Sherriff or Whitman}Caught in the Act

[|faye.carson|]

The night was dark and cold, her horses tired and their hooves thudded on the ground. Faye was too tired to hold on any more. She looked around in the darkness. She could see... a building up ahead. In the darkness she hadn't noticed how many buildings were around. She was tired, thirsty, and living of a hard piece of bread in her satchel tied to Donte, who was, not surprisingly, wide awake.

Faye parked them in front of the church, loosening their girths before tumbling to the door. She rapped on the door lightly, too fatigued to really knock harder. She quietly opened the door, realizing it was a Church. She didn't even bother shutting the door, forgetting all about it. She ran up the the front of the church, getting on her knees and she began to pray.

All she remember next were sweet dreams, Donte whinnying outside, and darkness. Her dreams were tormented, more of a summery of her whole life. It wasn't pretty, at all. When she woke up she could hear muttered shocks and could feel eyes on her. She sat up. Oh no... oh no where am I? She wondered. She shivered, did.. had the men found her? She was afraid to turn around and see. If she acted like no one was there maybe... who was she kidding. Her red mane had fallen to her back, the pins lost on the floor, two were still stuck in her hair. She pulled them out and quickly pulled her hair into a bun, sticking the pins in it, they wouldn't last long, not with just two pins.

She turned around, her heart thudding in her ears. She wanted to run away, far away, but she'd been doing it for so long she felt she needed to at least have a break... for once.

[Leviafan]

It had been a restless night for Whitman. He was not accustomed to such insomnia, but strange sounds in the darkness outside plagued his ears, and in his half-dozing state he could not be sure what was real and what was dream. He was therefore glad when dawn arrived. A rooster added his two cents' worth, reassuring the reverend that it finally was time to get up.

Rising creakily from the bed (it seemed to get more difficult with each passing day) he dressed in haste and left their small one-story dwelling, eager to get on with the day. The area around the church was quiet this early; even the most pious usually waited until sunup for their prayers. To his surprise, he found the door already ajar. He pushed it in, the squeak of its hinges reminding him of yet another job that needed doing. This was a small town, and the residents couldn’t afford to pay a sexton and a minister.

He got another shock when he came across the reason for the already–open door. A young woman lay curled up behind a pew, fast asleep. She looked so at peace, he hated to wake her; but even as he pondered what to do, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared around in panic. Unsuccessfully she tried to fix her hair, which he noted was a particularly bright shade of red. As shocked as he was to find a stranger in his church, she was obviously in distress, and he couldn’t bring himself to give her the verbal drubbing she deserved for trespassing. “No, miss, don’t be alarmed. You’re in the church. No one’s going to harm you here. But I would like to know your name, since you’ve spent the night in God’s dwelling-place.”

[|faye.carson|]

Faye swiveled around slowly. "The night...? Oh my. I'm so sorry!" She said immediately. She flushed, about the same shade of her vibrant red hair. "I was so tired, I just stopped by to pray, I promise," she said. Feeling her heart pound. How embarrassing was this, of all the places to fall asleep, a church, she had to find a church to pass out in. How God would be ashamed of her. "I promise I meant no harm," she reassured the reverend. "I attend church every Sunday when there's a church I can find," she said.

She heard Donte whinny outside. Her horses were probably starving to death. "I was just traveling a far distance and I kept thinking that I'd stop off at the next town, but then there was no next town and then it was pretty late... so I.... I guess I fell asleep. I meant to go over to the Inn, Honest. I was just praying to god, giving him thanks for guiding me here," she rambled nervously, before quickly crouching to pick up her pins.

The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in the slammer for an accident. She doubted a reverend would do that, but she'd meant a few odd reverends before, it wouldn't really surprise her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes quickly and then stuck the pins in her hair, keeping the bun more secure. She then smoothed over her wrinkled skirts. She probably smelled like horse and sweat. She dared not think how retched her breath must smell, she'd have to remember not to get too close until she took a wash and brushed her teeth. She also had two more things to worry about besides her smell and appearance, she needed to use the chamber pot and her stomach was a little empty. At the prospect of food her stomach growling, ready to bite into a big stack of flapjacks with eggs and bacon. But her eyes were bigger than her stomach, she'd probably only eat one flapjack and maybe some bacon. She'd have to find an Inn and then see if she could get any food from that morning.

[Leviafan]

As her reaction turned abject, even frightened, Whitman regretted his earlier sternness, as mild as it had been. Clearly she was in no condition to deal with even the slightest amount of scolding. He stepped forward, offering her a hand up. "Think no more of it, please. That is what a church is meant to be, a refuge. Our Lord would not have turned away a single tired traveller from his door, and He is the paradigm by which we should all measure ourselves."

Whitman surveyed her crumpled form, noting the dust and the wrinkles in her skirt and the misplaced hairpins. "Your faith is certainly strong if you placed prayer above finding somewhere to lay your head," he said with an indulgent smile. "But you must be famished. It may be early in the day, but it's certainly morning. I would be delighted if you would join me in breaking fast at the inn."