OPEN | prompt one | RAIN

[wrens]

prompt one | R A I N I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.

 

Comments

[forceful]

Yes, Mother.

[ In Mother Charlotte's presence, Guy, normally a huge, towering obelisk of a man, seems small. He bows his head, keeps his shoulders folded inward, all in reverence – that is, up until he's put to work. (Whatever she may ask of him, he will give, including this: obedience. He had come to her with nothing, and she had given him purpose. He owes her this.)

He keeps his distance, now, standing a yard or so to her right, hands clasped in front of him. ]

The sooner the better.

[motherlands]

[ There are none among the family and flock, neither living nor lamented and dead, that is more faithful or attentive than Guy is to Mother Charlotte. When he'd first took a knee and pledged his strength for her most just cause, she had gathered his face in her hands as if to christen him and called him my strength, my righteous blessing and that had been that.

(There is nothing more desperate than a man with nothing. Charlotte knows this, knows what it can gain another person, knows well.)

With a hand she motions him closer. ]

Rain means water and water means stability. So they'll hole up wherever they can for now and drink until they make themselves sick. [ She turns to look at him, the man so tall that she has to crook her head in order to meet his eyes. Mother Charlotte's eyes are electric bright and just shy of lucid. ] We must take the advantage and use it, Guy.