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(no subject)

Who: Brigid and... everyone.
Where: Everywhere
When: Day 82-84
What: The Full Moon is coming and Brigid is losing her grip. Going Omega is no fun.
Warnings: Possibly swearing, definite blood and attacks. Also, discussion of mental health.

OOC: This is a catch all log, since we had a lot of people who wanted to do things. I'm going to put up a few big headers, and then it'll be a free for all.

If you have any questions, please, feel free to ask.

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His eyes narrow at that response.

"Why does Raphael of the Heavens protect you if you don't worship him?"

He pulls his hand away as she holds hers out, sure now it's a trap.

"I'll do it myself."

Oh. Raphael. "He's the protector of children and animals in my faith. He's one of God's soldiers, messengers and His hand, but St. Raphael answers to his Father, my God."

Her religion isn't really as complex as the See makes it out to be. It's simple, really. She prays to the Archangels so that they might intercede with their Father on her behalf.

Most of the time, the answer is no and Brigid is alright with that.

"I am stronger than you. I will be faster."

His jaw tightens at her reasoning. It's like she's rubbing salt in the wounds she left on his pride from the last time they met.

"I'm going to do it myself."

"I can smell the pain on you. Stop being so misogynistic and let me just help." She's frustrated and short-tempered. Why can't he just... let her help. There's nothing wrong with need help now and again.

And when it presents itself, it should be taken.

The pain is now mixed with a sudden waft of of angered fear at that tidbit. He hadn't thought the pain be visible to her in that way.

"I don't want your help. I want you to keep away from me!" It's a bad idea to lose his temper, he knows, but he can't help let it slip.

Her own temper, so short, sparks. She grinds her teeth together. "Fine." She growls out the word. "I was trying to help. If you could remove your head from your posterior for long enough to realize that, I'd count it a miracle."

Turning on her heel, she stomps off toward the woods before she does something... serious.

It's only when she stomps out of sight that he lets his knees sag. He really needs to avoid these woods, what with her affinity with them.

He grabs the branch and his basket of twigs and starts limping out of there. There's no way he's spending more time there playing 'Guess the Tree'. He'll burn some grass instead and live with the results.

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