"You should should accept Christ as your lord and savior, sweetie." Came the abrupt voice that interrupted Helga's trance as she watched green country roll by on the road up the coiling path. She had tried to keep her head in a fog as this woman wouldn't let her smoke in the car even with the window rolled down or anything. It'd been hours since her last cigarette and it was beginning to bother her. It was actually somewhat odd, her body healed the damage done by the tobacco and everything else in a cigarette except for the addiction induced cravings of the nicotine. Sure she had quit a bunch of times but a smoker's always a smoker when the chips are down and she never had much luck at the table to begin with.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Purple">'preciate the ride, sister, but I don't want a sermon.</span>" Helga spoke as she turned her head towards the frail looking old woman, wearing black cloth and the usual nun outfit. She wondered what the holy sister had once looked like in her youth and when she chose to waste her life serving some "all knowing" powerful being, "<span style="color: Purple">Why'd you even wanna drive me out here? You know full well I'm no god-fearing woman.</span>"<br/><br/>"Do unto others, sweetie, it's what the book says." The older woman gestured to the bible on the dashboard before returning the arthritis ridden hand to the steering wheel of the old station wagon. Helga wondered to herself how the thing was even functioning, rattling and creaking as it drove along and occasionally the engine back-fired loudly when something in the engine cluttered up and was cleared by releasing of pressure.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Purple">Whatever, far as I'm concerned even if God does exist, 'e's a bloody tosser.</span>" Helga retorted a bit bitterly, remembering all the shelters she had stayed at in the past few years she had to listen to a sermon just like the one this old bat was giving her just to get a meal and a place to sleep for the night and a shower. She met this one at the last shelter after somebody handed her some weird brochure and she offered to take her there. Her cravings were really setting her on edge, making her lash out at the woman for it. The last cigarette was at a gas station when they had fueled up and she could get away from the old beater that stunk of church and prayer beads and crucifixes, "<span style="color: Purple">It's a load a' bollocks, some 'igh bein' watchin' over everythin'.</span>"<br/><br/>Helga couldn't help but notice a bunch of cars heading the opposite direction, mostly cabbies. Evidently this was a popular locale, though discrete at the same time? Were there others like her, other pyromancers that just needed a place to stay? That's what Helga craved most, a home. Because of her Fire starting habits and tendencies and what she could remember before she woke up in a hospital bed a few years back, she never had a home.<br/><br/>"The lord doesn't judge, sweetie, he accepts all in to his heart." The old woman said as the car slowed down on a gravel road and she shifted the gears in to park, the clutch sticking before the old station wagon came to a gradual stop. Helga put her hand on the door handle and pulled, pushing the creaking door open and swinging a leg out as fast as she could and stood up and out of the car. Reaching in to her pockets with eager hands, she drew one of many packs of cigarettes she had, putting one between her lips and rifling to find her zippo lighter, "I hope you find your faith soon. Go with God, young lady."<br/><br/>Helga closed the door at that, having to slam it a bit to get the latch to actually latch. The old station wagon creaked and puttered as it turned around and headed back the way it came from, the entire time Helga cupping her hand over the end of a cigarette and striking the flint with the wheel of the zippo to get the wick to catch. Repeatedly she did this with no results.<br/><br/>Giving a quick glance around to see no one was looking, the end of her index finger ignited in blue fire. The searing sensation of it she had grown used to, keeping the zippo only to keep up appearances of normality when she was in the company of others. Still it wasn't pleasant for two reasons, she felt every second of the small flame dancing on the end of her finger and a cigarette lit by her power tasted a bit rotten to start.<br/><br/>Extinguishing the flame as the cherry of her cigarette formed, she took the paper wrapped tobacco between her index and middle fingers and inhaled deeply before pulling it from her lips, the burn on the end of her finger having fully healed. Nobody would even guess it had been there, leaving perfect skin. Keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment or two before she exhaled a ring or two of smoke and headed for the gate, placing the addiction between her lips as she did so and sticking her hands in the pockets of the leather duster she wore. As she approached it, the gate opened and she raised an eyebrow in passing,<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Purple">If God does exist, 'e 'as a weird sense of humor.</span>" She mumbled to herself, cigarette bobbing up and down as she did so, a small greyish smoke trail rising behind her as she walked. From the inside she could hear voices, many voices. Maybe she wasn't the only one, quickening her pace with a sense of eagerness. She didn't even bother knocking, pushing the door open after cranking the handle.<br/><br/>To say she was a bit let down by the macabre appearance of the others in front of her is an understatement. Seeing a couple men, a couple women. Her piercing blue eyes sizing them up rather quickly, they looked nothing like her.<br/><br/><i>Redhead Humpback, Slick Fella, Cripple, Army lookin' fella.</i>She tallied up in her head, taking a deep inhale of her smoke before exhaling it, the nicotine rush that was every bit as fresh as her first inhale during the crash of the 30s.<i>Hold the phone... why do I remember that...?</i>She asked herself inwardly as the brakes to her train of thought screeched her inner monologue to a halt.<br/><br/>Standing in the doorway, she decided to focus on other things. Exhaling the smoke through the left corner of her lips while her cigarette remained between them in the middle, not drawing her hands from her pockets to lift it away for a moment. Focusing on the military man for now, he seemed to feel he was the most dangerous in the room. Helga doubted that for some reason, frowning as she thought to herself that he seemed dangerous but she didn't think anywhere as dangerous as her,<i>He hasn't burnt down entire buildings just because of a nicotine craving, I don't think</i>she thought.<br/><br/>Helga thought she might open up with something like her name, maybe a snippy comment or even something straight up bitter. Taking another inhale of her cigarette to make the cherry glow a bit before she plucked it from her lips and flicked the filter with her thumb to shake off the ashes hanging by a proverbial thread on the end, she remained silent. She had her nicotine, she was in a new home and she didn't want to set a bad precedent by saying something clever to offend someone.<br/><br/>Anyone looking at her when she entered would see the duster jacket, somewhat worn in though lacking holes denim pants, black tanktop that showed most of her stomach and the thong strings peaking out from her waistline on the front and sides. Her clothes in general had a worn in but not filthy or holey, looking to be cleaned and replaced as often as needed though quite possibly the only clothes she possessed. Helga felt fairly confident she was one of, if not the most attractive women present at the moment, though the humpback girl certainly had a fair chance of tying were it not for that weird bump in her coat. Her stance shifted her weight to a hip as she considered her options. She felt hungry.<br/><br/>With that, she kicked her worn in looking sneakers from her feet and began walking in stripe-socked feet towards the kitchen. She proceeded to open and close all the cupboards and drawers, checking their contents for the kind of food available before she opened the fridge and took a long hard look at the contents and drumming the fingers of her cigarette hand against the top of the fridge door as she did so.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>