Shiva - Here's To You
Jan. 31st, 2009 10:23 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter it's all over, Maverick meets with the woman who originally gave him back his life, and reflects.
She took a deep breath of stagnant air and held it. Her skin felt rough from the bitter New England elements though her lungs felt saturated, taking in years of sin, confessions, and mold with every inhale. Her lungs burned but she waited, let it sting so she could find her focus.
A loud creak behind her and a refreshing gust of air that followed the closing of the door told her that her appointment had arrived. Betsy exhaled slowly. The rhythmic sounds of shoes connecting with the lacquered floor echoed off the walls. She'd have to think about scheduling meets in similar locales, sacred ground often gave anyone with any religious upbringing some pause. And the ability to hear your target before they actually see you, well, that never hurt either.
The footsteps came to a stop yet she kept her face focused on the altar. "Hello, David."
North took a seat in the pew next to Betsy, folding his sunglasses and putting them in the pocket of his coat. "Elisabeth. Definitely not the first place I'd have thought to meet you, but well done. I owe your people a great debt of gratitude."
The corners of her lips turned up slightly to his comment. "No thanks necessary - at least not to me. They do what comes naturally. Sometimes they do so with a bit of zeal, ever so useful when the need arises."
At the front of the cathedral, the priest finished reading the morning's scripture and began in on his homily. In the pew, North looked down at the black Stetson he held in his hands, turning it over and over thoughtfully. "I have no idea how far the effects of William Stryker's plans have spread," he admitted quietly. "Three people who were my closest comrades died to protect his secrets. This is not the finer world I was promised, Elisabeth. This isn't what I worked for."
"While I understand your need for self-reflection and the surroundings only reinforce that feeling, I am not your Mother Confessor." She slid across the pew, leaving room for David to join her. "Promised or not, you wanted to help make the world a better place, not watch it burn. Yes, you were lied to and manipulated but it's how you deal with the betrayal that will define you."
Leaning back in the pew, North looked up at the vaulted ceiling. "William Stryker is dead. I'm not all that interested in some roaring rampage of revenge, my dear. What would you have me do?"
Betsy leaned over and smiled. "How do you feel about trenchcoats?"
She took a deep breath of stagnant air and held it. Her skin felt rough from the bitter New England elements though her lungs felt saturated, taking in years of sin, confessions, and mold with every inhale. Her lungs burned but she waited, let it sting so she could find her focus.
A loud creak behind her and a refreshing gust of air that followed the closing of the door told her that her appointment had arrived. Betsy exhaled slowly. The rhythmic sounds of shoes connecting with the lacquered floor echoed off the walls. She'd have to think about scheduling meets in similar locales, sacred ground often gave anyone with any religious upbringing some pause. And the ability to hear your target before they actually see you, well, that never hurt either.
The footsteps came to a stop yet she kept her face focused on the altar. "Hello, David."
North took a seat in the pew next to Betsy, folding his sunglasses and putting them in the pocket of his coat. "Elisabeth. Definitely not the first place I'd have thought to meet you, but well done. I owe your people a great debt of gratitude."
The corners of her lips turned up slightly to his comment. "No thanks necessary - at least not to me. They do what comes naturally. Sometimes they do so with a bit of zeal, ever so useful when the need arises."
At the front of the cathedral, the priest finished reading the morning's scripture and began in on his homily. In the pew, North looked down at the black Stetson he held in his hands, turning it over and over thoughtfully. "I have no idea how far the effects of William Stryker's plans have spread," he admitted quietly. "Three people who were my closest comrades died to protect his secrets. This is not the finer world I was promised, Elisabeth. This isn't what I worked for."
"While I understand your need for self-reflection and the surroundings only reinforce that feeling, I am not your Mother Confessor." She slid across the pew, leaving room for David to join her. "Promised or not, you wanted to help make the world a better place, not watch it burn. Yes, you were lied to and manipulated but it's how you deal with the betrayal that will define you."
Leaning back in the pew, North looked up at the vaulted ceiling. "William Stryker is dead. I'm not all that interested in some roaring rampage of revenge, my dear. What would you have me do?"
Betsy leaned over and smiled. "How do you feel about trenchcoats?"
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