On Penance


abby_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif

Scene Title On Penance
Synopsis Huruma ruminates on whether Abby actually killed someone, or whether much like a Ghostbuster, she put something bad to rest.
Date February 4, 2009

Greenwich Village

In a time that seems long ago, Greenwich Village was known for its bohemian vibe and culture, the supposed origin of the Beat movement, filled with apartment buildings, corner stores, pathways and even trees. There was a mix of upper class and lower, commercialism meeting a rich culture, and practically speaking, it was largely residential.

Now, it's a pale imitation of what it used to be. There is a sense of territory and foreboding, as if the streets aren't entirely safe to walk. It isn't taken care of, trash from past times and present littering the streets, cars that had been caught in the explosion lie like broken shells on the streets nearest the ground zero. Similarly, the buildings that took the brunt of the explosion are left in varying degrees of disarray. Some are entirely unusable, some have missing walls and partial roofs, and all of the abandoned complexes have been looted, home to squatters and poorer refugees.

As one walks through the Village, the damage becomes less and less obvious. There are stores and bars in service, and apartment buildings legitimately owned and run by landlords. People walk the streets a little freer, but like many places in this scarred city… anything can happen. Some of the damage done to buildings aren't all caused by the explosion from the past - bullet holes and bomb debris can be seen in some surfaces, and there is the distinct impression that Greenwich Village runs itself… whether people like it that way or not.

Abigails not at Isabelle's tonight. She's heading to the Hospital. Packings already done, and she's just come to pick up her pay so she has some spending money on the road. She's surfaced at the beginning of the weekend, she's safe, she's fine, though if one pays attention to the news, and had gotten the warning from her to get the hell out of dodge, it wasn't too hard to put two and two together. The blonde healer stuffs her purse in her bike, rolling her head on her shoulders, contemplating a walk to the coffee place for some caffine before her ride to china town. Bundled up in the expensive pink coat with her pale hair, she's easy enough to spot in daylight.

"You're still alive, I see…" All of a sudden, a voice seems to echo out of the air. A quick look around, and Huruma is slinking up the nearby parking spaces towards Abby. Both long arms are crossed over her stomach, and the collar of her coat is popped up around her neck and chin, also around a tucked scarf. Her eyes are fixed on Abby, but her head is slightly tilted. Huruma does not seem to be appearing for any sort of purpose that will start out too creepy. "So, did you'ave fun out there? …Fightin'th'good fight?" Those words sound like they have a small touch of mirth to them, despite the context.

"Barely. Skin of my teeth, sorta" Abby locks the storage compartment of the scooter, a little startled by the sudden appearance of the foreign woman. "Glad to see that going out of town was unnecessary though" She doesn't need to really answer the next question. Guilt, disgust, horror, everything one could associate that wasn't pleasurable with killing and fighting, swim in the background of the young woman's emotions. " Not fun. But it had to be done. How are you Huruma? Surviving the curfew?"

"Barely. Not that I concede to it." Huruma repeats the word as she stops, nearby Abby but certainly not being too invasive. She is more entranced by the background of emotions in her than she is her words. "I can tell that it wasn't. At least… not for you." That may her her way of explaining that Abby is too soft.

"Can you?" She thought she was schooling her voice good enough. That causes the blonde puzzle a bit. "I'm getting some coffee, I have to go home, pack. I'm heading to Louisiana for a couple weeks" Abigail digs her hands into her pockets. "What do you think I did Huruma?"

"I like Louisiana." Which is completely irrelevant, but Huruma mutters it to herself anyway. "Something that… disgusts you. Something that makes you guilty." The woman now levels her gaze at Abigail, white eyes barely narrowing. Her lips purse and her weight shifts to one leg. "You said you'ad t'kill a man, did you not?"

"I did say that" Abigail's wary now, eyeing Huruma. "How do you… know that it disgusts me… though, and guilty" Her hands tighten in her jacket but the rest of her doesn't tense yet. Huruma's been working at the bar for a while now, and hasn't ever shown inclination to hurt her.

Huruma lets out a weak chuckle, lifting her chin. "You're no'exactly… th'ardest young woman t'understand, Abigail…" Or, I can read you like a book. She doesn't really let Abby know about what she does, per se. "An'your faith finds tha'you be repentant."

Twitch twitch. She looks decidedly uncomfortable that she's that readable. "I took a life. With my healing. I hate myself for doing it Huruma. I shouldn't be able to do it with what I can do" She stmaps her feet, looking down at them. blonde hair slithers to the front of her shoulders, the most of it trapped by her blue cable knit toque. "Don't think there's not a time i'm ever gonna stop feeling disgusted with myself"

Huruma sidles slowly closer, eyes examining Abigail's hair and voice velvet in the afternoon cold. "Some men… they die, an'their souls will stay. Sometimes as spirit, but-" The tall woman sends out what she can create of a more soothing feeling for Abby, lifting her hand to hover as if she intends to touch the blonde, but doesn't. Her white eyes are fixed. "-but sometimes they will become stuck, or simply come back t'their husks. If you healed a man's body t'death, Abigail, then you cannot'ave murdered him- he'd have t'be already dead. You only saved him." In some ways, Huruma is wrong, but in most- she is oddly relevant, despite her unknowingness of that situation. This is her personal presumption. Does it actually help? Who knows.

Abigails gaze swivels to Huruma as she comes closer, though she remains steadfast where her own feet are planted. Blue eyes watching the hand, then Huruma's white eyes. "His touch brought death Huruma, so many years of death. He wasn't stuck. He jumped, chose who to sit in. His soul. A parasitic soul. Cancerous someone said. God's mercy I was showing him" The soothing ebb that starts to crawl in makes her relax her hands. "Wasn't a body for me to heal. Just.. something, a cloud of death" She looks down again, scuffing some snow from around her boot. "Sent him to hell. is it murdering, killing, if there is no body?"

"That is what I am saying." Huruma manages to lower her hand, calmly passing that off as whim and lifting her chin to continue, the gesture somewhat regal. "Th'body tha'God gave him was gone. His time was up, but he refused t'go t'Death. You, Abigail- carried out God's plan." The cold air coming out of her mouth puffs in front of her lips. "A spirit'aving stolen form is n'better than a spirit who is stuck. They are all… expired, when it boils down. You made his soul move on. He will fulfill penance in Hell, some day. But not today. At least- thanks t'you, he may start." She will be in that same situation, one day. Doing the Work on her end is slightly different, and her reward will be continued servitude even after she dies and this body rots away. As Huruma speaks, her words also carry with them a purposefully calming tone, of course inflected with her own languorous drawl.

"just a little hard to get through the mind. It was the right thing, but doens't mean I have to like it" Abby inhales, deeply, closing her eyes, letting this sense of worry and guilt and dislike fade off into the back, tucked away. "I always feel better.. around you Huruma"

"You're one of th'first, Abigail." Huruma might have snorted a little at the end, there. "You are bound t'face more trials like this- as a servant of God- as someone with your… Touch." Get used to it, this means.

"Tell me about it" Abigail murmurs. "Because no one asks, they just take and take as they see fit. I'm getting some coffee, do you want any? I have to head over to the hospital. I got caught sneaking into ICU to heal a friend and I promised that i'd go back, fix up some people who were in bad shape with their hearts and what not if they'd leave me be. So I need to bulk up come caffine and get some extra energy" Atonement, of a sorts, for Kazimir to boot. She's pretty calm now, emotionally, no spikes of much of anything.

The dark woman lifts a hand, and for a moment it almost seems like a gesture from a painting of Mary- however unfitting. "Mmm. I'll pass. I've… people t'meet, before it gets dark." And in winter, it gets dark very quickly. "You go- do what you are meant t'b'doing."

"I will. Take care Huruma. I'll see you when i'm back from home. God bless" A quietly offered addendum the last before she digs her hands into her pockets tighter and burrows her neck into her scarf. She heads off for just down the street, coffee, lots of it soon to be on her agenda, a box of it likely, and then the hospital. Much to do before she leaves for Louisianna.

February 4th: Cake And Ice Cream
February 4th: Post-Trauma
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