On This Rock: Melrose Church of Bleaus (Atilla's Job Thread)

The hour was late. Atilla rubbed her feet, having walked all over the town today. She'd seen many interesting things: the giant cars that rumbled up and down the roads like chariots of fire, the young people in the clubs plugging into the building's Web 2.0 interface with their cell phones and creating some truly amazing works of art, the concrete basketball courts where tomorrow's stars and broken druggies practiced their craft... the systems set up when people didn't have everything they wanted, the way they dealt with the imperfections and trials of this plane truly amazed the little mouse.
But now it was late evening. The sun burned red and yellow and amber on her pyre to be reborn tomorrow and chase away the darkness, and she still didn't really have a place to stay. She'd need some money to buy a shelter of some sort to rest her head.
Bleaus must have given her some talent that would work to earn her a bite to eat and perhaps someplace to stay. Sitting down above a storm drain, she thought about it and, shifting to another position, as the concrete hurt her delicate rodent rear, she thought about it some more.
No way seemed ideal. She couldn't sing very well, she couldn't dance...
So simply standing up, she allowed herself to be engulfed in a light that began at her chest and spread gradually outward. She began to grow steadily larger, her fur loosening until it became a purple robe like a priest's. Her tail retreated into her body, absorbed by her growing derrières, and her flat chest became a woman's bosom. Her face shortened and became bare, and her ears lowered to the side of her head. When she opened her eyes, they were brown and plain, like a normal person's, and not gold like a rat's.
As soon as she found her voice, she withdrew a small book from the inside of her robe, a collection of verses always close to her heart. Though she had them memorized for the most part, she felt the need to rise up and read them word for word, to ensure that she neither added nor subtracted nor altered the verses in any way. "He that dwells in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty!" she declared. "I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God, in him will I trust. Surely he will deliver me from the trap and from the deadly plague."
She'd caught the attention of several passerbys. It was getting towards clubbing time, and the sidewalk traffic had picked up considerably. Very few people actually stopped for any period of time, but those that did seemed confused. Indeed, it was unusual for a preacher to be out in the open at this scary hour reading words that the destitute might take the wrong way. Most of them couldn't make heads or tails of the message anyways, having failed to understand plain English in school and failing now to understand old English.
"He will cover you with his feathers and under his wings you will be safe. His truth will be your shield and buckler. You will not be scared of the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flies by day, nor for the death that walks in the dark, nor for the destruction that lays waste at noonday."
A few guys, perhaps ten feet off, began to nudge each other in the ribs. They were the young hooligan sort who were always trying to cause trouble. She ignored them and began saying her words with even more conviction, the crowd having grown to maybe thirteen souls. "A thousand might fall at your side, and ten thousand on your right, but it won't touch you. You will only look at it, and see what the wicked get. Because you have made Bleaus your safety and your home, no evil will happen to you, nor will any plague come near your house."
Three of those souls were hookers, one with a rather noticeable cut across her cheek. The coworkers of the injured ones rolled their eyes. "What a nut..." one of them murmured, hardly hiding her contempt.
But the bruised one stared, wondering at the words. She was short and cute other than her cut, her blonde hair hanging ragged and ill kempt around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were all but smothered in mascara and eyeliner, and short breaths came from her red mouth. Her short, striped dress and high heels meant she stood unsteadily there, absorbing the words. When she was younger, she'd been bright in school, she'd been the star of her Sunday classes outside of the commons, she'd had high hopes, but her mom died, her dad had a heroin problem and a gambling debt that drove him to casually sell her to a pimp one day. She'd lost all hope since that day, she'd only been around men, her pimp, and other prostitutes. To see someone talking in that manner and with such conviction in a place that certainly had no churches... well, such hearkened back to her trust of God in her childhood.
Hoping against hope, she walked over to the preaching spirit. "You..." she said, her voice quiet.
Atilla stopped her reading for a moment and looked down at the hardly clad woman, surprised almost. "The blessings of Bleaus upon you," it was a common greeting in heaven.
The woman's blue eyes looked up, as though starving. "Do... you think I have a chance... do you think... God still cares... do you think he will save me from..."
"Nikki! The hell are you doing?" one of the prostitute group yelled.
"I didn't want this. I've been forced to do so much..." a tear rolled down the woman's face, stopping at the scar and traveling back to her dirty hair.
The horrors the other had gone through, made her whole expression seem a crying out, a question of why she'd ended up here. Atilla's heart was moved. How could anyone be so cruel to one of Bleaus's precious creatures?
Reaching gently out, she took the other's hand, clasping it in a gesture to signify prayer. "I care and Bleaus cares. I'll be praying for you, my sister. I'll be praying for your freedom and the freedom of everyone like you."
The street walker's despair seemed to shrink a little bit. Here she was, a prostitute against her will and someone had addressed her without loathing or condescending talk. It was a start, if nothing else. The last church she'd been to hadn't been very welcoming and her pimp didn't like the idea of her trying to preserve her soul from sin, seeing as her sin lined his pockets. The mouse spirit seemed sorry she couldn't do more.
However, one or two people had thrown some green bills into her satchel, thinking the street display cute. Some of the passerbys from the other end of town thought to give, not being regular church attenders but still thinking they should contribute to a church in some way to make themselves feel less guilty for their lack of attention to things spiritual perhaps.
Reaching into her satchel, she withdrew the bills and counted them. She had more than enough for tonight's lodging and perhaps a bite to eat. She still had to travel by the bread store and pay the fellow there for that sourdough she ruined.
Looking the woman in her frightened blue eyes, the spirit asked, "Are you ready to leave all of this behind, to start over and lead a pure life?"
The prostitute nodded her head, her mascara running.
Taking a few of the dollars, she marched over to her new friend's two fellows and handed them each a $20 bill. "Tell your boss I borrowed Miss Nikki for the night."
The women seemed confused, but only for a moment. The other was a weirdo anyways, they decided, leaving with their bonus for the night.
Turning to the other, who seemed ready to shout for the freedom that she'd just been given, the mouse picked up her satchel, preparing to walk in her human form for awhile. Smiling, she extended her hand, some of the softer hearted ones in the crowd clapping, before the group dissipated around her. "Now let's get you to a women's shelter."

1,410 words [5 JC || $3,000 || 1,410 PWC || 160 exp]

Atilla rode down the streets on a warm, Spring Sunday. The streets were filthy, the air was nasty, but still she remained optimistic. Today she would stand on the street corner and testify to the goodness of her God, the God who'd brought her out of the dark, merciless woods of Slovay and into his wonderous light.
Today she would preach on a few scriptures that were close to her heart. Her legs were strong, and the engine helped her greatly as she pulled along her house and home and all of her possessions. Oddly enough, despite the roughness of the neighborhood she hadn't had any break in issues or problems, probably because the shelter was so poor and her possessions so meager the crackheads and burglars decided they had bigger fish to fry.
Nonetheless, she'd managed to acquire a discarded crate, and she could use it as a pulpit of sorts as she delivered her message tonight.
It would be a short one, however. She had every intention of going to buy her friend a sword since he'd been so kind as to save her the other day.
She reached the street corner she'd come to stand on, and laying her soap box down, she noticed a few people there already. The prostitute she'd helped get to the woman's shelter stood there, a blanket over her head as though she were trying to hide her face from any onlookers. The man she'd gotten her current abode and mode of transportation from stood a short distance behind her, his healthy daughter by his side. With a smile, she figured the sermon today would be easier than the last, she already had a captive audience. Warmly, she commenced to preaching. “The blessings of Bleaus be upon you, now and all times…”

300 words [1 JC || $600 || 300 PWC || 50 exp]

The kami still hadn't earned enough money for a building to support her preaching profession, however, that didn't mean she didn't want to make the most of her spot on the streets. The club she preached in front of was usually closed or just opening when she stood there, and they hadn't really protested her being there all that much.
Thus, she wanted to expand her service with some praise and worship before the actual preaching came on. It was a common thing in the church services in heaven, it should work out here, she decided as she stood before the girl who she'd healed up from a demon attack, the hooker who she'd helped to find a women's shelter, four other women, and three men. Last service she'd pitched the idea and they'd volunteered... and a good thing they did. Their voices would help the little street corner service draw more attention.
"Okay," the kami began, taking a look about her surroundings. It was morning, statistically the safest time to be out on the streets of the Lower Commons. The sun hung red in the sky; the summer morning promised heat later in the day. Someone had donated a little canopy that would help block out the sun later on today when people began to show up. "I know a couple of songs. I will sing them and you can repeat them. We will practice that way. Is everyone okay with that?" The people nodded. "This one is called 'Order My Steps'."
Pausing to clear her throat, she sang a short scale before she began. Though she was modest about the issue, she could sing moderately well, not well enough for a solo or for improvisation or a standing ovation, but she could hit the notes in the hymn books accurately. "Order my steps in your word, Dear Lord... Lead me, guide me ever-y day. Send your annointing, Father I pray. Order my steps in your word..." she paused, imagining where the short piano riff would go and growing sorely sorry that they didn't have a musician. "Pleeease order my steps in your word. That's the first part, you try it."
The notes were simple, the people looked at each other and attempted to replicate the sound. To say that they didn't do a very good job would be an understatement. The former hooker had some talent, but at least two of the people must have been tone deaf, the others simply didn't resonate with each other well at all. Atilla sighed, "I am guessing you all know that you are not singing in harmony?" Someone looked offended, but she continued. "You all are gifted with beautiful voices, but you should all get on the same page. Here, sing it with me, that might help. A one, and a two," she tapped the time with her foot before she began again. The others kept up, and she could tell some of the outliers were trying to adjust their voices mid-note. Nonetheless, it took a good fifteen minutes of repeating the verse before it was to the mouse's satisfaction. One of the women got bored and left, muttering some excuse about a child at home. Atilla bore her no ill will and continued the practice. "Miss Nikki..." she said, calling out to the prostitute. "The next verse is a solo, would you like it?" The woman in question seemed happy she was selected. Even in the previous verse, her voice had been louder, more confident than the others. She was the obvious choice for a solo. "Okay, you will be singing this..."
The mouse kami paused for a moment before continuing, trying to recollect all of the words. "Hum-bly I ask thee, teach me your wiiill. While you are wor-king, help me be stiiiil. Though Oni are bis-sey, Bleaus is real. Order my steps in your Word... Please order my steps, in your word."
The woman put her hand to her chin, absorbing the words and the notes. "You want me to sing it fancier than that, right?"
Atilla nodded. "You may sing it any way that pleases you." So Nikki proceeded to put a very soulful spin on the song that made it into a mournful, almost wailing rendition of the original. It certainly didn't sound bad, and, for lack of a better word, the kami could describe it as "fresh". "Very good!" the mouse complimented the soloist, who smiled and faded back into the ranks of the small singing troupe. "Now, the rest of you... that was the main solo, but Nikki, you may add pieces in instead of singing the chorus if you would like. The remainder of the song is simple. Miss Samantha, would you like the second solo?"
Another young lady stepped forward, indicating her desire to do so. "Yea, that sounds cool."
The kami nodded, sweeping a strand of her hair out of her face. "Okay, Miss Samantha, here are the words: Bridle my tongue. Let my words edify. Let the words of my mouth, be acceptable in thy sight. Take charge of my thoughts, both day and NIIIIGHT. Order my steps in your word. Please, order my steps in your word. Allow me to hear it."
The woman wrinkled her brow, as though she didn't recall the words at first. Her next words indicated that she had, in fact, forgotten most of the words, so Atilla patiently sung it over. Perhaps the fourth time, the soloist could sing the verse from memory.
"Okay, the rest of you will come back in with..." she went about the next part very slowly, knowing that she probably should've started with a simpler song with no solos, but this song was rather close to her heart, especially with her fiance'... or husband... or mate, whichever he was. It began to slowly dawn on her what others would think should they see her married to a Devil.
They probably wouldn't, she decided, pushing such worrisome thoughts from her mind. If they did, she would tell them the truth and not allow Dem any glory. "I want to walk worthy!" she shouted, letting the others repeat the line and the next and the next after that as she completed the song. "My calling to fulfil. Please order my steps, LORD, and I'll do your blessed will. The world is ever changing! But you are still the same. If you order my steps, I'll praise your name!"
The former part was the climax of the song, the rest was a bit gentler and sort of faded away. In heaven it had faded away hauntingly, but here it merely faded away, as it might if a choir of children were singing it before rushing up to the next shouting part. Of course, she was the only one shouting during the parts she thought most profound and worshipful. "Order my steps. In your word. Order my tongue. In your word. Guide my feet. In your word. Wash my heart. In your word. Show me how to walk. In your word. Show me how to talk. In your word. When I need a brand new song to sing, show me how let let your praises ring! In your woooooooooooooooooooooord, in you woooooooo-oooo-ord. Please. Order my steps in your word. PLEAAASE order my steps in yoooooooour. Woooooooord."
The song excited her to such an extent, she almost wanted to throw in another song, perhaps "I'd Rather Have Bleaus Than Silver and Gold" or "Create in Me a Clean Heart". The former spoke more to her situation, what with all the precariousness of being tempted, but the second seemed more relevant to the congregation she would be preaching to.
"You should all do your best, even if you do not remember the words. Bleaus looks at your intentions, at your heart, not necessarily your performance. He and I are very grateful for your giving hearts. Next time we will try to add another song. I will see you all this afternoon at the service."

1,339 words [5 JC || $3,000 || 1,339 PWC || 89 exp]