✞12 Days since my Last Confession✞

[13th_crusader]

[✝]Proverbs 8:13

The fear of the Lord is to hate evil: Pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.[✝]

[☨]The archbishop, through the eyes of the lens, is holed up in what looks to be a tall wooden box, actually a make-shift confessional, seated with his late subordinate's bible in his lap. Idly he's flipping through the pages, pausing every so often when he finds a Polaroid stuck between them as a book-marker. He's uttering quite introspectively.[☨]

Dear Lord, seems I'm damned to rot here for next to eternity. This is it. This is Purgatory.. or worse yet Limbo, isn't it? The idling. The chaos. The idling in chaos. The constant, up and down, up and down, roller-coaster that never stops or breaks down. Seems one can nary have a consistent emotion in this place.

[☨]As he holds up the the picture, it's clearly a photo from St. Ferdinand's orphanage; all the children gathered about, with four men and two woman: two priests (Fr.Anderson and Wolfe), a monsignor (Fr.Renaldo), a abbess(The Head Nun), a nun(Sr.Takagi) and a bishop(Epus.Maxwell), standing behind them, all genuine smiles.. save for the bishop who held an air of no-nonsense about him. The tic in his left eye twitched and winced, yet apparently not exactly at the photo itself, for he turned with a leer at the blinking red light of the commlink.[☨]

Yet I know of one that's perpetually left in me: ...Hate--I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, haaaate, You!

[☨]As he reaches to grab the device, his body suddenly turns to jagged convulsions as the wretched thing shocks the holy piss out of him. Seems it doesn't think too fondly of him either.[☨]

. . . ...................ma...maledetto.

Comments

[Action]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[The bishop arrived on the dot, not a moment late, as he had been with their first meeting. Seems he really wanted that tea... or.

There was a steady knock at her door, before the bishop took that moment to smooth down his clerical vest and close the gold buttons of his black Archbishop's cassock, having left his precious stole back safe at the church. This city may have tried to make a right mess of him, but damn him if he would allow it to show on his body and countenance.]

[Action]

[hellsingmaster.livejournal.com]

Come in.

[Spoken in her usual cold hard voice. Although this place was a nightmare of hells, Integra Hellsing seldom locked her door. She didn't see the need. Only a fool with a deathwish would dare broach her threshold.

Unless invited, of course.]

[Action]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[All his formalities were with him as he entered. The paragon of dignity, he knew how to curve his manners to one of subservience before those who would grant him favor.]

Good afternoon, Sir Hellsing.

[Though his cordial bow was present, his usual feigned smile was absent. That took effort, and he didn't feel like effort today.]

[Action]

[hellsingmaster.livejournal.com]

[Integra is at the stove when Maxwell comes inside. She pours hot water over the ground leaves and the scent of astringent fills the apartment. Putting both on a small tray, she turns and nods cordially to the Catholic, bearing the tray of hot brew to her desk, where she takes her customary seat.]

Sit, Maxwell. No need to stand on ceremony, here.

[Action]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[It felt entirely too domestic for one as revered as Hellsing, yet the Archbishop took his seat across from her without qualm. This wasn't a lovely outing amongst war relics and elaborate paintings, yet without both their unruly subordinates to disturb them, it would make due.]

Grazie... mille.

[The stiff man did what he could to remain a regal presence, and took his cup with pinky raised.]

Aha, cheers then.

[A small but gracious smile etched him. Such a healing effect that scent had on him, it was likened to the way just enough incense tickled his fancy and reminded him of the pristine walls he once hailed from.]

[Action]

[hellsingmaster.livejournal.com]

[Integra sipped her tea as was proper, setting cup back to desk after a soft swallow. Calm blue eyes then surveyed her guest, missing little. She crossed her knees and draped wrists over the edge of the chair's arms and gazed impassively.]

I realize you will be snappish and crude in your answer, Enrico, [Ah, always with the opening sally, Integra-] but how are you faring? And speak honestly.

[Action] Gah sorry! I didn't even get a notif...

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

Well I--

[She got him there, he was just about to make a snide comment. And just to prove she was wrong he bit his tongue! With a wince hidden behind his cup, he took a long sip to choke down his wounded pride and sighed with jade eyes half-lidded and heat tainting his colorless cheeks.]

I live.. well as to be expected for one forced to poverty. I can't expect anyone to fair too well when left alone in this pit.

[Alone, had had a slight twinge to it, as if his tongue caught on the word like a hook. He loathed that he was now just one man to stand again wickedness and what vile forms threatened the church. Loathed that he longed for his home and what was familiar to him. Loathed that the only thing that brought him some semblance of that familiarity was this woman whom he called Babylon. Odds in every form were against him here.

No, he shant say he was fairing well at all.]

[Action] I just now got this one. /strangles LJ

[hellsingmaster.livejournal.com]

Hn, yes, it can be quite shocking, I suppose.

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<small.[the>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Hn, yes, it can be quite shocking, I suppose.

<small.[The Hellsing watched him like a hawk, wondering how she could turn this to her advantage. Maxwell had never been trustworthy, but now that he was <I>alone</i>, the former Vatican master was dancing to an entirely different tune.]</small>

Still, you live again; that has to account for something.