The Abbey

[Outisakanobody]

Grace approaches the podium, looking as prim and proper as she possibly could be: wearing her finest robes (still modest but at least clean), her hair freshly groomed, she had even endeavored to get as much rest as possible so she looked her best. She walked to the center pulpit and cleared her throat to get the attention of the masses. "If everyone will take their seats, I will begin the sermon." she says in a loud, clear voice that carries around the Abby, sound bouncing off of the high ceilings. She then waits patiently for people to do as instructed.

[twostepsback]

Charis sits up a bit straighter in her seat, eyes forward and ears open.

Titus moves from his alcove hiding spot to sit in one of the pews towards the back of the Abbey's chapel.

[Outisakanobody]

Baron, Lance, Cortez, Tazia, and even Bach shuffle in and take some seats to catch the sermon.

[The Carrying Blade]

Adonis had slipped in the Abbey the best he could, the sermon was starting so he had a little trouble finding a seat as people had moved in. Before hand he had gone to get his room and paid for the bath house visit. He didn't do much else so he was still wearing his doctor clothes and mask with his satchel at his side. He took a seat, and expected the sermon to be mediocre at best if only because of the rundown town and Abbey people before hand. His hopes rose when he saw the speaker however as she didn't appear as horrible as some people he had seen.

[Kidney]

Tod's eyes widened, and he raised his chin and waited for the sermon to begin.

[Shinzon]

Maria went to sit at one of the front rows as the rabble flocked in the Abbey, waving at a few familiar faces. Nicholas advanced too, intending to sit next to her - only for her to turn around and give him the darkest of glares, instead beckoning the orphans from the countryside over to her, the young children sitting down on the same bench as the former Vestal. Sighing, the Knight settled to go sit at another bench, looking at Grace with intense interest. If she managed to channel the same eloquence as when she convinced him to start over and try to serve once more.

[Outisakanobody]

"To say we have all had hard times here would be slightly redundant. That simply goes without saying. This place drags us down. When we lose comrades, when we are injured or made...unstable...all these challenges weigh on us. Tests us. Sometimes we fail these tests...we succum to our darker desires. To our fears and insecurities..." Grace pauses, leaning forward and casting a shadow over her features, some of her hair spilling down over her forhead to obscure her dark, gray eyes.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

There was hardly any dancing around the bush in what he was doing, he knew that much; fornicating, pursuing the essential widow of a knight. Someone of... marked repute. While Lekalis, at once, knew little of the man's more private nature, he did not desire to know more.
Whether the Knight Tilly had found herself enraptured with was truly worthy of her hand, whether he was kind and chivalrous, mattered not. By now, the Ex-Lord had construed his own fiction of the man, which made this pursuit nigh heroic, in a way. Saving her from the iron grip of an uncouth knight...

...And yet, at the back of his mind, it nagged on him with the incessance of a leak in a roof. When Lekalis looked into the eyes of the Knight, in his final moments, there was only sorrow. Only pain, and torment.
The thoughts came as he noted Tilly's own eyes seem to glimmer and haze over in thought, it was unspoken, for now... And he wondered if he should ever inquire about the man. Indeed, his own delirium left him unnamed, it helped alleviate the guilt of watching a man die. A man he wasn't sure needed to die... But one he did not regret seeing pass. One he relished, seeing dead now.
But he knew, if he let the Knight become more than just the flat, one-set antagonist, to his tale; there would be no stopping the onslaught of sorrow. No quirky Bird's Mask Doctor to remind him in a small, tasteful way that such a revelation was fine. No philosophical interpretation would be able to twist his deeds, his pursuit, into anything less than despicable. Bastardly; a hound baying after freshly cut meat.

The Ex-Lord's features waned, as he noted a markably familiar person take the podium, Lekalis' duelly noting them, implying the Graverobber to do the same.

"I've one that I trust... Though you're rather... disposed, against them." He mused, speaking off to the side as he shrugged and rose a brow, looking to Tilly now and taking a preemptive step forward, towards the nearest, rearmost pew. Motioning to it with his free hand; using his cloak to hide their own, other, clasped hands.

He chuckled, though, at her theatrisism. Smiling glibly at her bobsome nature, though he felt a need for penitence; perhaps, if but by some small margin, he might find refuge in the words of the Light. Some lines or stanzas he might restructure to hypocritically beget his own innocence in the hands what slayed Roderick.

Still, he kept scholarly quiet, as he slipped into a seat on the pew, scootching over for Tilly to accompany him; looking to her expectantly, as he patted on the wood beside him.

//

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly opened her mouth to speak when she had heard the words from a familiar other's mouth, and her eyes flitted anxiously to the podium as the dreamy haze of their own cranny broke. So enraptured in their conversation, her gossip, that she hadn't realized the sermon had begun.

Still, the sight of Grace was a welcome one. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, dressed in her robes and her hair combed prim and proper. It brought another smile to her face, being lead over to the pew by Blood, and to see her doing so well for herself. They, Grace and Tilly, had seen the other at their lowest, and Tilly found herself cautiously optimistic that they may even reach an upcoming high, too.

She thought on that, and was glad for it; it was a much more becoming thought than that of the doctor she was disposed against.

The robber sat up, straight-backed, and made to remove her hat (out of politeness for the people who sat behind her) and folded it up in her lap. She smoothed out her straw-colored hair and tucked it behind her ears as she gave Grace her full attention.
She anticipated the pacing of the speech; it began rather gloomy, true, but that wasn't unexpected for a setting. Tilly listened in anticipation for the vestal's wiser words, something to take along with her on what already seemed to be a trying expedition.

Tilly sniffed and watched Grace go about her sermon, hands clasped together in an effort to keep them from fidgeting.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace takes a moment to brush her hair back out of her face, looking out at the gathered crowd. "But...these failures do not define us. Failures provide us with a path to better ourselves. We must be ready to take those paths and make changes to ourselves. But also, we all need to be willing to accept people when they change. When they repent, we must accept these people back into our fold with open arms. Because, in many ways, this is also a test. To have the capability to forgive. This, like so many things, is hard. It is hard to open our hearts to those who have wronged. Those who have wronged us. But it is forgiveness that makes a person grow. Growth and change can be difficult, and frightening, but it is what The Light expects of us. And we must not fail The Light. That is our ultimate test: to live up to The Light's expectations." Grace sighs slightly, deciding she had said enough and did not want to prolong proceedings and lose the crowd.

"Take these words and refer back to them in desperate times. May they give you some strength and guidance. Thank you all again for coming. I will be here for some time should any of you have any questions or things you wish to discuss. Lux Vult." Grace says, ending her speech with a smile and then stepping away from the podium. She waited anxiously to see what kind of response she would receive from the masses.

[Kidney]

It was a beautiful, short and well thought out speech. Tod loved it as he heard it, and loved it more as he thought about it. His heart clenched, he smiled, and he remembered his father. Perhaps he should have stayed a bit longer, to forgive, and to meet the man who made him. Perhaps in another life, he would meet that man. Perhaps Tod could have forgiven him, if he had at least stayed to see him. 
He shook his head, an affirmative to himself, and stood up. He had much to think on, and much to learn from his superiors. Perhaps he would learn from them in the time he would spend here, and perhaps there was more Tod could accept from the Light. If only he were worthy of another gift. 
He turned and walked down from the pew, quietly making a path towards the door.
He told himself he would pray, for the dead, and the living.

[The Carrying Blade]

It was a wonderful speech, a beautiful sermon.... Sadly, at least half of what was said was lost on him. He hadn't endured as much horrible events as others, not even close. The ask's of forgiveness were indeed listened to however, as he had often blamed himself for causes his mothers death. Now, this woman deserved some praise, it takes guts no matter how little to do a sermon and be the head of the Abbey.

He started clapping, slow, methodical, a beggening beat for others to follow. And follow they did, when Adonis had started clapping others followed suit. A good portion of the audience were following the clapping, giving ample applause sound to the Abbey destroying the silence.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

He listened, somberly; considering those penitent words... How... frightfully applicable they were. Indeed, some courtly shuffling in the back of his mind whispered spidering worries:
Does she know? Did she see..? Must she be silenced? it whispered, he could almost hear the legs of such a spider plucking the strings of an assassination, poison? Holy Water spiked, or particular nuts set into an incense burner... Or, perhaps, a simple dagger would do.

The Ex-Lord screwed his eyes shut and bowed his head, Squeezing Tilly's hand gently, before slipping out of her groat-pinching grip, as the sermon came to a close.
Words... fitting to his trying situation. Perhaps he 'aught to embrace that departured Knight... Roderick... And forgive him for his nature, thank him for his departure. That vile part of him smiled cruelly at the thought, and he made no move to suppress it; the smile coming through, perhaps appearing in light of the Sermon, as one could not divine its more sinister roots.

Still, he felt a turn in his heart, hearing Grace... Seeing her frazzled nature, he could see the marring of battle there, and in her eyes. A recent trauma in her cheeks, as well... Violence was something she knew well. More recently, to boot; not just the decapitation of the equally late Baignard. His dark locks of hair bunched up on one shoulder, as his helm tilted to one side in thought, before straightening out as he rose.

Standing, looking down to Tilly, before up to Grace yet again; his hands flourished out and clapped with a clean, sharp decibel what echoed righteously in the hall. The sound of the cork from well aged wine being popped over, and over again, as his blue-blooded palms snapped against eachother in a veritable applause.
Albeit, his facing turned to one side, looking down to Tilly to join him, expectantly with a small smile.

Blood, however, slowed his clapping; as his dearly beloved Only had an equally veritable trail of his namesake oozing out from her nose, yet again.
His mind swam, Florence's words echoed in his mind, just as the memory of her own exsanguination of her pores seemed to come to the forefront of his mind. Instinctively, a hand went to his breast, and he took a knee, pulling his cloak up; while doubly baring the blade of his falchion just an inch, to cut a square of it off to hold up and out to Tilly.

Rather uncouthly, but equally comically, plugging the offending hole with a bit of undue force.
"Your... Nose; are you feeling alright..?"
He inquired hastily, with a level of worry and fretfulness that implied something far greater than a simple bloody nose.

//

[Shinzon]

Maria kept her arms crossed, staring at Grace with a fire in her eyes that was barely contained. Most of this sermon was a mixed bag to the young woman; the values were respectable, something she might agree with. But in the end, clinging to the Light would only be their doom. She still had a sliver of faith in herself, but she knew that it would be foolish for all kindling to assemble around hope. Back in her days roaming across Europe in service of an Inquisitor, she had heard his opinion on the matter: Do not rely yourself upon hope, for it shall fail. Only zeal and hatred are there for us.
While the man had clearly been a radical, he scored a point in Maria's book; relying all of themselves on hope was insanity. They needed to find balance; cold steel and warm compassion, hand in hand.

A part of herself wanted to go and talk to Grace. To see how she was faring. But the young woman knew she would suffer more from it than attain solace, and so did she turn away from the familiar face with sadness filling her eyes. However, her curiosity was stirred as she saw someone she had never personally met before, but heard of from many-a townsfolk...
A hatted lady, her appearance and reputation clearly not one of a faithful, at least to Maria's eyes; and so she started to walk toward her, determined to find out if the rumors were anywhere near the truth.

[righteouscrusader]

Tybalt clapped. Short but beautiful. A radiating message. He sat in the pew, still pondering over the woman's words.