[D2 LE] Going to Church

[Tiffani Noelle]

Tiffani had had all she was willing to take from this crazy, haunted place called Maize. It was dark. It was cold. The town was like a small ship sailing on an ocean of corn. Even the perfectly flat terrain was too much to handle. Several times, the utter lack of anything to see on the horizon gave her a sudden attack of vertigo causing her to lurch forward or backward uncontrollably. Strange dreams. Voices in the cornfields. An entire population ignoring her for good or ill despite being not just an outsider but a foreigner.

She parked herself resolutely outside the doors leading into the St. Andrew the Apostle Catholic Church. Heh. St. Andrew. Tiffani couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of it given that St. Andrew was the patron saint of fishermen yet she doubted there was a body of water larger than a mud puddle around here for hundreds of miles. So, fishing is a booming business in Maize, is it? She giggled again.

Well, this Father Robert Henshall (she read his name on the sign out front) had to come in or out of those doors sooner or later and Tiffani would be waiting for him. Unless she froze to death first. Or dawn came. One way or the other, she wanted to be back on the road the moment the first sliver of sunlight appeared above all of this infernal corn. The happenings in this place didn't concern her and, no doubt, no one on the "inside" wanted it to concern her.

Tiffani had to admit that her insatiable curiosity was all but screaming at her to stay and find out what was going on. But her scientific, rational brain reminded her that the real world simply didn't work this way. Miles upon miles of cornfields might be disconcerting but that doesn't make them haunted. This is not a scene from Children of the Corn. Whatever is happening - if anything at all - is most certainly mundane.

So, she leaned her back against the wall next to the door and prepared herself for a very long, very cold night when sleep would come in fits and gasps.

[Fr. Robert Henshall]

Saint Andrew was also the patron saint of farm workers, as well a number of other things, some quite esoteric, but it unlikely that it was his patronage of protection from sore throats that got this particular church named after him. Tiffani didn’t have to wait long before priest came to the doors, gently pulling one open and peering suspiciously at the young woman. “Come in out of the cold, child,” his penetrating gaze no doubt kept many of his flock in line with it’s intensity.

[Tiffani Noelle]

Tiffani was in a trance-like daze by the time Henshall opened the door and spoke. Another half hour and she very well may have fallen asleep and frozen to death. However, after hearing his voice and then looking up into his intense gaze with her blearly, squinted eyes, she immediately came awake.

"I'm so happy to accept your invitation," Tiffany said, almost elated. She hoisted up her rather heavy backpack, which she had been using as an impromptu pillow, and slung it over her shoulder. She gave one last glance to the world beyond the church with its biting cold and wintery bleakness, then stepped into the church behind Father Henshall. "I won't be a bother to you. I was just, well ... hoping I could sleep here for a day. Or two. Maybe three. I don't know. Because I feel like something is just ... wrong ... here in Maize, but I can't put my finger on it. Well, anyway, even if there is, it's none of my business. So yeah, it will probably be just tonight."

Then she actually blushed a little at realizing how little sense had she made babbling as she had.

[Fr. Robert Henshall]

A stony look came over the priest's face and he visibly stiffened. Robert closed the church door firmly, it was definitely warmer inside, but only enough to keep the elements at bay and no more. "It would hardly be fitting if I allowed you to sleep in the church like some homeless urchin, would you allow me to arrange a room for you at the motel instead?"

[Tiffani Noelle]

"Hmm, I thought the church provided a place of sactuary and refuge to homeless urchins." Tiffany raised her eyebrow slightly, wondering now through her paranoia of this town if, perhaps, the priest wasn't being totally upfront with her. "But, uh, sure, I'll accept a room at the motel. I just didn't want to cost anyone money."

As she said those things, however, she continued acting at ease, but she was attempting to read him, to weed out any possible deception he might be involved in. She was grateful, of course, since a motel room would be quite a bit more comfortable than some mousehole within the church. At the same time, however, she never had a priest or pastor of any denomination offer to put her up in a motel.

D2 LE: Empathy 4 + Wits 3: 7d10o10h8 4

[Fr. Robert Henshall]

Father Robert set an unconvincing smile on his face, "of course, child," he agreed, "but these days we have better ways of offering sanctuary than an uncomfortable night on a hard bed in a cold church with musty blanket from the poor box. It won't cost you a cent." He clutched his bible closer to his chest, drawing comfort from the solidness of it, the realness of it, he didn't seem to want to look directly at her.


[D2 LE] Contesting Empathy (Manipulation 2, Subterfuge 1, Voice 2): 5d10o10h8 1
He's definitely shifty about something, but he's speaking the truth.

[Tiffani Noelle]

"Well, I have to admit that if it got any colder in here, you could make ice cubes simply by leaving the trays on the counter. Doesn't the diocese pay you enough money to keep this place adequately heated?"

All the while, Tiffani makes subtle movements to place herself in the direct line of sight of the priest, carefully watching his reaction.

[Fr. Robert Henshall]

"We try to keep costs down where we can, it's much cosier on a Sunday morning, I promise," as Tiffani repositioned herself the priest seemed to look through her, rather than at her. "I certainly wasn't expecting anyone this late on a Wednesday."

[Tiffani Noelle]

"But it is dreadful cold in here. Maybe you ought to check yourself into the motel." Tiffani giggles good naturedly but there is no amusement in her eyes. A rather odd hypothesis slid into her mind just then and she decided to test it. After all, she may never get another chance.

She waits until she is, again, within his direct line of sight and then beats one of her faerie wings - just one, the one on her left side - then watches carefully, oh so very carefully, if Henshall's eyes are drawn toward her left side - the side with the beating wings.

Can this man see through our masks?

[Fr. Robert Henshall]

Lifting his chin, the priest's nostrils flared and he took a half step back. "My room is plenty warm, thank you."


Roll Perception (Wits + Composure). Acute Senses applies.
contesting
[D2 LE] Poker Face (Resolve 2 + Composure 3): 5d10o10h8 3