[Sodium_noir] Gods of Fire, Saints of Ireland

[Jennie Teakle]

> Tom Kaurismaki, Christine, Father Bellamy
> Dreamspeaker Mage, Orphan Mage, Celestial Chorus Mage
> At St. Bridgett's, after 1 a.m.
>

> [Christine]
> The ribbon comes open easily, reminding Christine for a moment of  
> stockings
> sliding from Mara's legs. Inside the box, wrapped in pink crepe  
> paper, is a
> pair of gloves. Soft doeskin in black with a red fur trim and  
> interior. No
> card, nothing else.

The fleeting, sensual reminder of Mara is barbed, snags at  
Christine's heart painfully. She wonders why she made the connection  
between gift wrapping and undressing her lover - her ex-lover. She is  
tired, she concludes, to let that slip under her guard right now.  
Still, the hurt and leaden sense of loss tinges her thoughts as she  
stares at Panic's gift.


> [Father Bellamy]
> "How are you feeling Tom?" father Bellamy asks, realising he had  
> ignored his
> second guest. "Alright I hope? Did I say welcome to St Bridget's?  
> yes, yes I
> probably did. Still, its nice to see a new face, is there anything  
> else I
> can get for you?"


> [Tom]
> He said, to Father Bellamy, as Christine examined her present,  
> "I'll be alright, that just did a bit of a number on me for a  
> second.  Thanks for the hospitality, Father."
>
> Tom's eyes darted, behind his sunglasses, over to try to peek into  
> Christine's gift box, but the angle was wrong; he spent a couple  
> seconds going over all the things that could be in the box before  
> saying to Father Bellamy, rather abrubtly, "Is this church... oh, I  
> don't know, blessed or something, Father?"

[Christine]
With half an ear, Christine listens in to Laufeyjarson and the Father  
as they talk. But mostly she considers the contents of the pink lined  
box. Gloves. Very nice. Very tactile. Christine picks them up,  
strokes one finger over the fur trim - soft and inviting. She wonders  
silently about Panic's unexpected present, what message she is  
supposed to understand - if any. Bellamy has already implied that  
Peter is rarely random, usually has an agenda and likes games in his  
dealings with others. But, feeling sad and more than a little punch- 
drunk tonight, Christine is not sure she wants to play.

Nonetheless, her thoughts run on. Gloves on. Gloves off. Gloves  
protect and hide and warm. They provide a barrier between self and  
the world - they insulate touch. Is Panic trying to protect her from  
the consequences of her 'Gift'? Warning her that she should not do  
what she just did to Laufeyjarson? Invite people into her Mind  
through her own fingertips and  show them what she can See? Not very  
wise, really. Makes her very vulnerable - quite apart from its effect  
on her 'victims'.

Black and red. A striking combination. Also supposed to be Scorpio  
colours. Blood and death, sex and secrets. Christine - a Cancerian  
who barely ever checks her horoscopes and has no idea what colours  
represent the Crab - knows that red and black *are* Scorpio colours  
because Mara is a Scorpio. Born on November 13th.

Christine's fingers tighten around the gloves reflexively. She'd  
really like to be on her own right now. But she's not and she can't  
think of anywhere else safe to be tonight, other than here at St  
Bridget's.


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