the-open-arms

[the-open-arms]

Sister Esther Wilson. Quite a melodic name, pleasant to the ear. Ramona nodded, memorizing the image of its owner.

The woman had made quite a few acquaintances in the church. Previously, she would have been skeptical about this, but given her situation which could be described as worrying at best, the presence of someone from the clergy calmed her down.

"Ah, so you know them. That explains a lot then," Ramona remarked cheerfully. So this visit was no coincidence after all. Not that she's complaining, it really is nice to have such a calming presence inside the shelter.

As the woman's gaze traveled down towards the cookies, eyes sparkling. People's kindness never seemed to not make her cheer up even at the darkest times, such as the breaking of the air conditioners.

"That's great! They look delicious! I bet everybody's gonna love it," The words of gratitude escaped her mouth effortlessly and naturally yet with no flattery.

Too focused on the cookies Abner nearly forgot to properly meet her guest. Realization hit her and her face turned into one of embarrassment.

"Please put the tray down - I'll make you something to drink," Ramona gestured at the clearly worn-out but clean sofa with a coffee table, the one she sat the priests at some time ago. She went towards the counter, looking at the things she could offer Esther, "Tea, coffee, water perhaps? I can try making something cool, the weather's been not so nice lately..."

As she spoke she wiped the sweat from her forehead - the work had exhausted her. She wouldn't mind drinking some water with the Sister. Perhaps this day's gonna end much better after all.

Esther knocked on the door- polite, but firm. She stood in her full habit, sleeves still a little dusted with flour, arms stacked with multiple containers of cookies. What had started as a harmless baking session had turned into a full-on spree after Isaac gave her unrestricted access to their kitchen. Now she had far too many cookies and not nearly enough mouths to feed.

Isaac had mentioned Ramona Abner’s Shelter a few times lately especially after he and Father Ward had gone down to deal with the graffiti problem and ended up blessing the whole building. Esther figured if there was ever a place to drop by with a little sweetness and a smile, this was it. Folks who came through a place like this were often in need of something. Maybe comfort, maybe company. Maybe just a warm cookie and a reminder they weren’t alone.

- @sisteroftheblameless -

Ramona's loose hair was stuck to her forehead, her breaths came out shaky and tiredly. She had been trying to fix the air conditioners for several hours now, and so far without success. The weather was alright, but the owner had to work in a stuffy room with not a faint breeze.

Luckily Janet, a student who was cleaning up the place from time to time, convinced her to take a short break before she overheats, which she did reluctantly. Her hands ached both from work and the absence of it as she sat on the couch at the reception.

'It seems the blessing does not extend to electronics,' Abner thought, her chest rumbling with a laugh.

She almost missed the knock on the door, but her ears still caught the sound. Groaning, she stood up and slowly walked to the door, wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and turned the handle.

Somehow the sight of the nun didn't surprise her as much as it would a couple of weeks ago. Her presence seemed soothing, her apperance a picture of warmth - hands full of cookies (an offering to the shelter, she assumed) and sleeves dusted with flour. Ramona noted that there was a surprising amount of religious people in her life now. It wasn't a bad thing, but a bizzare one nonetheless.

She tried to smile as best she could, her lips forming a slight yet sincere curve. Her posture straightened as if she were greeting guests, and her shoulders relaxed.

"Oh, welcome to The Open Arms!" Ramona greeted the nun, happiness evident in her voice, "I'm Ramona Abner. I believe we haven't met before."

After a moment of thinking she hurriedly stepped aside, gesturing at the inside of the shelter.

"Please, come inside!"

[the-open-arms]

Esther knocked on the door- polite, but firm. She stood in her full habit, sleeves still a little dusted with flour, arms stacked with multiple containers of cookies. What had started as a harmless baking session had turned into a full-on spree after Isaac gave her unrestricted access to their kitchen. Now she had far too many cookies and not nearly enough mouths to feed.

Isaac had mentioned Ramona Abner’s Shelter a few times lately especially after he and Father Ward had gone down to deal with the graffiti problem and ended up blessing the whole building. Esther figured if there was ever a place to drop by with a little sweetness and a smile, this was it. Folks who came through a place like this were often in need of something. Maybe comfort, maybe company. Maybe just a warm cookie and a reminder they weren’t alone.

- @sisteroftheblameless -

Ramona's loose hair was stuck to her forehead, her breaths came out shaky and tiredly. She had been trying to fix the air conditioners for several hours now, and so far without success. The weather was alright, but the owner had to work in a stuffy room with not a faint breeze.

Luckily Janet, a student who was cleaning up the place from time to time, convinced her to take a short break before she overheats, which she did reluctantly. Her hands ached both from work and the absence of it as she sat on the couch at the reception.

'It seems the blessing does not extend to electronics,' Abner thought, her chest rumbling with a laugh.

She almost missed the knock on the door, but her ears still caught the sound. Groaning, she stood up and slowly walked to the door, wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and turned the handle.

Somehow the sight of the nun didn't surprise her as much as it would a couple of weeks ago. Her presence seemed soothing, her apperance a picture of warmth - hands full of cookies (an offering to the shelter, she assumed) and sleeves dusted with flour. Ramona noted that there was a surprising amount of religious people in her life now. It wasn't a bad thing, but a bizzare one nonetheless.

She tried to smile as best she could, her lips forming a slight yet sincere curve. Her posture straightened as if she were greeting guests, and her shoulders relaxed.

"Oh, welcome to The Open Arms!" Ramona greeted the nun, happiness evident in her voice, "I'm Ramona Abner. I believe we haven't met before."

After a moment of thinking she hurriedly stepped aside, gesturing at the inside of the shelter.

"Please, come inside!"

[the-open-arms]

As Ramona followed John inside she took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of heated milk and some slitely burnt coffee beans. Looking down at her company her frame tensed for a moment before shaking with a chuckle.

"Oh, there's no need, really!" She rushed to assure the man yet felt happy hearing the offer anyway.

"Well, usually I drink coffee for the energy I need, not for the taste, but flat white here is pretty good. Gives you the rush you need when you have lots of things to do, you know?"

Her face became thoughtful, already imagining the taste of the drink on her tongue and the rush it would give her. Yet guilt creeped her way into her heart - John might not be into coffee for the same reason she is, and she's helpless here.

"Aside from that I only know that there's some good stuff from my friends so I can't really give any recommendations... Heared that the latte is good though."

Carried a ton of boxes today..... So tired.....

[the-open-arms]

OOC: sorry for being absent (again), I was graduating from highschool and I was kinda recharging from the party

[the-open-arms]

OOC: four posts in one sitting...... feeling like hamilton rn

On the side note, I got a new haircut and "The Exorcist" book :D

[the-open-arms]

Isaac's absence didn't go unnoticed to Ramona. She noticed that the man was walking around the building, turning the corner. That's why John's surprise was a surprise to her as well. She couldn't help but smile at his worried expression, no matter how impolite it might seem.

Father Ward looked less tense now, which made Abner's spirit rise. Finally his blank face changed to a more lively one.

'Quick, don't let it die out!'

"Poor guy! Hope he gets his stuff back," The voice spoke, light and playful, "Even Ernie, our cook, has the right to take a smoke break every twenty minutes while he's cooking all the food. On the other hand, he doesn't need to be bribed…"

John stood at the door, visibly anxious. He’d checked the sign outside at least twenty times, and even asked the younger man beside him to double check before he finally worked up the nerve to knock. “Nervous” barely scratched the surface of what he felt, he was practically buzzing with uncertainty. Isaac rested a hand on his shoulder in a quiet attempt to soothe him, but it did little to calm his nerves.

He wasn’t even sure he should be here. Ms Abner hadn’t given him the address, he’d taken it upon himself to come after being unable to shake the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest after seeing the graffiti. Isaac clearly wasn’t thrilled about tagging along either. He claimed he was “in the middle of something,” but John knew better. If he hadn’t dragged him out of his motel room, he was 99.9% sure the other man would’ve just spent the day curled up in bed.

(First time initiating this. Shaking and crying.)

Another day on the road. Another day at work.

Ramona got her arms up, stretching her back after an hour of filling out the paperwork. Despite the fact that one chore was over, the woman had already started thinking about a hundred others.

'There will be discounts at the center, we need to buy some new sheets- I have to help Carlton with the logistics of picking up donation boxes- And also-'

However, her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. The tired irritation from such a busy day was replaced by professional concentration. With heavy steps, Ramona hobbled to the door and abruptly opened it, startling even herself.

Meeting two men in front of her, one visibly nervous and the other trying to calm him down, the owner of the shelter smiled her trademark inviting smile. There was exhaustion in her eyes, but her open pose spoke of her willingness to speak.

"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted, fixing one of her ebony braids, "I don't think I know you. Although, wait..."

After a moment of careful examination of the face that was most likely knocking on the door, Abner was finally able to draw the chain.

"Are you by any chance Father Ward?"

[the-open-arms]

She raised her eyebrows in response. The woman didn't claim that John was weak, but her trained, well-defined physique was far superior to his. He wouldn't be able to hurt her - if anything, she's afraid of hurting him, of tearing apart anyone who poses at least a little bit of threat.

But Ramona didn't voice that. The man was clearly in distress, scared to death, his thought process might be erratic - she just had to calm him down. Her eyes flickered, millions of ideas flashing through her mind yet settling on a select few.

The air was dusty. She hoped it won't settle on them.

"I've been through a lot, I've seen a lot. It's my job to be involved in such messes after all," Her voice was quite yet her grip became tighter, attempting to bring John down to earth, "So believe me when I say that I'm capable of withstanding whatever you have going on."

John Ward wanders into the Open Arms shelter, training goo and blood behind him, stuck to his shoes.

his face is eerily blank. For once, his eye is wide open, staring down at his hands. he limps, like he’d been running. sweats like he’d been running. Is wearing a cassock different to his usual one.

he’s shaking. Like he’s hypothermic. Glancing around like a madman. his face is almost tinted green from sickness.

“Ramona?”

he calls, his voice breaking. his head is eerily quiet. he needs to speak to someone.

(@agunwithonebullet — this takes place after their coffee hangout :3)

A day like any other. Ramona was arranging the boxes, their contents varying between food and books. They were pretty solid, so the woman felt almost relaxed as she moved them here and there, one at the top, the other two at the bottom...

That is, until she heard the door open.

Turning her head sharply, she almost dropped the box in her hands. It was John - the one who offered to help her, the one with whom she got coffee, chatting about their lives in Connecticut. That timid, awkward man stood there, shaking and sweating and-

'Is that blood? Blood on his shoes?'

Ramona- Ramona had to calm down. Her shaking wouldn't help anyone yet the mere thought that something happened to John made her blood run cold. She left the box on the floor, nearly sprinting towards him. With trembling hands she took him by the shoulders, twisting him slightly in an attempt to examine him.

"John, what happened?" She spoke as if demanding an answer. Her hands lightly squeezed his shoulders, digging into the cassock's fabric.

[the-open-arms]

Ramona barely spoke with the kid and he's already off to somewhere else. All she's left to do is stare as he goes his own way.

A break. In the closet. While looking at other people.

Sure, some of the people at the shelter hid in some dark, quiet places when the atmosphere is the shelter was too overwhelming, but that was deffinetly not the case. She looked over the guests in the reception, the once that were in the potential view of Maverick. An adult man, few older folks and a teen around Maverick's age, nearly a polar opposite of him.

A terrible feeling made its way into Abner's guts as she looked at each one of them. The teen wasn't showing any signs of hostility, but she preffered to stay cautious. She spent all possible time with those people, simultaneously keeping an eye on the teenager and making sure that the bleach did not fall into his hands again. The previous incident was still fresh in her mind.

'Not a workday, but some kind of baby-sitting' She thought bitterly as she handed a new set of clothes to an elderly woman.

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-open-arms]

Oh. Oh, looks like Ramona struck something really important to Wyborn. And something dark that is. Not really good.

The woman leans down to have a clear look on the Deacons face. It's clear that he's trying to hurt himself, his hair looks like it's about to be torn off, no less. It intensifies the more he speaks and she has to do something.

'Ah, to hell with it'

She rests her hand on the man's shoulder with a sight, squeezing it. Her eyes turn reassuring and her speech flows like a steady river.

"Wybo-" Not that informal, "- I know you might not see it," She begins, gripping her tea tighter, "But curse me if I'm lying, I see you're trying. And trying may cause mistakes. And those mistakes might be..."

She paused, trying to find the appropriate words to place her thoughts into.

"Some bad people may stumble upon you, and you might even help them. And it might even cost you a lot. But at the same time a person in need may be in need of it, someone who even might be saved by you only. Helping everyone against all odds is what we do."

She hoped that her words didn't ring hollow. Ramona's green eyes studied Wyborn's face and hands, begging for at least a little change.

"So what you're doing is enough. Really enough."

Ramona hasn't been to church in a long time.

Of course, she took some of the religious residents of the shelter there, but she preferred to stand outside and wait. There was something about such buildings that involuntarily made the woman shrink, no matter her age. It wasn't hate or dislike, she was just plain uncomfortable. Whether it was the walls, the frescoes, or just the sheer size of the building, she didn't know what caused such a feeling.

However, now, after such a good chat with Deacon Wyborn, she was ready to cope with her discomfort. Finding such a kind and pleasant person was worth a lot, and Abner would not want to miss such a chance to talk to him personally.

Hesitating, the muscular woman nevertheless opened the church door, entering the temple. Her eyes carefully studied the empty benches, the white walls, and the light fixtures on the walls. The place still felt uncomfortable for Ramona, which is not surprising at all, but not as much as other similar places. When she fully entered, she began to walk more confidently, trying to find the person she had come here for and for whom brought a jar of black tea and a package of cookies.

@jonahskeep

[the-open-arms]

//btw would you like to be added to my John’s pinglist for whenever he posts a starter?

OOC: Yeah, I would love to!

[the-open-arms]

OOC: sorry for not answering, feeling kinda tired rn, I'll try to make more posts soon!!

[the-open-arms]

Ramona has been searching for Maverick for the whole day. Of course she had some other things to do around the shelter, but the moment she wasn't too busy she asked the other people if they've seen the boy. Earning a positive reply she just sighted. Guess it was just one of the days when she couldn't catch him.

That is, until her gaze fell at the crack in the closet. A watchful eye was there, observing the guests (or at least one guest in particular). Letting out a quiet but frustrated sight, she went towards the dors of the closet, peeking into it, staring back at the black, cold eyes, with her own green ones.

Something about the teen creeped her out. Not just his violent behaviour - the way he spoke, the way he stared at people - it all made her uncomfortable, like many. In moments when he was truly dangerous she had the urge to just pull his arm and squeez it for she knew that her grip was far more intense then that of an average person

'He's just a teen,' She rationalised, 'And brute force would hardly change things.'

So she restrained herself, trying to act as calm as possible, while trying to coax Maverick to come out.

"Well?" She asked, rising an eyebrow, "Wanna come out?"

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-open-arms]

The woman chuckled, shaking from her laugh. Isaac certainly seemed like the one to do that, even if she knows him for an hour or so.

"Well, that's an actually good reason, if I'm being honest," Ramona spoke with a smile, casting a glance at the working priest.

"Don't worry, there's nothing except those graffiti."

'For now.' A thought concluded darkly.

She still stood beside John, her presence hard to ignore.

"I think I had a friend like this. I don't remember what language he spoke, but every time I asked him what he said he just shrugged and laughed," She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing, "Should've shared at least once, damn it!"

There were sparks of laughter in her eyes. The corners of her mouth moved upwards while looking at Father Ward. Ramona just hoped that this conversation can relax him at least for a moment.

John stood at the door, visibly anxious. He’d checked the sign outside at least twenty times, and even asked the younger man beside him to double check before he finally worked up the nerve to knock. “Nervous” barely scratched the surface of what he felt, he was practically buzzing with uncertainty. Isaac rested a hand on his shoulder in a quiet attempt to soothe him, but it did little to calm his nerves.

He wasn’t even sure he should be here. Ms Abner hadn’t given him the address, he’d taken it upon himself to come after being unable to shake the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest after seeing the graffiti. Isaac clearly wasn’t thrilled about tagging along either. He claimed he was “in the middle of something,” but John knew better. If he hadn’t dragged him out of his motel room, he was 99.9% sure the other man would’ve just spent the day curled up in bed.

(First time initiating this. Shaking and crying.)

Another day on the road. Another day at work.

Ramona got her arms up, stretching her back after an hour of filling out the paperwork. Despite the fact that one chore was over, the woman had already started thinking about a hundred others.

'There will be discounts at the center, we need to buy some new sheets- I have to help Carlton with the logistics of picking up donation boxes- And also-'

However, her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. The tired irritation from such a busy day was replaced by professional concentration. With heavy steps, Ramona hobbled to the door and abruptly opened it, startling even herself.

Meeting two men in front of her, one visibly nervous and the other trying to calm him down, the owner of the shelter smiled her trademark inviting smile. There was exhaustion in her eyes, but her open pose spoke of her willingness to speak.

"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted, fixing one of her ebony braids, "I don't think I know you. Although, wait..."

After a moment of careful examination of the face that was most likely knocking on the door, Abner was finally able to draw the chain.

"Are you by any chance Father Ward?"

[the-open-arms]

I guess I'll try to share what happened in that dream. Sorry for not posting a lot, I was just sorta calming down from it

The figure - the one that saw me, chased after me while the that voice was still screaming. It was saying something but its voice was raspy and I was running and running and crying

I tried to run back to where my dad was to were the grownups were yet the forest went on and on. My legs burned I tripped and fell on my back it hurt it hurt like it was real

The figure, the red man found me he smiled his smile was jagged he was shaking when he stabbed me in the chest again and again it hurt so much I screamed I cried and it hurt, hurt so much

But then I heard another scream, a familiar one, the one that called me. They got him too. They got him too and it was because he followed me. I don't know how much it lasted but the man suddenly got off me and run. The two screams stopped yet I continued on even when I was lifted up, even when my dad's voice told me it's okay

And then I woke up. I still can't figure out what the fuck happened. It was all so real and I'm terrified that the scar on my chest matches the wounds I had in my dream

I don't know what I need. Is my mind playing tricks on me? This just can't be real it's so absurd yet I feel so empty at this dream, like I lost someone

I hope that's all. Just hope the dreams gonna end

So uhhh I've been so... Idk dense that I'm not sure what to say. I'm just really really really shocked

My eyes swell up with tears yet I just c can't cry

[the-open-arms]

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-open-arms]

OOC: IT'S THEMMMM @wardofthecross @fatherofthefallen ft. @jonahskeep

[the-open-arms]

Ramona stilled, her eyes growing wider the more she listened to him. Her hand, outstretched towards the bag of cookies just hovered in the air before settling on her lap.

She wasn't just alert now. She was straight up worried. Looks like her suspicions about the loft were not in vain. She follows his gaze up there, sensing the cool dread ensnare her heart. Her brain quickly provided her with a picture of a pile of human jaws, some old and some fresh, with cracks and chunks of something-

Abner stopped her imagination from continuing further. Knowing that something horrible like that happened at this place made the woman fearful. She has rarely felt anything like such fear, so it is more than an unusual feeling for her. Scratching the back of her neck, she looked back at the drooping man.

Ramona could understand why he felt guilty, but he could hardly have done anything significant, after all, he hadn't killed the Father. However, that's not how guilt often works, and she knew it better than anyone.

Leaning a little closer to the man, making herself a little smaller, she said:

"It's certainly not your fault, Deacon Wyborn," Her voice was set in stone yet compassionate, her eyes noticing the trembling of his hands, "I doubt that you could've prevented it."

And, after looking around, trying to see if there was anybody else watching their conversation, she continued:

"You were left like this by force. Please don't think that you deserve it."

Ramona hasn't been to church in a long time.

Of course, she took some of the religious residents of the shelter there, but she preferred to stand outside and wait. There was something about such buildings that involuntarily made the woman shrink, no matter her age. It wasn't hate or dislike, she was just plain uncomfortable. Whether it was the walls, the frescoes, or just the sheer size of the building, she didn't know what caused such a feeling.

However, now, after such a good chat with Deacon Wyborn, she was ready to cope with her discomfort. Finding such a kind and pleasant person was worth a lot, and Abner would not want to miss such a chance to talk to him personally.

Hesitating, the muscular woman nevertheless opened the church door, entering the temple. Her eyes carefully studied the empty benches, the white walls, and the light fixtures on the walls. The place still felt uncomfortable for Ramona, which is not surprising at all, but not as much as other similar places. When she fully entered, she began to walk more confidently, trying to find the person she had come here for and for whom brought a jar of black tea and a package of cookies.

@jonahskeep