2012-03-02: None So Blind


Fiona_icon.jpg Donna_icon.jpg Hosea_icon.jpg

Summary: An offer of aid is given, and refused

Date: March 2, 2012

Log Title: None So Blind

Rating: PG

NYC — Holy Ghost Church

The Holy Ghost Church is small chapel located on the West Side of New York City. It looks like the church was sort of squashed between the buildings. Lines of pews sit in front of a small alter, cardboard collection boxes for clothing and food sit at the back of the church. This church is obviously graced by the lower class of Manhattan, but the priest cares for those that step foot in here.

The evening mass, some hours gone by, and Donna sits in a pew at the back. Her head is bowed, a small book open in her lap, and her lips move as though in prayer. Since she has been nothing but respectful to the priest and the rest of the chapel's staff, and only asked for leave to contemplate in silence, the small, black-haired woman has been left to her concerns; which, it must be said, is how she prefers things.

Of course, Fiona has been out, you know. Taking care of business. After a short phone call with Hosea, she asked him to meet them here - to discuss finding Shophie, of course. She looks nervous, and less than completely happy about the arrangement - whatever is going to happen. She stands outside the church, waiting for the Xavierite, arms folded across her chest.

To be honest, Hosea did not expect the young lady whom he met only once to actually produce any type of real effort to find Sophie. After all, they met only for a few minutes in the middle of a mall. The Nigerian is still not entirely convinced that this will be helpful, but he is willing to take any lead he can get. Now more knowledgable of his limitations of his powers, he chose to take the train as far as the city, and teleport from there. This church is known to him, his own church has worked together with the Catholic body here to serve in a number of homeless ministries. He lands on the steps outside, and opens the door to the building, stepping through the old wooden door. Did he tell the staff that he had received the call? No, but undoubtedly they will be able to track it if needed. He really isn't interested in the lockdown, he can take care of himself.

Donna blinks, head rising at the sound of the door opening, and spares a glance over her shoulder to see who has entered. Not recognizing the large teen, and not seeing her apprentice preceding him, she simply waits, pale face schooled into an expression of utter blandness, her only visible eye betraying nothing as she sizes up the teen.

"Hey! Wait!" Fiona calls after him - apparently he either missed her, or just didn't care. "Hey, um, he's here," she calls over to Donna, rubbing her temples. Why do people have to be so difficult to deal with? He just passed by her like she didn't even exist!

Hosea looks over his shoulder, having obviously missed her. "Fiona, ahh, I am sorry," he says, "I feah dat my mind has been consumed as of late. Thank you so much for all dat you are doing to help me, may you be blessed for it." It isn't like him to miss things that are of detail, let alone something so obvious. "Your friend, she will be able to help us use your powah to find Sophie?" he asks. He wears a pair of blue jeans, which seem to accent the length of his legs with his height, and a T-shirt that dons the logo of one of the homeless charity events in the area.

"Maybe…" Fiona trails off, "Don't get your hopes up too high," she murmurs, closing distance with the other two, "There are some… conditions that I didn't mention over the phone. Teacher will explain," she thumbs towards Donna.

"No," comes Donna's voice, lower than usual in the chapel proper, but still brooking no argument. She rises, nodding her head in polite thanks toward the altar, and approaches the pair by the Chapel door. The first, and most obvious thing of note about the woman, besides her pale skin, is the fact that the top of her head cannot possibly rise higher than Hosea's breastbone, her limbs like twigs against Hosea's knotted, chiseled bulk… yet she carries herself with a fluid grace and absolute self-assurance that the Nigerian is likely to find unhappily familiar; Donna gives all the nonverbal cues of a warrior forged in blood and fire, waiting only for the next battle to unleash herself again. "No," she repeats, "she will not help Fiona use her powers. *I,* on the other hand, am not so restrained. Tell me, child, what you need."

"My name is Hosea Ikbuku," the African responds, ignoring the comment of calling him a child. Donna's carry is not lost on him, and he regards her with a certain degree of caution. "I am looking for a woman. Her name is Sophia DeCosta. She was kidnapped several days ago at da Salem Center. I must find her so dat I can rescue her from whateva evil has taken her." He stands straight and direct toward Donna.

At least Donna is taller than Fiona! Though, it's not like that matters - they are both quite small. Maybe demons have a penchant for that? Who knows. At any rate, she remains silent and lets Donna do the talking - this is not what she wanted. She does give Hosea a somewhat apologetic look. Unlike Donna, she does not really give the impression of a warrior. No, more like a somewhat confused and scared teenager.

Donna inclines her head, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back to look Hosea in the eye. "Very well, Hosea Ikbuku. Since my apprentice seems to have left her wits in her hamper when she called you, I suppose now we'll have to get the unpleasant part out of the way." Cooly, she flicks her gaze to Fiona, eye narrowing only briefly; a promise that she will be made *truly* miserable, when the time comes. Looking back up to Hosea, the black-haired woman continues speaking. "You'll tell me all that you know about how your girl was taken, and do as I ask to make the search as simple and painless as possible. But there *will* be a price, should I locate her. If you won't pay? You won't get the information."

Such deals are far from unfamiliar to Hosea, and he appears unaffected by the statement. He doesn't know what the price will be, but he'll deal with that later, he glances back at Fiona briefly, but doesn't seem worried that he wasn't informed about everything before he arrived. "She was taken by men who were dressed as ancient warriors, carrying swords and spears and otha such weapons. Dey were in a bus of some type, according to da witness. Dey came specifically for her, but know one knows who dey were or why dey wanted her." He arches one brow as he continues with the information. "Dere are many things not known. I found skid marks of da bus, but dey tell me little of what happened after dey left, or where dey went. Dey threatened two othas, and had captured dem, but did not choose to take dem as well. It is vedy strange."
Fiona doesn't look too happy about that. "Sorry! I forgot! Meant to, I mean, that is," she sighs, shoulders slumping. Why do people have to keep putting her in these positions? It ain't easy being her! "Really? That's… so little to go on…" she sighs, wondering if Donna actually has any ways to locate her. If only she had her equipment - this would be over in a jiff. Probably.

The sketchiness of the information seems to make Donna unhappy as well, if the slight crease between her eyebrows, the small down-turning of the corners of her mouth, and the way that she pinches the bridge of her nose are any indication. "…It is. It tells us that they were interested only in her, and not general mayhem… which wouldn't be terribly surprising, honestly. …Very well. Since we've no easy way to determine *who,* we'll simply have to work on *where.* Hosea Ikbuku. I'll need something of your Sophie's. A strand of hair if you've any, but since I doubt very much you're quite maudlin enough to carry a lock of her hair with you, a favored posession will do."

"Where shall be enough," Hosea answers. "It is irrelevant who has taken her. Dey shall suffer greatly when dey are discovered." There is a dire seriousness in his tone. "Da more important factor is to retrieve her." His dark brow knits in contemplation of the request. "What you are asking is strange. I have none of her belongings wit me. Dis is a serious mattah. I do not have time for games."

Fiona blinks, "That's just like my ball," murmurs Fiona, eyebrows furrowing together. Is Donna going to use it - or can she replicate its powers without the artifact itself? She pipes up, "Look, I don't know what exactly she's going to do, but if it had been me, we whould have needed a piece of clothing or, a belonging or… something like that. It's important that it have the essence of whatever you're trying to find deeply embedded in it. That's just how the magic works. Donna's technique, it may be similar. It's DEFINITELY not a game," she folds her arms.

"Things that are important to a person," Donna confirms, nodding slowly, "things that they have carried and favored for a great deal of time, resonate with that person. As I said; I would ask for hair, but that would simply be silly. Perhaps a doll, or a piece of jewelery, instead?" Blithely, she shifts her stance to her other foot, waiting for Hosea to come to his senses and do as he's told.

At the word 'magic' the bells go off in Hosea's mind, and his face betrays it readily. "Magic?" he repeats. His feet widen in their stance, suddenly ready as if expecting to be attacked. "You league youself wit demons? Why are you at a holy place?" His tone has become rather gruff rather quickly. "I will have no part wit da devil." He snaps his attention toward Fiona. "You know of dis treachery?" he asks, "and you would choose to be friends to evil? You claim to desire to help, but you now put me at da mouth of da enemy. What do you desire, dat you have contacted me?" he asks toward both of them. His voice is raised and heated, though not quite shouting, he is clearly not happy with the newest of information that he has received.

Fiona growls, eyes glowing purple, "OF COURSE I KNOW! It's YOU who are ignorant! You know NOTHING of demons! You've probably never even seen one. One would think that a boyfriend of a MUTANT of all things would be more accepting!" she shoots back at him, "You would think, when someone offers to help - that you would freaking accept it. You DO want to find her, right? So why aren't you willing to do everything in your power to do so? You would rather some crazy whack-jobs murder her before you get there, than to have to work with us? FINE. But know this - this has nothing to do the devil, and we're certainly not in league with any demons. In fact," she sighs, "We're about the furthest thing FROM that." She's now breathing heavily, taking gulps of air, until she collapses back against a wall, shutting her eyes. This is all wrong. This is not how she wanted this to go! She uses the meditation technique that she'd learned only the night before, suddenly going quiet and breathing evenly. Ground… and center… yes…

Donna glances at Fiona briefly, eyebrow rising. "Well," she says, her tone light, "*that* was patently unnecessary. Ah well, no help for it now." Massaging her temple briefly, she looks up to meet Hosea's eye, glancing meaningfully down at his arms. "Before I answer your questions, I suppose I must *attempt* to crack upen that skull of yours so a bit of knowledge can pour in. Tell me, man of God. You're a warrior born, aren't you? You've the look, and *well* do I know that look. Those large, strong hands of yours… How many people have they killed?"

Hosea doesn't move a muscle, nor shrinks at Fiona's tantrum. "I know more of demons den you think," he answers her, looking down his nose. When Donna speaks, his eyes shift before his head. "Do not think dat because I am large and have not had education dat I am a fool," Hosea answers with contempt. "I am not one of your silly American cartoon charactahs." He points not with a single finger, but with his hand back at Donna. "Dese hands, whetha one or a thousand, dey have killed too many, it is a shame dat I bear, save dat God now dwells his Holy Spirit in me. And no, I was not born a warrior."

Lalalala! Fiona can't hear any of this going on. She's all, you know, meditating. She's not a warrior. She's never killed anybody! That makes her the most innocent person in this room. Right? Right. She remains quiet, withdrawn. Only slowly does she crack her eyes open, remaining leaned against the wall. Rationally - she should probably watch how this goes down so she can learn from it in the future.

"If I thought you *that* great a fool," Donna says, voice returning to that neutral, reasonable, unruffled tone, "I'd not bother trying. I'd simply say 'Very well, someone else can find your love, and a good evening to you. But, as you are not a great fool… Tell me, those hands that have murdered and bring you such shame; Man of God, why have you not cut them from your arms?"

Hosea's tone evens, knowing full well the verse Donna is referencing. "God had not rescued me at da time I was dat man," he answers. "Since I have been redeemed, I am not dat man. He takes dese hands dat killed, and he makes dem into hands dat heal. Dis is da work of da Holy Spirit, to change sinnahs like me. He can change you as well. Hah, do not misunderstand. I do not think myself bettah den you, but I turn in da correct direction to change. To follow demons is to turn away from dat change."

"But we don't follow demons," Fiona argues, shaking her head. "Magic isn't inherently demonic, just like mutant powers aren't… it's…" she trails off, trying to think of how to explain their situation without making matters worse. "Look, I hate them just as much as you do. Until recently, I was in one's grasp. This," she waves her hand around the church, "Doesn't do anything for me. Maybe it works for normal people. You know what does? Learning how to properly control the energy and impulses within me."

Donna glances at Fiona, raising a speculative eyebrow. "Magic is a tool like any other," she agrees. "It follows rules, and those who know the rules and have the will and the talent may build or may destroy. Magic is no more evil than your hands, Hosea Ikbuku. Cut it off at your peril." Shaking her head for a moment, she clears her throat. "So. Now, to answer your questions. Why do I ask to meet here? As a sign of good faith; I've too much respect for *any* holy ground to turn it into a battlefield, and it'd be pointless to try. What do I ask? Money, pure and simple; a price to be decided on when you have your answer. Until then, all I ask is something of your Sophie's, so that I can attempt to find her for you."

"My hands were evil apart from da Holy Spirit, now dat I know, and if dey still now cause me to sin? Den yes, dey should be cut off. Dis is what is right." Hosea's tone remains sober, though he no longer looks ready to fight. It is clear, however, that he has one singular source of authority. "Da use of magic is an abomination, da Lord has specifically told his people dis in his word. Do you call God's word a lie den? It is because you are deceived. For me to ask you to do something dat would further deceive you would be wrong, and I will no more turn God's house into a market den I will into a battlefield." His eyes look somewhat sad. "I love Sophie vedy much, but to disobey God in order to save her, dat would not please God, and it certainly would not please her eitha."

The Nigerian's gaze shifts back to Fiona. "You must undahstand. If you have been under da power of demons, and it has been broken, you have a great dangah. Once removed, da dark ones go too and fro. Finding no place to rest, they say 'Let me return to where I have come from.' Dey return and find da home swept and put in order, and empty. He brings many friends with him da second time, and da second state of da soul is worse den da first."

Fiona rubs the back of her neck, "That's not exactly… I mean… That's not completely how it works," she sighs. This is hopeless. "The demon never completely leaves you, but you can nullify its control. But I don't… wanna get into an argument about religion. Suffice it to say, that I don't think I can be 'saved' in that way. This isn't some metaphorical thing."

Donna shakes her head. "Enough, Fiona," she says, voice not unkind, but resolute. "He doesn't want our help, we'll not trouble him. I'm truly sorry to have wasted your time, Hosea Ikbuku, and I wish you all the best possible luck in finding your Sophie. Clearly, the matter isn't half so urgent as we were led to believe. Good evening." And with that, the small, pale woman breezes around Hosea, heading for the Chapel door.

Hosea shakes his head toward Fiona. "No, da demon power can leave you, but not with da weak power you appeal to. With man it is impossible, but with God anything is possible. Dere is no metaphor in my speech. When I say da you can be saved from such things, I mean it. I was saved from such evil. I understand dat you both meant well, but you must understand, dis is urgent enough, but holiness is even more urgent." He doesn't make a move to follow, though it pains him that there is such an opportunity to find Sophie that he cannot follow, he still does not follow it.

Fiona looks up at Hosea apologetically, letting out a deep breath and pulling herself off the wall. "Sorry," she murmurs, heading towards the door after Donna. She's steeling herself for the invevitable chewing out she's going to get after bungling the whole matter. And probably for not keeping her cool too! Yeah! "Real demons don't care about religion…" she murmurs, before she disappears after Donna.

Donna pauses at the door, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be great comfort to your Sophie, then. Perhaps if you ask Him to let her know when He sees her, I'm sure she'll appreciate the message." And with that, she strides out the door. "Let this be a lesson, Fiona. Knowledge is power. Ignorance is also power, and a great deal of ignorance trumps a little knowledge, every time. The lesson? Learn *everything you can.*"

"God will provide." When he says it, the statement has no hint of cliche that many people spit it out with. He says it with weight, as someone who has had great pain endured to learn the lesson. He looks up at the ceiling, seems to drop through the floor, and he is gone. He teleports up to the top of the church, and then to a neighboring building, now torn between whether it is more tragic that Sophie is missing, or that these two wander in darkness. He watches them walk down the steps. "Dere lack of knowledge will destroy them, God, I pray dat you give them eyes to see, and ears to hear, dat they will no longer walk in darkness. Dey simply cannot see. You know dat Sophie loves you, I pray dat you will bring her home safely. Give me the wisdom to not fall into sin as I desire to find her, so dat we can be reunited."

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