And we will be as one god, and we will be as one people...

[forissancta]

There's a building in a not-terribly bad area of Chicago that's been being transformed, one step at a time, into a place for people to live and work and worship. It's not an ideal location for the purposes it's being used for... A building with its own Rift opening would be perfect, but those are in short supply

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[nosparkofhope]

And through those doors comes a devoted follower of the faith, himself. Where Eli's been is probably anyone's guess- more than likely just exploring the city and getting a feel for such a place that holds so many of the Chosen People. His time in Rome taught him about the Rift and its wanderers, but Rome was little compared to this city in sheer scale. It's magnificent, really.

"Did they respond the way you anticipated?" He asks as soon as he's close to the Prophet's wheelchair, nodding at the journal and frowning just a little. He knows what he'd like the answer to that question to be, but he has his doubts.

[forissancta]

"They did," the Prophet says, smiling sadly. "But at least they're responding, Eli." He reaches out to place a hand on Eli's arm. It's a gentle touch, no deeper purpose other than contact and reassurance. "They read what I had to say, and they thought about it, even if it was only to scoff at us. So now we act. We show them in every possible regard that we mean what we say, and we do what good we can. And they'll remember this, and perhaps a few of them will start to think, and believe."

It's not much, but it's something. And, one way or another, things will happen as they must. All the can do is offer support, and what guidance he can to make the coming changes easier on everyone.

[nosparkofhope]

Eli nods slowly. "No one responds favorably to anything overnight, at any rate. If they did, I'd doubt their sincerity." And sincerity's really what they're looking for, among other things. People who take this faith seriously and come of their own volition to accept their destiny and what have you.

He gently places his other hand over the Prophet's in equal reassurance. Not that the Prophet needs it. More or less, the gesture is meant to convey that he understands.

"Scorn is better than apathy," he concurs, with something of a small, pleased smile. "And skeptics tend to find it very hard to keep away from that which they might disprove."

Not that there's anything there for them to disprove if they can't prove what the Rift is capable of in the first place. Who really can say what the Rift is and isn't?

[forissancta]

"Exactly." The Prophet's smile turns warmer, at both the words and the contact. "If we truly are right, then that should prove self-evident."

Of course, there's no doubt in his mind that they are. Therefore, the truth will be made clear. And while no one can say for certain what the Rift is and is not, the fact that the Prophet's an Emim does help in that regard.

"Tell me what it's like out there."

[wontblink]

When the Prophet came down from his last stop in Milwaukee, he brought a little visitor with him. A certain sometimes-incorporeal British girl named Sally Sparrow, who is actually returning from a trip to the store. It's not like they don't have food, but they don't have things to have a proper tea, and she's been wanting one, so she went out to buy a few things. She comes in and passes by where the Prophet's wheelchair is parked on her way back to the kitchen, and smiles at him a bit.

"How are you feeling today?"

[forissancta]

The Prophet returns the smile, even through the pain the proximity of the Rift is causing, It's nothing he's not used to, after all.

"It's taking some adjustment," he says, slowly. "The Rift is stronger here than anyplace else I've been... Even Rome was nothing compared to this. But I'll be fine."

Sally's a very sweet girl, and he doesn't want to worry her. Even if she hasn't accepted his message, she's still there, still helping, and that makes all the difference.

[wontblink]

And Sally... well, Sally might not entirely buy in to his message - some parts she agrees with, some parts she finds ridiculous - but she finds him to be a kind man, and he helped her when she had been so shattered she didn't know if she'd recover.

So she frowns a bit, sets the bag down, crouches in front of him. "It's very painful, then?" She doesn't like that. It doesn't seem fair.

[forissancta]

And yes, it is. It's burning hooks tugging on every nerve, so he feels every single shift in the Rift, every time someone comes through... But the aura of serenity around him rarely so much as falters.

"Yes," he says quietly. "But it's nothing I'm not prepared to deal with. This is the other side to being as attuned as I am to the Rift, and without this, I wouldn't be able to do half as much as I do now."

[emodebauhaus]

It hasn't taken long for word of the new clothing shop to spread. However, it's still early, so there are only a few customers milling about. Since Americans tend to prefer to shop on their own, Edna's only keeping a loose eye on them to make sure nobody tries to head out the door before visiting the register.

The bell jingles and oh, this must be her appointment. It isn't the coat, so much as a lack of human-shaped feet to kick up the hem that gives him away.

"Mr. Jones?" she asks, wandering up to him. "I'm Edna Mode."

[twdenmother]

Well. She's shorter than he'd imagined, but then, working for Torchwood, one does learn not to show surprise.

So the smile he gives her is entirely genuine, if a bit shy, and he bends down slightly to offer her his hand at an angle that will be minimally awkward for both of them. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

[emodebauhaus]

"Likewise, Darling," E responds, taking his hand and shaking. "Would you care to come this way?"

She leads him toward the back of the store via a slightly round-about path that follows the outer perimeter of one wall so as not to disturb the other shoppers. In the back there is a small, cozy space with a folding screen for modesty, some low plush stools, and a coffee table. E picks up a stainless teapot and offers Ianto a cup.

"Cream and sugar?" she asks. It's only polite to have a sit-down before assaulting customers with a tape measure.

[wholelota_angel]

Right next to the Conrad, a Rift trap is finally letting a certain angel go over a month after taking her up.

And she is not happy.

"What. The. Hell?" Yes, it all comes out in a growl as she lands on her feet, wings extended.

Luckily, no one's around to see this display or heads would roll. No one, except for-

"What in the hell? Don't tell me some dead kid and a necromaner not waltzin' right into my hotel." Ariel rushes to meet them before they can scare everyone away and have half of the people in there calling their police/fire department/priests. She fixes her attention on the barely conscious necromancer, because obviously this is his doing and the poor kid's dead. Ain't good to yell at the dead. "What on God's ever loving green Earth, do you think you're doin'? There are humans in there and this ain't Halloween, dead boy."

[paradoxkitten]

Oh, good. An angel. This is Schro being happy. In his about-to-collapse way.

"Looking for angels. Looks like I found one. And Jay here's a lot less conspicuous than you with the wings." He tries to pull himself up a bit more, murmuring to the corpse (aka Jay) to just help him a little... there.

"Someone's killing angels. Looked like a bunch of skinheads at first, and Jacks wasn't exactly fond of the gender binary, but while she was beaten to death, two of those guys were shot. Nice, clean, right between the eyes. Se didn't have any guns on hir. If se had, se wouldn't have been pounded to a fucking smear on the sidewalk. I was there, but..." He sways a little on his feet, and Jay steadies him. "Took out one of 'em, and it knocked me the fuck out. Came to in the hospital. So. Did some research. Tried to find something that looked the same." He points at Jay, and the perfect bullet hole in his forehead. "Jay, just fucking tell 'er." And with that, he leans into Jay again, and is just gonna... cling, thanks. Clinging means no falling

[wholelota_angel]

Ariel glances back at her wings when he mentions them and just rolls her eyes. She honestly hadn't noticed them coming out in the whole fall from the 'whatever the hell that had been for the last who knows how long'. Decaying man vs wings, which would be easier to explain and who has the time to argue

[paradoxkitten]

Schro gratefully lets himself be held up. He's still trying to walk, but honestly, sometimes, it's more like being dragged

[sensi_doctor]

JD has been wandering aimlessly around the sidewalks of Chicago for an hour before he enlisted the help of a police officer and asked for directions to this address.

Oh, sure, no problem, he says, only ten minutes away. Tops.

Forty minutes later, JD is still wandering. He's starting to think that he should just turn around and give up when he catches the street sign he's spent the last two hours hunting for.

Success! I'm so happy I could sprint around the corner if... my legs didn't feel like jelly.

As he turns toward the building, he's curious and hopeful, but cautious... having a gun pointed at his face kind of did that to him.

Holy crap, it's Gandalf in a wheelchair. Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't ask him where his staff is cause that could be taken the wrong way and don't think too much cause the next thing you know your version of Gandalf will appear standing right next to you and this introduction will get more awkward than it ever would be with anyone else in the history of time!

"H- hi! Hey. I'm JD. We uh, talked on

[forissancta]

"Yes." The Prophet smiles, rolls up to him, and, a few steps away, gets out of the wheelchair. The movement obviously causes him pain, from the slow, careful motions, the visible stiffness of his joints, but this is a point of pride to him. He will stand to greet new arrivals, to preach to them, and sometimes just to walk among his people, despite the protests of certain of his followers. It's his way of showing respect; after all that people do for him, he can show them this one small gesture, meeting them on their level.

And for all the pain of standing, the smile remains untouched, and he seems as tranquil as ever as he offers JD his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

[sensi_doctor]

"Oh, you don't have to get-" JD steps toward the Prophet and holds his hand up, but he doesn't quite get the words out fast enough. "Up. It's okay. Really."

He smiles and takes the offered hand, shaking it as gingerly as possible. As a doctor, he notices the pain, the stiffness probably more than most people would. It worries him without even really knowing this man.

"You... too." JD scratches the back of his head as he releases the hand, hoping he'll get back in . "I was curious so I thought I'd just come by and... talk to you in person. I want to help. Y'know? I want to believe that I can."

[forissancta]

"I already do believe that," the Prophet says, sinking back into his wheelchair and guiding it further into the room. Best to give the boy some room to come in.

"But let me ask you a question: what would you be doing right now, if you could be doing whatever you wanted?"