Re: Sunday Service: Mercy/Shiloh
Shiloh wasn't at all surprised to hear how Mercy got his name. He figured sometimes not knowing was better all around, and being named after a pretentious American symbol of capitalism couldn't fit comfortably on the shoulders of a man with skin like coffee and in a town like this one they were stood in the middle of. Maybe it was better now knowing; Shiloh, he could make up his own tales of where his name came from, and they could be expansive and not something dreamed up in the mind of a scared teenage girl. But here they were stood, the expensive car and the bible boy, and Shiloh chuckled a polite, Sunday chuckle. "I would ask if she got that better ride, but it seems a little too early to go posing such questions." He glanced up at the sky, at the blinding blurred-edge sun, and back at the man standing there. "Too hot, too, by far." He tugged at his collar, pulling it from sweaty skin.
He could've told Mercy that everyone was made up of fibs, and that everyone was deceiving. Shiloh, he knew that folks painted themselves in gilt and limned themselves in gold. Everyone wanted to shine, and in Repose that false glow was meant to be spiritual. Everyone wanted to be the best Christian, with the exception of that group of sinners collected on the forums and inclined toward sodomy. He didn't think they considered their immortal souls at all. To be fair, neither did Shiloh. He'd never feared retribution in some fevered afterlife. He'd always known he'd become bones for feed and that he'd leave nothing behind but fraught opinions and infamy.
"I think people can all be saved," he said, and he meant this; it was the cross talking. "But I don't think anyone here's perfect, me included. If we were perfect, then what need would we have for the Lord? I'd venture to say it's vanity, saying we're without blemish." The statement, it was common enough for a church gathering, but Shiloh said it fervently, as if it was something to build a life upon. He smiled. "What I'm saying is that you're free to be an asshole, and I'll still be here, and God will still be here for you."
Another smile, this one with another chuckle that came soft and was accompanied by a shake of Shiloh's head and the scent of sweat on his recently washed hair. "Are you a crook?" he asked of the man in front of him. "If I walked into your garage, would you nickle and dime me, Mercy?"