9308/Seeking a sense of the miraculous

Seeking a sense of the miraculous
Date of Scene:	27 December 2021
Location:	Saint Patrick's Cathedral
Synopsis:	Johnny Blaze turns up to pray at St. Patrick's Cathedral-- and to warn Caitlin that Michael is not the ally he pretends to be.
Cast of Characters:	Caitlin Fairchild, Johnny Blaze
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

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Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Things are in motion around St. Patrick's Cathedral. Christmas mass would have been more than enough-- mass daily for most of a week, two special masses on Christmas Eve -and- Christmas day, plus all the other activities that go on during the holidays like food drives, youth programs, and donations for the needy in New York.

The legions of devotees around the Church make it even more difficult for locals to get around. Some of them have travelled across the country, their eyes constantly aimed skywards in search of another miraculous 'visitation' by the angelic host.

Caitlin's borrowed a folding table and a pew as a temporary desk and has one elbow planted on it to support her head on her palm, while writing busily with the other hand in quick and tidy penmanship. A laptop's open in front of her and it looks like it's filled with logistical issues that the Church is trying to work through. It's late enough at night that most of the regular staff members have gone home, leaving just a few volunteers around. Some are genuinely there to help direct traffic while others are just trying to showcase how 'useful' they can be. In a heavily patterned knit-wool maxi dress, with her hair ironed flat and held back by a plain headband, Caitlin blends in pretty well with the rest of the crowd. Aside from here there's work being done; some faithful are at work in the kitchens and others are helping move heavy loads around. One of them carrying way too much knocks over a crate of old, well-loved Bibles, sending them spilling to the floor.

Even in the wee hours, 'chaotic' seems to be the byword.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
It's a crazy week.

And Johnny had seen crazier shot this week alone. So when he finds himself some time, he decides to head on over to the church. The roar of an engine is like a bell for him, announces his presence to the entire damn neighborhood. He finds a place to park it, and starts walking towards the building. Of course, his other half wasn't a massive fan of churches, but that didn't stop Johnny.

Faith is stronger than inner demons.

A cross necklace hangs from his wrist, foreshadowing his purpose here, while a leather jacket rests over his shoulders and a simple black shirt underneath that. He wears blue jeans and black combat boots that look like they have caved in some chests in their heyday. Looking a little run down now, sadly. Johnny isn't here for a miracle. He's here for faith, and a reminder that he hasn't suffered all of this for nothing. So he moves past all the people wailing and moaning for a miracle to occur, he simply approaches the altar and clasps his hands tightly.

"Our Father, who art in heaven...."

He proceeds to speak the Lord's Prayer. Surprising, considering how rough and tough Johnny looks. Even as he begins to pray for people who are coming to kill them all. He's praying for the angels who may lose their lives. Praying for the enemies at the gates. He even says a prayer of mercy for Michael...and repentance if he has to kick Michael's ass.

or die trying.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Johnny's left to his own while he prays. A few folks edge back from him; the older adults who recognize the cut for what it is, in particular. Little kids look on curiously while their parents hustle them away. Johnny's not threatening anyone, but there are a lot of wary people instantly assuming the worst about him. Still he's left to himself as he prays, and to some minutes of peace afterwards while he waits for a response from on high.

The pew behind him creaks, heavily, as if someone very large is settling their weight onto it. A woman clears her throat; then again, and shifts pointedly, trying to get Johnny's attention. When he looks back, Caitlin smiles apologetically and lifts a hand in a wave. "Hi. Sorry," she says. "I don't mean to interrupt. I saw you come in out of the cold on that bike. There's hot soup and coffee in the atrium," she offers, and points behind her at the reception area on the other side of the narthex. "I'm guessing you don't need gloves or anything, not if you know how to ride in this weather," she observes. "But we've got blankets and hand warmers and cots in the basement. Every hotel in a mile from here is booked solid. I hope you didn't have to come too far."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
He was used to it.

People looking at him and seeing a monster - only the monster is inside, caged and left there from Johnny's own will alone. Faith is all he has left. The Rider has (unintentionally) taken everything from him. His wife. His kids. His friends. His family. His home.

All ash.

"....so God, if this is your will...then let it be done on earth as it is in heaven. But if it is not your will that this is happening...then give me the strength for one more ride." He murmers, but he feels a a presence behind him as he lifts his head to see Caitlin. He didn't come here looking for angels, yet she's acting like one, offering food and even shelter from the cold. "Thank you. These guys need your help more than me." Johnny tries to gesture to others, who have likely already been helped.

"I've come farther than I ever cared for, and it still doesn't look far enough." Johnny shakes his head. "Sorry. Thank you for your compassion." He extends a hand. "I'm Johnny."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Well we've got two rules, either you accept some help or give some help, and since I'm in charge of who is helping, you're stuck with option one." Caitlin's voice is light and utterly lacking in anything more than a playful tone; from her expression alone it's obvious she's vastly insincere about it. "Caitlin," she introduces herself, and shakes his hand very carefully.

Johnny would note two things immediately: one, Caitlin's hand has zero yield to it. There's a sense she could crush gemstones between her fingers if she wanted.

The second is a sensation of spiritual energy that verges on an electrical shock. A live wire of celestial energy from the Silver City itself seems to ripple over her skin and tingle against Johnny's fingertips. And beneath that, a bedrock of profound moralism and the deceptively placid waters of a faith that runs to the bedrock of her person.

Caitlin seems completely unaware of any reciprocal energies from Johnny and release his fingers after a quick shake. "It's really ok to be here," she assures him, perhaps misreading his expression. "Whatever your old life was before." She glances at the MC colors on his cut. "If you're praying here, you're one of us now."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Doesn't give me a lot of options now does it?" Johnny questions her as she lays down some framework for him. Whatever insecurities she has, it seems completely overshadowed by how she treats people. "Caitlin." He repeats her name. "Nice to meet you." Only when the hands touch, Johnny feels a vast multitude of things happen.

Firstly, In his human form, she could probably shatter his hand. There's no strength being applied by Caitlin, at least not in a way that could hurt him noticeably. She's tough and a Mera human. Explains why she's so goddamn tall and muscular. She could pick up this building and take it on a walk.

Secobdly, her soul feels purer than a pureblood. Profound morale and sense of character that seems god-given. She's innocent. Tge Rider can find no flaw in her character. She might as well be in heaven, for all Johnny's concerned, too good for the world. That...and she's probably had contact with a resident of the Silver City.

"Heh...before." Johnny hums a little bit. "Been one of you for awhile now." He lifts up the cross necklace. "Just been hard. Hard to breathe, like I'm suffocating. Like every step is crippling in the weight of my failures and my mistakes...how they hurt others."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Sounds like it's been a while since you sat and talked it out," Caitlin tells Johnny with a truly sympathetic tone. "Nothing about faith is easy. Doesn't matter if you're Catholic or Hindu or Buddhist. Faith's supposed to be hard," she reminds him. "But that's what makes it easy, too. You know you can't have all the answers, but you also know that you don't need to have them all, either. Just..." she wiggles her shoulders slightly in a non-committal shrug. "You know. Put your faith in God, and let Him guide you where you gotta go instead of feeling like it's all on you to steer /and/ row the boat at the same time."

"If you'd like to talk to a priest, I can get someone," Caitlin offers. "Father Pat needs his rest but I think Father Timothy is in the back somewhere." She rises slowly to look around, accidentally towering over Johnny (and anyone else nearby) in the process. "I'm no good at the counseling stuff, really," she admits to Johnny with an embarassed smile. "It always sounds kinda lame the way I say things."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Yeah. Haven't talked about it ever, really." Johnny tells Caitlin with a bit of a frown. He then lowers his head to his hands, which look scarred in more ways than one. "If I didn't have faith, I wouldn't be alive." He speaks plainly. "So...there's that." He hums. "Honestly, I don't even care about the answers anymore. That's for other people to know and me not to. Figure if I don't know, its for a good reason."

He takes a deep breath then. "That's all I have left, Caitlin." He looks up at a crucifix symbol, of the Christ on the cross. "It's all I have left." He takes a breath then and clears his throat. "With respect, I don't think the priests are going to be able to help me out much with my problems. Probably a little bit much for them. Honestly, I only came to just clear my head."

He looks at Cait. "A lot is about to happen in the next couple of days."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin hesitates at Johnny's quiet words, then seats herself again. She leans forward and rests her folded arms on the back of the pew Johnny occupies so he's not having to twist in place to talk to her.

"My best friend's one of the Amazons," she tells Johnny. "You know. Magic island, ruled by the Greek goddesses, immortal warrior women." She shifts in place a little, provoking another creak from the pew. "Literal goddesses manifest in flesh, which is... well, it's something a lot of people saw as miraculous, for thousands of years."

"Father Pat helped me work through it. Figure out what the line is between the /theoi/ of Themyscira and--" she looks up at the statue above the altar. "And what it means to be Catholic in a world with guys like Thor." She flashes a grin, brief but no less luminous for it. "Thor makes it easy though. He hangs out and wears jeans. I've seen him do it."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Well...that's something.

Johnny steps back a couple of feet and takes a seat on the pew. Obviously, he doesn't have extremely dense bone/muscle tissue so he doesn't apply any more weight to the bench than a normal person. But he nods carefully as he hears her words. "Yeah...like Wonder Woman, right? Isn't that her schtick? With the embassy and all that?" Johnny questions Caitlin. He knows -of- Wonder Woman, hell who doesn't? But he doesn't know her personally. "Yeah. With all of this stuff happening, makes you wonder what the truth in all of this is."

He chuckles.

"I eventually learned a strange hierarchy." Johnny mentions, as he looks at Caitlin. "Far as I know, we believe in the Creator, who happens to be the head honcho of all these guys. Some occult stuff says that God created them all, or at least, provided the tools for it to be created. But even still, seeing guys and gals like that who feel like they can just...do -anything-, makes you wonder....and itm akes you feel small." He grins at her a little bit.

"Yeah...its a fun time, for sure. But I believe in one truth in the universe, regardless of how bright or dark it is. I just hope for my sake He gives me a second chance to make it right."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Troia," Caitlin corrects with an encouraging nod-- the moniker of a founding member of the Titans, along with Caitlin herself. It certainly adds some context to why Caitlin seems to have no fear in seating herself to speak to Johnny. She listens patiently to Johnny's words and thinks on them quietly for a few seconds before collecting her thoughts.

"There was an explorer named Arthur Clarke, he passed on about ten years ago," she tells Johnny. "He wrote a lot of the accounts of the old Justice Defenders and even had some theories about Atlantis that got some traction among anthropologists."

"Er, anyway--" she pauses to tuck a few strands of red hair behind her ear. "He coined this phrase, it goes 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'. And this was back in like, the 60s," she clarifies. "Before even the Fantastic Four were around. It's not just about aliens and ancient civilizations, though, it's about.." she purses her lips, looking at the altar while thinking through her words. "I can't -do- what the Amazons do, but I understand the system that makes it. And I understand the pattern behind the goddesses and their actions and choices."

"Which is kind of a roundabout way of saying that sufficiently advanced -magic- is indistinguishable from other magic. That's what--" she gestures vaguely at the altar, the crucifex both. "That's what being a Catholic really means. What Thor does is incredible, it defies everything I know about physics. But he's part of this system, right? So being Catholic in this modern age, it isn't about magical miracles. It's about having faith in a Purpose. That the Almighty is out there, and he's got a plan for you. We're seeing the fruits of that now," she points out. The church is still milling with worshippers and devotees who are too excited by the prospect of another vision to sleep. "We waited and prayed for deliverance, and now He's sent the angels to help us. Now's not the time to coast on our faith; now we gotta double down."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Troia? Never heard of her." Johnny bluntly tells Caitlin, not to be rude, but that he can't really relate. He hasn't really paid attention to the affairs of the heroes known as the Titans. He's aware of their existence, sure, but he has little knowledge of their members. "Arthur Clarke?" He questions her, though she informs him that he wrote some accounts on the Justice Defenders and some Atlantis theories.

"Interesting. He sounds rad. Go on." Does anybody even say the word rad anymore?

She puts some strands of fiery red hair behind her ear, and Johnny takes a moment to admire her beauty. Though, all the same, she suggests that magic and technology may well be one and the same, and he chuckles. "That's fair." and as she brings it around full circle, he seems to smile at her. "It's nice to meet someone else who gets it." He chuckles, though she mentions angels helping.

Johnny takes a moment. But the angels arn't here to help. They are here to reset the universe, and earth is ground zero. "Michael and the angels arn't here to help, Caitlin...not this time." He says in a grim voice.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin seems unaware of Johnny's attention, focusing on his words and his tone as he talks himself through his counterpoint. The comment about 'someone else' provokes a brief and rueful smile of real sympathy from the redhead. When his voice drops and his face falls, Caitlin's expression freezes. "You can't know that," she protests, automatically, and sits back in the pew.

Her eyes flicker as if she's working through some extended logic, and when they land on Johnny again, they're narrowed in suspicion. "You -can't- know that," she says, making it a declarative statement. "You're not with the Vatican, and you're not from this parish. I'd recognize you. Only one other person--" She stares at Johnny, lips pressing thin, and stands up again to step into the aisle between the pews. Even in alarmed frustration she's at least considerate enough not to bully Johnny with her height.

"You're with -him-. That Dr. Sims," she accuses. "I can't *believe* him. How-- how can you take his side?" she demands of Johnny with a frustrated tone. "He's text buddies with the devil! His whole... team has a real sinister, Mirror Universe vibe *and* they're pretty cagey about why Michael punished them," she adds. "When someone is on the wrong side of *literal angels*, that's a pretty good sign they're evil or crazy!"

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny notices it. He notices the psychic compulsion that people perceive as righteousness around her. Something is acting through her. Her divine aura...its not something that rests within her naturally. Its borrowed. Whatever those angels did when they arrived, they put something in the minds of others. Though Johnny looks at Caitlin with some sadness in his eyes. "No, I'm not with the Vatican. They would probably excommunicate me, actually." Johnny says with a bit of sadness in his tone, though as she steps into the aisle between the pews.

Yet despite her anger towards him, Johnny doesn't seem intimidated. He seems more...resigned.

"Didn't know he was a doctor." He tells Caitlin, though he speaks. "I'm not on anybody's side. I'm on the side of humanity's survival. Whatever is happening, Michael is....sick. He's not his usual self as the Bible tells us he is. He's coming to destroy this world and everyone in it. A reset button. He believes God's 'experiment' failed...and this church is ground zero." Johnny tells Caitlin. "While you still can...run, Caitlin. Run and live. Angels are not right all of the time, much as I wish they were. Why did Michael punish them? Well...one of their friends is currently melded to a wall in heaven, and he's still alive." Punishment to the basest cruelty.

"Yet...you won't believe me. You are set in your ways...but run. Leave this place and help others get away. If you stay...you won't be spared by the Angels."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You're wrong," Caitlin tells Johnny, and her voice rings in the cathedral's vaulted ceilings. People who were asleep sit up and listen; others who were awake drift closer to Caitlin to listen to her words. Her expression is angry but firmly righteous, utterly convinced of the words she's saying.

Theirs is one of slavish, zealous devotion.

"Michael came to help. He helped /me/. I prayed in an hour of need and he smote down the demons that your friends summoned to help them." Murmurs go up from the crowd.

Her hands rise in supplication towards Johnny and that righteous indignation is replaced by genuine, heartfelt concern. "Listen to yourself," she urges him. "You have to hear how this sounds. Saint Michael is our guardian and protector. He fought with the serpent and cast Lucifer into Hell. That story, right there--" she points at a stained-glass relief of Michael descending with flame and wing from on high-- "has been part of the Christian tradition since Christ walked among us," she says, and crosses herself. "Islam, Judaism, even occult groups agree he's *on the side of right*."

"Who is this... 'Sims' guy, that you're prepared to believe him? Over the words of, of-- prophets and holy scriptures going back thousands of years?"

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny's not going to win this one.

Not with words. He fears that when the angels arrive, it'll be too late for these people. Lambs to slaughter, blood in the water. Johnny takes a deep breath as he looks up towards the Crucifix depiction even as he listens to her words of accusation. Of all reasonings turning towards the opposite.

But faith moves mountains. "I don't believe Sims."

Johnny tells her then, which may give her some relief. "It's true. Michael's been alive longer than life itself. Yet...that doesn't change anything. After all...he and Lucifer were tasked with putting the universe together. We don't know the whole story. Of course everyone is starting to think he's right...because he's put something in your very spirits. It wasn't a blessing. It was servitude." Johnny stands up then, and he puts the cross on the altar, clasping his hands together as he looks up at the Son.

"Forgive me father, for my sins...and what I fear I will be forced to do. If it is in your will...give me strength to see it through and hold me to my faith. Even if I must stand on the mountain alone."

He takes a moment and speaks a passage from the Psalms.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows..."

Then he takes that breath, and leaves his cross there.

"God himself didn't descend. Michael did with a host of billions. He was missing a wing, burnt and charred. He wishes for the end of mankind, and I will give my life to defend each of you, to protect hte innocent..." his eyes close. "and bring vengeance to the guilty."

For it is said that the Ghost Rider is the Hand of God, vengeance personified. When the Lord said 'Vengeance is mine', lo was the Ghost Rider brought into form, where two became one to stand against many.

"I wish you were right...but I have seen the gates of heaven. Spoken with Uriel, heeded the words of those wiser than me."

He narrows his eyes. "and there's hell to pay. Leave this place, or I fear it will become your tomb." Johnny starts to walk up to Caitlin, offering a bow of his head. "I thank you for your hospitality. God bless you."

and he starts to move past her, into the arms of the masses who judge and no doubt will attempt to prosecute him in God's name. What's terrifying is that they're right to do so. Johnny is no Saint. But he'll be damned if he doesn't try to stop whats coming, help or no help.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
There is silence while Johnny prays. Not just from Caitlin, but from the crowd. Most of them have their heads bowed, or hands uplifted in prayer. Even the non-Christians acknowledge the human desire to pray and not a single person mutters or complains about him. When his prayer concludes, there is a chorus of soft 'amens', even a 'Be'ezrat hashem' and quiet 'Inshallah'.

"Johnny." Caitlin rests two fingers on the man's shoulder before he goes. There's no force to it, no effort to halt him by main force, and she lifts her palm apologetically the moment he's aware of them. "Please be careful," she says with a plaintive, concerned tone. "And steer clear of that Sims guy. I don't think he's as simple as he pretends to be. He's got his own agenda and his own priorities here. I don't know what his angle is, why he's decided going to war against Saint Michael is the right play. Before you trust your life to his cause, at least make sure you've got no questions about what his cause is."

The silence lasts a beat and Cait lifts her hand again, in apology. "There's only peace and love in these halls," she reminds the crowd, and they part obligingly. "He is our sheep; we will find him when God wills it to be so."

By the time Johnny exits the atrium, the little crowd has mostly dispersed except for a small cluster around Caitlin, holding hands with heads bowed in prayer.