✞10 Days since my Last Confession✞
Nov. 18th, 2009 12:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
13th_crusader[✝]Daniel 10:8
So I was left alone to see this grand vision.
I had no strength left in me.
My face turned deathly pale: for my comeliness was turned in me into corruption and I was helpless.[✝]
[‡]It was that dream again. He had been suffering it's harsh visions since the moment he woke up in this Godforsaken place.
Maxwell had fallen into the hands of his enemies, into the depths of Midian, no, Hell itself. All around him were writhing and howling dead things, corpses baying for his blood and clawing towards him with their myriads of decrepit hands outstretched to drag him into the gallows.
He backed up against the glass prism that provided his last hope of sanctuary, and felt his pride tug at him and pose him to scoff and laugh in the demons' faces.
"You stupid abominations! You'll never be able to break this glass!"
Yet he looked and saw, an angel descent out of heaven to send not peace for him... but a sword.
The angel who had been his shepherd to shepherd him looked down upon him with a face of stone, making his final judgment upon the young man who had been his beloved ward, and dubbed him unworthy of salvation.
"AAANNDEERSSOONNN!!!"
For the first time in his life, Maxwell felt true dread in his heart. His last saving grace had turned his back on him in his one moment of glory for their faith... for their God... for... Himself.
He wouldn't have it, he wouldn't go down this way! And as the glass shattered around him and the siege of Satan's minions descended upon him, he lashed to get away and outstretched his hand towards the Angel of Dust who only watched vigil from high above.
"Anderson! ..Anderson!! TEACHER! ... TEACHER PLEASE HELP ME...!! TEACHER!!!"
As he let out his wail of desperation, Death's hungry shadows spilling all around him, Maxwell felt the first pierce of the demons' weapons puncture his side like a skewer through a sow. One after another, pike after pike impaled his flesh, and lifted him as a flailing piece of meat up from the ground, screaming in a vicious agony that was renewed with every last spear.
Raised up on his crucifix, martyred in this Godless land he had called Holy war upon, he cried his lamentations to his Lord.
"You brought me into this world alone... why... why should I have to die alone!?
Teacher!
Tell me why!"[‡]
Teacher!
[☨]Maxwell snapped awake with a start, the camera capturing from the bedside table. His face pale as death, his long hair unbound and matted to his brow, he touched his cheek with a trembling hand to remind himself that he was indeed awake and indeed whole. Pulling away, the salty liquid that smeared his palm was not sweat from some night terror... but..[☨]
How.. how stupid, what is this?
[☨]Tears. An ill sensation crept up on his vanity and swiftly he dried his face with the whites of his sleeve, before he shoved the blankets off of himself. Grabbing his cassock which laid on the nightstand which held the commlink in it's pocket, he whipped it around himself and stormed for the door.
He needed... something. Closure. Something. Whatever the Hell it was he knew Anderson had the answer to it. Walking through the hallway and to the alter, he hoped to find the priest reading in the early morning... yet spied no one there.[☨]
Anderson?
Anderson where are you?
[☨]He took hold of his commlink, looking to track the man down with it after he had finally figured the blasted thing out.. only to find...[☨]
What's with this damned thing? Where's his frequency?
Anderson! Really, I gave back your two-way so we wouldn't have this kind of problem again! Tell me you're not using the silent treatment on me, please? I'm not 12 anymore...
[☨]Maxwell stopped to venture outside then doubled-back to Anderson's quarters, adjacent from his own.[☨]
Anderson I...
[☨]The Archbishop froze at the threshold, seeing the man's room void of everything but the few belongings he would always have on him. Upon his bed was his precious bible, a few bayonets, and... a thin long box, wrapped in holy parchment, with the seal of the 3rd Chapter of Matthew.
The Remnant of a Miracle.[☨]
You.. you wouldn't.. you can't leav--!
[☨]The screen clattered at his feet as he grasped the door-frame, and grimaced to cough furiously into his fist, retching speckles of blood into his palm. At the unseemly sight he scattered from the room, the link timing out as he left it there.[☨]
So I was left alone to see this grand vision.
I had no strength left in me.
My face turned deathly pale: for my comeliness was turned in me into corruption and I was helpless.[✝]
[‡]It was that dream again. He had been suffering it's harsh visions since the moment he woke up in this Godforsaken place.
Maxwell had fallen into the hands of his enemies, into the depths of Midian, no, Hell itself. All around him were writhing and howling dead things, corpses baying for his blood and clawing towards him with their myriads of decrepit hands outstretched to drag him into the gallows.
He backed up against the glass prism that provided his last hope of sanctuary, and felt his pride tug at him and pose him to scoff and laugh in the demons' faces.
"You stupid abominations! You'll never be able to break this glass!"
Yet he looked and saw, an angel descent out of heaven to send not peace for him... but a sword.
The angel who had been his shepherd to shepherd him looked down upon him with a face of stone, making his final judgment upon the young man who had been his beloved ward, and dubbed him unworthy of salvation.
"AAANNDEERSSOONNN!!!"
For the first time in his life, Maxwell felt true dread in his heart. His last saving grace had turned his back on him in his one moment of glory for their faith... for their God... for... Himself.
He wouldn't have it, he wouldn't go down this way! And as the glass shattered around him and the siege of Satan's minions descended upon him, he lashed to get away and outstretched his hand towards the Angel of Dust who only watched vigil from high above.
"Anderson! ..Anderson!! TEACHER! ... TEACHER PLEASE HELP ME...!! TEACHER!!!"
As he let out his wail of desperation, Death's hungry shadows spilling all around him, Maxwell felt the first pierce of the demons' weapons puncture his side like a skewer through a sow. One after another, pike after pike impaled his flesh, and lifted him as a flailing piece of meat up from the ground, screaming in a vicious agony that was renewed with every last spear.
Raised up on his crucifix, martyred in this Godless land he had called Holy war upon, he cried his lamentations to his Lord.
"You brought me into this world alone... why... why should I have to die alone!?
Teacher!
Tell me why!"[‡]
Teacher!
[☨]Maxwell snapped awake with a start, the camera capturing from the bedside table. His face pale as death, his long hair unbound and matted to his brow, he touched his cheek with a trembling hand to remind himself that he was indeed awake and indeed whole. Pulling away, the salty liquid that smeared his palm was not sweat from some night terror... but..[☨]
How.. how stupid, what is this?
[☨]Tears. An ill sensation crept up on his vanity and swiftly he dried his face with the whites of his sleeve, before he shoved the blankets off of himself. Grabbing his cassock which laid on the nightstand which held the commlink in it's pocket, he whipped it around himself and stormed for the door.
He needed... something. Closure. Something. Whatever the Hell it was he knew Anderson had the answer to it. Walking through the hallway and to the alter, he hoped to find the priest reading in the early morning... yet spied no one there.[☨]
Anderson?
Anderson where are you?
[☨]He took hold of his commlink, looking to track the man down with it after he had finally figured the blasted thing out.. only to find...[☨]
What's with this damned thing? Where's his frequency?
Anderson! Really, I gave back your two-way so we wouldn't have this kind of problem again! Tell me you're not using the silent treatment on me, please? I'm not 12 anymore...
[☨]Maxwell stopped to venture outside then doubled-back to Anderson's quarters, adjacent from his own.[☨]
Anderson I...
[☨]The Archbishop froze at the threshold, seeing the man's room void of everything but the few belongings he would always have on him. Upon his bed was his precious bible, a few bayonets, and... a thin long box, wrapped in holy parchment, with the seal of the 3rd Chapter of Matthew.
The Remnant of a Miracle.[☨]
You.. you wouldn't.. you can't leav--!
[☨]The screen clattered at his feet as he grasped the door-frame, and grimaced to cough furiously into his fist, retching speckles of blood into his palm. At the unseemly sight he scattered from the room, the link timing out as he left it there.[☨]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Action
Date: 2009-11-18 08:36 pm (UTC)Nah.
He wasn’t paying attention to his communicator at all, really. He didn’t want to get distracted by anything (as much as he sincerely wished to be), his main focus on checking up with Anderson and Maxwell. More people were complaining about this loss of time, it was just best to see if those two were adversely effected by it. Nothing wrong with being safe.
The church door was open? Now, that was a new one. The priest slipped in, confused. Where was everyone? Maxwell would never be so careless as to leave the door open like this. And Anderson? No, he'd never allow that! Concern started to gnaw at him, and he turned down a familiar hallway, heading right to the door that protected the Arch Bishop. Would it open? A cautious knock sounded at the door.]
Action
Date: 2009-11-18 08:50 pm (UTC)I'm alone.. I'm actually alone..! Why! Why do I have to be left alone in this Godforsaken place!
[He was mewling with his face buried into the the spine of the pages, yet snapped to attention when the door knocked, slamming his back against the headboard. He shot hopeful bloodshot eyes to the door, his heart beating in his chest like a wild dove trying to escape.]
Anderson?
Come.. come in!
Action
Date: 2009-11-18 08:56 pm (UTC)The invitation was immediately responded do, the priest just thankful to hear someone was alive in there. Swinging open the door.... Oh, he hardly expected to see this. Maxwells eyes red from crying, curled up in his bed and clinging to the book like a child would hug a stuffed bear. Surprised? Oh, most certainly, blown away actually by the broken mans appearance, before taking a step forward, concern and worry almost radiating off of him.]
Arch Bishop? What....? [What was going on?] Are you alright?
Action
Date: 2009-11-18 09:10 pm (UTC)You?!
[Maxwell about scattered in ten-different directions as once, only succeeding in sending his own ass to the floor, and wincing down the urge he had to cough viciously again.]
I'm.. I'm alive.
[He scrambled to pull himself back together in front of this would-be heathen, priest, whatever he was, he didn't care right now.]
Action
Date: 2009-11-19 12:40 am (UTC)You're not well. [He took a few more steps into the room, holding out his hand towards the smaller man.]
Here, let me help you...
Action
Date: 2009-11-19 06:55 am (UTC)Please don't
hurttouch me, I-- [It sounded as if he were pleading rather than demanding as he shrunk away as far as he could against the bed-post, as if the man were coming at him with a knife.The only knife to cut him however was the one in the pit of his stomach, and feeling the dagger twist, he muffled a ragged cough into a handkerchief from his breast-pocket. The white cloth with an embroidered gold cross in his crumpled grasp was sprinkled in dots of red thick and thin.]
...I need to go.
[Where, he didn't know, now, was a time good as any as he grasped the bedpost to stand.]
Action
Date: 2009-11-19 07:01 am (UTC)Abels mouth set in a line as Maxwell refused his help, and practically pleaded with him not to touch him. As if his hand would somehow slice the man open.
However, it was the smell of blood that caught him. It was faint, but all too obvious as Maxwell coughed raggedly into the handkerchief, and as he tried to stand, the priest was there at his side, approval or not, gently helping him up and along.]
You're going to the hospital, that's where you're going.
Action
Date: 2009-11-19 07:50 am (UTC)[The man was suddenly like a cat dropped in a bathtub, his joints and muscles locking up as Abel put his arms around him to stable him. Touch by anyone, anything, had been an issue stamped on his visage since he was an abandoned child. They refused him bodily contact, so he in turn refused all others.]
Plea--!
[With his heart fluttering now like the rapid beats of a hummingbird, and trying to wriggle free, his body overwhelmed itself.. and decided to shut down to save him from shattering.
A defense mechanism of sorts--He lost all color in his face fainted in the priest's hold.]
Action
Date: 2009-11-19 07:59 am (UTC)But some things had to be done.
Abel winced at the pathetic pleas, before almost stumbling as the man suddenly became dead weight in his arms. Was he okay?! Quickly, he gently laid the unconscious man out on the floor, searching for a pulse... Okay... He'd only fainted..
Maybe that was for the best.
With a heavy sigh, he gathered the limp body into his arms, supporting the head as best he could against his own body, until everything was straightened out and ready to go. Cradling the poor man against him as if he weighed nothing, he headed out the door and into the streets with a sigh.]
I suppose I ought to tell Kureha and Eirin we're coming...