The Rockrose and the Thistle [CLOSED]

Today had beat his ass, but this . . . this was worth it. He heard a number of heartbeats. Above those cacophonous sound uniting in unison, one heartbeat and a song rang true above the rest. A smile grew under his mask. Woody knew that voice. After setting the duffel bag aside, the smile became a grin as his feet left the floor of the church and his limbs clung to the ceiling of the hallways before entering the church proper.

All the while keeping out of eyesight of his target. He cozied himself up above one of the stained glass windows as he sat up and leaned forward against the wall, listening and watching intently.

While sporting black-and-white colored civilian clothes, the vigilante kept his mask on as well as his gloves but everything else about his armored spandex-esque costume had simply rippled away. A brief vibration across his costume had transformed his clothing to something more normal before he even got within five blocks of the building. A normal procedure to land somewhere far from the church before changing to something reasonably inconspicuous and then reach the church on foot.

Now he was wearing a black shirt with white seams and an equally dark if not darker black jacket. The pants were slightly loose-fitting jeans sporting the same color, although far more flexible and comfortable than the average pair, and a pair of black shoes with white bottoms and white laces.

No use bringing any unnecessary attention to the abode with his particular brand of famous reputation and infamy.

Now he was here. Part of his usual daily routine or he tried to make it daily. He rubbed his knee, aching with the exertion of his perch before rubbing a shoulder and rolling it. Every nick, wound, and bruise flared along his joints and torso. Today had been rough.

But taking the backdoor and having a chance to hear this? This made it all a little more bearable.

Until her singing ended or when her song and lyrics matched became that of a different, Woody waited a little before moving along the ceiling, crawling carefully.

"Nice singing. Ever thought of going pro?"

Behind her and hanging on a single strand upside down, Sensation's lenses would meet Rose's own eyes if she turned around, just a few feet in behind her--or, well, in front of her--before he gave a small salute with two fingers off the top of his forehead.

"Or are you going to start a choir I don't know about? I can be the bass."

The orange light certainly did her complexion all the favors as she turned to him. Honestly, he had to wonder in a place such as Duskburg how this church's interior glowed with such ethereal light through its stained glass. A raised eyebrow under the mask followed, only matched by his lenses, as her cryptic manners greeted him.

Before settling into his own chuckle as she began laughing. For a moment, he wondered if she had been messing with him or he had inspired some form of divine retribution.

"A hobby would be good for you, and-."

Her hands caught him off guard as they lightly pressed against both sides of his mask, and the suit nearly rippled in agitation and anticipating as a response before stopping. Rose was a trusted friend, and she had never harmed or betrayed their trust before. This was simply sudden. The scent of fresh apples and a forest breeze graced his senses before he released one hand from his web-line to cast a glance at his own appendage. Glowing. He was glowing.

No, the entire room was. It was only a moment before it vanished. All the while, he could feel every wound begin to close up and seal rapidly, far faster than he had ever healed on his own, even with the suit's help. Every bruise and inflamed joint began to vanish away with a comforting heat that rushed over his body rapidly.

"Whoa."

Still not used to that, but she's definitely improved.

"That was impressive," he remarked nodding and smiling--lenses growing wide--as she took a step back, "I feel better. Thanks."

He could give her notes on how well she had done along with all his more scientific observations later, when it was not so late, . . . or maybe right now as she tried to delve into the topic of who had the lucky privilege of beating his behind.

He let go of the silk strand as he gently placed his feet upon the ground, "Oh, just an old lady with a stick down at the local superstore. Those old people are quite fearless, especially for their peach cans."

A small glance towards the duffel bag he set aside on a table. Food and clothes and other essentials were inside. Anything he could afford that Rose had mentioned the church needed. She had enough to worry about, as she had mentioned, and any weight he could take off her shoulders would be good in his book. And he needed to make sure he wasn't adding any weight to her shoulders either.

Taking a step closer, his head swiveled left to right looking about the interior before settling on Rose, "Shouldn't you be asleep? I can sweep the place. Even the ceiling too."

He pointed upwards at the ceiling with one hand as he smirked under the mask.

That smile. He knew it all too well. The sweeping was done and a small pang of guilt washed over his heart at having not been able to help with a simple chore. All that time spent looking after Duskburg. Maybe a little more energy devoted to its citizens rather than its degenerates would be better suited for his talents. Before he could think too hard on that, Woody echoed the name Rose had given.

"Andrew," he muttered almost bitterly as his eyes narrowed for a moment.

I'm going to need a talk with that kid. Maybe all of them. She shouldn't be up this late.

Shoulders lowering and a sigh followed, his frustration rolled off of him in a wave as he followed Rose towards the duffel bag. He shuffled over next to her and began helping taking out the cans, folded stacks of clothing, as well as hygiene products. Reusable diapers were important, even if in slight excess. Children of all ages were under the protection of this church. Different foods with a long storage life or could be cooked easily were always what he tried to buy for them. That is unless he could buy something and cook a meal for all of them. But those opportunities were few and far between all of his other responsibilities.

But maybe his first responsibility should be to the people who depend on him most. All these children . . . how many had he really helped over the years considering how young he was when he started out. Not to mention Rose who had been effectively younger than him when she began all of this.

I should do something.

As Rose tried stifling a yawn, the beginnings of the sound floated to his ears all the same. He almost yawned himself before stopping, playing it off as a cough and making a small show of hitting his chest softly a few times. An apologetic look--as best as he could mime through the expressive lenses of his mask--followed as he muttered sorry to her. He set aside more diapers, food cans, and toothbrushes and the like until the duffel bag was entirely empty.

A pause followed and Woody found his hand resting on Rose's shoulder. His entire posture leaned down as his head tilted to the side. His eyes meeting hers, even if she could only see the mask.

"Hey, how about you take a nap after we're done with this? I can stay up for Andrew or go looking for him."

A moment passed before he quickly removed his hand from her shoulder, balling it into a fist and pulling the limb close to himself. His attention turned to the various items on the table although he made no move to grab a single one.

"You should get some sleep. You shouldn't stay up for one stupid kid when you've got dozens depending on you."

Especially for the talking I'm about to give him.

. . . he probably sounded like a jerk saying that, didn't he? Too late to take it back now.