Magdalene

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” John 20:14

[turncoatsilver-deactivated20180]

Patience was something that Isabella had come to have in spades, or at least was something she was working towards. After all, everything was about the long game now, so there was very space left for impatience. Still, even as that was the case, to say that she wasn’t trying to read upside as the other wrote to no avail would have been a lie. After all, talking with the other wasn’t an option.

Eyes scanned the page quickly, making quick work of the message, despite the length being longer than she had expected. Pausing after the first line, she looked up to Magdalene and offered her a slight smile. “Hello Magdalene.” It was all about appearances, and this somehow seemed necessary. Then with an introduction of sorts managed, she finished the note. Did she know anything about the train? Of course. How could she not? Still even knowing about the train, she wasn’t entirely sure where it was relative to here. She had wandered somewhat aimlessly, not intentionally marking her path or setting off in a terribly specific direction.

Before she could respond, she decided to take a moment, orient herself to where she was, even with the lesser amounts of light, even with the lack of signs. “Well, I think…” she began, pausing for a moment to think, before continuing. “The train crashed into the mountain, right? I mean, I think so. Um, I came from that direction,” she said, pointing from the direction she was fairly certain she had come from, “and I didn’t see it. Maybe you should keep walking near the mountain.” Another pause. “What do you expect to find?” she asked, before holding the notebook out to the other again.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

The questions were many, but Magdalene had no answers. All she was hoping to find was a sign, something that would make her believe that the fight wasn’t over. Magdalene needed a sign that her savior wasn’t gone, despite His death. Her hand reached to the paper as she hesitated, nervous to write anything in the moment. She was thankful for the directions but she hadn’t a clue if they were correct. The mountain seemed smart, though. She had thought she heard something about it. 

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself she pushed the pencil against the paper carefully before writing again. 

Hope.

The four letter word was all she had as a response, it wasn’t much or really an answer but she looked up at Isabella shyly before handing the notebook back, feeling bad for her short answer. Magdalene really had no answer of what she wanted to find, what she thought was there. Whatever it was though was a sign that the demons were weak, that maybe He was still here. Magdalene just wanted Him. She wanted a sign that He was still watching over her. Her hope came in the form of little miracles, signs in every day and out of everything that had been happening recently the train was all she could find to bounce off of.

[placeholdersea]

“Just a few words,” he said with a lift of his brow. “Simple as that.”

Alastair’s grip curled around her hand and he lightly squeezed her fingers in answer to her wordless question. Not enough to harm anything, regretfully, but enough to reinforce the idea that he very well could. He pulled her up as he cast shortlived glances at the ones she shared company with, his expression clouded. They could wonder, they could question, and they could fret. The twitching of an unnerved soul was lovely to watch, he supposed, but it was even lovelier when the nerves simply ceased to be all together. They passed through the threshold of the basement door as the demon guided the angel away from her friends and the lie of a sanctuary.

Torturing just to torture could grow stale at times although a great part of him continued to enjoy it even without proper reason. Lucifer’s company often did what they did for the joy of it, sinking themselves into the temptation of their sinful fascinations. Frankly, they did whatever they hell they wanted because it felt good. Vices with no virtues in sight. What was proper and reasonable had no place with the likes of them. Alastair’s objective (it went without saying) was idyllic, with little to scrutinize or misconstrue and the life Lucifer had given him had given meaning to his most basic need. Lucifer wanted His answers and Alastair would meticulously pull them out through the split skin of whoever because he so happened to enjoyed his work. How many could truly say such a thing? A smile edged the corner of Alastair’s lips skyward. With Him, all things were possible.

Magdalene was special. Ever silent, ever watchful. He had never heard her utter a word, her defiant nature adamant against giving demons any sort of response. Or anyone, really. He wondered what she sounded like as he walked at her side and guided her further down a hallway pockmarked with old blood. Was her voice soft as a whisper or was it harsh, tempered against the prison walls until it had hardened? Her words didn’t interest him as much as her screams, but a scream wasn’t the answer He was looking for. Perhaps Alastair could get both, a victory for the two of them. He smiled gently at her.

Their walk came to a halt before a dark door and he pushed it open. The smell of blood and iron seeped through the open doorway to bathe them in it. It was like coming home and if he wished to keep it that way, it was imperative to get His answers. So they had said. Make her speak. Something in the balance had changed and it annoyed him. Lucifer hadn’t prevailed, nor had Judas been placed in charge of it all, for this. The politics of Paradise fell on deaf ears with Alastair, yet even then he knew to give a damn when his own equilibrium was in danger. Basic survival, he thought, as he shed his delicate touch and less- than-gently sat Magdalene down in the room’s lone chair. Rowan or Gale had likely left it there for him, how kind. He was as silent as she was as he strapped her still by her slim ankles and wrists. The legs of his short stool scraped against the stone floor as he dragged it forward and sat down. Again, he took a hold of her hand.

“You pray to Him with these?” Alastair questioned as he slid the pad of his thumb along the ridges of her knuckles before settling on her middle finger. His voice was gentle, curious. The demon cocked his head. “Does He get to hear you speak?” His thumb moved down from the knuckle and traced the length of her finger. As he came to the end, he pressed up against the tip of her finger as he applied opposing pressure at the base of it and slowly started to bend it backward. Just enough to increase the approach of pain. “I’m goin’ to ask some questions, yeah?” A blade flashed in his free hand and then slammed into the chair’s other arm, between the spaces of her fingers with the razor edge facing the delicate webbing of skin. “And then I think I’d like to hear you, Magdalene. Don’t think He’d mind, d’you? Just between us?”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

The air caught in her throat as she felt his fingers wind around her hand, grasping it gently just giving it a little squeeze. He had been kind enough, he had taken her gently using words rather than force. Magdalene hoped this wouldn’t be as bad as Raphael’s time away, she hoped she would come out without too many wounds to show her little fight. All her wanted was words, those were something Magdalene had so few of though. Her words were chosen where they were needed, where the few truths she had remaining needed to be heard. Alastair didn’t seem interested in that though. He seemed to want something else, something Magdalene had no truths about. 

She walked quickly, following closely behind Alastair. Her hand still in his, nearly dragging her through the hallways. Curious eyes watched silently, trying to figure out where she was going, attempting to understand what this torture was. 

Her nerves were on edge, her body scared despite her desperate attempts to seem uncaring of it. Magdalene hadn’t been sure what was wrong, there was so much alight in the air, she knew that this wasn’t going to be the same as previous times. It wouldn’t be that easy. It wouldn’t end well. Even his sly smile lead her to her conclusion: this was different. 

Normally most demons left her alone, other than a select few who were bothered by her silence, by her belief in Him even though He was dead. Her allegiance to heaven no matter the situation. When they stopped, she took a deep breath, her senses immediately assailed by the hauntings of pain. Experiences of others who had walked down this very hall, iron soaked walls sent a shiver down her spine as Magdalene looked to Alastair for some source of understanding. She wasn’t scared, but her primitive instincts wanted to flee, to protect herself from this. 

Pushed down, she sat there, very still. Eyes still watching him carefully, wanting to understand what was going to happen. She was desperate not to show fear, for fear would just insight more pain, it would make Alastair feel strong. Magdalene was scared, though. 

Her eyes grew wide when he grasped her hand. Staring at his hand, moving along her fingers just testing the boundaries, trying to make her squirm. She was very close to it. Staying very still, she kept her eyes on her hand. Showing fear was weak, Magdalene wouldn’t show it. She wouldn’t show the pain of mentioning Him. Magdalene still prayed to Him, she had no clue to whether or not He heard, but she had to hold onto the fact that in the past He had always saved her. That He was her saving grace in all her life. 

A wince. That was all she let slip across her face as she watched her finger bend in the wrong way, muscles stretching in a way that discomforted her greatly. 

She heard his words, but her eyes didn’t move from her hand. She wouldn’t look up. Magdalene wouldn’t show fear. Those were the words she held onto in these moments, she wouldn’t show her fear. 

The blade took her by surprise, though. Her fixation on her hand had caused her not to notice the other one, the action as the blade sunk into the wood of the chair, oh so close to her hand. She felt her skin nearly rubbing up against it. The show of power was daunting but the words spoke angered her more than the pain. Pain was something she could swallow, she could bury it deep beneath all the emotional pain she already felt every day, all the hurt that came with His loss. 

Her eyes nearly black as she looked up, dark and clouded by her own unhappiness. She blinked very solely, still watching. She wouldn’t speak. Her voice wasn’t lost for Him, it was lost with Him. Even if it were reserved for Him, Alastair would in no way be the one she broke the silence for.

[conquistadorabaddon-blog]

“There are times when I think I should kill you. It would certainly save us all a lot of grief. You see, if you ask me, you’re a little bit of a waste of space. You don’t say anything, you don’t do anything.” It wasn’t worth the effort. Not only because Magdalene was a creature who refused to be broken, but because she knew the punishment would fall upon her shoulders. For what ever reason, Lucifer had kept the Angels as their play things, seeing a purpose at large. Whatever it was, it had been beyond her vision. 

“Sometimes I wonder what you live for. Do you still hope that your precious Jesus will come to save you all? A second coming? If I remember my Bible right - that would mean the end of all. And you can’t want that, can you? What on earth would your precious humans do?” Total and utter chaos - not an environment anything other than darkness could survive. Perhaps that was the way it was supposed to be, the utter extinction of light. It was certainly the way this room felt, wrapped in misery and suffering - blood tainting the walls, so much pain and hurt. And yet Magdalene felt none of it. Where was the justice in that? Approaching her, Abaddon reached to touch her, cradling her forehead - but not out of love, a show of power. I can touch you And there is nothing you can do to stop me.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

Her eyes prodded at Abaddon, telling her to do it. Kill her. Magdalene had been punishing herself enough, her head was full of confusion and misconceptions. Magdalene felt nothing but pain anymore. If she was such a waste of space, so useless Abaddon could just kill her. Then where ever was next, Magdalene would join Him. Finally be free of this horrendous world like she once was. The circle would be redrawn and she would once more be free, however she knew Abaddon couldn’t kill her. The angels were to be kept alive, and what would Lucifer thought if the person he wanted answers from was dead. Magdalene knew she wouldn’t be receiving her wish tonight, despite all parties seeming to want it. 

Blinking, she looked at the woman now asking questions of her. Asking her where he hope and faith came from. She loved Him. She would never give up on her lord and savior, not now not ever. Even with his head falling to the floor Magdalene felt she was watched over, it was the only hope she held onto alone in this cell. With so few people she could even speak to, she felt isolated and hopeless, but her faith was still strong. 

Abaddon words were supposed to be discomforting, but they made Magdalene realize something, realize a second coming was promised. Even if it was hell on earth, it was mean He would come back. It meant her love wasn’t gone. It felt nice to hold onto something, despite it just being grasping at straws. 

The feeling of a touch on her forehead felt strange. She’d been in here long enough to know what it meant, though. Magdalene had experienced their plays and hopes to get her to speak. Get her to answer the questions they had for her. Where was Mary? Like Magdalene knew, she hardly knew anything about the war after His death. She felt uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, really. She stayed tucked away with Him, waiting for the peace He had always provided. Closing her eyes, Magdalene let herself fall away, thinking about Him, thinking about Mary hoping Abaddon would simply leave her alone. She was tired, exhausted from the questions from the demons’ desperation for her beliefs when she had so few left. Magdalene definitely had none to spare.

[conquistadorabaddon-blog]

“What am I going to do with you?”

Tutting under her breath, Abaddon shook her head - seriously contemplating what this Angel’s future was to be. Thus far, Alastair had failed to gleam anything useful from her, eventually having given up - turning her over towards Abaddon’s authority and the judgement she could impose. With any other Angel Abaddon might have resorted to usual techniques, or something gleamed from the inner depravities of her mind. But this was no ordinary Angel. This was Magdalene. This was an Angel who kept faith with the Church, had seen it springing into life and who gave hope to everyone around. 

Maybe death would be easier.

Certainly. She would make it symbolic, hang her up upon a cross for the world to see, a flair for poetry sparked in the demons eyes. Too easy. Too merciful. This Angel would welcome death. She would welcome the chance to see her darling Jesus again, to reconcile herself with God…no, it was essential to keep Magdalene far far away, rooted to the ground. What was required was to be broken. But how did you break someone who didn’t speak? “You require something special. Something…something from Lucifer’s playbook itself.”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

Her voice was nearly chilling. Magdalene tried not to shiver as she remained there, trapped, a play thing for someone like Abaddon who prided herself on her cruelty. She was vulnerable, however, breathing in deeply, her desire to fight at all had been stripped from her long ago. Magdalene wouldn’t speak, it wasn’t because she was fighting them but instead because she was complacent and speaking would require too much from her. It would be hard for her, push her beyond her comfort zone. Magdalene only let her voice out when she felt like she desperately needed to. When she felt someone needed to hear her voice to find themselves. Abaddon had no need for her voice, they wanted answers which she had none of. Magdalene had few truths left to her, few things that were worth saying. Her love for Him was one she’d share when prompted and felt it necessary and her concern for others was another thing she would let her voice come out for.

Abaddon didn’t need her, though, Abaddon didn’t need anything Magdalene had been holding onto. All the truths Magdalene still clung to, the faith in Him, were the things Abaddon hated. The things the woman detested about heaven and all Magdalene stood for. Her eyes still followed the woman sharing the room with her, watching with an indifference. Whatever Abaddon had coming her way couldn’t be worse than what she’d already endured.

[turncoatsilver-deactivated20180]

What was she to do next? The question reverberated in her mind, uncertain in the face of the consistent silence of the other. She had heard whispers of Magdalene’s silence from others, but it was disconcerting to be faced with it. She was by no means a consummate actress, she was not Josephine by any stretch of the imagination and she did not simply know how to carry on in a scene in the face of another’s silence or misstep. She could feed off what she was given, echo sentiments that were reflections of another’s soul as Isabella could see it. She was not meant for originality, not meant for spontaneity and yet with Magdalene there was little other choice for she was given almost nothing to work from.

Parting of lips came as a surprise followed by the shortest of disappointments as a gesture followed with much hesitation in between. It would not have been a victory to get Magdalene to speak though. It would have been nothing, for Isabella was nothing in this condition. She was human, and at times she could do nothing but find her present state abhorrent.

The gesture that followed was almost predictable, it should have been predictable and yet she found herself surprised by it. She had thought… well she wasn’t sure what she had thought. Maybe she had expected Magdalene to run and keep going. She wasn’t doing much to inspire confidence in the other, but she was at a loss. Still as the other reached into her pocket, she did the only thing she could think of, grabbed her notebook once again and reopened it, flipping the page so that the other could start fresh (and so that her own musings remained private, before holding it out to the other. “You want to write?”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

A quick nod was all she gave as she watched the woman quickly. Her hand reached out to the notebook, gently grabbing it before cradling it between her hands. 

She gave a small smile. It was forced, pressed onto her lips as a nicety. Something she was expected to do to be a polite member of society. She let her hand fall over the paper, gently she tried not to fiddle with it too much. Pushing the pencil to the paper, she quickly scribbled her cursive over the paper. It was a longer note than the ones she normally wrote taking up a couple lines on the page. She finished writing it, biting her lip all the while as she picked the words carefully before handing the notebook back to him.

The words written across the page read: 

I’m sorry, I have lost my voice. My name is Magdalene. Have you by chance seen or heard anything about  a train?

She felt abrupt with her words, skipping much of the getting to know the other person, however Magdalene had little time. They surely would be caught soon enough, she had never been on the other side of that fence. Her human years were so far behind her and she was desperate for a sign, something to show that there was hope and that death wasn’t the only escape. A death she couldn’t have. He let her follow Him once, however it seemed not to be her fate this time. Instead she was sent to her own hell, a place without Him. 

She watched carefully, hopeful the girl would have information. Hoping she would be able to find the train, find whatever was capable of besting the demons. Maybe the war wasn’t over like she had once assumed, maybe it was just beginning.

[conquistadorabaddon-blog]

Boredom. That was the real killer. Where shaky opposition threatened to rip everything they held dear, order demanded to be restored. Abaddon had merely watched as they collected the Angels and tossed them into a pit together, constantly watching. The innate feeling captured within her bones warned of something threatening to strike back - that something was going to happen. It only became ever frustrated when that something remained unidentifiable. But if time was to tear something from them, it would soon be revealed.

One by one, the Angels had been dragged into the torture chamber - each getting their own hand at the techniques. Personally, she felt some more than others were certainly lacking. If you wanted total and utter destruction of someone you had to find what made them weak - whether it be a person or otherwise. It was simply logical. In the case of the Church it had simply been their arrogance - belief in a veiled God to protect them. Everyone had one, rooted deep underneath their skin. She? She had none. After all, she cared little for anyone or anything. 

A certain lack of screams drew her attention more than anything. Peering through the window, her lip curled as her guessed identity was confirmed. Magdalene. If Abaddon were to conquer anything, it would be she. Her silence was as infuriating as it was baffling, the very faith she maintained grating Abaddon’s soul to its very core. Magdalene was the direct opposite of everything she represented - and was to be stopped. Clearly the amateurs needed someone else to take over. Storming into the room, Abaddon let her lips lift into a snark.

“Did you miss me?”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

What was Abaddon thinking? Of course Magdalene hadn’t missed her. She felt no real emotion towards the woman other than pity. To be so bitter and hard to the world most have been difficult for anyone, especially experiencing it for so long. Eyes looked up, slowly glancing over the woman who pushed herself into the room. Her face complacent. She had no worries about what Abaddon would do to her, Magdalene had no real hope. She wasn’t going to get out of here nor was He going to be alive again. Following Abaddon with her eyes, her face was still stone cold. While Alastair was pretty useless when it came to hurting Magdalene, Abaddon seemed more aggressive. Abaddon wanted Judas’ spot more than anyone, it was an interesting dynamic. Especially because Judas had once been Magdalene’s friend. Pulling back within her mind, she closed her eyes, imagining herself somewhere else, anywhere else. 

She remembered Him, on the cross. She remembered crying and trying to prevent any more pain than was already inflicted on Him. She missed Him. Her heart stung as she opened her eyes again, realizing that her mind was more torturous than anything they could do to her. Eyes dark, she met Abaddon’s, challenging her. Magdalene wouldn’t speak, and hurting her would only cause her truth to slip further from her. Not closer.

[turncoatsilver-deactivated20180]

Isabella’s eyes tracked across the other’s face upon finally really seeing her, realizing with a start that this was someone that she was unfamiliar with. Well, that was slightly unfair. Isabella was better versed than most would expect in the residents of Paradise and the prison beyond the Fence. She knew the names of every resident that mattered in Lucifer’s mansion, in the prison, and within Paradise proper. What good was being a mole if you didn’t know who was around, didn’t have the basic information about who you were supposed to be observing whether from up-close or afar?

This was one of the fallen, of this she was certain. And as always with them, she had to check herself, check that first instinct of incredible disdain for them from making an appearance. It wouldn’t do, to have her allegiance spill across her face so tellingly. It wouldn’t do to have any of the angels know just how little she thought of them, not when they were equally as important to watch. Though she had ben assigned to watch the humans, they did not live in a bubble - the angels mattered too. The humans and angels had both a common goal and a common enemy. Isabella had been watching them too, from afar whenever they were all gathered together. The dinner at Lucifer’s mansion, and now, because it mattered and she had not been told to stop.

Instead of disdain, she deliberately contorted her features into something akin to nervous. The expression was well practiced and therefore looked fairly genuine, in this she is self-assured. The other only seemed to be staring at her dumbly, just as nervous as she should have been, and it struck Isabella as slightly odd, while also giving her an odd sense of power. Were the angels really that worn down, really that scared? She had no idea, but it would be something to consider later. For now though, the current circumstances left her with only one option. To speak.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she commented, voice hesitant, not because she was hesitant, but because she was once again playing a role. This was a role she had experience with, uncertainty had tinted interactions she had from the very start even as it was false, all of it was so false. “You aren’t one of the humans. I’d know you by now,” she said next, stating it like fact. This was fact. “Who are you?” she asked, finally, letting the question hang in the air, even as she knew the answer.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

She felt lost. In these moments she felt entirely lost, running through the motions that she knew she needed to. Find the train. That was all she was holding onto while she stood there, dumb struck in front of a woman who was now speaking to her. Dark eyes watched the woman carefully, ensuring there was no threatening movements. In these moments, Magdalene felt feral. She felt like without her heart and her will she was just an animal attempting to survive as best as possible. She felt stuck within her own head, so deeply buried she could only rely on her instincts rather than her heart. Sometimes, sometimes her heart would show through but Alastair and Abaddon hadn’t been kind, they hadn’t helped her heart the way Abel’s love would or the way that other’s kindness had. In this moment she was doing everything in her power to choke back tears, attempt to keep the mental warfare waging internally down long enough for her to get information.

She had hardly registered what the woman was saying, something about never seeing her before. It didn’t matter. Magdalene hadn’t seen many of the humans before. Going out to the fence was something she rarely did. She preferred instead to stay inside alone, where she could torment herself quietly. Her eyes just watched, body not moving as the stranger continued to speak, calling her out for not being human quickly. Whoever it was could probably easily tell she was an angel from her garb and the fear in her eyes. Her mouth opened slightly to answer the question, but her voice wasn’t there. She felt it rude to turn and run in the moments, and maybe this person had heard or seen something about the train.

Taking a small breath, attempting to encourage herself, Magdalene pushed her arm up, finger extended to point to the paper and pen she had been holding in her hand. She put her arm down quickly, shifting it to her outfit to pull out a pencil. She would write, however, there was no way Magdalene could bring herself to speak in that moment.

[turncoatsilver-deactivated20180]

Acqua del Sangue: Starter 01

Open To: Angels, Humans & Demons Date: September 17, 2016 - 9:48 PM Location: Mountain Outskirts

Exhaustion was already starting to set in and she had only been wandering for a mere two hours. Once, during her army days, two hours of physical exertion would have only been the beginning, a small torture with an end far in the distance. But then, those days were long gone and along with them any physical benefits she might have gained. After all, in the interval between, she had been gifted raven feather wings though they had been taken from her too soon.

There were impressions to record, from interactions she had on this wild night, from the events at the abandoned mayor’s home, from the train. Oh, she was sure that Lucifer knew much of what was going on, but she had been given a task, and she would fulfill that task even if it had her doing somewhat pointless work. She would rather have done the work and have it be useless than the alternative, being accused of shirking her duties. 

Eyes scanned her nearby surroundings, looking to make sure she wasn’t about to be caught unawares. Seeing no one, she removed her sweater and spread it across the ground, before sitting on it criss-cross-applesauce, the way she once had at childhood gymnastics classes, at circle-time in Kindergarten. It was oddly comforting, oddly comfortable. Fishing her notebook and pen from its customary pocket as well as the penlight she tended to carry (you never knew when that sort of thing was helpful) she only hesitated a moment before clicking the penlight on and situating it between her teeth. From there, she opened her notebook, picked up her pen and began to write, losing track of time entirely. 

It was the presence of another’s breathing pattern that interrupted her thoughts and alerted her to their presence. Even distracted as she was, she was not so inattentive as to not notice it in what was otherwise a silent night (if one didn’t count distant sounds of others and her own breathing). Hand paused in its motions, last word paused, only half-written, before she twisted the pen to retract the tip and closed the notebook around the pen. She didn’t know who was standing near her and the notebook was private, only for some eyes, not all. Next, penlight was released from the grasp of her teeth, falling into her lap, as she looked up to see who stood near her. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, as she looked up, before even knowing she was talking to, hints of annoyance at being disturbed tinging her voice, mind already formulating a ready explanation (lie) for what she was doing if it proved necessary. 

[silent-magdalene-blog]

She was exhausted. Her time with Alastair and Abaddon hadn’t left her with too severe of injuries, but the mental warfare they caused her was torment. Magdalene had managed not to talk in all their questioning, in all their interrogation. They attacked her, however rather than physically like Raphael it was all mental. Her mind still tired, still scared, by the time she was pushed back into her cell. She had almost missed the fact that Gabriel mentioned a train approaching. Almost. Lucky to be in the right place in the right time, Magdalene entered the cell with her little piece of information. Holding onto it tightly as she tried to think of what it meant. A train. Hadn’t all the trains been off since the fall? Hadn’t the humans been just as trapped as the angels? How would the train get in? Her mind raced with questions, too busy now to even notice the angels slipping through the tunnel, slipping out of the room. 

Realizing she was in a room with just a few people left, she quickly inquired to what was happening and began her own escape. She was a straggler, left alone as the others rushed off to freedom. Freedom was only short, though. Magdalene knew they were too valuable to be let free with the threat that lingered from this train. All Magdalene wanted was information. She would make her way to the train. Magdalene would see what this mess was. She heard it was headed to the mountain so that would be where she head. 

Her tired body pushed itself through the tunnel, slow and steady she was careful not to move too quick otherwise tire herself. Adrenaline pushed through her veins in the dark night as she breathed the fresh air, as she finally visited the town she had always seen through the slats of the fence. 

Biting her lip, she made note of the mountain and moved towards it. Her body moving quietly through the night, careful not to step on anything that would make too much noise. She had to make it there, she couldn’t be caught. Nearing the mountainside, though, she wandered through the little area noticing a light. Who was there? They were just sitting, so Magdalene figured they posed no sort of threat. Letting her guard down a little, she allowed herself to get closer to see who was there. Still moving as silently as she could she tried to be quiet however it didn’t seem to be enough. 

The woman who had been sitting on the ground, seemingly unthreatening, looked up and asked if she could help. Quickly, Magdalene shook her head no. She should be on her way, she should run but she felt immobilized by her own fear. She hadn’t seen this woman before, she had no recognition to who they may be. Eyes nervous, she just stood there frozen, watching the woman who sat in her way.  

[fideiism]

His breath caught in his throat as he heard her voice, clear in his ear, the ghost of a full voice against his cheek. Abel squeezed his eyes shut as he listened, letting her voice resonate in the buzzing hollow of his mind; it was a great honor to hear Magdalene’s voice, especially now. She spoke to no one – and he could hardly blame her. It was a testament to how deeply she believed in him, surely, that she had deigned to speak to him now. It was also a testament to how truly she believed in his love for Raphael; a secret for a secret. 

“I will,” he nodded, his voice a whisper against her cheek as he tightened his arms around her slender waist. Abel felt quite bad for smearing his blood upon her cheek, her clothes, her hair. But she wasn’t moving; she was here for him, as so few would dare to be, and for that he was grateful. “I only wish he would be back sooner – I can only imagine what –” Abel shook his head, cheek rubbing stiltedly against hers. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. But the circumstance was undeniably frightening. 

“It’s frightening,” he whispered, “love. Is it meant to be frightening?” He didn’t expect a response, of course; he would be more than happy to just sit in comfortable silence with her. Wasn’t love something they were meant to be sure about, the angels? If so, he was doing a horrid job of it. Abel knew much less about many things than he would like to admit – and if anyone were not to judge him, it would be Magdalene. 

[silent-magdalene-blog]

If there was one thing Magdalene understood deeply it was her own love. She saw it within others, however most often she was oblivious to how much others loved her. In the moments of Abel’s sadness she could see the love shining through, the want to assist and she knew they were all helpless to help it, to kindle the love that existed among many. Love wasn’t something that was nurtured in these cells, it wasn’t soft and beautiful like it normally blossomed to be; instead it was hardened, tough and chewy because there was no way to protect it from the harshness imbued in their everyday lives.  

Her hand reached to Abel’s back, rubbing it in hopes to stop the sadness to calm him a bit. She had no ability to give him hope or advice for what would be happening to Raphael. While her body was there, her mind began to slip into its loop of His death. Her eyes slowly focusing on a faraway place as she thought of how His death was at least quick, it was not drawn out. He did not struggle to breath, He hardly knew death was coming. Magdalene hadn’t had to comfort His body, she hadn’t hope that He would pull through. He was just gone in an instant. Before it was so punishing, she never got closure or final words with Him; however Abel’s suffering made her mildly thankful that she didn’t have to sit and try to console Him through His death. It was selfish, but it was something of a comfort where she had very little in her life. 

Coming back, she looked back at the man who seemed to be struggling so much. He was bloody, beaten down but the thing that seemed to hurt him the most was his heart. She shook her head at him, willing Abel not to think of what Raphael was going through. He would only punish himself. It would only be torture for all the moments he was away from the cell, minds had a terrible way of imagining the worst case possible. 

His whisper was quiet but poignant. She watched his movements, sad. Love was frightening. Love was to be vulnerable, however in a place where vulnerability would kill you it was amazing that they could still love in such a place. Her arms squeezed him closer to her, praying he would be okay. Magdalene hadn’t been sure who to pray to anymore, but maybe her will would be enough, her silent hopes and desires enough to bring them into being.

[rowanofthedamned-blog]

Closed: @silent-magdalene· Date: Sept. 23 Location: New Utopia Prison

A note, a murder, and a mountain.

It was rather biblical, wasn’t it? The thought that the three could somehow coalescence into a wholly assured destruction, and cause chaos to ring through an already hell-stricken town. She would have smiled at the havoc had she not known the displeasure it brought her lord. Still, all three sparked a curiosity in her, though each was not unaccompanied by their own varying levels of intrigue. The mountain, and whoever came along with or within it, would be revealed in due time; whether the revelation was granted by force or by voluntary action was the only question that truly cast a pall over her mind. The murder, on the other hand, seemed to sing a song of the former quality. Rowan had witnessed the once murky-grey waters of the bay turn a deep shade of crimson as a body washed up along the shore, complete with a missing wing. It was an attack on her kind, a notice of death with supposed purpose – brutality at its finest, which would only render a savagery in equal measure.

The note, in her opinion, was the most curious of the three occurrences. It was, after all, the one she knew the least about, and therefore had the greatest interest in. Admittedly, Rowan wasn’t sure if it was the note itself that intrigued her, or if it was simply the woman whose eyes it was meant for. Still, there were questions that remained unanswered, ones that demanded solutions. Had the letter caused Magdalene to hope or to despair? Did she tell any of her kind what the note contained? What would it take to get Magdalene to talk? 

Rowan didn’t know those answers yet, but she did know that there were two hundred and six bones in one’s body. Just as well, she knew how to irreparably damage every bone and each of their corresponding muscles. But, this knowledge had already been used on the silent girl several times over, and had proven to be of no avail, which lent itself to the understanding that, should a broken body result in silence, a broken mind may very well do the trick. 

The flame-haired girl entered the cell calmly. “They say that you’ve gone insane. That your silence has severed your sensibilities.” She walked a few paces, eyes grazing over a few splotches of blood on the cell floor before adding, “You know, it would only take a few words to prove them wrong. Won’t you speak for me, then, Magdelene?”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

The night would have been likened to a delusion if Judas hadn’t been present. Magdalene would have thought that after hours of spending time being interrogated she would have promptly fallen asleep in her cell and dreamt of her usual last moments with Jesus, but this time the dream was different it was of her escape. Except, it wasn’t a dream. Judas caught her with note in hand. Since there had been small rumors going around, about RECON, about the missing angel. Junia, the quiet woman who she had attempted to pick locks with had managed to flee from the awful prison. Magdalene really was impressed, she really hadn’t been smart enough to get away, intelligent enough to hide from the demons. She always assumed she would be caught, and having been caught off guard by the note Magdalene was entirely helpless in that moment. 

Now that she was back, though, she spent most of her time in that cell, contemplating the meaning of the note, thinking where Mary may be. She could be in that mountain Magdalene only prayed she was safe. Prayed to Him when he wasn’t even alive anymore. Maybe He would still here her, maybe He wasn’t dead but not gone. She could only hope. 

In the time between her being found by Judas and this afternoon, though, Magdalene had only told Stella about it. She wanted to tell someone else, Magdalene wanted someone to know who could go look, go on a mission to find Mary where Magdalene was trapped in this little cell locked away in her own mind. 

The footsteps echoed through the hall way, pulled the woman who was in a daze back into consciousness only to see a face looking through the bars that kept her in, that trapped her. Lazy eyes focused only to lay upon the demon who was now standing on the other side of the bars. She stay very still, only thing moving was her chest as she breathed and her eyes still watching. The words that began to ring through the cell were something she knew to be untrue, despite her hope being nearly abysmal, she had by no means lost her sanity. Magdalene still was aware of all the pain, aware of all the hurt. She still had faith. 

A frown grew on her face as Rowan continued talking, her body shifted as she curled her legs into her chest. Magdalene didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to be interrogated again. She knew nothing more than anyone else. All she knew was Mary was alive and wanted her. She wouldn’t speak for Rowan, still, though.

Closing her eyes again, she decided maybe if she feigned sleep Rowan would give up and leave.

[stellapryce]

A great sigh pulled from Stella. It hurt – tugged at her shoulders wrong, wrenched her chest, hurt her raw throat. But it healed, somewhat, spiritually. Stella never would have even thought she had a spirituality before now. But everything was muddled for her. Angels, demons, heaven, hell, the Bible and fairy tales… So maybe she could have some kind of thought of a greater power. Not God, necessarily, even if he was a real being. But just…something to believe in. To look at Magdalene’s face (or Abel’s, or Eve’s, or Susanna’s) she couldn’t very well doubt the entirety of it.

“That’s good,” Stella said, letting her eyes close. It was good, it was…good. Felt like she could hand over some of the responsibility. There were angels on their side, on the outside, with power. Stella didn’t have to worry about leading anything, creating all the plans and acting out on them. For now, tied to this post, she could just…sit it out. Rest and wait.

She could almost cry from the relief.

“Thank you,” she finally intoned, opening her eyes once more to meet Magdalene’s. “Thank you, for telling me.” The angel could have shared with anyone, but she trusted Stella enough to tell her. The other angels, it might seem like a given to tell them, but Stella was just a human in their playground. And it felt good to know that Magdalene had wanted her to know. For whatever reason.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

A small, smile appeared on her face. One that only pulled at the corners of her mouth and shone in her eyes, it was barely visible and only sat for a moment but it was a genuine smile. Magdalene felt happy for giving Stella something to hold onto, something for the girl who was now so torn down her own hope and faith. 

It was faith in a mysterious group of people who hadn’t made any real contact with them other than the voice that rang out from the mayor’s office without stop for what seemed like months, but Stella had it. She was strong and would get through it and Magdalene saw it. In that moment Magdalene believed in the woman, believed in the human who had so much misery already. It was odd, like a little fire in her belly that was burning for Stella, for Mary, for whoever RECON may be. Magdalene was starting to believe there was hope, starting to find that even with His death there were still those who fought for goodness and for love. There were still those who cared and burned bright. 

If only He could have seen them now, if only he could have seen those who were truly heroes. Magdalene quickly closed the distance between her and Stella, wrapping her slender arms around the woman who had been so hurt by this war. Her head rested upon her shoulder for a second as she squeezed. It was a thank you. With so few words, Magdalene knew it would resonate well. Stella was helping re-inspire a woman who had lost her hope. Maybe Magdalene wasn’t so lost without Him. Maybe she was alive for a reason.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

Acqua Del Sangue

Closed: @conquistadorabaddon​ ; Abaddon Time: September 17th, 12:13 PM Location: Torture Chamber

It was like a game. Back and forth, they would both tug on the same rope trying to get their way. It also was absolutely ridiculous that Magdalene was stuck here, in the presence of the demons acting like absolute buffoons. 

No. She would not talk, not to them, she had no words for them. Nothing that was worth saying. They kept asking the same questions over and over again; in between answers they’d poke at her, prod, see if they could get her to speak. Of course not. The more torture she ensued the more she retreated inside herself. Into the place where she was safe. 

Magdalene had quickly grown numb to pain, when her heart ached every day, nothing seemed comparable. Not the whipping, not the beating, nothing. She could endure hours of them attempting to get her to speak, and so far she had. Raphael seemed in rough shape when it was time for him to return to the cell. Poor Abel had to have been devastated. However, their approach seemed much simpler with Magdalene, they were trying to make it easy. She was fragile, she didn’t fight like many of the other angels. However, she also didn’t speak. 

She spent much of the time tortured with her eyes closed, focusing on herself, focusing on the fact that they were looking for Mary. She focused on the fact that one of the strongest angels got out of their grasps too. How they had power, the angels had some sense of hope. While she attempted to keep her mind off of Him, sometimes it would fade into that and her face would wince with pain. Not physical pain but the mental torture she gave to herself. Nothing would break her more than that day. Nothing hurt like that loss. 

Now, though, there was a break. Magdalene dared to open her eyes, looking around the room carefully. The dark cell hadn’t change except for a lack of other people. However, as soon as the realization sunk in, there were steps on the other side of the door, a knob turning only for Abaddon to enter. 

She tried not to show her nervousness to seeing the woman there. This demon was different than the others, most sympathized with her. Most felt an aversion to showing her pain, but Abaddon sought to destroy everything Magdalene was, faith. Her faith in Him was the only thing she held onto. Even now, in His death, she would send out silent prayers, begging for them to be answered though there was no one on the other line. He was the king and there was no match. Not Lucifer, not Judas, nor would anyone be able to. 

Eyes tiredly grazing over Abaddon, she watched her carefully, staying very still. Magdalene was exhausted, whatever Abaddon’s plan was she doubted it would be successful if it included Magdalene’s voice.

[fideiism]

Abel took the pad and paper, wiping beneath his eyes, tears upon the back of his hands, as he read her message, scrawled in neat print. A watery smile danced across his visage, and he shook his head, gently reaching across her to pluck the pen from Magdalene’s hands. He wanted to speak in her language, to communicate silently so that no one listening could truly understand how weak he had truly allowed himself to be. Love, it seemed, was more a weakness than he would have liked to admit. 

I couldn’t stop them, though. He wrote, If I could only have slowed Judas down, given Raphael a chance to – 

Abel huffed in frustration, brow furrowed, as he handed the pen back to Magdalene, sadly letting the pad of paper slip back into her lap. The heels of his hands rubbed roughly across his eyes; there was nothing he could have done, in truth. He was just horridly hopeful, horridly optimistic; there was nothing he could have done, in truth. As much as he might have liked to believe that he could save Raphael in any capacity, they were all powerless against the demons who would keep them as pets. 

“I’m sorry,” Abel muttered, though he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was apologizing for, “I just – I love him. I need him to be okay.” Admitting his love aloud was to bare his soul; if there was anyone who would see his soul and treat it kindly, it was Magdalene. 

[silent-magdalene-blog]

She let the paper go, watching it move across the paper carefully. His own handwriting seemed rushed, nervous in his haste but when she picked the paper up off her lap she felt a pang of sadness for him. There wasn’t anything he could have done better. They were all weak, they were all beaten down enough that they wouldn’t stand a chance. Samson and Raphael seemed the best off and even they were so far outnumbered more often than not that they were left unable to really make a change.

Gently rubbing on the corners of the paper, she caused them to curl. She didn’t know how to respond, she could have never slowed Judas down physically herself. She wouldn’t have been able to stop them either. None of them would be able to. Not even Samson.

When he spoke again, she looked at him confused, sorry really was uncalled for. She understood why he was upset and hadn’t thought it a weakness nor a flaw, she just thought it as him bearing his heart. But the next words that were spoken made Magdalene hurt a little more, it made her realize why Abel was so hurt by this why he was left so paralyzed.

All she did was pull him close again, hugging him. Her mouth close to his ear, she whispered,“He’ll be back. Comfort him.” She stated, that was all she could manage it’s the only advice she had. She knew if Jesus came back it’s what he’d do to make her feel better. It’s what she tried to do for him while he sat on that cross so long ago. She knew there were some battles that couldn’t be fought, but battles were the small picture. This was a much bigger game than even she could fathom.

[stellapryce]

A sigh pulled through Stella and she smiled to the woman. Hope. There was… Well, there was something. There was a flicker of something starting to resemble hope. But Stella had been let down before. Just the other day, really. She had been filled with hope. Bursting with it, practically. And look how that plan had worked out. She was tied to a whipping post, in a prison. 

But.

There was Recon. There was Mary. There was a chance. And even with her newfound need to be careful and hesitant, Stella had to admit that it looked good. At least for starters. Magdalene’s smile, though, was brimming with the stuff. Bright, unfiltered hope and belief and faith. More than Stella had ever experienced in her life, let along at one time.

“There is,” Stella agreed, finding a smile. “Do… Do you think there are other angels with her?” she asked, trying to get a picture of this Recon. Because Stella had seen the wreckage before Alastair had dragged her down. And she had seen an opening. They weren’t as trapped in the mountain as the demons might have thought they were.

Mary was with Recon. Other angels too, perhaps. Recon was in the mountain but not for long. Recon was coming. Mary was coming. For a moment, Stella remembered what pure hope felt like. It felt good.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

Magdalene hadn’t gotten very close to RECON. She stood at the mountainside trapped when she found the arrow. She wandered there trying to find a way in, trying to find a sign and just found the note. That’s all she had to go off of, it was simply two names. One hers, the other Mary’s, it wasn’t even another’s handwriting. 

Sighing, she looked at Stella before she shrugged. Magdalene had no idea. She didn’t want to give false hope, already she wasn’t sure how sturdy her hope was. It felt like a treat dangling just out of her reach, Magdalene was trying her best to jump to reach it but hadn’t the ability yet. She couldn’t fathom what Mary’s thoughts were and how she was feeling. 

She just wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t in New Utopia like Stella and herself. 

However, Mary was smart. She never would join a losing battle. She would play her cards right. She had always been smart about keeping her child safe, safe from the world that hated him, she would do similarly now. Mary was nothing if not intelligent. After thinking it over a while, she determined that Mary would likely not be alone. She would likely rally the many angels whose faces were missing in the prison. “I doubt she’s alone” was all Magdalene gave as an answer. Her hand reached to Stella’s arm, rubbing it in comfortingly. She was trying to reassure her. Even talking about Recon seemed to give her some hope, Magdalene refused to let her lose it. She refused to see her light go out.

[langvor]

There was a plate set in the center of the table, stacked with prosciutto and soft cheeses, figs and black olives, a small bowl of nuts that Judas dipped his fingers into, popping several into his mouth as he waited for Magdalene to finish. Diverting his attention from her was a show of apathy, of disregard, and he amused himself by snatching at snippets of conversation. Hostile, predictably, from a table lined with angels and demons and human pawns with far too much pride. Then Magdalene’s hand was held up for him to read.

The writing was in her familiar, lilting print. And it was slightly difficult to read, the letters mottled and seeping into the lines of her skin.

Are you happy?

Judas paused. Taken aback. This was–

Even now, did she–

Judas caught himself.

No.

The stillness of his face rippled–corners of his mouth quirking slightly, brows drawing low, eyes narrowing. And in a slow, broadcasted movement, Judas wrapped his fingers around her wrist, using his thumb to calmy rub the words into an intelligible smear on skin.

She didn’t care.

This was the accusation he’d been expecting, worded to catch him unawares, made to seem kind even as it questioned his motives. And Judas turned to her, held her gaze as steadily as she challenged his. “I’m a king, Maggie.“ He dropped her hand. “And I carry it better than he ever did.“ Jesus.

“Don’t you think?”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

She caught his hesitation. She noticed the breaths before he spoke once more. The silent nervousness that hung in the air for a second before it was wiped off his face. Before he grabbed her wrist. She, too distracted to even pull away. Scared, Magdalene tried to shimmy her arm out of his grasp, but he just kept rubbing it with his thumb. Erasing her words. 

She had made him nervous. 

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him, shaking a little from the fear that now coursed through her veins. She watched him talk carefully. Her eyes brimming with tears at the very mention of Him. Very few people brought up Jesus, brought up His death. Especially around Magdalene, she was a porcelain doll that would break if the word was dropped in their minds. Judas however, had little concern to it. He wanted to hurt her it seemed, for whatever her question had caused him. 

Taking her arm back she looked down at it. The black ink smudged against her hand looked like a bruise now. She hadn’t any idea what it meant, she couldn’t read Judas. She was never entirely able too. All she could see was that glint of nervousness in his demeanor for that moment. Pen in hand, this time she wrote on the inside of her hand, knowing it would be easier to see. 

You are no closer to king than you were before. Lucifer is reigning king here and everyone else is just waiting for you to fall.

The words barely fit on her palm, however they were easier to read on her lighter, rougher skin. Only to slowly move her hand for Judas to see once more. Her eyes watched her hand carefully, hoping he wouldn’t get angry at her. She was telling the truth. She had seen it in Abaddon’s eyes. Seen her hunger to conquer Lucifer, never mind overthrow Judas. They were all in it for themselves. They didn’t care for each other. Finally, a deep breath later she looked up at him, actually worried about him. Worried about what the demons would do if he slipped up. He may have killed her love, not once but twice, but Judas had always been misguided. He loved Judas, so Magdalene knew she couldn’t hate him despite her want to.

[stellapryce]

Magdalene spoke again and Stella hung on every word. Even if it had just been a discussion of the weather, she would have been intent. But it wasn’t the weather – it was something far more important. It was… “Mary?” she asked softly. Abel as Abel and Eve was Eve and that meant that the Mary Magdalene spoke of was… Virgin Mary. Mother of Jesus. The Holy Madonna. And Stella had thought that meeting Eve was something…

“You think there are angels with Recon,” Stella added, licking her lips. That… To be honest, she didn’t know what that meant. But she knew it was good. It meant that it wasn’t just humans fighting which meant they had more power. At least one angel, a pretty high-up one, she had to imagine. Holy Mary, Mother of God…

It was good news, at least. It helped a little, gave her something to think about. Something other than the fact that she was tied up in the prison with the demons uncomfortably close and watchful. At least there was this as a distraction. She smiles to Magdalene. “Thanks.” Being reminded of Recon. It reminded her that the situation now was shitty but… But that wasn’t it. There were others fighting just like she was, just like they were. Recon was exactly what she had hoped. More people who didn’t want to be controlled any longer. 

That was good news.

And if they had angels with them… All the better.

[silent-magdalene-blog]

What other Mary was there? Magdalene was somewhat forgetful that she was called Mary at one point, that her name had been something different in the bible than she actually preferred to be called by. She nodded, wanting to move on from the topic. Yes. Mary was who she thought she was. Stella seemed so star struck by the idea of Magdalene’s friend being real that she wondered if the woman was real, if she was really her friend for just an instant before suppressing the thoughts, remembering the note she found desperately. 

Of course angels were working with Recon, how else would they have been able to make it so far? Humans were intelligent, however they hadn’t understood just what Lucifer was doing, they couldn’t predict the man they way that angels could, with eons of experience working with him she knew it was almost necessary. She smiled, glad Mary was alive, thankful that talking about her friend gave her hope. 

“There is hope.” She smiled at Stella, hoping the woman saw the hope in the situation, hoping they Stella wouldn’t give up. There would be hope, even if it took time to come around. Stella would be free with time. It just may be more time than either of them wanted to wait.

[fideiism]

Magdalene knew of love better than anyone; she would understand, she would know what it meant to see Raphael dragged away, so soon after an unspoken declaration, a revelation which he’d been remiss to return aloud. His confusion, his hesitance, had made him weak; there was no excuse for his silence, and he could only imagine what Raphael must think of him now. But, of course, Abel had always been the weaker of the two. 

He gratefully wrapped his arms around Magdalene’s gentle form, burying bloodied face in her shoulder and inhaling her familiar scent. Magdalene would have made a wonderful mother, Abel knew, for she had never failed to comfort where most others would surely think him a waste of tears and harried breath. Abel was utterly grateful for her, and always would be; if only he could be strong enough to give her love back. Raphael would return, surely, but Jesus would not. It was a sad truth, and the only thing that kept him dancing upon the brink of both sadness and hope. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, voice muffled in his shoulder; his apology had no end, but a multitude of bases from which it could be founded – he would never be sorry enough for letting her be hurt, for letting her lose her voice, for watching Raphael walk away, for keeping his love silent, unwitting, until it was too late. “I just need him to be okay,” his voice was a squeak, a pitiful whine, barely audible, “I didn’t tell him I – I tried to help him, but –” He shook his head, face burrowing more acutely into her shoulder. 

“I’m useless, Magdalene. I’m weak.”

[silent-magdalene-blog]

She shook her head, there was no need for further apologies. Abel had no reason to apologize, he had every right to be upset. He had watched a man he dearly cared about be taken from his grasp. He had been proved that he was not strong enough to fight against the demons and now was left her alone. All she could do was offer her own care and concern. 

And Magdalene was wonderful at that, she was wonderful at hugging people and making them feel better. Even as a human she would often spend time with men, just listening to them as they talked about themselves and why they were upset. She never knew why the longed for the company of a woman physically when it seemed they needed emotional support more. 

His next words rung out to her, resonating deep within her. Abel wasn’t useless, he fought. He wasn’t strong, however he had the willingness to fight. Magdalene hadn’t even been willing to fight. She pulled away from him finally, breaking the hug only to look him in the eyes. They screamed no, she hadn’t wanted him to feel this way. Magdalene didn’t want him to feel useless and weak. That was what she was, not the man who was bloodied from fighting for Raphael, for trying to protect him. 

Her fingers moved to the inside of her garments, pining for her pad of paper and her pen. Pulling them out; she wrote down just a couple words in her script. 

“You are strong. You fought them; that is brave and strong.”