The Roaring Age (nWoD)

Page 55: The Art of Mental Wellness, Part 5

God didn't ask you to do only what was convenient, when it suited your tastes. God was not a part-time father, who showed up to approve of your actions, and then step away. God was not a joke, and Miriam knew of no more horrible feeling than the knowledge that she had let down her faith, that she had failed what she saw as her duty to God and man.

Whoever was down there was a man, in some sense. At least as real as Littleboy, and yelling for the help of God.

God was here, as He was everywhere, and so was Miriam. "No, I can't," she said, in a low, almost trembling voice. This was folly, in a sense, and certainly it was pointless, or could be. But she had to trust the feeling that pumped from her heart and filled her head. The feeling that this was something she should do. That this is what God would want. That this was just, and more than just, it was the right move.

There were acts of justice that hurt the doer, and this could be one of them as she knelt down. "Please give me tools if you have any, or get out of the way."

She began to tug at the grate. It couldn't be that easy, but it did seem as if it were weaker than expected, especially when her hands, soking into the blood and muck around the grate, found a part of it that hadn't been screwed in.

The smell of blood was horrible up close, and she tried to ignore it, tugging at it. It was very, very heavy. The weight made her arms strain a little, but she grit her teeth and tried to force it. Inch by inch, it began to lift up,a nd more blood dripped down from the corners and the edges.

The iron was hard and a little sharp, and she felt as if she could cut her hands at any second, but she wasn't going to stop.

"Keep watch," Miriam said, loudly. She hoped she was speaking with authority as she did it. "If anyone comes, though, run."

"Why?"

"We're out here, doing something against the rules," Miriam pointed out, though the truth was because she didn't want to 'hear' someone die. She didn't want to be here at all, in a way, separated from Wayword and stressed and tired and sure that her duty required her to go down and see what was there.

"Oh, right."

She tugged again, and then once more, aware that this was only slowly giving way. But up and up she pulled, her muscles straining, her arms aching. She was strong for a girl, but even a strong man might have struggled at this.

It wasn't exactly easy. But she kept it up, until at last it began to really pull up, though only on one end. She was handed a screwdriver, and she began to work on another of the screws, pulling that open. It was easy once half of it was disassmbled, but she was also messy and annoyed and scared.

She wasn't the kind of person who dealt with mechanical subjects all that much. She didn't know her way around tools, though in this case it was easy. Just turn a screw, and pull it out. Maybe it should have been bolted to the ground, actually.

Once she was finally done, she looked down at the ground. It was a blood gutter, and so, unless it was even deeper than it looked, she'd be jumping down into knee-deep blood.

Oh well.

In the distance, there was the rich, deep sound of yet another dog barking. Harsh, and capable of making the skin crawl, but no more than that. Yet. But a sign that it was getting closer.

She dropped down, stumbling as she did, almost tripping and faceplanting. Her knees were hurting now as she looked up to see… a man and a dog.

The man was thin and naked. White, for that matter. She averted her eyes from anywhere but his face, which was shaggy with unshaven beard. He had brown hair, and brown eyes, his features dull and almost putty-like. Indistinct, in other words.

And he was holding a dog on a long, rope leash. It was big and brown, with dark red eyes and a mouth full of froth. It was the kind of dog you put down for fear of what it'd do, and it tried to leap at her, only to be held back by the chain.

Just looking at the dog filled her with an odd sort of fear. Or rather, the ghost of it. The memory of the fear. It had to be some kind of magical effect, whether caused by a Mage or some other being, because it was too sudden and too total as she tried to focus, pulling out a pen and pointing at him. She thought about him, tried to understand him and then the dog, two separate spells right on top of each other.

Except… she felt both of them at the same time. This was a monster; this was a man. This was both at the same time, and yet the monster was stronger than the man, who was weak, who was the exception and not the rule. It was not a social creature, but it was not particularly dim, though also not particularly brilliant. A normal person, but one without more than a slight hint of sharpness.

She couldn't get a good, close view of him, or perhaps it. Yet if one asked for God's mercy, him was the word. She kept the pencil steady, and tried to feel his emotions, shifting them a little more towards the positive. Or rather, to soften the anger she felt coming off almost visibly from the dog and the man. "It's okay," she whispered, as she felt the magic take, all silently. She was stretching herself pretty far, she knew, doing the kind of magic that she rarely did, and doing it in rapid succession as she pulled out a mirror, using it to deflect some light onto him from above, so she could more fully see his face as the dog strained and barked, trying to get off its leash and kill her.

But the dog and the man were one in the same. It felt like a metaphor, and yet this was a place in which metaphors could be remarkably literal.

The magic was at once hard and easy. It felt natural as breathing, but it was complex, watching him and trying to picture in her head what she wanted to do. She was a friend, and he needed to know that, as she crafted the spell in the span of a few breaths. She waded forward, symbols forming in her mind as she gestured with the mirror. "It's okay, God sees you. God forgives you, if you repent."

"Repent?!" the man asked, sounding confused and furious, but he subsided slightly as she reached, from what she could tell, just out of reach of the dog as long as he held the leash. If he let go, then it'd maul her. She knew this, but though her heart was racing, she didn't allow it to influence her.

"All men sin. All men fail. All women, too. God knows this, and yet He forgives this and far worse. I do not know what happened here, but my father is a preacher. I know that God forgives even the worst sinners, if they repent."

"If they confess?" he asked.

"Perhaps that too," Miriam said, neutrally. She wasn't a Catholic, and so confession wasn't necessary. God could hear it anywhere.

There was a growl up above, and Littleboy yelled, "I'm outta here!"

She had to assume that this was the monster. The leashed dog kept on barking as she held up her hands.

"You should pray, and see what prayer tells you. Because I'm trying to help you, and more than that, help this. Help everything and everyone." She gestured around, referring to the mind, even if he didn't know it.

"I… I don't know what I am. I just am."

"What is the dog?"

"I let go of it," he said. "And someone dies. I must hold onto it. I must hold onto it, because it's in me. It is me. I am it. I am… I don't know. I said this. I remember saying this, and then I didn't say this. What are you? Where am I?"

"That's a long question," Miriam said, sure that he was a being of dreams and memories. Which means he'd said all of this to Larry, once. Said all of that and then done something terrifying.

"You hurt someone, but people do hurt others, but they can repent. Understand? I forgive you. I just want to understand."

"Understand?"

"Yes," Miriam said, kneeling down in the blood. "Please kneel with me. Do you know Matthew chapter 8, verse 2? Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean."

"Who said it?" he asked, but he knelt, slowly, halfway collapsing into the blood and muck.

"A leper. The body might betray you, but the soul belongs to God, in the end, no matter what anyone may say or do to it." She closed her eyes. She was not afraid. God was here, and she breathed in and out.

"I am a beast, a monster."

"You are a man, where it counts. You can act as a man, you can talk, you possess a soul," Miriam said. "A soul that calls out for sustenance as a dying man calls for water. He leadeth you besides still waters. Let Him in. Close your eyes," she said, not knowing if he had or not. "And pray. Look into your heart."

There was scratching up above, as the wolf=-monster tried to break in. But she ignored it, and the scent of blood and gore and, after a moment for her nose to get used to it, feces as well. This was a prison, a prison that held a man and a monster, and the two were one in the same, or so the man thought.

So it was.

"Can I be saved?"

"Who cannot be saved? Faith can move anything. God is great."

"...thank us for this food," he muttered, and she opened her eyes briefly. He'd retreated to the wall, trying to hold the dog back. It was right in her face, almost, just a foot away, and it started barking loudly.

"The dog is not real."

"I… I do not, I can't, I--"

"The dog is not real. Show me. Show me," she said, reaching a hand out.

Man became dog, and dog became man, and then standing there before her was the chained monster she'd seen up above. A little different in details, smaller and more pathetic, with fur that seemed patchy in places. But fundamentally the same. Fundamentally the monster, surging forward on the leash.

There was a roar from up above, and then a voice called, "Ruth!" It was Wayword.

Miriam glanced over at the monster, which slowly subsided, then stared at her balefully. "God will forgive you."

Her body was soaked with blood, her joints aching. "You… you didn't ask to be made this way."

"I… remember," the monster rumbled, then trailed off, and she knew what this meant.

Larry had seen too little. The memory was not the thing. This was merely what he had seen of the person, and then why--

Why indeed?

Disbelief.

A man who turned into a monster had become a man with a rabid dog, ready to attack anyone and everyone. It was clear, and yet not so clear.

The hatch pried open, and there was Wayword, holding out a hand. "Grab on! We need to get you out of there."

She turned, glancing at the monster one last time as it became a man again. "I forgive you too…"

For murder.

Suddenly it felt as if she knew exactly what was going on. If only that helped her understand why it was happening, and how.

She turned, and tried to leap, and somehow Wayword's hand grasped hers, and she was pulled up. Wayword was panting by the time she flopped, now soaked head to toe in blood, up above.

The monster was gone, and so was Littleboy.

"I… Disbelief. He saw magic, Mage magic of some kind. But it wasn't just that. It felt different." Miriam was talking before she'd even caught her breath.

"Please, relax. I've driven it off," Wayword said, looking concerned. "What's down there?"

"He saw a man turn into a monster. Can Life magic do that?"

"Traditionally, one becomes an animal, but you can gain claws, and hide, and all sorts of things like that with Life magic. It's just that Sleepers will notice it and start unraveling it with their disbelief. It's not a good idea, in other words. But… that monster could have been made from a man using magic."

"Larry saw that, and then rationalized it, but a part of him knew it anyways."

"That shouldn't be possible. It'd almost be convenient if it was, because then something more could be done with helping people remember, or work around the impossibility of what happened. Instead, they forget entirely."

Miriam had no answer to that, really. If Wayword said it was impossible, it was impossible. And yet it was. She frowned, "There's also the fear I felt. It was… it felt like it was targeted, almost. Like an animal before a snake."

"Perhaps. There is magic that can do that, and there are ghosts and spirits as well. All sorts of beings that can cause fear as a specific act, rather than a reaction. Though I've seen the monster, and are you sure it was not just the terror of the thing tainting his mind?"

"That could be it, but it doesn't feel that way," Miriam admitted. She didn't have evidence, but as she tried to relax and think, it made sense.

"So, I have a few things to tell you. Littleboy isn't dead, or at least, we didn't think he was. A month and a half ago he left to go back down south."

"Are you sure it was him?" Miriam asked.

"We can't know," Wayword admitted, his face drawing. "Darn. If it was a dummy, then… or what if it wasn't, and the death was instead some sort of metaphysical mauling? We can't know. But… this is still your test."

"My test?" Miriam asked, confused. She had thought she was just going along with Wayword in order to see what it was like, helping people, and that her making the decisions was a courtesy to her, an attempt to see what she said.

A test made it sound far more formal.

"I should not have told you, but… just act as if it were nothing. Tell me, what do you advise we do about him, and about what happened. This is clearly spiraling out of control, but I want to see what you have to say."

On Larry (Choose 1)

[] He needs to forget this. Forget the attack, and forget the dogs. Only then can he work through his problems on his own. They're clearly the catalyst.
[] He remembers this, and can be helped to remember more, since it could help find out what is happening. Plus, perhaps he needs to learn to cope with the scars he has, rather than healing them outright.
[] Even without the dogs, and the bad memories, by now he has been drinking for months. There are still underlying issues, and even if they're being masked by the supernatural one, they're the most important issues to deal with.

On the Wolves

[] Search the factory. Focus on the location and dig up any possible clues.
[] Look for Littleboy. He might provide answers, or at least good questions.
[] This was done by, or in relation to, Mages. Try to follow that line of thinking. Surely someone's guilty, or some trace can be found of who would be responsible for such… evil.
[] Write-in.

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A/N: Alright, and so there we go. You got some pretty good rolls, honestly.