multiversallogs | And on the seventh day

Who: Ava Lockhart and YOU
What: Helping the sick while stealthily engaged in The Worst Plan Ever
Where: one of Toivo's temples
When: this afternoon
Notes: If you'd like to catch her on her way to or from the temple, that's fine, just say it in your tag! Also the Worst Plan Ever, not that she will admit to this any time soon, is to get herself sick on purpose in hopes that it induces a fresh set of visions. GJ AVA :|
Warnings: N/A, will update as needed.

Six times Ava has come to this temple and things have been uneventful. Sure, she sticks out like a sore thumb, between the complete lack of medical knowledge or training and the fashionable outfits and three-inch heels, but she genuinely wants to help and does whatever the other volunteers, the doctors, and the attendants tell her to do without hesitation or question. And when she doesn't have directions she busies herself tending to people, draping a blanket here, getting a drink of water there, holding hands everywhere.

Six times, things have been simple.

But today, the seventh day, she glances down at a man stretched on a bench as she spreads a blanket over him. And when he smiles up at her she recognizes his face from an old vision.

He's here to die. He'll die before she leaves today.

She steps outside, hand pressed to her mouth, and she manages to keep her composure all the way down the front steps and around the nearest corner. There, leaning against the temple wall, she lets herself sob, all her pent-up frustration and lack of direction pouring out in the wake of that shocking moment.

It's not fair. She's so used to knowing what she needs to do, being able to help people. Save people. And she can't do that here, not properly, because she's not sure anymore that the visions she had at home apply here. She needs new information, needs to trigger that dormant ability anew.

She just hadn't counted on being affected so much, personally, by what she's set out to do. By the real people in there, relying on the help of others.

When she's sure she can hold herself together again, she comes back inside, chin up, glancing around at the people working in the temple to see if anyone has anything for her to do.

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"We don't need to take the rail," she assures him. Doing so slashes the travel time to nearly nothing, but the distance can be walked and she hates the thought of leaving his horse behind. "It's all right. He can come, too."

"Then I'll go fetch him and wait for you outside." Assuming Ava has to wrap up some loose ends before she leaves.

Five minutes later and Boromir is waiting outside the temple with a grey horse en tow that has Hellsing's colours around the saddle and reigns. In the event that someone thinks it might be funny to spook or attempt to steal, at least he can say he gave them fair warning.

Ava comes out of the temple, shrugging on her coat. The horse is beautiful, she thinks, a noble and very striking creature.

...And this is the closest she's ever been to one in her life, and she has no idea what to do.

"What's his name?"

"Arroch." A good tempered creature that Boromir had trained over the past couple of months for the difficult purpose of his work. With a steady grip on his reigns, he pats the horse's neck fondly. "It means 'noble horse' in Sindarin, one of the elvish languages in my world. I'm afraid I'm not that imaginative. Long ago there was another rider with a horse that had the same name although both were ill-fated. Some would say I'm courting trouble but I think in this city I may as well acknowledge it."

He gives a little half-smile at his joke and, noting Ava's hesitance. "He won't bother you, although you can pet him if you like."

Ava's smile blooms again, put at ease--funny, how Boromir seems to have that effect. "Arroch," she repeats, and she moves closer, patting the other side of the horse's neck. "Hello, Arroch. I think it's a fine name, ill-fated or no."

She steps around the horse after a moment, joining Boromir at his side. "I'm ready if you are."

"Then let's set off." And he gives the reigns a tug to show Arroch it's time to start trotting.

It becomes clear that whatever he wants to talk about has been weighing on his mind for a significant amount of time. He also waits a minute or so before beginning to speak, trying to figure out the best way to phrase the matter.

"You did a great kindness by sharing your vision with me those months ago, one which I am still grateful for. You must understand that first and foremost." He had never once thought Ava had lied, because why would she? They had been strangers then and the details of what she had said rang true. Still, Faramir's appearance and insistence that he died trying to re-take Osgiliath had thrown a shadow of doubt into Boromir's mind. But mostly he seems afraid of offending her with what he says next:

"I hope you will not think me impertinent for asking, but have you ever been mistaken in what you saw?"

Ava smiles, touched by his clear efforts to avoid offense. "I'm grateful that I could help you," she replies. "And I have been mistaken before, yes. Sometimes it's a matter of misinterpreting what I saw."

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, figuring out the best way to explain. "I get glimpses of information, usually. Not an entire picture. Sometimes I have to piece together the information. And sometimes I don't do that piecing-together correctly. I may not have done so in this case, if that's why you're asking. I'm sorry if my confidence in what I saw and your faith in my interpretation has caused you any distress since."

She's silent again; there's something that's been gnawing at her for a while now, something that's propelled her toward this ill-advised plan to try to induce new visions.

"I've wondered, too, if I may no longer be as reliable as before, because I'm here now. All my visions before centered on being in my home world. I worry that the change in setting may have led to changes in what I see or interpret."

And on the seventh day

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