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They actually arrived back at the farm a while ago, in the middle of the night, with no fanfare. Since then, Katara has been soaking in the winter sunshine, running around blissfully, practicing her bending and hugging her friends and brother, and basically just having a wonderful time. Today she's sitting at the edge of the pond, feeding Spots and grinning enormously at everyone who comes near. Life is great! Especially when you haven't had it for ages!

Steph is still working in Smallville at the bar, and has been catching up on missed shifts for the past couple of days; this is the first afternoon she's had off since they got back, and she's down at the training area making good use of her workout time. At the moment, just bending and stretching and general maintaining-of-absurd-Battish-flexibility. Any suggestions that she is avoiding Babs, using physical activity to avoid thinking, will be ... avoided via physical activity.

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Steph nods, frowning a little. (She doesn't really - she understands the urge to go and hit things and shout a lot, though!)

"Yeah, I guess I shouldn't barge in," she realises. "Worried about him, though. Sokka and he are friends." Not great friends, because her boyfriend is a giant loser with attachment issues, but probably as good friends as Sokka ever let himself be with anyone. It worries Steph, that, too.

"How did he - how did he find out? We lost someone, too - on the trip. Mel found her sister's car."

Oliver, by virtue of already looking grave and delivering bad news, can't look much more somber.

He can look surprised, dismayed, then somber, however, at the news of Mel's sister. He touches the white flame tattoo of on his forehead.

"How horrible," he murmurs. Then, distractedly: "I'm afraid I didn't ask for details. Valerie Bell would know more-- her sister." A small, sad shake of his head. "It was a car accident?"

It's the best Oliver can guess on what little information he has.

Steph hesitates, and shakes her head. A car accident would be such an easy story. Comfortable. But not true.

"We ran into some - some cannibals. Outside Metropolis, a few hours north."

Oliver, looking horrified, sucks in a breath. "God in Heaven," he murmurs, touching the white flame tattoo on his forehead.

He remembers Godsworn bodies nearly fleshless - foxskins and crowskins in particular enjoy desecrating the corpses of their ancient foes by consuming them....He shakes his head. This is not about him.

He looks at Steph with compassion. "If you wish to speak more of this, I will listen, but do not force yourself if events are still too raw."

Sure, she's been relatively fine speaking up until now. But she's still a woman, and a young one, and thus Oliver will do what he can to keep her from speaking further of such upsetting things.

For once, she doesn't get angry at being 'protected' - maybe she's getting used to it, or maybe just can appreciate that he isn't deliberately being offensive. Either way, she just gives him a slightly twisted smile. "I never knew her, but Mel is pretty upset."

Oliver nods, distracted and thoughtful. It takes him a moment to focus on Steph once more.

"We might pray together, if you wish it," he offers quietly, fighting off the inner voice that tells him he's no longer Godsworn, he can offer nothing. "For Mel, for yourself.

"It's surprising, sometimes, what helps."

Steph blinks once or twice, and then wrinkles her nose slightly. "Uh, thank you for the thought, Oliver, but ... I'm not really the praying kind."

Oh, for the good old days back in Fremmanland where people were socially obligated to pretend to be religious. So much easier on Oliver's ego.

Fortunately, he's learned some control over his face over the years and appears to let her remark pass him by. "As you will, miss Brown."

Steph shrugs apologetically. "Sorry. I just - I think we're in control of our own lives, you know? No God would fuck someone over like - like some of us have been. Not if he was real."

Tact, Stephanie does not have it. Not when she's got a lot on her mind, anyway.

"Oh, no need to apologize," Oliver says, and he means it. "This is not an easy world in which to find faith, much less keep it." It's an admission that's not without some pain, but it's even more foolish to deny it.

"God gave us all free will; we can control our lives - and sometimes that is the worst thing we could do. In following Him, we reap a great reward."

Oliver looks around at the farm that's become his home. "Though, if that reward were easy to see - well. Everyone would follow His path. Faith would be irrelevant. Free will also."

"As for why horrible things can happen to good, decent people...." Oliver breathes in deeply. Yeah, this is one of the tricky ones. "God's grace can be found in this world. God's justice, as well. And...sometimes it cannot. God's true judgment does not happen in this life."

Make it a speech. Intellectualize it. That's the way to win the converts!

Steph sighs, rubbing her temple. "Hey, what do you think about killing people?" she asks, out of almost nowhere.

He's a priesty-type guy. And he seems smart. Maybe he can help!

That came out of left field. Oliver blinks a few times.

"Of course, one of the Ten Commandments is 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'. I'm not sure what the Bible says about capital punishment or self-defense - I've not had time to study it." What Oliver thinks is much less important than what the Bible says.

Carefully: "May I ask what brought on the question?"

"I know what the Bible says." Steph wrinkles her nose. "It just doesn't help."

She hesitates, and shrugs. "... it's just ... been on my mind a bit."

A lot.

"How does it not help?" Oliver asks, genuinely curious.

"Well, I don't think I believe in God." Thoughtful explainy Steph is thoughtful and explainy. "So doing stuff just because He tells me to is - I dunno, it doesn't make sense to me. I want to be a good person, I just don't think that has t'be tied up with being a churchy person."

But good people don't kill people. Right?

Except ... maybe they do.

"One can certainly be a good person without being a...churchy person," Oliver says. It just won't get you into heaven. Sucks to be you, good people!

"The way is harder, though, without the community of others on the same path, following the same basic laws. So I found it."

Find it.

Steph frowns, pulling a strand of hair free of one braid and fiddling with it. "I believe Sokka is a good person," she says, and for all her uncertainty about everything else, that rebounds with confidence. "I just ... I dunno. It took me ages to figure stuff out in the first place, and then I came here and ... everything I know is wrong."

Oliver's first reaction is to hide that he, too, feels as if everything he knows is wrong. But...is his first reaction necessarily the best?

"I do understand that." His words are sincere, tinged with sympathy - but he doesn't add why or how deeply he understands.

"You doubt how to be a good person in a world so random, so cruel," he states, for the sake of clarification. Killing people, Sokka, cannibals, the trip - he has suspicions, but he's reluctant to push further.

Barty would know how to deal with this. Anyone from the abbey would. But not Oliver, who only knows beasts and trees and lies....

Steph sighs again, rubbing her nose. "Yeah. I just ... yeah."

That narrows it down quite nicely, yes.

Oliver is good at stating the obvious. It's an unconscious way to prevent meaningful dialogue with anyone, particularly when it comes the Big Questions. He's much more unsure about those than he used to be.

"You might speak to others, to learn how people you respect act when faced with difficult decisions. There are many here in your line of work." He means being a superhero; trust Oliver to steer clear of modern diction.

"And I will pray that your path becomes clearer to you." So it won't mean much to her - it means something to him.

"Thank you," Steph says politely, because it means something to him. "Thanks, really. I'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure."

Everything works out eventually.

Oliver nods, a little anxious and wishing he could do more--

-- but of course it's not his place to do more. It's God.

"You're very young. You've got many more years to sort it all out than an old fellow such as myself."

Small smile.

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