Storyteller / Shared NPC
A figure broke off from the throng and made her way over, though it seemed as though she was wandering blind until she was hardly a few feet from himself. She raised her face to his and Thomas immediately picked out the features of that brooding girl, contorted into an expression that... surely couldn't be delight?
“They’re going to Hell, aren’t they? I’ve seen pictures in a book. Sinners get stripped naked and burned and frozen and stabbed and tortured by demons, don’t they? That will happen to them, won’t it?”
She spoke quickly, ecstatically, with an enthusiasm that gave Thomas pause. He was no stranger to the bloodthirsty or sadistic, but to come from such an unassuming young woman, it was jarring. The reference to a book too, prompted a raise of the eyebrow. Most religious texts had little, if no imagery, and it may well be that she was getting her ideas from some other, less authoritative source. One of such symbolism too, seemed reminiscent of Paradise Lost, or perhaps the Inferno.
"...Should they have unforgiven sins, should they have closed out the Lord, then yes, lass, they will suffer a punishment." he told her, slowly. "A punishment suitable for their trespasses. In which book did you see such things?"
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
"...Should they have unforgiven sins, should they have closed out the Lord, then yes, lass, they will suffer a punishment." he told her, slowly.
Jemima’s eyes were dark yet seemed to glow hot all the same, and she gave a small, but satisfied smile. Whenever she next got the chance, she would have another look through ‘Professor’ Browne’s book and imagine that one of the writhing, agonised, naked figures was Billy. That would be fun. The Prof. had a few other books with good pictures in, especially the anatomical ones, but that one was the best.
"A punishment suitable for their trespasses. In which book did you see such things?"
She looked up at the tall priest. Sounded like he wanted to have a look, too. Well, occupational interest, she assumed: he was a priest so he wouldn’t be interested in all the naked ladies that were in the pictures, too.
“’S a book one of my employers has.” She replied cryptically, suddenly thinking owning the book might get Professor Browne in trouble, or herself for gawping at it. “Daynt” She had never heard the name Dante pronounced out loud and, understandably, her grasp of Italian pronunciation was limited.
“it’s called the something comedy, but none of them folks in Hell was laughing.” She added. "But that stuff's all in the bible too, isn't it?" she asked.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
"Well, that's certainly good to know." Thomas declared, momentarily glancing over to the crowd, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Apologies." he suddenly said with a smile, as he stepped back. "I wouldn't want to hold you two gentlemen up."
and with that, he moved back to the church wall where he settled back into his watchful state, taking another drag from his cigarette.
Speed again touched the brim of his hat, as did Pike as they continued on back to the Municipal Building and the office. “Be another quiet day, I hope.” Speed offered. “Doubt we’ll have much to do, ‘cept maybe keep kids away from the Undertakers.”
“I’d say that’s a job for the Undertaker hisself.” Pike responded. “He put the damned bodies out, let him deal with the onlookers an’ their childern, How ‘bout a game’a checkers?”
Storyteller / Shared NPC
“’S' a book one of my employers has. Daynt. It’s called the something comedy, but none of them folks in Hell was laughing." the girl proclaimed elusively. "But that stuff's all in the bible too, isn't it?"
"Well, something similar, perhaps." Thomas started to explain, though there was the feeling that he might be disappointing her in doing so. "Plenty of people have tried to interpret the holy book's words, but we can't say for certain that any man-made depiction is accurate."
He paused for a moment, watching her with an expression of mild concern. The cigarette in his hand had burned down quite far by now, and the heat at it's end was becoming uncomfortable.
"This all isn't anything you should have to concern yourself with, though." he said, attempting to lighten the mood. "Er... what's your name, lass? I don't think I've seen you around before."
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
"Well, something similar, perhaps." Thomas started to explain, though there was the feeling that he might be disappointing her in doing so. "Plenty of people have tried to interpret the holy book's words, but we can't say for certain that any man-made depiction is accurate."
She stared at him with those beady brown eyes beneath her thick eyebrows with a sort of uncomprehending but intense interest. She didn’t understand what he was going on about, but maybe she didn’t need to, there was something charismatic about the man which assured her that he knew what he was talking about even if she didn’t.
“This all isn’t anything you should have to concern yourself with, though.” He said, attempting to lighten the mood. “Er... what’s your name, lass? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
“Jemima, like in the bible.” She stated, staring at him in a direct way that would make most people uncomfortable. Indeed, she was named after the beautiful daughter of Job, which had been a case of tempting fate really, for poor Miss Wigfall was something of a byword for ‘homliness’ in Kalispell.
“Jemima Wigfall. ‘Cept Wigfall ain’t in the bible.” She informed him. This was talkative for Jemima. “Least not the bits I read. Bet you’ve read it all ain’t ya?” She added, brushing a strand of her messy hair from her brow. She waited to see if he said any more of that charismatic sounding stuff.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
“Jemima, like in the bible. Jemima Wigfall. ‘Cept Wigfall ain’t in the bible. Least not the bits I read. Bet you’ve read it all ain’t ya?”
"That I have, Jemima Wigfall." Thomas said, matching her stare. The intensity of her look was palpable, as though she was searching for any gratification from his words, but still he maintained his gaze. With the afternoon sun in the sky, it could have been a duel; ready for either side to draw and put the other down.
"Though as Paul's epistle Titus tells us, I would advise you to speak evil of no one, and to show courtesy toward all people. For we all were once foolish, and led astray, until the kindness of the Lord our savior appeared."
With that, his expression softened somewhat, and he relaxed his posture, allowing an air of geniality to resume.
"Good to meet you, Jemima. My name is Thomas. Reverend, Father, Brother, Pastor, whichever you prefer."
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
"That I have, Jemima Wigfall." Thomas said, matching her stare. The intensity of her look was palpable, as though she was searching for any gratification from his words, but still he maintained his gaze. With the afternoon sun in the sky, it could have been a duel; ready for either side to draw and put the other down.
This was good, perhaps this man could answer some interesting questions that she had regarding some biblical passages that she had come across.
"Though as Paul's epistle Titus tells us, I would advise you to speak evil of no one, and to show courtesy toward all people. For we all were once foolish, and led astray, until the kindness of the Lord our savior appeared."
The thick bushy eyebrows contracted, and Jemima frowned, her eyes still boring into his unfaltering gaze, which gave an otherwise mundane conversation an odd intensity. “I like the Old Testament better. The folks in it get up to more interestin’ stuff.” She told him. “When they ain’t begattin’ all over the place. Anyhow, I told you my name, what’s yours?” she asked.
“Good to meet you, Jemima. My name is Thomas. Reverend, Father, Brother, Pastor, whichever you prefer.”
“Like ‘Doubting Thomas’?” she wondered aloud. Well, there were clearly some parts of the New Testament that she was aware of. “Well I won’t call you brother, cause I hate my brother. You ain’t my father, … an’ I don’t like them other two, neither. How about I just call you Thomas?” she asked. Perhaps she was too dull witted to know that one’s elders should be addressed with a nomenclature of respect.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
“Like ‘Doubting Thomas’?” asked Jemima indelicately.
"Er- yes, like doubting Thomas, I suppose." the priest confirmed. Daughter of Job and a faithless Apostle, standing meters from three dead men. Religious imagery aside, there was a sense of the macabre about this whole thing.
“Well I won’t call you brother, cause I hate my brother. You ain’t my father, … an’ I don’t like them other two, neither. How about I just call you Thomas?”
Thomas chuckled, though it was a forced, throaty laugh. The last time he had really been 'just Thomas' was down in Mexico, fighting for his life. Still, she was bold to say the least, and being accepting of other denominations meant being accepting of none, as well.
"Very well, I can be just Thomas." he conceded, shifting his gaze over to the crowd once more. He raised the cigarette to his lips, lowered it, and blew out a light cloud of smoke.
"Jemima. Could you tell me a bit about the fellow Arabella was holding?" he asked, eyes narrowing a bit against the sun overhead.
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
“Like ‘Doubting Thomas’?” asked Jemima indelicately.
"Er- yes, like doubting Thomas, I suppose." the priest confirmed. Daughter of Job and a faithless Apostle, standing meters from three dead men. Religious imagery aside, there was a sense of the macabre about this whole thing.
Jemima, too, was feeling … something. She might be dull and coarse and lumpy, but she was alive, and those others were dead as the clay. Father Thomas might be old, but he had a vital and charismatic spark to him and Jemima couldn’t but think of all those times in her beloved Old Testament where ancient Patriarchs met young women at the well and started begetting together all over the place with them. To be honest, the state of her love-life at the moment, she couldn’t afford to be too picky anyway.
“Well I won’t call you brother, cause I hate my brother. You ain’t my father, … an’ I don’t like them other two, neither. How about I just call you Thomas?”
"Very well, I can be just Thomas." he conceded, shifting his gaze over to the crowd once more. He raised the cigarette to his lips, lowered it, and blew out a light cloud of smoke.
“Good, I like you.” She said in her emotionless flat voice. “I usually go to the Spiritualist Church, but I might come and hear you preach on Sunday, you’ll be at the Methodist place, I guess.” She nodded to herself.
"Jemima. Could you tell me a bit about the fellow Arabella was holding?" he asked, eyes narrowing a bit against the sun overhead
“He’s called Billy, worked up at Evergreen like them other two. I heard a feller back there say that Quentin Cantrell and some other feller murdered ‘em all, saw e’m bring them in on a wagon” she answered, glancing back at the delicious white nakedness of the cute young man’s corpse. “Arabella reckoned ol’ Billy kissed her once but I reckon they did much worse than that and that’s why he’s dead now because the Lord punishes them as sins in the flesh. She wa’nt carryin’ on like that cause she loved him, she carryin’ on like that cause she knows she’s next. She seen how the Lord punishes those as gives in to their filthy lusts.” She turned back to the older man, interested to hear his take on the matter.
“I think she’d be better off if she got punished for it now by mortal hands, better ‘n waiting for God’s wrath. What you think, Thomas?” She was half looking at him, half remembering the girl being dragged off the body with the sinner’s blood soaking into her clothes like a red badge of shame at what Jemima, in her fevered imagination, imagined they’d done together.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
“Good, I like you.” She said in her emotionless flat voice. “I usually go to the Spiritualist Church, but I might come and hear you preach on Sunday, you’ll be at the Methodist place, I guess.”
"Er... yes." Thomas said idly. Spiritualist certainly fit the bill for this one.
“He’s called Billy, worked up at Evergreen like them other two. I heard a feller back there say that Quentin Cantrell and some other feller murdered ‘em all, saw e’m bring them in on a wagon. Arabella reckoned ol’ Billy kissed her once but I reckon they did much worse than that and that’s why he’s dead now because the Lord punishes them as sins in the flesh. She wa’nt carryin’ on like that cause she loved him, she carryin’ on like that cause she knows she’s next. She seen how the Lord punishes those as gives in to their filthy lusts.”
For a girl so apathetic and cold to Arabella, Jemima seemed very knowledgeable about her situation. Of course, word probably got around quickly in Kalispell, doubly so among it's youth, and Thomas decided not to pursue the matter.
However, at the decision to consider Arabella's hysterics as that of self-preservation rather than sorrow, Thomas felt a twinge in his stomach. He gave nothing but a low 'hm', though a feeling of concern was beginning to grow at Jemima's impassivity, and was struck by the notion that she'd probably never had a sweetheart of her own. Not for her looks or even her demeanor, but for how cold she seemed to the affections of others, and her justification of the fact by way of the gospel message.
“I think she’d be better off if she got punished for it now by mortal hands, better ‘n waiting for God’s wrath. What you think, Thomas?”
The priest was quiet for a time, considering carefully how next to tread. He could not pass judgement on Arabella with so little information, and besides, for as troublesome as she may have been, the girl was outwardly just about as pious as they came. He didn't want to shut Jemima down straight out either, for that could only serve to reaffirm her self-manufactured beliefs. No, it would be better to instead mitigate the entertainment of her agenda, and proceed from there.
He took one last drag of his cigarette, before tossing it to the dirt and rubbing it out beneath his boot. "I think... that I'd better see about getting those bodies buried."
With that, he gave the girl a look of geniality, and walked out across the road, heading for the undertaker's office.