Abigail wasn't sure how long she had been wandering around Cape Merrin, wan't even really sure what day it was. The fools at Immanuel had kicked her out when they found her sleeping under one of the pews. It probably didn't help that she'd been using a sack filled with some silver candlesticks she had nicked from the near the pulpit. She scowled at the memory. They didn't need it as much as she did! She was out here, doing God's work, while they slept in their warm beds, ignorant to the true horrors that cursed the world. She had been nice, oh yes, she had even tried to explain to them the reason she needed the silver. Regular silver wouldn't do of course, metal was metal until it had been blessed. She could do that of course, she was divinity made manifest, a blade through which God's will was done, but the silver needed to have spent time in a holy place for it to be truly effective. They hadn't understood of course, and had insisted on calling the police.<br/><br/>"There's no need for that sister." She had said. "I am merely doing God's work the same as you. It is my duty to purge the impure." She had tried to be kind, but the woman had clearly overreacted. If she hadn't have shouted Abigail wouldn't have had to break her nose. That was going to look bad. Now she was homeless again.<br/><br/>"Repentance, repentance for our sins Abigail." She muttered as it began to drizzle. "Repentance keeps us pure, pure to fight the beasts, pure to spread the Word." She had assaulted a member of the faith, even if her denomination left something to be desired. This wandering was part of her punishment, must accept it, must take it and be grateful. She sighed as she walked, her head down against the chill wind. It was never warm enough in Cape Merrin. She didn't even have a coat, and she had received a fair number of stares as she aimlessly made her way around the town.<br/><br/>The wind picked up and something smacked into her face, blocking her vision. She let out a squawk and her hand went to her face, her other hand fumbling to reach into her father's cassock. She stopped after a moment, realizing it was just a dirty newspaper. She growled, pulling it off her face and glaring at it as she started walking again. The headline was hard to make out in the advancing gloom, but eventually she stopped under a light to read it. It was about the disappearing children again. Abigail chewed on the inside of her cheek, tossing the paper aside and staring at her feet as she walked. Another child missing, another child dead, another grieving parent mourning in bed. The rhyme formed itself in her mind and she giggled at the sheer humorlessness of the situation. It was too much really. She had been hunting for years and nothing changed. Clearly she was being tested. But her faith would not waver.<br/><br/>"I will find them and turn them into dust in the name of the Lord." She said, kicking at a bottle. It was such a shame that so few people understood what she was trying to do. You would think they would treat her as a hero, but no. It was so hard to feel like an instrument of the divine when you were forced to break into churches and scrounge on the streets. Those were complaints for weaker moments though. Abigail knew that what she was doing was not meant for glory. It was a service to God and the people who had faith. She required no thanks.<br/><br/>She looked around, taking note of her surroundings for the first time in hours. At some point she had wandered into the industrial district, a place home to more than a few heathens in dire need of a little education in the ways of the faith. She remembered her conversations with her father and frowned. She had tried, for him she had tried to be understanding. But the world was filled with so much filth! Sometimes it was all she could do to keep herself from purging the lot of the rabble that liked to congregate in the seedier parts of town. He wouldn't appreciate it though, and so she had taken to trying to convert them, where she could. She was ashamed to admit the number of people she had effectively convinced was sitting at an unimpressive zero. Still, tonight felt good. Lost souls needed guidance after all.<br/><br/>She made her way further into the district until she was in the vicinity of Simon's Bull. She had been in once or twice before, it was hard to remember. The customer base was rowdy, and unfortunately resistant to her message. Still, the Lord rewarded persistence and most of these people clearly needed help.<br/><br/>As she approached the bar she felt something grab her around the elbow. She spun to find the leering face of a drunkard staring down at her. "Hey there sweetheart." He said, his rancid breath washing over her. She had to try hard not to gag. "What are ya doing 'round here in that get up? You some kind of costume whore?"<br/><br/>Abigail tried to smile. 'Remember Abigail, mercy, mercy and compassion for the lost.' She thought. "I'm sorry sir, but I am no whore. I am a servant of the Lord, here to spread the Word of God. Would you by chance be interested in giving your life to Christ?" She asked, fixing her face with a smile.<br/><br/>The man laughed, a bellowing sound that made Abigail cringe. He was just an oaf after all. "Nah can't say as I am darlin'." He leaned in close, grinning at her. "That's cute an' all but I got's a mind for sin tonight. How 'bout you come with me and I'll show ya all about the wild side of life? Get your cute little self outta that stuffy outfit whaddya say?"<br/><br/>Abigail growled before tearing her arm out out of the man's grasp. "Filthy, filthy, filthy!" She shouted. "Not worthy to stand on God's earth! Not worthy of the chance he has given you! Get out of my sight vile beast! You only serve to aid the monsters!" She had hoped tonight would be different, but she was in a bad mood and this man had made it worse. She was working herself into a frenzy and was prepared to let the divine light take her over. Everything always felt so much better when she did.