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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His eyes lower. Has he ever looked beyond himself? Well, yes. He looked to Justice.

He should not, in good conscience, call himself a Christian. But he still holds faith, even if he has tried to throw away the grace God granted him.

'I build a church for atonement, madame. Do not ply me with undeserved credit.'

"Atonement what for?" she asks. "If you do not mind speaking about it, of course."

A man's sins are his own.

'I tried to take my own life,' he says, shortly.

He will not hide it, or attempt a lie about it. He did what he did, and part of atonement is admitting to it. He cannot believe otherwise.

She nods.

"I am sorry to hear that life drove you that far from God," she says, "to let you consider such ultimate desperation. What stopped you?"

'This bar.'

He thinks it is enough. But then it occurs that he may have given the impression there was something in this bar that has made life worth living, and that is patently not the case. So he amends;

'I mean to say, instead of finding death, I landed on the floor here. Some doctors took it upon themselves to remedy my error.'

It is only an error because of damnation. Apart from that, he is still satisfied with his decision.

"Apparently, it thought you were still needed," she says. "And rightly so -- here you are, buidling a church for those here that need one."

'You assume I am planning to let other people inside.'

He has not really considered beyond the actual building, truth be told. It seems more important to make it than use it. He thinks about it now.

'I am hopeful that when the work is complete, I will be allowed to leave. If that is the case, it hardly matters what happens to the building.'

"I hope you will let people inside, even if you'd keep coming here," she says. "Having people worship there is part of a church's functions. Even if there is no regular congregation to meet there, thre must be some people here who will want to make connection to their faith."

'I will not keep coming here once I am gone.'

He does vaguely consider her remarks, then waves a hand irritably.

'As I said, if I am not here then I care not. I suppose a church is a place for people to use; if they wish to, I will not be here to make them stop. It will not be very large, in any case, but it will be there if they can find it.'

"That is all one may ask -- for a church to find when one needs one," she says, nodding.

He shrugs a shoulder, and turns back to his drawing.

'They are usually in abundance. I will make this one, and the patrons will have to make do. I do not know any priests, so there will be no one to hear confession. It will have to do.'

"Only the Catholic part of the Christians here will need a priest for their confessions," she says. "I am sure your church will do very well for everybody."

'I should hope not. Other people have other gods they pray to. Let them build their own place.'

In a time where other religions are heathen, the idea of sharing has simply not occurred to him.

"Everybody of a Christian faith," she specifies. "Others would have no need of a church."

'Heathens,' he agrees, with a nod.

He assumes that is something they can agree on.

"What makes a heathen, for you?" she asks.

'Unbelievers. And those who believe in false gods. Everyone who comes from the East.'

Even the few he has seen parading around Paris, clearly wealthy; they may have status in their own country, but it does not count in his eyes.

But this is surely just common sense.

"I think there are Christians in the East as well," she says. "Especially if everything east of France already counts."

His eyes narrow.

'You are being pedantic, madame.'

He genuinely did not know there were also Christians in the East. There are a lot of things Javert does not know.

"Christians are those that say they believe in Christ, are they not?" Katrina says, with a little smile.

She is still being pedantic. Javert sits back in his chair, and tries to stop his ire rising any further than necessary.

'Is there a point to any of this, madame?'

"Yes," she says. "There are different kinds of Christians, from different countries, and I am inclined to believe that they all will be grateful for the existence of your little church, once it is built."

Edited 2014-01-27 01:51 (UTC)

He shrugs once more, a stiff movement that is little more than a jerk of his shoulders.

'That is their affair.'

He is not doing it for them.

"You do not think you serve God by serving your fellow men?" Katrina asks.

Edited 2014-01-27 16:23 (UTC)

'I had hoped that honest work for just rewards was the way to please Him. It is all I believed.'

He still thinks he was not wrong. Just...a little narrow-sighted, perhaps. He looks down.

'It no longer matters what I believe. When you do what I have done, all the work means nothing. All that matters is redemption.'