[ All hasn't been calm in the midst of their talking. There's always noise, as giving praise to their patron doesn't come from deep, quiet reflection; it means to be heard, to reach them, and it's what allows for these snippets of dissent. Chances to plot and escape, as non-believers would -- and what world needs them, let alone the churches? Better they be dead than waste the breath meant for the loyal, and throwing another person to these wolves allows you a better chance at making it out.
Or so, someone had hoped. Robby moves to follow, but also to stop her, but he doesn't get the chance; his reason for stopping her shouts along with another, anger and pleas ringing.
'Bastard! You bastard--!'
'No no no, I'm not with them, I'm not! I have kids!'
A smacking sound is heard, and Robby spins around, eyes wide towards the altar. From a pew a man has been dragged, thrown to the floor of the aisle. Another being led out, sobs that continue their defence, to the other man and to the people around them. You sold us out!, I need to get back home! -- whatever happened, happened miserably, and it brings a hush over many of the heads. But there's whispers being spread, orders, pointing from people and to direction, as louder voices command over the two now kicked, stepped on. ]
'And so the scum of this land has made itself known! Rejoice, for we may continue Riteoir's work for us! They who give us blessings! They who would protect us!'
[ In the rallying that brings a rise to many, much has already happened. Figures had moved to close the exits, to create a barrier -- of bodies, of watchful eyes, of those who might squirm or run. And Robby, he's moved towards the scene, pushing through with an urgency to get closer, a better view. Already knowing, dreading what he'll see, and trapped by an inability to know what to do. Shit, shit--! Can he get them out? If he just asks 2B to go in there with him and grab them, they can run, fuck this place--
But even soon, his own arm will be grabbed as the events continue to play out. ]
no subject
Or so, someone had hoped. Robby moves to follow, but also to stop her, but he doesn't get the chance; his reason for stopping her shouts along with another, anger and pleas ringing.
'Bastard! You bastard--!'
'No no no, I'm not with them, I'm not! I have kids!'
A smacking sound is heard, and Robby spins around, eyes wide towards the altar. From a pew a man has been dragged, thrown to the floor of the aisle. Another being led out, sobs that continue their defence, to the other man and to the people around them. You sold us out!, I need to get back home! -- whatever happened, happened miserably, and it brings a hush over many of the heads. But there's whispers being spread, orders, pointing from people and to direction, as louder voices command over the two now kicked, stepped on. ]
'And so the scum of this land has made itself known! Rejoice, for we may continue Riteoir's work for us! They who give us blessings! They who would protect us!'
[ In the rallying that brings a rise to many, much has already happened. Figures had moved to close the exits, to create a barrier -- of bodies, of watchful eyes, of those who might squirm or run. And Robby, he's moved towards the scene, pushing through with an urgency to get closer, a better view. Already knowing, dreading what he'll see, and trapped by an inability to know what to do. Shit, shit--! Can he get them out? If he just asks 2B to go in there with him and grab them, they can run, fuck this place--
But even soon, his own arm will be grabbed as the events continue to play out. ]