Church - Building Site, For His glory

[Lt. Karl Womack]

Church Building Site

"So how far is it to this Needles guys' place?"

"A few miles back up the way we came...no chance anyone saw us. Come on let's get to work."


A few hours passed, and Karl threw himself into his labors. He and Khan worked side-by-side hauling materials, hammering nails, and cutting lumber. Sweat quickly covered his body, and the muscles of his bare arms and chest flexed against the thin flesh of his athletic frame. He was easily one of the biggest men there, but he looked like a child as he stood in the shadow of the gargantuan Tiberius. The man looked like a statue, but instead of marble, his frame was constructed of God’s muscle and Alliance cybernetics…when Khan’s shirt left his broad shoulders, a crowd quickly formed.

Womack glanced at the edge of the work site, where some of the citizens had gathered to catch a glimpse of the new strangers, but the majority of their attention focused on the Hercules in their midst. He smiled. The bad lieutenant had been to every rock spinning, and Khan was a rarity in his experience…he could only imagine what the people of Spiritu Santi thought.

A large bell rang signaling the end of the work day, and Karl dropped his last load of cut timber. He hadn’t seen either Hightower or Mancoon, but the work site was fairly large…they were probably working at the other end.

A few of the workers smiled and shook his hand, thanking him for his efforts and prompting him to seek them out at the upcoming festival. Karl returned their smiles and graciously accepted their thanks, but his grin only widened when the workers moved from him to Khan…their gratitude for the hulk a bit more…enthusiastic.

Working his way through the gathering crowd, Womack slapped his hand on Tibby’s stone cut shoulder,
”Looks like you’ve made yourself a legend in a day’s time. You think maybe you could slow down a little tomorrow so the rest of us don’t look so…mortal?”

Pointing to the edge of the work site, Karl directed Khan’s attention to a group of comely young women that were whispering and giggling at the IAD officer,
”Yup…a legend in a day’s time. What’s your encore…walkin’ on water? That should go over huge here.”

[Sarah Kent]

Church Building Site (a few hours ago)

The ride back to the building site had been spent in silence…stunned silence on Sarah’s part. She still couldn’t fully comprehend that Mr. Krylin had heeded her unspoken cry for help, and she simply couldn’t believe Don Tenor’s reaction.

Could it really be that easy?

Am I free?

The horses stopped the wagon at the church, and she climbed down to the solid ground on shaky legs. Moving over to Mancoon, she smiled,
”I thank you for your offer of escort, Goodman…if you should change your mind, I-I won’t be offended. I will wait for you at my home. It is the only blue house on the shore overlooking the ocean. The festival will begin at sunset, but you may c-call at anytime…I will be ready.”

Nodding politely, Sarah took her leave…still numb by the events working to reshape her life.

She walked slowly all the way to her home, but as soon as she entered and closed the door…she twirled.

One of her happiest memories of her mother was of the two of them joining hands and twirling across the kitchen of her old home on Greenleaf, and now when she felt the happiest, she twirled…like she did as a girl. She spun and spun…her skirt planed out beside her, as her head fought the growing loss of equilibrium. Finally stopping, a moment of fright shadowed her heart as she embraced a time honored fear,
”What am I going to wear?”

Sprinting to her closet, the young widow was greeted with an assortment of conservative, matronly choices. Frantically she rifled through the rack, praying that there was something that wouldn’t make her fit her assigned designation. For the second time that day…her prayers were answered. There at the bottom of her closet, still sealed in a clear plastic bag, was the dress she wore for the festival commemorating her debut to Alleluia society. It was white and pale blue with slight straps and a hem that hit right below her knee.

In a rush, Sarah pulled the dress from the bag and held it to her body. Tears streamed down her face, as she saw the dress's matching shoes at the bottom of the container.

Without thinking, the young woman began to sing,
What you got if you ain't got love
The kind that you just want to give away
It's ok to open up
Go ahead and let the light shine through
I know it's hard on a rainy day
You wanna shut the world out and just be left alone
But don't run out on your faith

Her voice rose for the second stanza...powerful and angelic,

Cause sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
Is just a grain of sand
And what you've been out there searching for forever
Is in your hands
And when you figure out love is all that matters after all
It sure makes everything else seem
So small

As she sang, she twirled and twirled with the dress pressed lovingly to her bosom.

…and for the first time since Gabriel’s death, she thanked God.


<<Lyrics by Carrie Underwood 'So Small'>>

[Tiberius Khan]

"A few miles back up the way we came...no chance anyone saw us. Come on let's get to work."


"You're the boss, boss." replied Tiberius, before joining Womack in the tedious labor.


Hours passed, but Tiberius didn't notice as he worked in a rythymic fashion. He only noticed the crowd of people when the bell rang and the workers stopped what they were doing. He shook their hands, smiled at the women, even let some of the children hang off his massive arms, despite the fact that his muscles were screaming in pain. Tiberius reveled in the crowds' graciousness until he felt Womack slap his shoulder.


”Looks like you’ve made yourself a legend in a day’s time. You think maybe you could slow down a little tomorrow so the rest of us don’t look so…mortal?”


"Maybe, but that's an awful lot of paper work I'd have to do. Probably have to sign every page in triplicate, dot my I's with smiley faces, and cross my T's." mused a sore and aching Tiberius.


”Yup…a legend in a day’s time. What’s your encore…walkin’ on water? That should go over huge here.”


Tiberius smiled at the women, waved to those who wove at him , then said to Womack "Well I was thinking more along the lines of parting the Red Sea or maybe turning water into wine, but we'll see." Stretching his sore muscles, Tiberius continued "Seriously though I could really use something to drink. Maybe take some time out to rest even."

[Israel Pasalewe]

Church Building Site

The path between the two is clear. If you remove one you cut the bond and its easier to break one while the other is at play. If we want her then we need to remove all that she loves.

As Israel finished writing, a bell sounded. Well I guess all the boys are done workin'. Israel started his engine after putting his notepad and pen away. Driving towards Womack and Tibby- whom by the way was all ripples and glory. Though he looked beautiful covered in sweat; Israel was no longer interested, but he wasn't about to let Tibby know that. Israel now felt a fondness, a respect if you will for the I.A.D. officer.

When Israel finally reached them, he spoke loudly with a touch of strain an femininity attached to his voice. "That was one hellish work day, huh boys?" Winking at them he continued drawing out parts in his next sentence. "If either of you need a goood, looong rub down I'd more then happy to help you out.." Israel paused a moment before smirking, devilishly finishing with, "...of your clothes." Israel began to laugh at his own joke.

[Mancoon Krylin]

Church Building Site

Panting, 'Coon settled his end of the heavy wooden beam he was carrying against the pile near the high, slatted ribs of the forming church just as a big bronze bell rang over at the other end of the worksite, signaling the end of the work day. The workers broke up and began heading home to their homes and families. A few lingered, clapping him and Ed on the shoulders, laughing and marveling over what they’d gotten done today. ‘Coon smiled stiffly and nodded in the appropriate places, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he was relieved when the last of the workers began to head away from the worksite.

For a few hours after he'd returned from the supply run a smile had seemed practically glued to his face, but as the day wore on, the smile had dimmed as his thoughts returned to what Sarah (he was mildly surprised to find that, in his head, at least, he’d dropped the “missy”) had said shortly before she’d agreed to let him take her to the carnival. They'd been running through his head all afternoon, making him thoroughly miserable on her behalf. "Gotta whiff o' some o' the local customs 'ere today, Ed,” he said suddenly. The quiet marine’s face was grave as he watched a workman scoop up a laughing child and tickle her mercilessly. “Din’t like what ah heard. Didja know widows ain't allowed outside after dark ‘less they doin’ work fer t’town?” He pressed his lips into a thin, white line and looked away from Ed. “That ain’t right. An' they call theyselves Christians,” he mumbled in a low growl. "Wha'e'er happened to 'do unto others'?"

[Tiberius Khan]

Church Building Site


"That was one hellish work day, huh boys?" "If either of you need a goood, looong rub down I'd more then happy to help you out.." "...of your clothes."


Tiberius laughed with Ray, then said smiling "I think I'll take a rain check on that one, Ray..." Tiberius patted Womack on the shoulder as he continued "...but I'm sure Womack would be happy to oblige."

[Corporal Edward Hightower]

“Din’t like what ah heard. Didja know widows ain't allowed outside after dark ‘less they doin’ work fer t’town? That ain’t right. An' they call theyselves Christians. Wha'e'er happened to 'do unto others'?"

Ed, who was still noticeably upset by his earlier faux pas, looked quizzically at his friend,
”’Doing the town’s work’…what the rutt do you suppose that means? I can think of a few possibilities…but I don’t like where my mind takes me.”

The pair were moving towards the opposite end of the worksite, and a few seconds later the towering form of Tiberius Khan came into view. Before they were within earshot, Ed stopped them and looked at Krylin…a lost expression covered his blue orbs,
”What we were talking about earlier…women…forget it. Be yourself, ‘Coon. You’re one of the nicest most genuine guys I ever met…any woman can’t see that at first glance, isn’t a woman you want to know. The rest of us got all the advice and technique in the ‘Verse…and we’ll shove it in your ear any chance we get…just don’t listen. Not to be crass, but I can make love to a woman a hundred different ways…yet I don’t have a wife, girlfriend, or even a steady lover. I’d trade all the partners I ever had, or will ever have, to find what Womack had with Scarlet, and I think that you, my friend, are much farther along on that quest than I am.”

Hightower wrapped his arm around Krylin and drew him into an embrace. Lightly pounding Mancoon’s back with his fist, he spoke into the larger man’s ear,
”It is an honor to call you my friend, Officer Krylin.”

”You two gonna make out or somethin’!?! ‘Cause if so that’s just plain mean to do to Ray!”

Breaking the hug as quickly as he had initiated it, Ed smiled toward the yelling Womack,
”Aww Ray, I’m sorry…here let me kiss it and make it better.”

Turning back to Mancoon, he finished,
”Day’s over…lets head home.”

With that Hightower ran down to Pasalewe’s cruiser and leaned in and kissed the medic on his shaved head. With a laugh the five men climbed aboard the small vehicle and went home.

<<Womack, Tibby, Mancoon, Ray, and Hightower have returned to the Shield>>

[Ares Shield]

What makes God stop and take notice?

Prayer?

If so, how does He notice one person’s devotion from another? Do the pious stand above the weak-of-spirit…or vice-versa? Whose prayers garner more attention: the eighty-year old Londinium zealot or the twelve-year old prostitute from Beaumonde’s Red district?

Omniscience aside, does God have time for anything beyond prayer? Does He ever truly receive anything in return from His flock? Not blood sacrifice or idols of gold, but something truly meaningful…something as simple as a moment of happiness shared.

What makes God stop and take notice?

[Patron Esteban]

The sun had stopped its decent long enough to grant an extra few minutes of what artists refer to as Heaven’s light. Spiritu Santi drank in the sunset as it dressed the stage for the chosen pair, allowing the golden haze to cloak the scene.

The church had been completed earlier in the day, with Mancoon Krylin himself pounding the final nail. Now the cop that followed the carpenter knelt before the simple altar housed within.

The wall behind the altar would eventually contain a floor to ceiling holo-window, but for now it remained open, offering an unobstructed view to the ocean. The breeze carried the smell of the sea and lightly ruffled the clothing of all in attendance.

Sarah knelt beside Mancoon, wearing a simple cream colored dress and a red rose in her hair as was Alleluia tradition. She held her love’s left hand with her right and squeezed softly, hoping to extinguish any anxiety he may have.

To Krylin’s right knelt Corporal Edward Hightower, acting as a best man to the person he considered his brother. Ed’s hair was slicked straight back and gathered into a tight ponytail, a more fitting style to compliment the crisp grey dress uniform he wore…but no matter how immaculate his garb, it paled in comparison to the smile he wore on his face.

The crew of the Shield sat in the first two rows of the church, the police officers wearing uniforms that matched Hightower’s…even Womack had dressed the part.

The entire town filled in the rest of the pews, along with the rear of the church. With the Don’s treachery made public, Spiritu Santi had embraced Mancoon as a defacto savior and honored the pair by bearing witness en masse.

The only person missing was the enigmatic Simon Peter, a man known to the rest of the ‘Verse as Pilate. Two days ago he had left Honesty House and returned to the stars. Only Esteban had received word of his departure in the form of a handwritten note.

The Patron presided over the affair from his wheelchair. Though Tenor’s bullet had severed his spine, his life had been saved by the incredible skill of Israel Pasalewe, and with the permission of his physician turned friend, the Patron performed the ceremony of marriage for Sarah and Mancoon.

With the fall of Tenor, Ramiro was finally at peace. Not because vengeance had been served or his accusations proven true, he was at peace because he finally felt a sense of closure with his son. He would never let Gabriel go, but he was now able to smile when he thought of his boy.

It was with this new-found sense of joy that he now spoke,
”In lieu of rings, the groom and bride have honored their union by exchanging locks of hair, an old Athenian tradition. Each lock contains a part of both husband and wife, symbolizing their new life as one being in the Eyes of God.”

Raising his hand from the wheelchair’s armrest, Ramiro wept as he spoke the last,
”With God’s Blessing, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, my son.”

Casting his gaze to the assembly, his voice filled every corner of the new church,
”I invite you all to look upon Sarah and Mancoon Krylin…what has been consecrated here let no person tear asunder.”

As the couple stood and met in a quaint yet passionate kiss, Hightower turned, threw two fistfuls of rice into the air, and screamed,
”ALLELUIA!”

Moments later every soul for miles around gathered on the stretch of land between the church and the beach for a fiesta commemorating the marriage.


<<OOC feel free to ‘rewind’ your posts to include events inside the church. This episode will be ending shortly. Thank you all for being the best, and thank you to the incomparable Tao for all of her much appreciated help…you rock lass>>

[Shanti]

Shanti watched with open eyes as Officer Krylin and Sara made their vows to one another.

Sara was so beautiful; almost ethereal. For all of the sorrow that had been visited on her, she shined as brightly as the tears of joy that sparkled on her cheeks. And Officer Krylin... Shanti would never have guessed it, how Sara's presence would illuminate him, make the scarred soldier all but disappear in the visage of happiness that he presented now.

They seemed so happy, happy to be together, happy to think on the future together.

For herself, Shanti had been careful not to think on the future at all. By some supreme act of discipline, her thoughts had stayed in the now- almost recklessly, certainly desperately, forcing herself to live every single moment that she could. Sleep had been forsaken for the sake of lying on the pristine sandy beach to stare up at glittering stars in the night sky. Luxurious time was spent swimming in the crystal blue ocean, in soaking up the sunlight and in long afternoons spent with Abuela Eva unlocking the secrets of the flavors of life.

With every moment, every breath, every heartbeat, Shanti tried to keep up that feeling; the reckless wild feeling that had been unlocked by that moonlight motorcycle ride. Even now, the memory of it made her heart beat a little faster. Lt. Womack had said it best. There was only so much time to live like normal folk. The time was closing now, closing fast, and Shantassa had a lifetime of living to do with only days to do it.

Ceremony over, in the bright Alleluia sunlight, Shanti took herself off to the side, pad and charcoals in hand to sketch a wedding gift for the newlyweds- Themselves on the steps of the church that they had built- A wedding day portrait.

As she re-created the faint curving circles of the rose in Sara's hair, Shanti reflected. Wasn't much, but it was from her own hands. Something maybe not only to help them remember their day, but also maybe to remember her by when she was gone.

[Sarah Kent]

A wind she hadn’t felt for years gently caught her hair and kissed her face, filling her soul with a nova of joy. Her fingers were laced lightly through Mancoon’s…a casual act of contact that seemed so natural she wondered how she existed this long without his proximity…his touch.

Laughter filled her throat as she and her husband exited the church in a shower of rice and applause. For the next thirty minutes, the new couple shared hugs and handshakes with the people of the Shield and the town. When there was a lull in the proceedings, Sarah leaned her head against Mancoon’s shoulder, trying to get as close to him as possible.

Finally the last person in the line stood before them, Lieutenant Karl Womack. His dress uniform was unbuttoned at the throat and a short cigar, one from Israel's stash, wafted smoke around his head. With a smile and a nod, he led the pair to the crest of the hill leading down to the sea.

[Lt. Karl Womack]

The sun had finally set, but the golden-red light of its passing still held a firm grip on the western horizon. With his eyes reflecting that light, Womack handed a thin corepad to Mancoon. Not waiting for Krylin and his bride to look at the contents of the screen, he began,
”I ain’t one for knowin’ the right thing to speak on at a time like this. Guess you could say I don’t have much experience with it, but I know what’s right,” he turned to regard the couple, ”Love is a fickle bitch. She’ll make you her own, cradle you like a babe…and then throw you to the stones.”

Womack grimaced, knowing that his point wasn’t as eloquent as he’d like it. With a smile he continued,
”I mean to say that most of the time Love’s a fickle bitch. Sometimes…every once in awhile, there comes along a joinin’ that spits in Love’s eye and makes their own happiness…for as long as they can,” Womack’s eyes moved back to the horizon…thoughts of moments lost and stolen, clouding his features.

With a sharp sniff, the bad lieutenant spoke,
”With that bein’ said, I guess I got you a weddin’ present,” he gestured toward the Corepad and quoted the contents, ”Effective immediately Officer Mancoon Krylin has been granted an honorable discharge from service. Let it be noted that he has performed his duty above and beyond the call. All it needs is your hand print for approval.”

Womack took a moment to draw on his cigar before continuing,
”Your fight’s over, ‘Coon…hell, weren’t never your fight to begin with. Live your life…love each other with your own rules and beholden to none,” he extended his hand to his giant friend, ”God knows I’m goin’ to miss havin’ you beside me, but times come for us to follow different paths.”

[Corporal Edward Hightower]

The wedding had been a singular event in his life, and he knew that the sights, sounds, and feelings of the moment would live with him till the end of his days. Being Mancoon’s Best Man had only intensified the time, casting the veil of honor over the already memorable affair. Whether asked to stand as witness to love or against the hordes of Hell, Corporal Edward Hightower would have agreed without hesitation for the man he considered his brother.

With a sad smile, he watched as Karl drew Mancoon and Sarah away from the party. Womack had told him his intentions, and while he fully agreed with his decision, Hightower still hated to see his friend leave. But he knew why it had to be, with Scarlet’s tale always a reminder to the fleeting nature of life and love.

His sad smile faded…replaced with devilish intent.

But Mancoon wasn’t gone to him yet, and there was fun to be had.

Ed couldn’t help but roll his eyes…even his thoughts were starting to sound like Carter.

As he scooped up his tequila and moved from one of the small portable bars, a large strand of his hair, not yet long enough to be contained, pulled free from his ponytail and dangled in his face.

Scanning the crowd, he quickly closed the space between himself and Tiberius…even with all the people the giant police officer was easily found. Moving up beside his friend he looked straight ahead and started talking…no greetings or pleasantries, Ed was here on business. With his eyes locked squarely on his beautiful target, the young corporal posed his challenge,
”Here’s the wager, Tibby…I’m saying that I get a dance and a kiss from Lieutenant Bell before the end of the night. Name your terms.”

Sure she was his superior officer, as well as an intelligent shrewd, half-sly succubus, but with liquid courage pumping through his veins, happiness in his step, and the departure of Officer Tildara for her family estate on Bellerophon…now seemed not only a good time but a perfect one.

[Tiberius Khan]

”Here’s the wager, Tibby…I’m saying that I get a dance and a kiss from Lieutenant Bell before the end of the night. Name your terms.”


"Would this be before or after I notify Officer Tildara about your intentions and she hands you your manhood on a silver platter?" asked Tiberius, smiling at Hightower.


Tiberius was enjoying himself at Mancoon's and Sarah's wedding. He enjoyed the ceremony, the food, the dancing, the cute, single bridesmaids that were eyeing him. It was all good to Tibby. True the Shield would be flying home with one less, but nonetheless Tiberius was happy for Mancoon as well a Sarah.


Putting his right arm around Hightower (which he was thankful for being able to head back to the Shield and repairing it), Tiberius smiled and said, "You know what, Hightower? I'm in a good mood, so I'm not going to wave Tildara about your intentions. So, my friend, why don't you go conquer Mt. Bell, while I peruse the bridesmaids. After the wedding when we're back on the Shield, we can compare notes and see how well we did. Shiny?"

[Mancoon Krylin]

Sarah was the happest he'd he'd ever seen her tonight. She shone like a star, and he looked down at her with the same dazed, hopelessly giddy expression that had been on his face all during the ceremony.

He'd been a bit self-conscious at first, horribly conscious of the eyes zeroing in on him from every side, but though he felt his cheeks prickle faintly, it was nothing compared to the feeling of lightness that buoyed him up inside as Sarah had made her way down the isle, the certainty that he was currently the luckiest person alive.

He couldn't stop looking at her. He'd been vaguely aware of familiar laughter at his side, light and contagious, and of blindly turning around with aid of a pair of hands to face Esteban, but mostly he was aware of staring. While Sarah seemed to favor skirts and dresses more than any woman of Mancoon's aquaintance, he'd never seen her dressed like this before. She was dressed in a creamy dress that seemed to flow around her like water and cling like a second skin all at once, her hair pinned up with a rose that was woven through the wavy mass instead of holding it back. She looked tiny on Esteban's arm, the aging patron humbly curbing his stride as he escorted Sarah to the altar before taking his place before God and man. Bright eyes twinkling with excitement, Sarah beamed at him without a trace of self-consciousness, and that gave Mancoon the courage to forget his own nerves and smile back.

She was smiling now as Womack handed a corpad to him. Though he knew it was foolish, 'Coon found himself taking a deep breath, steeling himself against the possibility of disappointment, against all the things that could still go wrong. Maybe this was new orders from command, or Womack had changed his mind to give him some leave with Sarah after all of this Niska business, or-

Womack did none of those things. ”I ain’t one for knowin’ the right thing to speak on at a time like this. Guess you could say I don’t have much experience with it, but I know what’s right. Love is a fickle bitch. She’ll make you her own, cradle you like a babe…and then throw you to the stones.”

'Coon's smile turned a bit uncertain. He wasn't terribly observant about personal things, but even he had heard enough from unrelated comments and looks shared between Karl and Eddy that he could piece together that something bad had happened to Womack in the past. Really bad. He prayed for God to send him peace.

Before he could work through something to say Womack continued with a smile, ”I mean to say that most of the time Love’s a fickle bitch. Sometimes…every once in awhile, there comes along a joinin’ that spits in Love’s eye and makes their own happiness…for as long as they can. With that bein’ said, I guess I got you a weddin’ present,” he gestured toward the Corepad and quoted the contents, ”Effective immediately Officer Mancoon Krylin has been granted an honorable discharge from service."

Mancoon stared in naked astonishment. "Discharged?" He echoed faintly. He could feel Sarah's happy sigh breeze across his neck, her smaller hand slipping contentedly into his, but all Mancoon could see was the words written on the screen. This couldn't be real. It was almost too much. "Ah'm a civvie?" His eyes cut back to Womack with a mute question shining in their depths, but he was smiling all the same--incredulously, sure, but he had never looked this happy, this relaxed, in all the time that they had known each other. Thank you.

"Let it be noted," Womack barreled on, "that he has performed his duty above and beyond the call. All it needs is your hand print for approval. Your fight’s over, ‘Coon…hell, weren’t never your fight to begin with. Live your life…love each other with your own rules and beholden to none. God knows I’m goin’ to miss havin’ you beside me, but times come for us to follow different paths.”

Mancoon ignored the outstretched hand and draw Womack into a bear hug. "Don' be feedin' me that claptrap," he snorted, and relaxed his hold reluctantly, mindful of his own strength. "Ah'm just takin' a detour fer a l'il while, is all. Ye're family," he said seriously, "all o' ye. Think ah'll let ye go that easy?" Womack was right in a way, that it wasn't his fight to begin with, but it was now. He'd made it his fight. Karl Womack and The Shield were more than friends- they were his brothers and sisters. That made their fights his fights.

He would be back.

He suddenly grinned. "An' don' ye go bein' a martyr fer this, Karl," he said mock-sternly. He was happy today, happier than he'd been in a long time, and he felt free to to indulge in some light teasing. "Yer not Christian 'nough nor pretty 'nough t'be Saint Womack. So when ye're done, ye come right back 'ere an' celebrate, or ah'll track ye down in whate'er corner o' t'verse ye're hidin' in an' drag ye back meself."