so if this is daylight [ambrose, hermes?, open]
By now, the most recent resurrected arrivals - a pair, hailing from the late 17th century, who apparently incurred some starvation before their deaths - have adapted a little to their new surroundings, but they still carry with them a good deal of trauma and worry, so now they must go and find whatever assistance they can. Sanchari has thoughts of ( Read more... )
Regardless if it was the faith of the person that built the walls, he wanted to see for himself if such a thing was possible. Elaborate structures were built before to claims of glory, honor or just for the purpose of auspicious events, the fact remained that he came on his own accord to renew a faith that was once lost.
Sure he believed in higher powers though some offered nothing in return though his luck, he had to admit, was rather incredible. Perhaps it was granted by a god, perhaps they were events placed by sheer coincidence. Someone was looking out for him especially around the time he fought the Horseman and won. It wasn't brute strength that won the battle but luck and a lot of work did that trick.
He stood behind Ambrose and Sanchari and waited patiently.
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Ordinarily, Sanchari dislikes feeling protected (though she's aware her association with Ambrose has granted her a lot of it), but right now she doesn't mind as much, though she worries when they finally reach their destination and he's a little tired. She's used to seeing him so physically strong.
But that will return to them with time. She'll protect him, too, until then.
"What may we offer him? We've only ourselves."
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"We can make promises we'll keep," Ambrose reasons, "and we have very little left to lose by trying. We can keep coming back. We'll have more in time."
And, you know, they're just a little bit desperate.
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"Now, morbid proclamations aside, how can I help?"
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She looks briefly at Ichabod, touched by the offer, but a little wary of his phrasing in the temple of a god- still, he's not accustomed to the rules of these places, so she supposes such talk is to be expected.
...and then Sanchari is wholly distracted by the arrival of a god; she swallows thickly, her heart hammering away behind her ribcage, but she also doesn't cower, and instead straightens her spine and lifts her chin just so.
"We need your assistance- please."
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The look that Ambrose shoots Ichabod is eloquent - implying in a seconds-long glimpse that Ichabod is admirably very generous and should now be respectfully very quiet - but his attention goes quickly to where it belongs. On Hermes, that is; he's not a little relieved at how familiar he is at once.
"We came to offer what we could if you'd see that our children are safe," he explains, carefully, lacing his fingers with Sanchari's. "The constable-" he has to correct himself mentally from referring to Ichabod as 'the boy', as young as he sometimes seems to be, "-came with us to see what faith is."
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A little much, but Sanchari supposes a god could never be anything else. She smooths down her dress skirt, eyes lowered as she struggles to hide a smile.
"Yes; we thank you for it. It was most kind."
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"I was glad to be remembered," Ambrose says, with the barest twitch of a smile; he is more formal, this time around, than last they met. (In fairness, the last time they met he was vexed with Hermes for scaring off the fish and sneaking out from under Leila's watchful gaze.)
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"Oh--we've no urgency," Sanchari says, quickly, which is not strictly true, because it hurts not to know, but she's anxious to not seem demanding, "we've only just come to life again ourselves, we only want to know they'll be safe. We can be patient."
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"We can," Ambrose affirms, following Hermes's gaze to Ichabod for a moment and wondering at it. (He has no notion of why; there could be a thousand reasons.) "I understand that it is...perhaps not a simple thing to ask."
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He never thought about his lineage before and his father was too secretive to give any information to Ichabod when he asked about his family. Once he was told to forget, he did as he was told. Now, he felt that his tie to the past could be the closure he needed to finally let his mother's memory rest.
He ran his thumb delicately on the ring that was given to him and wondered now if the two he accompanied would ever find out about their children. His heart went out to them both and his face showed the concern.
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