['Canst thou draw out Leviathan with an hook? Or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst thou put an hook into his nose? Or bore his jaw through with a thorn? Will he make many supplications unto thee? Will he speak soft words unto thee? Will he make a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a servant for ever? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird?'
The vision of tumbled gold and suffusion of porcelain with damask streaked retinas white, the eidolon of the Bishop's lifeless husk flashing before him. He nearly choked back a dry convulsion in his throat, the partially stifled noise swallowed down again like the quivering of his spirit.
To see the progression of the Church's Prelate from narcissism and vanity to charitable cherub had given him Hope that the Peccancy would be washed away...Somehow. Yet the Terrors they had succumbed to made him less than enthusiastic about the exchange for diligence and bestowed royalties when he Knew. Betrayal was not so easily erased, even after his Return.
The scar that twitched beneath tapered retractiles hardened, his lips beset in a grim line that accounted for his Imputation. Guilt, heavier than the burden of Atlas bore down on his broad shoulders, slumping him down in distressed silence. How could he tell him...?
'Ah, but you owe him this...Do you not?'
Excused he was not. His Sovereign he could not obtain for royalties nor charity, nor by force or steal, or in defense of his life or actions.
And much like the Scriptures themselves, Anderson was an open book, especially given the loosening of his tongue where Truth unwound from the Paladin's stalwart clutches.]
...'Rico...Pleas'...Ye 'ave tae understand...
[His fingers curled over Enrico's own, holding them there though he trembled, his eyes downcast.]
[Action!]
['Canst thou draw out Leviathan with an hook? Or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst thou put an hook into his nose? Or bore his jaw through with a thorn? Will he make many supplications unto thee? Will he speak soft words unto thee? Will he make a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a servant for ever? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird?'
The vision of tumbled gold and suffusion of porcelain with damask streaked retinas white, the eidolon of the Bishop's lifeless husk flashing before him. He nearly choked back a dry convulsion in his throat, the partially stifled noise swallowed down again like the quivering of his spirit.
To see the progression of the Church's Prelate from narcissism and vanity to charitable cherub had given him Hope that the Peccancy would be washed away...Somehow. Yet the Terrors they had succumbed to made him less than enthusiastic about the exchange for diligence and bestowed royalties when he Knew. Betrayal was not so easily erased, even after his Return.
The scar that twitched beneath tapered retractiles hardened, his lips beset in a grim line that accounted for his Imputation. Guilt, heavier than the burden of Atlas bore down on his broad shoulders, slumping him down in distressed silence. How could he tell him...?
'Ah, but you owe him this...Do you not?'
Excused he was not. His Sovereign he could not obtain for royalties nor charity, nor by force or steal, or in defense of his life or actions.
And much like the Scriptures themselves, Anderson was an open book, especially given the loosening of his tongue where Truth unwound from the Paladin's stalwart clutches.]
...'Rico...Pleas'...Ye 'ave tae understand...
[His fingers curled over Enrico's own, holding them there though he trembled, his eyes downcast.]
Seein' ye agaen...Ah ne'er expected tae....