While the chapel was considered functional, it was still far from complete. If it was one good thing that came from Murphy's troubles on Strela, it was the fact that he returned with a decent supply of material to continue his work on it. If nothing else, it provided a much-needed distraction from the monotony of having nothing better to do.
Plus, to Murphy, it felt like he was doing a deed that was actually worth something. As if it was possible for him to climb that scale back from the bottom of that horrid pit. He didn't expect redemption out of this, though. After all, it was just a chapel: A series of pews and a shitty altar that had been constructed from a severe lack of materials. That would no longer be an issue now, and he had Dave's little inventory trick to thank for that. Sure, by all rights, it was deemed stealing. But it was for a good cause. He doubt that it, of all things, would damn him. Not when the previous owners of these things probably didn't even realize half of their crap went missing in the first place. Or cared.
So it was okay.
Flawless logic.
Murphy had plans of finishing a more complete-looking chapel now. It was a goal that he'd determined by himself since the whole thing came up, and in a small way, it brought him a little peace of mind. Stealing was wrong, but bringing people together based on ideas and faith was the exact opposite. He was raised on this, and while Murphy may not have had the greatest upbringing (or much of an upbringing at all), it was one of the few things he had left that he respected -- even if he had a brash way of showing it sometimes.
He had already started to haul pieces of scrap metal and tools that would help put it all together. It would take a lot of time. Murphy had plenty of time. Hell, he had nothing but time in this world. While everyone else could figure out how to make life easier or try to find a way out, Murphy would be in the gardens, hammering away with a bludgeon to form what would eventually become a part of a wall. It was definitely starting to become something.
By the time Murphy had arrived at the chapel after several trips across the ship (which was also tedious as hell in itself), someone else had occupied the space at some point. A bit worn out from physical exertion after sending so many scraps and supplies to the unfinished chapel, it seemed like a good time as any to take a break. He'd set these things aside for now, and walked tiredly towards the shape on the pew.
Well, shit. It was Alex.
Part of Murphy wondered if he should have just left him alone instead. But his feet were already in motion, and by then his shuffles would have announced his presence, anyway.
"Didn't expect to see you here so soon." Coming from personal experience, Murphy learned that it was better to at least announce yourself somewhat, first. He dropped himself down on the row behind Alex, resting his elbows over his knees. "Sorry it isn't much yet. I'm still workin' on it." As indicated by the supplies he'd already started to bring in.
For as worn out as he was now, he honestly could have made this all less physically taxing if he had asked Dave to just deposit the supplies here rather than the other side of the ship. But there was something to be said about the physical labor that Murphy welcomed. And the time spent alone in what he felt to be productive helped him think more clearly -- sort out the thoughts in his head. It took more than just being there, he realized. It was the work in itself that he valued the most.
all of the feelers
Plus, to Murphy, it felt like he was doing a deed that was actually worth something. As if it was possible for him to climb that scale back from the bottom of that horrid pit. He didn't expect redemption out of this, though. After all, it was just a chapel: A series of pews and a shitty altar that had been constructed from a severe lack of materials. That would no longer be an issue now, and he had Dave's little inventory trick to thank for that. Sure, by all rights, it was deemed stealing. But it was for a good cause. He doubt that it, of all things, would damn him. Not when the previous owners of these things probably didn't even realize half of their crap went missing in the first place. Or cared.
So it was okay.
Flawless logic.
Murphy had plans of finishing a more complete-looking chapel now. It was a goal that he'd determined by himself since the whole thing came up, and in a small way, it brought him a little peace of mind. Stealing was wrong, but bringing people together based on ideas and faith was the exact opposite. He was raised on this, and while Murphy may not have had the greatest upbringing (or much of an upbringing at all), it was one of the few things he had left that he respected -- even if he had a brash way of showing it sometimes.
He had already started to haul pieces of scrap metal and tools that would help put it all together. It would take a lot of time. Murphy had plenty of time. Hell, he had nothing but time in this world. While everyone else could figure out how to make life easier or try to find a way out, Murphy would be in the gardens, hammering away with a bludgeon to form what would eventually become a part of a wall. It was definitely starting to become something.
By the time Murphy had arrived at the chapel after several trips across the ship (which was also tedious as hell in itself), someone else had occupied the space at some point. A bit worn out from physical exertion after sending so many scraps and supplies to the unfinished chapel, it seemed like a good time as any to take a break. He'd set these things aside for now, and walked tiredly towards the shape on the pew.
Well, shit. It was Alex.
Part of Murphy wondered if he should have just left him alone instead. But his feet were already in motion, and by then his shuffles would have announced his presence, anyway.
"Didn't expect to see you here so soon." Coming from personal experience, Murphy learned that it was better to at least announce yourself somewhat, first. He dropped himself down on the row behind Alex, resting his elbows over his knees. "Sorry it isn't much yet. I'm still workin' on it." As indicated by the supplies he'd already started to bring in.
For as worn out as he was now, he honestly could have made this all less physically taxing if he had asked Dave to just deposit the supplies here rather than the other side of the ship. But there was something to be said about the physical labor that Murphy welcomed. And the time spent alone in what he felt to be productive helped him think more clearly -- sort out the thoughts in his head. It took more than just being there, he realized. It was the work in itself that he valued the most.