sam nichols (januaryembers) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2018-01-23 19:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | #september 2017, mal, mal x sam, sam |
Who: Sam and Mal
When: Sunday, Sept 24, early morning
Where: their apartment
Warnings: None
Status: Complete
Mal was in the habit of getting up early on Sundays, of course. The first church service was at eight, and he liked to be fully awake and prepared well in advance. He didn’t have a commute except going down a flight of stairs, but there was coffee to drink and notes to go over, and he liked the quiet in the early morning. A couple of hours of silence was good for the soul. He woke before his alarm on this particular Sunday though, when the world was still dark outside. And inside, because apparently the power was still out. Besides that, it felt like a different sort of dark, and Mal discovered in short order that the fog which had descended the night before was still hanging around. The bad weather would keep some people away, but the truly dedicated would show up, as they always did. If the fog lingered beyond daybreak, that was.
He went to the kitchen to light the candles he and Sam had set out the night before. Mal turned the gas stove on and filled the kettle with water to set on it for eventual coffee, dressed in flannel pants and a gray tank top. It got a bit drafty up there in the apartment, as it did in older buildings, but Mal hardly felt the slight chill. His gaze kept being drawn to the window over the sink. Ordinarily it showed the side of the building next door, but now it was just flat, gray dark. He didn’t like it. Something felt off. Strange. In a bad sort of way, like there was the promise of tragedy hanging in the air.
While the water heated up, Mal walked silently back toward the bedrooms. He lingered in front of the door to Sam’s room, listening. She was asleep, dreaming. Thoughts were so hard to track in that state, darting here and there like colorful fish under ice. It could be hypnotic, and when he couldn’t sleep he often listened to Sam dream. Not much of it ever made sense to him, but it was still sort of musical, if chaotic. This morning he wanted her awake, though. Mal opened the door and stepped inside the dark room, his eyes barely able to make out the shape of her in all the shadows.
Instead of waking her up directly, Mal climbed onto the bed and settled behind her on his side, slipping an arm around her slim waist and nuzzling his face into her hair. He breathed in deep and reached for her consciousness with his mind, wordlessly calling her out of sleep. Mal hoped the physical closeness would ease whatever worry it was that was gnawing at his insides.
Sam's favorite mornings were the ones where she woke up with no recollection of her dreams. They were so rarely whimsical and innocent as they probably should have been for a girl of fifteen. Instead she fought fear and abandonment and fire and often times woke with her heart in her throat and her skin covered in gooseflesh. Not all the time, just... often. Her nightmares were usually quelled when she slept beside Mal, like he could somehow ease her mind just with his presence. She dreamed of him too, always there to take her hand, or stroke her hair or hold her close to him. Sam always preferred those dreams.
This morning she felt him long before she began to surface into consciousness. There was warmth and familiarity surrounding her, pulling her from her dreams until her eyes fluttered open and squinted into the darkness of her room. Was it morning already? Sam felt Mal's arm around her waist and his breath against the back of her hair. She could have easily dozed off again but instead slid her hand over his, dipping her fingers between his own. "It's early," she murmured, though not in complaint. If he needed something from her, she would provide it as she always did.
Mal felt her rise up out of sleep and come toward him, the shape of her thoughts becoming more solid and clear. He always liked that feeling, it was like a flower slowly blooming in front of his face. He smiled faintly when her hand moved over his, and Mal curled his fingers a bit to grip hers more tightly. “It is,” he murmured back, not moving from where he was. The warmth and curves of Sam’s body pressed against him was soothing as always, and he was in no rush to get her up for anything. “The power’s still out, too. And the fog is still thick.” And there was still something not quite right in Mal’s gut. He generally trusted his instinct, but it usually didn’t come in the form of fear. That was perturbing.
It didn't bother her so much that the power was out, because they could live without it for a while just fine. But she frowned a touch at the thought that there was heavy fog, only because it could affect attendance at the church. Mal deserved a full congregation with eager ears and dedicated hearts. Sam gave it a quick moment of thought before brushing off her worry. "They'll still come if they're worthy enough," she said simply. It wasn't that Sam thought Mal was genuinely worried about it, but she felt the need to reassure him anyway. And maybe herself, a little. Sam knew she had to get up soon to help get things ready but she was just so comfortable with Mal pressed up against her that she sort of wished it were any day but Sunday so they could stay in bed for awhile. Then again, maybe they could. Sam had no idea what time it actually was, after all.
There was no real rush. Considering the weather, Mal thought this week’s service might be a little more informal than most, depending on how many people showed up. Even if it ended up being no one but Sam and himself, they could worship together. It had happened once or twice, in the very early days of them being in Point Pleasant. “That they will,” he murmured, smiling faintly at Sam’s words. She was so full of faith, it never failed to lift him a little. He was quiet for a moment, just listening to and feeling her breathe underneath his arm. His beautiful girl, a gift from God Himself. Mal rubbed his thumb slowly against Sam’s finger. That unsettled feeling wasn’t going away. “I’m troubled this morning,” he admitted softly. “I can’t find the source.”
It was strange for Sam anytime Mal was feeling low, or not himself. He was the epitome of strength to her and her first instinct was to try and soothe him and draw him out of it. She didn't always know exactly how to do so, but that didn't stop Sam from trying, at least. Hearing he was troubled prompted Sam to turn over until she was facing him, moving carefully so she didn't dislodge his arm from around her. She studied him in the darkness of the room, searching his eyes with her own to try and find the emotion he was feeling. "Did you sleep well?" Sam murmured. Sometimes for Sam, nightmares, even forgotten ones, tended to stick around as a sense of foreboding in her gut, leaving her feeling out of sorts for some unknown reason.
Sam was the only person Mal felt comfortable being any sort of vulnerable around. He indulged in another girl in the congregation when he felt the impulse, but that connection wasn’t as deep as this one. He re-settled his arm around her once she’d settled into place, gazing back at her through the shadows. She was such a generous and loving spirit, he knew even before she spoke that she was trying to find a way to help him. Mal gave a slight nod. “As well as ever,” he murmured. His sleep wasn’t always peaceful or restful, there were too many dark memories that lurked in the recesses of his mind, but he stayed functional. “This is more than bad sleep. It feels like ... God is warning me of something that’s coming.”
Sam's brows furrowed together with worry and she licked her dry lips, trying not to let her expression betray the fact that her heart had started to thump painfully in her chest. Something was coming. And it had to be something bad, for Mal to feel troubled by it. She couldn't ask him what it was because he couldn't possibly know. God spoke to him, yes, but Sam felt Mal was the one who found the answers... God just guided him there. She was silent as her mind worked over his words. The power was out, the fog was thick... suddenly it all felt very ominous to her, instead of just being inconvenient. Sam inhaled softly and reached up to place her hand against Mal's chest where she could feel his heart beating against her palm. "Whatever it is, we'll be okay. I know we will. Maybe it's just a test."
He was aware that would scare her, but Mal didn’t sugarcoat things for Sam. She was by his side as his help meet, they couldn’t afford pretty fantasies about what was going on. Living on the truth path to God wasn’t easy. If it was, it wouldn’t be worthwhile. There was redemption in suffering, and His reckoning was coming eventually. Mal didn’t think this was going to be it, but there was definitely some darkness on the way. He smiled faintly at Sam, soothed a tiny bit further by that gentle pressure against his chest. “I’m sure we will be,” he agreed, stroking his thumb against her back where it was resting. “And maybe you’re right. We just have to be stro--” He was interrupted by the rising scream of the kettle from the kitchen. Right, he’d started old fashioned coffee. Damn. Mal gave a soft grunt and leaned in to kiss the spot between Sam’s eyebrows. “Get up with me. We’ll cobble together a breakfast and pray for guidance.”
Sam was young but she wasn't naïve enough to believe that the world was inherently good. She had experienced enough darkness to recognize that God wasn't going to save anyone who wasn't faithful to him. Sam had been lost until she found Mal, or rather, he found her, and now she saw the world around her in a completely different light. She had hoped. But she was still human, and it did worry her that something bad could be on the horizon, even if she had confidence that they would be okay. They had to be. People needed them. The sound of the kettle startled her and Sam inhaled sharply before releasing a breathless laugh. She didn't protest getting out of bed. Sam was used to waking up early, but she had been enjoying lounging in bed with him, despite the topic of discussion. There was no use in lingering now, they had things to do. "I can make some eggs if you want," she said, sitting up to push the blankets off her body so she could slip out of bed. "Or... French toast?"
Mal stayed where he was while Sam sat up and pushed the covers off. He loved watching her so openly, he didn’t always get to. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Sam was his daughter, and he had to tailor his behavior around her in public to reflect that. Their mission was too important to let it get muddied up with those kinds of issues from the secular world. Sam knew her God-given place in his life, and that was enough. Worldly rules didn’t apply to them, they lived under God’s law. “We should probably use the eggs, just in case the power stays off and they spoil,” he said. “So how about both?” Mal gave a stretch, trying to tell this strange case of nerves to settle down, then got up off the bed himself.
Sam knew exactly where she belonged, and she didn't need anyone telling her it was right or wrong. Mal was hers as much as she was his. She felt confident in her standing, although Sam was prone to insecurity and jealousy as much as any teenage girl. She generally got past it fairly quickly, though sometimes with reassurance from Mal. But Sam was getting better at repressing the surge of possessiveness she felt from time to time. It was selfish of her to want him all to herself when he was supposed to save people and lead them to salvation. It was something Sam was constantly asking forgiveness for and she hoped one day she wouldn't need to. "Both then," Sam said with a small smile. Maybe with some breakfast and prayer, Mal would start to feel more like himself again. "Do you think maybe the bad feelings you're having has anything to do with what's happening today? With the fog and the power being out? I mean, neither are very good things..."
“It’s possible,” Mal murmured as he walked with her out of her bedroom. He’d already decided that no matter how the day went, she would be sleeping with him tonight. He wanted to keep her close. He glanced toward the windows again as they reached the main area of the loft-like apartment, listening to that sense of foreboding closer. Mal couldn’t tell if it was tied to the fog or not, but the timing was certainly a factor. He went to take the squealing kettle off the eye of the stove and turned the flame down a bit so Sam could use it to cook. Mal grabbed a mug and dumped some instant coffee grounds -- kept for emergencies such as these -- into it before pouring the hot water in. He might’ve said more to Sam, but his brow had furrowed as he slipped deeper into thought.
Sam pulled the eggs from the fridge, as well as the milk, and set both on the counter so she could start the french toast. She focused on breakfast for the time being, aware that Mal was lost in his own thoughts now. She glanced at him every now and then, but didn't speak again until the pieces of egg soaked bread were placed in the pan to cook. Then she started in on the scrambled eggs. Sam was always reluctant to interrupt Mal if he was trying to work through something, although he never seemed to mind it. Maybe if she tried to take his mind off of the bad feelings, that would help. "I thought about inviting Ruth to visit for awhile after service, if that would be okay," Sam said finally, glancing over at Mal before she flipped the toast. Being home schooled made it difficult for Sam to make friends in town, and Ruth was just about the only one she had.
Mal had made his coffee but hadn’t sat down, picking a spot to linger in that was out of Sam’s way but still afforded him a view out the kitchen window. There wasn’t much to see, just the fog slowly lightening as the sun rose. He studied it like a man attempting to see the future in a crystal ball. It didn’t take him but a second to focus on Sam when she spoke though, and he looked at her with one brow lifted. The friendship between Sam and Ruth had worried him slightly at first, but he’d made it clear to Ruth that their private times were to stay private, and the Lord did not look favorably upon jealousy. He loved all of his flock to varying degrees, a handful were just more special than others. So far the girls had remained on good terms, so he could only assume Ruth hadn’t revealed anything. His Sam had a temper that could be ... fiery. “That would be fine,” he answered, lifting his mug to take a sip. “I’m sure her parents won’t mind.”
Sam's friendship with Ruth had taken a bit of time to formulate, mostly due to Sam's inability to quell the possessiveness she felt toward Mal, especially when other girls her age took up his time. It had taken awhile for Sam to finally become comfortable with Ruth, when it became clear the other girl wasn't looking to step on any toes, and Ruth seemed more than willing to accommodate Sam in any way Sam needed. It was a bumpy journal for sure, but now Sam felt like she could actually trust Ruth and honestly, it was nice having a real friend. She hadn't really expected Mal to say no, but she gave him a small smile anyway. "Thanks." She let the eggs rest in the warm pan as she scooped the French toast up with the spatula to place them on the plates. Sam didn't speak again until she had filled their plates with hot food and she picked both up to carry to the table. "Come eat," she said, setting his plate down and sitting. What he really needed was some prayer, and maybe God would speak to him as he had done so many other times.
It wouldn’t be the first time that Mal had been in both of their presence at once and successfully ignored the both of them, and it wouldn’t be the last. He had plenty of work and books to immerse himself in, and the tools to keep them out of his way if they weren’t properly occupying themselves. Girls that age didn’t seem to ‘play’ any longer, but they were generally good at keeping to themselves. Mal refilled his coffee mug before he joined Sam at the table with a soft sigh, his gaze drifting over the food she’d prepared. It smelled delicious, and that soothed him a tiny bit. Before he touched it though, Mal laid his hand on the table for Sam to take, then bowed his head. “Heavenly Father,” he started softly. “We ask that You bless this food before us, and thank You for all You provide. We ask that You watch over us and guide us toward righteousness and the fulfillment of Your Word. We humbly beg Your forgiveness for our sins, and pray that You have mercy on us.”
Mal paused, feeling another bout of that nagging worry in his guts. “I come to You as Your servant and beg for the blessing of clarity in these uncertain times. I pray to understand Your message and fulfill Your purpose for me. Amen.” He squeezed Sam’s hand gently, then lifted his head and aimed a little smile at her. “It smells wonderful, you did a fine job,” he murmured as he picked up his fork.
Sam held Mal's hand, her gaze lowered to the table as they prayed. She risked a glance or two at him as he spoke. They prayed over every meal they had, but she sensed a different intention behind it this morning. This wasn't a routine blessing, and Sam felt a tiny sliver of worry in her stomach. She trusted Mal, and in her eyes, nothing bad could happen to them because he had God on his side. She hoped that was still true, and that this wouldn't become some kind of tribulation to test them both. When he finished, Sam opened her eyes again and smiled softly as she drew her hand back to eat. "Breakfast is always the easiest meal," she said lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. "But I consider any food I don't burn to be a success. Is there anything I can do to help you before service? I don't like seeing you so worried."
Mal didn’t feel like he’d been warned of any upcoming tribulation, but that didn’t always mean anything. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a personal one, but something larger than him, something the entire town would have to deal with. If that was the case, he would do his best to guide his flock through it, and trust that God would show him the way. That thought should have been reassuring, but it did nothing to ease that feeling in his stomach. Mal smiled faintly at Sam again as he started poking at the eggs. She was always so humble, it was definitely a trait he appreciated in her. “I believe it’s mostly taken care of, just the usual things,” he answered. “I’m not expecting much of a crowd, but we’ll set out hymnals all the same.” Mal felt like he could use a couple of hours spent in quiet meditation, but that could perhaps wait until after services, if they ended up having any. He ate a bit quietly, then glanced up at Sam again. “How have your dreams been lately?” he asked, sounding a bit more than mildly curious.
Placing the hymnals on the seats never took much time at all. It was the kind of job where Sam got lost in her thoughts, the routine of it easy and familiar. At the same time, she liked staying busy and feeling helpful. Sure, there were times she didn't want to do much at all, but not on Sunday. She ate her breakfast, comfortable in the silence, despite the fog outside and Mal's gut feeling like something could happen soon. Honestly, it wouldn't have been the first time something strange or tragic happened in Point Pleasant. The town seemed to be a beacon for darkness, which may have been the reason Mal was drawn to it. There were people to be saved and to comfort.
His question prompted Sam to lift her eyes from her food and she looked at him, chewing slowly in an attempt to delay having to answer. It wasn't that her dreams had been so terrible she didn't want to relive them... she just didn't like to think about them much at all, regardless of whether or not they had been nightmares. But Sam didn't like to lie to Mal and she shrugged softly as she pushed some of her eggs around on the plate with her fork. "They've been okay. Nothing so bad that it's woken me up at night." She'd had some strange dreams lately about various places in town, but nothing that felt important enough to tell him about. "Normal, I guess? Why?"
Sam only knew the tip of the iceberg when it came to Point Pleasant’s darkness. Mal was sure there were things even he was ignorant of, but there couldn’t be much. He’d been raised in captivity there, taught to harness his gifts, and he’d burned through more than one local mind, plundering the depths of secrets like a cave diver. He’d seen things through other people’s eyes that he later came to understand were purely the work of Satan himself. This town was tainted, and Mal would see it burned to the foundations before he could be satisfied.
He knew that Sam’s sleep wasn’t filled with ordinary teenage girl concerns. It was difficult for him to tap into people’s dreams, but he’d managed it with her a few times, and what he saw there made him wonder if she was spiritually sensitive as well. Mal didn’t answer immediately, thoughtfully chewing another mouthful and washing it down with coffee first. “God puts signposts in unusual places sometimes,” he murmured finally. “You let me know if anything seems significant. Anything.” Mal’s gaze was drawn back to the nearest window for a brief moment. “And stay close to home until this fog clears.”
Sam chewed her food slowly, thinking that bit over in her head. She never considered her dreams to be anything more than like, subconscious or silly things. Memories or fears. She wasn't sure what could seem significant, and Sam tried to wrack her brain over her dreams over the last few nights, but they were all dull and faded and she couldn't pinpoint anything specific. "I will," she murmured. "I probably couldn't find my way into town through all of that even if I wanted to." Smiling softly, Sam nudged Mal's foot under the table with her own. "If it doesn't clear up today, we could stay in tonight and watch a movie or something." She wanted to ease his mind somehow, comfort and take care of him as he did with her. It wasn't always easy, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
The touch, even though it was gentle and under the table, brought Mal’s attention more solidly back to Sam. Whatever this unsettled feeling was, he needed to get rid of it. He could be watchful and focused, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d slapped a muzzle on his own emotions, and it wouldn't be the last. Mal smiled at her, and reached over to gently lay his big hand over hers. “That sounds perfect, even if it doesn’t clear off,” he told her. Mal knew he’d been busy lately, as the demands of a growing congregation took more and more of his time, and maybe the blanket of fog was some sign to stay in and reconnect a bit. “After Ruth leaves, if she stays over, I’m all yours.”
Her smile widened almost instantly, because Sam was ecstatic anytime she got to spend actual time with Mal away from the church. She understood he had obligations and responsibilities elsewhere, and to other people, and Sam tried her best to be mindful of them. But sometimes she felt an undeniable selfishness in wanting him all to herself. She had no one else, after all. Now she wanted the day to go by quickly, fog or no fog. "Thank you," Sam said, leaning over excitedly to press a kiss to his cheek. "I'll make something good for dinner too. It'll be nice, I promise." And maybe he'll feel better and whatever ominous feeling is plaguing him will be gone.
The cheek kiss made Mal smile a little, and he turned his head before Sam could pull all the way back, planting a kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I have no doubt,” he murmured, his gaze on her warm. She did have an incredible knack for making him feel better in general, he was sure she would be able to penetrate the dark cloud hanging over him. They had a very special relationship, the two of them. One that no one else in the world would understand ... but that was all right. They didn’t have to. Mal reached up to tuck a bit of stray hair behind Sam’s ear, then lightly touched her soft, round cheek. “Now eat up and get dressed. We will have a lot of candles to light if the power stays off.”
Sam's face felt warm all over when Mal touched her, but that was nothing new. It still amazed her, the kind of feelings he invoked just by being close to her. Sam knew she wasn't the only one to feel it. Mal had a way about him that made his followers intensely devoted. But it was different for Sam. Special. And she felt much better than she had when she woke up. The worry of something potentially unpleasant coming had begun to fade. She knew people would show up despite the weather, and maybe she could spend a little bit of time with Ruth if the fog didn't clear up. Then she would have Mal all to herself for the rest of the day. And maybe the fog wouldn't feel like such a bother then. Instead, it could be like sort of cocoon, keeping them both safe and protected from the outside world. With that in mind, Sam went back to her breakfast, eager to get the day started.