Don't step on Fairy Rings (Norman entry, ORP)

"You know, the park right over...." He stopped as he turned to point where he had come from; this was not the park, this wasn't anything he recognized. Looking around he searched for something that could at least make some sense to explain all of this. "But I--it was right there! We were right there!"

What was going on? Where was he? Who was this strange man, he was wearing a uniform, but he was nobody that he recognized. A green light? Norman took a few steps back to clear his head and remember what had happened. He winced from the pain that was now starting to make itself known from his sides, perhaps a bruised rib from when he fell? He fell...."A light..." Now he remembered.

"We were in the park, he was barefoot--why was he--forgot about that...But we were there, in the park." He was losing his train of thought for a moment, "He said that he was moving on now so I grabbed him--and there was that light coming from the, n-no, that's not right--" He shook his head, glowing mushrooms made no sense whatsoever and he was sounding ridiculous enough as is. All he needed was to take the suspect back to town, treat his injuries, and go home for the night. No more of this nonsense or strange men in the woods. Now where did that funny man with all of that hair go? Wait, that man--

"Ah! He got away again!" Something in Norman's mind finally clicked and he looked around frantically, the pain in his side screaming as he did, "I just had him! He must still be up that hill--This--ahhhhaaaOW." In his attempt to lead the strange soldier he had just met back up the hill a sharp, spiking pain shot through his ribs that left him hunched and breathing roughly through his teeth. "S-sorry, I uh, I must of hit something when I was falling down that hill. I'll be fine, i just need a moment."

"Wait, no, I'm fine." Norman did his best to gather himself and stand up straight, "I just must have hit something when I fell, no matter. It will just be a bruise tomorrow." This was no time to worry about himself, or whatever little injury he got! After all, he was still at work, he still had a duty to fulfill, and a (possible) criminal to catch! Though was this really the moment to carry that through? After all he still had so many questions about what had happened and to where he was so suddenly after the strange uniformed man stated that he was no where near home. 

His moment of hesitation was just enough for Christian to take control of the situation and lead both of them towards the town. This was just all happening at once and not a lick of it made any sense, he had to gather himself, one situation at a time. Organize yourself, Norman, you're better than this, is what he told himself. Perhaps getting some questions answered while they made their way to a doctor would help put his mind at ease.

"S...So," He wasn't sure if this was really his place to just ask this kind stranger, he seemed like a decent fellow, "...So, if I'm not in Breslau, where am I? And who are you? I'm, uh, I'm Norman, it's...it's nice to meet you....?" holding out his hand for a brief moment to shake as an introduction it was clear he wasn't sure what to do. "Thank you for helping me--with all of this, I uhm..." He wasn't really sure what to say still.

"Sorry, I'll just wait until we get to a doctor, you know what you're doing." 

Though if anybody had asked him, which nobody would at this time, Norman could have sworn it looked more like they were walking towards the Church rather than a doctor's office.

Because of course, that's what made sense to Norman, it had to have made sense. Why else would they be going to a church at this hour  or for any other reason for that matter? He wanted to ask Christian more questions, but he began to worry that perhaps he was starting to becoming an annoyance and held back. Instead he nervously buttoned his uniform back up and picked away leaves and other debris that had gotten tangled in from his tumble; anything to distract himself from this nonsense and appear presentable again. 

At the sound of the Church door creaking open he quickly stood up straight and kept his hands to his sides, trying to ignore the sharp pain from moving so quickly.

<Italian>

If Donna could kill a man simply by glaring at the back of his head hard enough, Christian would have been dead on the floor five minutes ago and already halfway finished decomposing. She was just about to tell him exactly what he could do with that tea kettle when the other man, (their "guest") spoke up. He was young, and he looked like he had just recently lost a fist fight with a holly bush, and he was asking about a telephone, and he didn't need to be here.

"Ha, a telephone?" Donna scoffed and replied in accented German, switching languages so she wouldn't have to repeat herself. She hated having to repeat herself to men. "Is this a public house? Do you see any wires? No, no telephone."

She punctuated her final sentence by giving their guest a thorough and unsubtle study, up-and-down, with her hard eyes. It was clear she disapproved of Christian bringing home strays to stand awkwardly in the hallways of her church.

"You wait!"
Donna punctuated her words by slamming the door behind her. Herr Father Commander Christian Generalissimo Gottfried might have asked her to close the door, but he certainly hadn't dictated exactly how she should go about the task.

The request for tea, however, was completely and utterly ignored. In a few brisk steps, she caught up to the two men, who had paused just within the pristine infirmary. Reaching past the uniformed stranger (who'd had the nerve to waltz in here in the middle of the night and ask for a phone), Donna grabbed Gottfried's shoulder.

"You can not only bring someone in here, like so, just because!" she barked in German. The volume of her voice was highly inconsiderate of anyone in the infirmary who might be sleeping or indisposed. "Who do we know, who is he? Some stranger? Some 'Norm-Norman'? It is night! You know better!"

Donna spun to look down at the young man with his mis-matched eyes and frowned.
"Look at his eyes. I don't like 'em." she said, switching to Italian to keep the conversation between herself and Christian, and to ensure that she wasn't misunderstood.

Not noticing that he had slowly leaned up as much as his binding and broken arm would allow, Armand watched with bated breath as the stranger took the sword at Christian's painfully obvious behest. Sister Donna stood at the door, keeping a watchful eye over the room, and for once in his life, the priest was grateful for Sister Donna's intense and ominous presence. However, even as the newcomer held the sword, seemingly taken with the craft work, Armand noticed that there was no...There was no direct contact with the swords pommel. Norman was holding the holy weapon through it's scabbard and Armand immediately took notice. If a holy sword was holy, then did that mean it's scabbard was as well, or did that serve as a last layer of protection? It wouldn't hurt to be extra cautious, Armand thought nervously, even if it meant aggravating Brother Gottfried. After all, his welcome was just as awkward, with Father Coleman insisting that he hold his silver rosary. He hadn't realized it at the time, but a handkerchief had done the man's efforts a disservice, since his thoughtful motion was further regarded with suspicion. Father Coleman needed him to touch the silver.

<"Brother,"> Armand said weakly, clearing his throat was he interjected again, speaking in Italian once more. He had inferred that the newcomer didn't seem to be comfortable or didn't seem to know Italian, so he stayed in that language. It was much easier for him, anyways. He had only a weak grasp at best of German, could understand more than he could reply. He would disguise himself in another language for now, in something safe. <"I'm afraid I am confused...D-does he have to touch the silver of the sword? Does the scabbard, uh...Is that holy as well? I am not sure if it will work unless he's touching the silver. Or is...I'm sorry, I don't understand the nature of your sword, Brother Gottfried. I just want to m-make sure."> Fretful, worried, brows pursed and the line of his mouth in a wobble, Armand tried again to straighten himself up into a sit, feeling his anxious energy demand his aching body to move into a pose far more ready than before. He kept his bandaged hand above the sheets. If he needed to...He could summon his light again. He could last three minutes, maybe. Long enough to protect his brethren. In the back of his head, the darkness of the alleyway loomed, feeding his fear.

Despite all the confusion and not getting a single answer from anybody, getting to hold a real sword was certainly something to cheer Norman up.  He didn't know that there were holy swords, he thought that was just in fairy tale stories; though, then again, he knew very little about the holy church aside from the local one by his home. Perhaps Mr. Gottfreid had a sword because he also served? He appeared to be a high enough ranking to warrant that.

With a deep enough breath he was quickly reminded about the pain in his chest and the possibility of a broken rib. "Uhm, Mr. Gottfreid....? Sir?  Is it alright if I--" Norman wasn't able to finish his question as Sister Sposito rather marched over and mashed a rosary onto his face.

"Ow! You hit my eye! What was that for?!" Now Norman was left even more confused than ever, did they discuss this when they were speaking Italian and he just missed it? He covered his eye and backed away rather defensively, slightly fearful that at this point this Nun was going to break out a ruler to hit him for being left-handed next. He had yet to understand what this test was about, or that there was no reaction to either holy item that the three were looking for. He was a perfectly normal human man.