Whispers from the Deep - Biplanes & Bisexuality

You had your hand on your pistol. You were ready to use it. You knew your friends had your back if you did. He left his pulpit, walking towards you, the knife still his hand, past the sacrificial basin, anger in his voice. The whispers were buzzing in your ears. Denounce him. Expose his lies. Expose all the hurt he put you and everyone else through.

You moved your hand away from your gun and held your head high.

He accused you of theft, of lying, of poisoning minds and souls. He said you were ungrateful, a troublemaker, a rule-breaker. Faithless, worthless, consort of apostates and inlanders. That this was what happened to those who didn't listen. Everything he said was true, or could be true. It hurt, tore at you, cut deep.

Lies and fear. All he had. The whispers held you firm, reminded you who you were, why you were here, what he had done. Why you couldn't falter.

"I'm not here for you." You said simply.

Across the hall, a cacophony of voices murmured sleepily. Not here for you. You didn't know if it was just the entranced mimicking the words or the whispers speaking through them, but it was true. He'd taken a place for the community and their faith and made it about him.

He didn't like hearing that. He came storming down off his pulpit, ritual knife in hand, calling the militia to their feet. Around you, your friends and neighbors stirred, and he shushed the rest of them, repeating the phrases that kept them docile. Your mind felt foggy a moment, but soon cleared with purpose.

You pushed past him and headed for the pulpit. He made to move, but Arren blocked his path with the barrel of his rifle.

"I think you better let her go, sir." He said simply.

You stepped up and looked over your whole town, from a perspective you'd pictured but never been able to see. Row on row, maybe five hundred people in three bands. Closest, a row of black, then a row of white, then a row of red.

"Um... hey, everyone. Wake up, please?" You said, your voice breaking a bit.

You took a deep breath and tried again. "Wake up!"

They started stirring. Eyes opening, people sitting up, people staring. So many people.

It'll be okay, the whispers said. These were your people. You could do this.

"Hi. Um... the seating arrangement is kind of freaking me out, so if anyone wants to move to another seat, go ahead, okay?"

Your friends found some free seats, but nobody else moved. They just stared, in bemusement, shock, or horror. Oh well.

"Okay, so... um. So, I'm really not great at this whole talking thing, but I just want to talk to everyone a few minutes. I imagine you've heard a lot about me and Arren in the past few weeks, and, well, I just wanted to..."

You took a second to collect your thoughts.

"I've done some things I shouldn't have done. I stole from the community. A plane, and, uh, our apprentice tattooist. And I kinda woke everyone up in the middle of the night. Probably freaked my dad out. Sorry about that."

You dad, sitting in one of the front rows, had his head in his hands, too many emotions rushing through him. You were going to have to have a real long talk with him after this. The whispers in your head were joined by the whispers of people in the seats, some people shifting around. Nobody freaking out and rushing the stage yet, though, that was good.

"So, I'm not blameless. But, well, nobody is, right? There's been some hard years, but every year is hard on the coast. It's our lot, right? That's what he's been saying all these years?"

The High Priest made some infuriated noises, but Wulf gave him one of her more murder-y glances and he shut up.

"It's not though. I doesn't have to be. The world out there is hurting too, everyone is. But we can't accept that things can't get better. We shouldn't accept that we should just be afraid, bow down, live in this passive terror of the world coming to get us. I know it's easy. It's easy just accepting what your place is, that your fate is ordained, that this life is just something to get through until it's over. It's easy to think that when all the other possibility have been stolen from you."

You considered an accusing finger, but you restrained yourself. This wasn't a trial. This wasn't about him. You weren't here for him.

"The man who stood behind this pulpit has stolen from you. He stole money, I don't know how much, but a lot." You unclipped your purse and lay five golden coins on the pulpit. The eyes of your impoverished neighbors went wide looking at them. "But more than that, he stole our lives from us. He entranced us. He kept us poor, kept us desperate and afraid. He kept us needing him, needing him so badly we'd do whatever he asked of us. Isn't that right? Or is it just that nobody eats fish anymore, that fuel costs more, that grain is going out of fashion? I wonder what people will find if they check the box under your bed, sir?"

The High Priest sputtered something incoherent, stopped, and ran, through the open doors and out into the storm. You indicated to Minna to follow him out and prevent him from doing anything to the planes.

"Right. So, uh, I'm not coming back to stay, but I just... I couldn't stand to think he was still here, still hurting people. I hope you understand." You finished, and you looked around for the reaction.

Utter silence. A wall of unreadable emotion in front of you.

"So, uh... that's about what I had." You stepped out from behind the pulpit. "I think Katrin can take over from here, but..."

"What do we do now?" Somebody called out. You thought it might be Laust Nielsen. Cool guy. His wife Sabine used to help you with your homework. They had a kid due soon, didn't they?

"I dunno. I'm still figuring that stuff out myself." You said. "But... wanna talk about?"

---

People crowded around for what seemed like hours, some angry, some thankful, most just asking questions about what it was like inland. You had Arren get them to make some room so it wasn't just the guys up front who got close that got a chance to talk to you.

They all had the same questions. What now? How do we go on? Who will protect us?

You took your time explaining they didn't need protection. The militia squadron could. The skies themselves could. Most importantly, the Gods would. That was controversial, to invoke the Gods as protective entities. People looked at you like you were crazy, but you insisted. It's what they are. They'd protected you, and really, people ought to be listening to them instead of you. But they kept probing, so you kept answering.

This was a conversion. For all his other sins, the High Priest taught you everything you needed to know for one of these. Don't contradict people, don't argue. Let people be curious, and answer their questions as best you could. Talk about their lives and yours, how to make things better going forward, how to live the faith instead of the words of a conman.

You invited Katrin up with you to help you out. Teary-eyed, she sat next to you and provided the scriptural backup you needed. She was a much better speaker than you, and it wasn't long before you were talking less and she was talking more, as she started laying out a plan for healing the community. It was a little upsetting how quickly people latched onto her, how desperate they seemed for an authority, but that was okay. Katrin was a good friend, she could handle it.

In a lull, you apologized to her for not doing something sooner. She hugged you and just nodded sadly. It wasn't alright, but it was alright.

You turned to answering just the material questions about the outside, about where you'd gone and what you'd seen. About the dead city, the manor, the peaceful towns, and the dam of your long-lost cousins. You let them know where the planes could fly to find drum up more trade. But eventually, you just let Katrin take over entirely, letting her stand up behind the pulpit. You pricked your finger over the basin, one final offering, and you walked back outside with your friends. Minna was waiting under a stoop to keep off the rain, and you all joined her, sitting in a little cluster of friends.

"What happened to the High Priest?" You said.

"He ran up the coast. Do you want to follow him?" She said.

"Nah. I think he's done." You said. "Good job everyone."

The team gave a ragged little mock cheer.

"Alright, boss, what's the plan now?" Heinrich said.

"We'll buy some fuel and make sure nobody shoots anyone today, and... Anny, we can show you the temple proper once services are over. There's a lot of really old carvings in there, we can explain what they mean and where we come from. Does that sounds good?"

She nodded, a huge smile on her face. "That sounds awesome."

"Cool. So yeah, we'll fly out in the morning, I guess. We'll swing by Aldershof and find some work to tide us over until the cargo plane is ready, then... I dunno. We'll move on." You said. You wanted to spend a night home, at least, and talk to your dad.

"Move on to where?" Wulf asked.

You looked out over the dark and turbulent ocean, gripped your lovers hands, and sighed, content. The whispers had suggestions, but they could wait.

"I dunno." You said finally. "We'll figure it out when we get there."