercy. "Thank you for the tea, Sister."

Mercy nods and smiles as he moves with the woman to escort her out. "Should you find whatever accomidations you are currently living in 'stuffy' I can offer a room for you here, but we can talk more about that tomorrow, perhaps in the afternoon again? Since I will be riding out in the morning to make a few rounds of the local ranches." She says as she opens the door and faces Isolde. 'Don't be worried about bothering me though, I'll always be here to listen, and offer advice, tea, or a warm meal." She says with a smile.

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