milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Javert is in his normal back corner of the bar. It was pouring rain when he finished in the forge for the day, so he came here instead of going out into the woods. He is surrounded by paper, and the odd ruler, and he is drawing something with precision on one sheet - only to finish it, shake his head and toss it away, before taking a new piece and starting again.

This looks like it has been going on for some time, and may continue the rest of the day. And possibly night. A distraction before his hand falls off would perhaps be welcome.

[OOC: Open UNTIL THE END OF TIME. Or next Wednesday. Whichever comes first. <3

ETA: YOU FABULOUS PEOPLE. *flings love at* I must crash, but it's been a blast. Am around all day tomorrow to continue. <3]

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'I can be busy anywhere,' he points out, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Javert does not understand, or like, people who idle.

'What is your mission?'

"This is true," says Ellen, "but if you're working on a project and you have to interrupt it for something, it's often harder to pick it up and start doing it properly again afterwards. My father's luck with the purifier project to the contrary."

She exhales, looking down at the table.

"There are- I'm not sure how to describe them. Reptiles, very large ones, that walk on two feet like a man but stand taller than a human. We call them deathclaws, because they're that dangerous. They've lived in the northern Wasteland for a long time, but usually not that many of them. Lately people have been encountering many more of them, and it's starting to be a problem. I've been asked to investigate the area and find out why we're seeing so much deathclaw activity before things get out of hand."

'It is a project that will take a long time,' he murmurs, and then applies himself to listening.

'...this is a task suited to a young woman on your world?'

Yes, he knows her to be capable. It still does not seem right.

'Will you go alone?'

"Probably not to most young women," Ellen says. "But I've gone on a lot of missions before, dangerous ones, and come back alive with nothing worse than scars and nightmares. The reward for accomplishing a difficult mission is to be given a harder one, because by surviving you prove yourself qualified."

There is, perhaps, a bit of a downward twist to her expression as she says this. Some realizations are more uncomfortable than others.

"No. No, definitely not. I have two volunteers from Milliways coming with me; one of them is a soldier I've known for a long time, and one of them is... I don't know how to describe him except to say that he's got strength like Samson and he's about as easy to hurt as Achilles."

His eyes shift sideways at once, though he does not look up at her.

'His name?'

"I can't give you his real name; he keeps his identity a secret," Ellen says. "But he goes by 'Invincible'."

His shoulders relax. He did not know he had tensed them. He resumes his sketching.

'I am glad to hear it. It is commendable, of course, that good work receives promotion to higher status - still, I would counsel you to stop before you are killed.'

He does not often offer counsel. Perhaps this is why.

"I'd prefer less hazardous duty, honestly," says Ellen. "I have more than enough scars, I don't need any more. At least if I come back from this one all right, Senior Scribe Peabody will come out to Megaton and get me and Jerald married before anything else deadly comes up."

His eyebrows gentle upwards.

'Oh? Then, congratulations.'

He does not know how to offer more than that. Other people's need to marry has always baffled him, when he considered it at all.

'You will stay at home then, and have children.'

Another thing that baffles him.

"Have children, yes, hopefully," says Ellen. "Procreation is a civic duty."

She wouldn't have bothered with all of this otherwise. (It's not like she sought out Aphrodite to ask for favors or something.)

"Stay at home... that depends on my orders. Brotherhood custom usually calls on the Scribe parent to raise the children, when a Paladin or Knight and a Scribe marry."

He snorts quietly at that, and shakes his head. Though he is aware that her world is not his world. Still. Baffling.

'And this seems correct to you?'

"It's more practical than taking a skilled, experienced soldier out of the field when there's a parent whose functions keep them off the front lines," says Ellen. "We'd already be losing the fighting parent for several months anyway before the birth; losing them for much longer than that hurts the Brotherhood overall."

She can understand the pragmatism behind it even if the circumstances never came up in the environment in which she was raised. It makes sense, from an organizational point of view.

'Yes, I see the practical side.'

He never does not see the practical side.

'And the good of everyone is more important than the individual.'

Still, his hand is paused over the paper it is working on. It takes a long few moments before he seems able to brush aside whatever thought he had, and continue.

'Children grow up, no matter the circumstance. I am sure your people know best.'

"I may wind up being given garrison duty more often once children come into the picture," Ellen notes. "That's pretty common too. That would make things easier, especially since I have a chaplain's duties to uphold whenever I'm not on a field mission."

Now, he looks up.

'I beg your pardon? Chaplain's duties?'

Ellen nods. "It was what I was being trained for in Vault 101," she says, "and when I joined the Brotherhood, they only had one man left in the Capital chapter who could do the job, so they had him finish my training and ordination and all."

'You are a priest?'

Forgive him if he is more than a little astounded.

'Why have you never said so?'

He does not know what to call her now. Women are not priests. He can hardly address her as 'Father'.

"I'd rather say a minister, or a reverend," says Ellen. "I've met priests; they're men like Father Clifford, at Saint Monica's in Rivet City, and they're not allowed to get married. Reverend Avellone was, and so is Knight-Captain Colvin. It's a- it's a different order, I guess you'd call it."

Also, there's the part where Father Clifford is crazy, because what kind of religion seriously requires its most compassionate ministers to voluntarily remove themselves from the gene pool in a world where the mortality rate is nearly as high as the incidence of savagery and barbarism. That's up there with Confessor Cromwell and Radiant Mother Curie and their beliefs about Atom, in Ellen's book.

"And I never said so because it never seemed as if it ought to come up in conversation. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you with it."

'A different order? It is Catholicism.'

Or at least shares some traits with it. He approves.

He shakes his head at the apology, waves it off, and turns the paper on the table around. It shows the inside of a small church, a large crucifix dominating the wall above the altar, a roof with vaulted beams and shallow arch to the roof above it.

'I am making this,' he says, simply.

"Oh!" Ellen says, leaning over to have a closer look. "That... that's a very good rendering, I think. I'm not much of an architect, but... are you actually going to build that? Here?"

'Yes.'

He says it with the calm ease of one who will not be dissuaded from his task.

'I am no architect either, nor a builder. But I will make this.'

If she were Catholic, he would have already asked her to hear his confession. She is not, so he never will. But simply the knowledge that there is a priest here...he does not know how to articulate the relief.

'I had thought this place Godless, and now I see it is not.'

"If there's any way I can help with it," Ellen says, "let me know. I don't know what use I'd be during the building, but I wouldn't mind lending a hand. One way or another."

Then she smiles, just a little, and says, "There are angels who come here from time to time, too. If that helps at all."

(Personally, she suspects they're probably a better bet, but... well, she did go looking for a minister of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob before pestering the angels, back during the whole Point Lookout mess. It's good to know that the hierarchy isn't broken. Overstepping your bounds is always an unnerving thing.)

His face darkens, but not in a bad way. More confusion than anything. He is almost boyish with it.

'Yes,' he says.

'I have attracted the attention of one.'

He is still not sure whether to be grateful - but he is, of course he is - or rail in frustration over the impossibility of the task he has been set.

He waves it off, and adds, 'I will build this myself, as much as I am able. But there may be tasks that are impossible to do with one person. I will see. Thank you.'

"You're quite welcome," Ellen says. "Should I leave you to your work, then? I didn't mean to intrude, especially not if you're doing something this important."

He stares at her.

And then - unbelievably to even him - he breaks into a smile.

'Yes. Thank you. I would appreciate that.'

She understands. It is an amazing thing.

He likes her.

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