Some rival has stolen my true love away...

[charitylovehopefaith]

Who: Faith Long and Richard Sharpe
What: Faith Long arrives in Luceti.
When: January 7th, afternoon
Where: Community House 2, room 9
Summary: A proper Georgian woman, alone and frightened, finds herself in a compromising and potenitally dangerous situation upon her arrival to Luceti.
Rating: PG-13 at worst
"Our Father, who art in Heaven..."

The young woman whispers her prayers, terrified.

"Hallowed be Thy name..."

She does not know where she is nor how she came to this place.

"Thy kingdom come..."

She knows this is not either of the homes of her childhood.

"Thy will be done..."

Only a shift covers her, offending every sense of modesty.

"On Earth as it is in Heaven..."

God alone can protect her from whatever is to come.

"Give us this day our daily bread..."

She squeezes her eyes shut, determined not to scream.

"And forgive us our trespasses..."

The prayer gives her some distraction and some hope.

"As we forgive those who trespass against us..."

She tries to pray for the softening of the heart who has put her here.

"And lead us not into temptation..."

Perhaps it is only ransom, some attempt at her father's wealth.

"But deliver us from evil..."

She prays for salvation and courage for herself.

"For thine is the kingdom..."

Footsteps approach.

"The power..."

They stop outside the door.

"And the glory for ever and ever..."

The doorknob turns.

"Amen."


Faith Long presses herself more into the corner of the room furthest from the door. Her knees stay against her chest, her body curled in to make her look as small as possible. She wears the white dress of a New Feather, which might explain her tears and fear plainly on her face.

Comments

[charitylovehopefaith]

"The last book."

She paused for a few moments, thinking. It takes her out of this place, out of all the strangeness. "Candide. It was suggested to me by a... dear friend at the time. A particular favourite there, and my brother was kind enough to make a gift of a copy. It was... interesting, though not a favourite of mine."

[greenjacketed]

Surprise widened his eyes. He had expected whatever title she gave him would be new and unknown. He expected to be bewildered by his own ignorance. Instead, he found himself just as bewildered by his knowledge.

"Candide!" He repeated -- sitting up a little straighter. "I know this."

Candide had been a codebook in a particularly nasty piece of espionage not far from Salamanca. But Voltaire had some things right: "I have not read Candide, but I've read that man's notebooks. He said...he said -- oh, what was it? -- God is not on the side of the big battalions, but on the best of shots."

He'd liked that quotation. It sat well with him. It had been a high point in his rough attempts to learn French.

[charitylovehopefaith]

Faith smiles at hearing him reference Voltaire. She listens raptly and nods. While the man is not one she continually reads and devotes much time to analyzing, she has read here and there, though mostly Candide. Still, she remembers it well. Mostly because Edward had suggested it and had seemed so interested in it.

"One character asks Candide what optimism is. He replies 'It is the obstinacy of maintaining that everything is best when it is worst.' I... have always remembered that passage."

Especially when she'd reread the book shortly after everything had fallen apart. She'd thrown it against the wall, in fact. Her smile is faltering, but she's determined not to start crying again.

"Perhaps it is... something to face this place with."

[greenjacketed]

"Everything's for the best in the best of all possible worlds..."

He'd never read Candide. He'd never wanted to read Candide. Harris had tried to explain why it was funny; Sharpe had sniffed and hemmed and grumbled and he'd allowed the man to lecture on about what made a satire and lah-dee-dah. But this line, at least, stuck out to him. Harris would say it with such a smirk and now -- speaking it at such an inappropriate time himself -- Sharpe felt he may have finally unlocked why the damned sentence was so funny.

He offered up a dry chuckle.

"They have a library, here. If you end up stayin' longer than you think? You're welcome to take whatever books you want. You'll not lack for reading. I promise you that."

[charitylovehopefaith]

"That... will be a relief, certainly." Faith frowned a little, still trying to wrap her mind around everything. She would not be leaving this place any time soon, and she couldn't be dreaming. She was without her family, her friends, or anyone.

She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"There is... nothing to be done about these circumstances, is there?"

[greenjacketed]

"...About the problem at large? I'm afraid not, Miss Long. But in the short-term, we can likely do something to address a few other -- ah -- concerns."

Talking to a strange woman about her clothes (or lack thereof) seemed rather impolite. He cleared his throat. "There's a lass at the shop what can sort you out with some dresses, I'm certain."

[charitylovehopefaith]

Nothing to be done, then, but to wait. To make herself as comfortable as possible. Well, this certainly wasn't as awful a kidnapping as she'd heard about. Perhaps there was hope yet for a ransom or trade or some such thing.

"I... That would be wonderful, Mister Sharpe. Where might I find her?"

Abducting his coat and wearing it over a shift would only be acceptable for so long. An amount of time long since exceeded, in her opinion.

[greenjacketed]

"...I can draw you a rough map, ma'am. Or I can escort you. It's your choice to make."

[charitylovehopefaith]

A rock and a hard place. This is quite the situation that phrase was made for. To be accompanied by a stranger or to walk streets alone.

"I should be most grateful for an escort, thank you, Mister Sharpe."

[greenjacketed]

"...Aye."

His eyes dropped to her feet -- his boots -- and he sighed. Although nearly all in this damned town was free, he'd never bothered to get more than he required. So, now, Sharpe stood and crossed to the simple chest at the foot of his simple bed. From it, he took out the scraps of linen that used to be a decent shirt, but they'd been wrecked on his last mission.

He busied himself winding the scraps 'round his socked feet.

"It ain't too far away. We'll have you there faster'n you can say..." He paused; he thought; he retreated. "We'll...it'll be fast, that's a promise."