Flickers of Faith (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

3- Your God and Mine

"But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person." - Matthew 15:18

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"And well...that was it." Her tale ended on a high, soft note. Out of context it seemed to understate the absolute blood-pounding revelation of her epoch, but it came out mildly as the weariness of recall gripped her shoulders.

Once again, Sammy found himself sitting across from the woman in the living room of this strange apartment, overcome by flabbergast. So Alice didn't hurt her after all...although she did threaten her life. Such behavior was expected; however, it stood in stark contrast to everything else she described.

"He...didn't try to attack you?" Sammy asked with both hesitation and disbelief about the newest being she had met.

The corner of Francine's mouth pulled back. "No. He-" She put a hand to her throat, a gentle recognition of a past sensation. "He was just...feeling, I think." A questioning gaze looked up to the prophet. "Norman can't- can't hear, right?"

A slow, wordless nod from across the table and nothing more. Norman...Norman... Sammy had never called him that but...it felt correct. If the angel called him so, then it must be the projectionist's former name.

But now that he thought of it, there was a lot of things they had accepted from her as truth without question. Yes, she did know Sammy's name, but who was to say that in her own desperation to find fulfillment in this cursed immortality, she hadn't designed her own history- her own fabricated reality of once was? Alice would certainly have reason to; this world was at times...unbearable.

Certainly so if one didn't have faith. And if she didn't believe in the ink demon, she could only believe in herself and her own machinations.

As a mental mention of his lord grazed his conscious, both his eyes and his heart were grasped by the sight in front of him. The woman's head was slightly downturned, eyelids shut with fatigue. Her arms were folded into her chest almost to hold herself. A few black stains soaked into her current short-sleeved shirt; he could see traces of where drops of ink trailed along her head and arms. The thin object in her grasp trembled, mirroring her current instability.

Yes, there was one thing that he hoped above all that Alice was being honest about.

"Praise be the demon was by your side."

All she did in response was look up at him again and let her gaze fall just as soon. She wasn't ready to try to describe her newfound fears of his lord, and even if she was, she wasn't sure she'd even know what to say. Just as Sammy gave his entire soul to the ink demon, Francine had begun to do the same. And now she was in limbo, spirit lost as she had yet to push forward or to turn back. It was insufferable.

She had to change the subject. Thankfully it wasn't difficult; the thing between her fingers had not been forgotten. And so the only sound for a minute was the crinkling of paper, unfolded as delicately as her shaky hands could muster.

"She...she gave me this." Sammy only saw the back of the parchment; even as it covered the lower half of her face from this angle, he could still glimpse a growing expression upon her face. There was something about it that he didn't like.

"Alice...she made me leave before I could ask about it." The photo was gingerly placed upon the table faceup for him to see. "Do you..." she began to ask, hesitation slowing her voice, "know who they are?"

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It was wall to wall.