Logs:What agreement does Christ have with Beliar? Or what does a believer share with an unbeliever?
| What agreement does Christ have with Beliar? Or what does a believer share with an unbeliever? | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-12-24 "... isn't Christmas later?" |
| Location
<NYC> Grand Street Market - Lower East Side | |
This neighborhood fixture has stood at the corner of Essex and Grand for a long, long time. Though it has a name and even a proper sign which declares 'GRAND ST MARKET', to much of the neighborhood it is simply the bodega, as though there weren't 10,000 others like it throughout the City. It's open 24/7, but after midnight anyone who isn't a trusted regular has to ask for their purchases through the bulletproof glass service window. Business tends to be slow but steady most weekdays and extremely lively on Saturdays--almost as lively as the trade in community gossip at this underrated social hub. The long counter extends back from the front door that opens onto the corner. Many of the more expensive small items, such as cigarettes, medications, and electronics, are sequestered there between the old-fashioned cash register and the late-night service window set into the outer wall. Farther along the counter, there is a food prep area that serves up coffee, soup, sandwiches, and a rotating menu of Dominican snacks. Between the end of the food service counter and the back wall, there is mounted a dry, crumbling cork board overflowing with event announcements, ads, and lost pet fliers and a slow but reliable ATM. Beyond this, the rest of the respectably sized store is crammed with shelves and end caps and refrigerated display cases. It sells prepared foods, produce, groceries, home goods, alcohol, personal care products, toys, over-the-counter medications clothing, and a variety of Dominican, Puerto Rican, and Chinese specialty items. Interspersed with and crowding between these common household necessities are small luxuries and occasional startling whimsies. In addition to the human employees, the shop is staffed by Coquí and Sapo, the resident cats. It's a disgusting miserable day outside. Grey. Wet. Cold. Spitting down spiteful-harsh pellets of stinging ice only to have them lack the decency to even stick around in any proper frosting -- just melting right away into a filthy slush, waiting in gritty pools alongside the gutters to splash onto the pedestrians hurrying from one warm Indoor Location to another. Probably that's why Joshua (?) is taking the shortcut in here today -- he's not at all dressed for the outside chill or the wet when he simply appears inside the front door, in oversized FDNY sweatshirt and pajama pants and fluffy slipper-socks that are, anyway, getting terribly wet on the melting ice tracked in all over the bodega floor. Oh well. He wiggles his toes uncomfortably against the floor and trudges straight for the booze. Wait, total lies. Joshua is totally properly dressed -- okay, maybe not for the wintry mix of the day but at least for being presentably around other people. Jeans, sneakers, old Xavier's School hoodie, his watermelon-designed kippah slightly askew on his shaggy hair. Unlike the first slacker Joshua he's also brought company in tow, depositing his passengers also by the front door and -- "Dude, we said food." He's calling this somewhat futilely towards Joshua One's departing back, then -- instead of getting any food at all -- looking down at his phone with a small frown, where imdb is still pulled up to Hannukah (2019). "This synopsis is a mess." Leo, similarly, is perfectly presentable, just not particularly winterized. Diagonally color-blocked button-down, black on the upper left and hunter green on the lower right, with jaunty upturned cuffs and a spread collar. Neat cigarette-cut blue jeans. Not a speck of Outside Mess visible on his black chelsea boots. He is looking over Joshua (#2)'s shoulder, but does at least stop to offer a polite greeting to the cashier, who is looking entirely unsurprised about a quartet of people simply Appearing in his bodega. "Maybe," he suggests very seriously, "your people just are not good at horror. You aren't scared enough of death." In a pastel rainbow sweater, heavy jeans, a floppy red tam and actual winter boots, Harm is dressed warmer than all of their companions, but still looks colder, hands pulled into the sleeves of their sweater, arms wrapped around their body. "Do they have mead? I'll settle for cider if it's sweet." But, this said, they do start moving toward snacks, stopping as they pass Joshua again to peer at the entry. "What does it say?" They pluck up a bag of chips and squints at the back. "Maybe Asians make good horror because of all the taboos about talking about death. I can't take credit for it though, back home we talk about death all the time." Joshua (#1) turns back around, hands splayed upwards. What. "Don't have anywhere to be --" is this directed a little accusatorily towards Leo, maybe, like it's his personal fault so many things are closing down midweek for. He is nodding along at Harm's assertion though. "Weird repressed freaks make the best horror." Is this quite what Harm said? Close enough, apparently. He has gotten a pack of beer and a of peach cider. No mead. He's kind of bumping Leo absently in the shoulder when he wanders back over. "Most people are scared of death. We're just not neurotic." But even here he's glancing towards other Joshua. Amending. "... about that." "Maybe we're ceding horror. Unfair to dominate two genres." Joshua grimaces and texts the link he is looking at to Harm; it's appended 'Some slasher kiling yids for sinning. Sounds Xtian.' His mouth twitches to the side, quick, in time with a small hff. He's glancing towards Harm, then up at the sky. "I do picture you all talking about death all the time." He is sending Other!Joshua a deeply skeptical look even before they've corrected. Just snorts again, at the amendment. "I have somewhere to be," Leo protests, but it's very mild. He is trailing towards the snacks, to start loading a basket up. "The real supersessionism is actually that we rudely perfected your neuroses." "Hey, that's the normal side of my family you're talking about." If this is outrage, Harm seems pretty complacent about it. "They are really repressed, though," they add after a little further consideration."I'm not clear on how Hannukah fits into that." They deposit the chips they've just vetted into Leo's basket. "Not until way later. What's super...session? Ism. Is 'we' Asians or Christians?" "Yes," !Joshua is answering Harm for Leo. "Asian Christians count double." They are not bothering to vet their snacks, but only because they are beelining towards the same brand of cheese curls they always get. "Supersessionism is the word for how all the Abrahamic religions that came after them," he's nodding to Joshua #2, "improved on the model." Joshua #2 is blinking over to Joshua #1's side, for the sole purpose of bapping him upside the head. Then blipping back over to peruse the cookies. "You do?" He's looking at Leo very, very blankly. "What's going on today?" "Catholics." This correction is reflexive, but still has a determined emphaticness to it. "Supersessionism..." He's preempted in his answer by their Joshua Clone. Judging by his wider eyes, deep flush, this is not the answer he was going to give. He lets Joshua's whap speak for itself, though -- besides which he is very thrown by the question, eying Joshua and then the others (and then the many festive decorations strewn scattershot through the bodega) like he is not entirely sure if he's meant to be answering. But he does anyway: "It's -- Christmas?" "Ohhh..." Harm nods, deep. "Supersessionism. Wait, does that mean Muslims make the best horror?" They seem a little skeptical of this as they eye the candy display indecisively. "I definitely see a lot of Catholic...ness in horror movies." Then looks up at Leo. "Oh right! Merry Christmas!" "We make the best everything." Joshua #1 is looking skeptical, too, though his skepticism is turned towards Leo. Then a glance to other!Joshua to confirm: "... isn't Christmas later?" "Christmas was mid-Tevet last year. They keep moving it." Joshua sounds about as mournful about this fickleness as he does about everything else. He has taken a nonsense long time to stare at the cookies, given that ultimately what he drops into the basket is a large pack of plain Oreos. "And it's Erev Christmas." Now that Leo has grown steadily more certain that this, too, is simply trolling, he relaxes out of his confusion back into a small amused smile. "Merry --" he starts to offer Harm, but then, slightly wider-eyed: "Oh, no, wasn't your Christmas days ago?" Harm pulls out their phone as if to follow up on Joshua (Muslim Edition)'s claim, but actually they're just reading the link Joshua sent. "I genuinely thought it was tomorrow." Then, after Joshua (Jewish Edition) clarifies, they pull their tam down over their face and push it back up again. "I mean, that song says there are twelve Christmasses, but I'm never sure when to start counting, it's different from our twelve days." They look at Leo, perplexed. "Oh! I mean back home we have our big celebration on the night of the solstice, but Yule keeps going until solar new year." "So your Christmas has twelve days, too?" Mirror!Joshua's brows raise. "What kinda knockoff." "S'important to feel authentic." Joshua is taking the basket and the booze. Trudging with them up to the cashier. As he digs out his wallet he's tossing over his shoulder: "The Twelve Days isn't a fast, I hope. Making hell of buñuelos tomorrow." Leo ducks his head. His cheeks are still flushed, and he is very clearly trying to stifle a smile at this exchange. He follows Joshua towards the counter at a slow meandering drift. He is nodding, quite appreciatively, at the promise of Future Bunuelos. "One thing we have in common." "I mean." Harm follows Prime!Joshua but walks backwards a couple of steps to fix Mirror!Joshua with what they probably intend as a withering look, but it kind of looks like they're just squinting. "Isn't supersessionism a kind of 'knockoff', too?" They turn half around to look at Joshua, brows actually scrunching down into a frown. But then they smile, bobbing their head in an ambiguous gesture somewhere between a nod and a wobble. "Well, I guess it worked!" "Gulf between knockoff and inspiration," Mirror is answering in Joshua's gruff voice, his eyes skipping between the older men and finally Harm, "s'as wide as the one between --" This doesn't finish. His mouth twitches to the side. "Well." And, like the totally-NOT-a-slacker-Joshua that he is, he's doing his party with ferrying on the return trip. When he poofs, the booze has gone with him. | |
