Quietus Interruptus [OPEN]

[Cleric]

It was a nice day out, for once. The snow had ceased and the sun poked greedily out through sparse clouds in the sky. A light, unassuming wind rustled the chains and handles that decorated the wooden and steel bars and poles that, together, made up a playground at the furthest of the Savior's territory.

Alone amongst the poles stood a lone stitchpunk, somewhat raggedy and mismatched, gazing fondly at the sun as it burned away it's time in the sky. He'd been out there for some time now, just taking in the day. The little things, Cleric thought, were the best. He leaned against a wooden post and tugged absent-mindedly at the fabric of his thigh as he watched the sun. He was enjoying his moment of quiet.

[543]

A good a day as any to storm out of the Cathedral in a huff, thought the doll as she paused in her trot through the park to glance back in the direction of the fortress she called home. As of late she was spending too much time in the Cathedral, and it was having a detrimental effect on her, so today she had seized the mood of being disappointment with herself to strut right on out and get some fresh air.

Now that she was outside, though, it wasn't helping as much as she had hoped. Her eyes were everywhere, looking for small items hidden in the rubble on the ground which could be collected, but there was nothing to be found. The Savior territory was beginning to look all but barren, and the chances of her locating anything at all, nevermind anything useful, were slim.

At least the weather was nice. For once the skies were holding back their threats of rain and snow in favour of a beautiful mottled pattern of cloud with a sunlit backlight, and for this the grumpy doll was grateful. As she made her descent from a small ledge, she noticed another figure in the park she had wandered into. Recognising him as someone from the Cathedral, although she wasn't sure who, she was surprised she didn't notice him earlier.

Well, if they were both here, she might as well start on the whole making-herself-a-better-person thing and talk to him. Taking a leisurely stroll in his direction, she came to a stop beside him but a couple of paces away. "Nice day for a walk, huh?" Simply speaking these words already put a smile on her face. "I haven't seen the sun out like this for a while."

[Cleric]

Cleric kept his back to the newcomer for a moment, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. But of course, there was no chance for a moment of quiet- Not amongst the Saviors, numerous as they were. Sometimes the doll wished that he had stayed with his fellow CHAPERØNE siblings- At least they left him well enough alone.

But, that was not exactly a gracious attitude to take. He put on his normal look of lax seriousness and turned to greet the other. It was indeed a nice day for a walk- And the sun had not been out for quite some time. He gave her a slight shrug as she strolled up to him. "It's been a cycle or two since the last time she decided to grace us with 'er presence, that's for sure." He said bluntly, crossing his mismatched arms. One of his arms and one of his legs were fake, painfully obviously so. Cleric didn't seem to mind. He turned to look at his companion with an appraising eye. "... 543, right?" He said finally, pointing a finger at her to emphasize. He made a point of knowing most of the denizens of the Cathedral, regardless of whether or not they knew him.

[543]

The body language with which he responded to her left her mildly apprehensive, and she hoped that this blunt manner was merely the way he addressed everyone. Although, he certainly could have replied to her much more unkindly, so perhaps she was setting the bar too high. He was surely a respectable being, although she could not help but be curious about the story behind his mismatched appearance.

Her inquisitive nature soon moved its focus when he addressed her by name, much to her surprise. "Right! I don't know you, though, so how do you know me? You haven't been tracking me, have you?" An oddly specific accusation, especially towards a fellow faction member, but in light of recent events, she had reason to be suspicious, although the smile which still shaped her expression implied that she was not entirely serious.

[Cleric]

Cleric gave a slight chuckle. "Don't get too excited there, kiddo, I try to make it my business to know everybody here." He stepped down off the ledge he had been standing on and offered her his right hand, the prosthetic. "Name's Cleric. I help people when they need it, and I leave 'em alone when they don't. Not much one for conflict, honestly. Bit of a medic in trade, I suppose." He spoke rapidly, like an actor out of a 1942 detective flick. His frank tone of voice seemed to be his de facto manner of speaking.

His eyes kept skipping back and forth between her and a point seemingly just to her right. This was probably owed to the fact that his right optic was a replacement, as well- The stitched up scar running down the right side of his lip to his chin seemed to speak a little as to the reason for his mismatched appearance. "Nice ta meetcha."

[543]

Ah, he was one of those people who likes to know everyone. That was fair, some people preferred that. 543 simply knew the majority of the faction by sight, not by name or occupation. Of course she knew the dolls who purchased her products better than those who didn't, but still; her memory of images and appearances was rather better than her memory of words or sounds. This quality was especially useful when she had large numbers of items in her den or in small hidey holes nearby across the world to account for.

She took the hand that was offered to her and shook it briefly, nodding lightly when he finished his introduction. "Nice to meet you, too! You sound a little like me," she remarked. "I'm no medic, though, I just make stuff. Maybe you know someone who's bought something from me, the last of my battle wares have been cleared out recently." She seemed to consider the implications of this for a moment, but the thought was quickly forgotten. "So how come you're out here today, huh?" Inquiring minds want to know. "Did the weather just pull you out, or something else?"

[Cleric]

Cleric gave a shrug and turned back to look at the sun. "Dunno, myself. Today felt like it was gonna be a good day. Decided that I needed a little bit of thinktime and came out to greet the morning." He turned back to 543. "How about you?"

Cleric was an observant one- He knew for one thing that this doll had probably stormed out of the Cathedral by the way she was still relaxing her stance. Probably not phonetically inclined, more of a visual learner. She had a firm grip, meant she was probably pretty sound of mind, so he didn't have to be so wary of getting stabbed or otherwise manhandled, which was a relief to him.

[543]

This seemed like a legitimate reason to be out here all alone on such a nice day. Personally, when 543 wanted to think, she would have to find an empty space to stay in where nothing could stimulate her senses. In this uninteresting space she could sit or walk and collect her thoughts without being distracted by colours or shapes. Sounds she could tune out, but even with her eyes closed, if she knew there were items in a room that weren't firmly screwed down, they would gnaw away at her mind until she investigated.

"Me?" she repeated, taking a moment to consider the question. "I guess I needed to get out for a while. Spending so much time in that building stifles my creativity." This wasn't far from the truth, and the blue-clad stitchpunk did not particularly want to say outright to a doll she hardly knew "yeah I'm going for a walk because I keep stealing things without meaing to and it's making me hate myself."

[Cleric]

Cleric cast a practiced eye over 543, and came to the conclusion that she was likely not telling him everything- But, it was none of his business. He nodded passively as she spoke. "Fair enough, fair enough." He mused. "Takes a big man... Or woman... To remove themselves from a situation 'fore it gets nasty. Can't say I don't envy that."

He took a couple steps towards the cathedral, indicating for her to walk with him. "Did you know there's a rock garden in the back of this cathedral?" He asked, pointing to where it was generally. "Not many people explore the place. It's actually pretty damn big, 'n that's sayin' something. We have enough space on our land likely to get t'gether all the factions save the Traitors just outta principle- So long as everybody's not shy on sharin' a little elbow room."

He tugged at the fabric of his thigh again, out of habit, as he looked up at the belltower. "Kinda makes ya think, doesn't it?"

[543]

His words pleased her and she smiled, as she wasn't entirely unconvinced that storming out was a childish and irresponsible response to her issues. But in the five minutes she had spent outside, she was already feeling more in control of herself. Talking to somebody was definitely helping; usually she could only focus on either a person (or number of persons) or her surroundings, not both at the same time, and so interacting with somebody was easily taking her mind off of her troubles.

But then he began to lead them back towards the building she had just escaped from and for a moment 543 was disappointed, since she was just beginning to enjoy herself, but then he continued talking, revealing new information about the Cathedral to her. "No, really?" She asked as she glanced towards where he was pointing before realising she couldn't exactly see it from where they were. After all, if she could have seen it then no doubt she would have already spotted it in the past, in the time she had spent living in Savior territory.

Noticing him adjust his fabric again she took a moment to glance over his design, and concluded that its asymmetrical qualities were somewhat disorientating to her. Although fairly certain that the mismatched aspects were not a design choice, it was still intriguing to the doll who tried to maintain a symmetrical appearance. "Yeah, it does." Although she said this, if there were any good thoughts about it in her head then she didn't seem eager to voice them. It was the kind of idea she found hard to put into actual sentences, but the concept of it was enough to make a doll feel insignificant in such a big world.

[Cleric]

He felt her gaze on him; This he was quite used to. "Not all of us come off easy after a Machine attack." He said softly, though his tone of voice held no animosity nor resignation- More of a calm acceptance, as if he were used to this. He may as well have been talking about the weather again for all it showed in his voice.

"World out there's not so nice to Stitchpunks these days- Well, never really has been, but all it takes is one unlucky day and... Well, machines ain't exactly kind." He gave a small shrug. "Ya get used to it, I suppose."

[543]

Her optics briefly contracted in horror when she realised that he had seen her scrutinising his design, but the surprising calmness in his voice prevented her from trying to say something to make amends. If he was as accepting of it as he seemed then any attempt to apologise might leave the wrong impression.

"Yeah, I suppose," she repeated, gazing off into the distance as if the answer to an unasked question was hidden in the landscape somewhere. The brief quiet that followed her words brought to her attention that she had become quite the opposite of the talkative doll she often was, asking questions and observing the world, and she quickly cast about in her mind for something to say.

"But it's not all bad, right? It's dangerous and difficult to live even in some of the safest of territories, but despite all the problems stitchpunks are still finding happiness and love, so..." She paused to glance at Cleric and for one reason or another decided to finish her little spiel there, sounding fairly confident in her words: "It's not all bad. In fact I'd argue there's more good than bad overall."

[Cleric]

Cleric chuckled to himself. "I suppose that's fair." He shrugged slightly. "So, is the Cathedral your first home, or were you a wanderer like me, and happened t' find yourself here?" He bent down and lifted a stick from the ground that looked mostly straight. He gauged it's length, snapped a few extraneous inches from it, and used it as a makeshift cane.

He looked decently peaceful- his face held no animosity, and his body was free of tension, much unlike the manor one would expect to find from a 'punk who had been savaged so thoroughly by a machine. "So, do you wanna tell me the real reason you stormed out of th' Cathedral?" He asked wryly, though not unkindly, as they neared the back area of the building. The arches that had once formed hallways around the central garden had been crushed in one area, and an unexploded bomb sat dangerously, half embedded in the ground- in the midst of the square.