Enrico Maxwell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
13th_crusader) wrote2010-06-12 06:13 pm
13th_crusader) wrote2010-06-12 06:13 pm
✞27 Days since my Last Confession✞
[†]Ezekiel 7:22
My face will I turn also from them, and they will desecrate my treasured place; robbers will enter it and desecrate it.[†]
[☨]The commlink was smacked amidst the thin threads of sheets, to meet the bandaged face of the archbishop, twisted in a disquieted but blind sneer. After a few days of falling in and out of a concussion force-fed to him through a two-ton bible to the face, he stirred in agitation as those last conscious moments replayed in his waking mind and shot him straight out of bed in a flurry of ribbons and tattered blond hair.[☨]
Defilers! M.. MURDERERS! I'll have you hanged on a halter of--
Che!?
[☨]Clawing at his face he realizes he can't see a damn thing, and his horizontal position which was upon something much harder last he recalled, was now a tiny mattress with a familiar horrible squeak.[☨]
Kssh.. You blasted mother-hen, unless my brain-matter was leaking from my ears, I told you not to bring me back here!
[☨]Whether anyone was in the hospital bedroom to hear him was anyone's guess, yet the pounding in his head gave him little reason to care as he mewled melodramatically and fell back over the commlink's lense.[☨]
My face will I turn also from them, and they will desecrate my treasured place; robbers will enter it and desecrate it.[†]
[☨]The commlink was smacked amidst the thin threads of sheets, to meet the bandaged face of the archbishop, twisted in a disquieted but blind sneer. After a few days of falling in and out of a concussion force-fed to him through a two-ton bible to the face, he stirred in agitation as those last conscious moments replayed in his waking mind and shot him straight out of bed in a flurry of ribbons and tattered blond hair.[☨]
Defilers! M.. MURDERERS! I'll have you hanged on a halter of--
Che!?
[☨]Clawing at his face he realizes he can't see a damn thing, and his horizontal position which was upon something much harder last he recalled, was now a tiny mattress with a familiar horrible squeak.[☨]
Kssh.. You blasted mother-hen, unless my brain-matter was leaking from my ears, I told you not to bring me back here!
[☨]Whether anyone was in the hospital bedroom to hear him was anyone's guess, yet the pounding in his head gave him little reason to care as he mewled melodramatically and fell back over the commlink's lense.[☨]
no subject
[He couldn't afford a while. The Holy man could barely breath in this stuffy hospital. He had coveted this place once as a second sanctuary, yet after the traumatics of the fire, Maxwell wanted as far away from it as he could.
A small shiver ran down his frail body at those tender touches that posed to soothe away his anxieties, yet the words that poured forth kept him fretting.]
How long is a while? I cannot leave the church unattended.. not after that episode.
no subject
[Training keen hues of jade on the man whose plight he felt more than responsible for he looped his other hand about the nape of a graceful, swan's neck.]
Whit am ah 'ere fer ef nae to be used by ye, Archbishop?
Ah am yer Eyes.
Ye think ah'm goin' tae Abandon ye?
no subject
It was a blessing that his eyes were hidden, for they would give away the bitterness that still writhed in him since that night of Confession.
A soft shudder of breath left him, his utterance deadpan as his body once was.]
You already have done so... once before.
no subject
...Feel mae, ahn tell mae ah'm lyin', Iscariot XIII Founder o' th' Judas Section, Archbishop Enrico Maxwell.
[He scowled, the crease in his brow echoing the determination of a man who was steadfast and resolute in his beliefs. Anderson had spent many days thinking on their situation, and this...]
Ye question mae fealty, perhaps righlieh so, boot ken thaet ah've done whit ah've coul' thaes past five months tae make et oop tae ye, ahn ah nae intend tae stop joos' yet. Ef ye want tae toss mae oot entae th' dirt right 'ere, righ' noo, thin DO ET, boot dinna throw mae efforts tae dust.
[A hard squeeze, and he releases the other entirely, unable to suppress the own anger in his voice from escaping. Though soon, that too gets diluted by a softer, somber expression as he leans forwards, catching him and holding him still while he moves forwards.]
Ye leave mae nae choice.
no subject
[Maxwell struggled not to claw that traitorous face he was moved to touch, his palms shivering under a fine cold sweat. How dare he. How dare he take that tone with him after what he did.]
You.. you have no right.. No right to speak to me like that! I would have thrown you to the lions had that ever been my intent!
[Yet instead it had been Anderson to toss him into those serrated mouths and allow him to be torn asunder. All the poisonous hatred for what he had done, that he had been suppressing for the sake of their survival in this false Hell, began to dredge up like bile at the back of his throat.
Choking him.
Burning his blinded eyes.
He couldn't breathe.
And then those arms grasp him... and forced him to gasp.]
T..teacher.. please...!
no subject
Entreat mae nae tae leave ye, o' tae return from followin' after thee: for whither thou goest, ah will go; ahn where ye lodgest, ah will lodge.
[ Cupping a nest of silken curls that gathered beneath the layered bandages Anderson descended slowly, knowing fully well that his gesture could be ill-received if Enrico had been able to muster resistance.]
Shh. Et's alrigh', 'Rico. Ah'll nae leave ye. Ye 'ave moor thaen mae word...Fer ye see....Ah luv' ye.
[Presses his mouth in full against the younger Archbishop's, cradling him as though he were more than just his fellow clergyman, but his fellow heart.]
no subject
I hate you.
I HATE you.
I HATE YOU!]
N-nngghh..!!
[Were he an abomination damned, Anderson's lips gracing his own would be like holy silver to his monstrous flesh. Scalding of irons. As agonizing as those splintered rods impaled through his body over and over again. His heart was lanced at those last words of confession.
Words he once heard time and again as a child from that benevolent man.. until they faded into the background noise of his life.. and he walked away with his head held high to St. Peter's Basilica, never to turn back to the orphanage that had offered him brotherhood. That offered him acceptance in the hands of a priest who cared for him as a son the day he had laid eyes upon him.
You say you love everyone. Your love is empty. It's not real. Parents are supposed to love their children.. and mine threw me away. You'll do it too.
You'll do it too.
And you did do it.
Maxwell thrashed as his heart pulsed as if an icy iron grip was crushing it of it's last beats of life. Hearing the voices of his bitter foolish youth echo in his mind and remind him why this man affected him so, he mewled and dejected him away with a weightless shove.
To him... Anderson had beguiled him as a child. Let him think that someone desperately wanted him, and he in turn secretly craved that attention like no other. To the point he was possessed by the thought that if Father must love anyone, it should be Maxwell, and Maxwell alone that he devote himself to.
Anderson's fealty had become unshakable as that selfish little boy grew to a strict leader, a primary example of an Agent of God who longed to see the world purged of chaos and sin.
...And the Knight had followed his creed to the book.
"If it is for the doctrine, I would Kill even the Founder himself."
Never had he imagined one would truly be so loyal as to follow Judas's steps to the final blow.
In his efforts to lead his Shepherd into ever-lasting devotion, he snuffed out all thoughts of mercy on a soul as corrupt as this black sheep.]
Don't.. soil yourself with me.
..You couldn't possibly..
no subject
Maxwell was the only one who could ever strip him of the only thing that had ever made him feel human.
In the days when he tried so hard to reach out to the boy who'd relied so heavily on his own abandonment to fuel his own anger the Priest had extended kindness ceaselessly no matter how many times he'd suffered through the child's scornfully derisive behavior, or contemptuous looks. Regardless of how much resentment had filled that little body, Father Anderson had taken it upon himself to instill God's work into the boy...With less than satisfactory results. Maxwell was not well-received....And Maxwell hated him for it, he knew, and he'd felt personally responsible. Now was no less difficult, only current circumstances perpetuated this loop of shame and hatred they'd fallen into, especially after he'd offered the hardest grain of truth to his leader. Ever since then...The two had found it difficult to share the same living space, let alone be in the same room as each other.]
Pleas'. At least woul' ye listen tae mae fer once? Joos' fer once.
[His warm hand found Enrico's own listless ones, forming a protective seal around them.]
Coul' ah ever make et righ' again....'Rico, pleas'. Ah want tae earn yer forgiveness, but ye're nae makin' et easieh. Ah dinna...Ah did nae want tae hurt ye, ye ken. Boot ah had tae end et. Ye lost sight o' the thin's thaet mattered, ahn abused yer position, leadin' all yer men tae be slaughtered. Ye were blinded by yer own ambitions.
But ah...Ah hated thaet ah had tae...Ah hated having tae take thaet frem ye. Th' corruption would've taken yer soul, ahn ah wouldn' allow thaet....A-ah tried sae hard tae raise ye th' best ah could....But ye.....Ne'er....Ne'er....Coul' let it go, 'Rico....
[Oh, Lord. Please....Give me strength. His voice was thick, heavy with the subject but he knew that if he didn't say it now he'd never get the chance to.]
Ah jus' wanted tae give ye th' love ye rightlieh deserved, ye selfish bastard, sae help mae God...Sae thaet's why...Ah ne'er gave oop on ye. Ahn nae en ae thousand life times after...Will ah e'er lay a finger on ye like ah had tae thin. Apart o' mae soul died wit' ye...
Ye want tae ken whit happened en Midian thaet dey, Enrico Maxwell? Ah'll tell ye. Ah was preparin' tae use th' Nail...Ah wanted tae destroy thaet devil once ahn fer all. Ah...Wanted tae make Midian th' battle ground ah'd die en...En exchange fer yer salvation, ahn fer th' sake o' Mankind. Boot ah ne'er goot thaet chance!
[He hadn't wanted to burden the frail man with his own responsibilities but it was time he learned what Anderson's -true- intents had been.]
Ah luv'd ye thin like ah luv' ye noo, e'en ef ye canna understand thaet. Sae thaet's why...Ah have tae be th' one tae break ye, ahn build ye oop agaen.
no subject
All his life day and night he had spent perusing the scriptures, taking them to soul and heart. Yet his own loathing for mankind, spurned by those who transgressed against him in his youth, had led him to corrupt the Word he coveted so obsessively. He interpreted the wrath of a jealous God as a reflection of what he was to become and would be lauded for. To be glorified and feared, that would bring him ever-lasting love and adoration. His name would be sanctified, and even he too would see himself canonized to sainthood.
Here and now, even after facing the truth that riches and fame bring no man any closer to God than the poor and downtrodden, he skewed his preacher's words from an outcry for forgiveness, to a hollow guilt plea.
Quivering lips hardened as salted moisture leaked from beneath the bandages and trickled down his sharp vanity. And he hissed as he tasted his own tears, disgusted with himself for allowing them to pour forth, and loathing for the man that spurned their escape from his dry husk.]
So... That what is, was it?
[The archbishop was at an icy precipice. His tone shallow and gelid. Frost so cold he was about to crack from the pressure and weight of his teacher's soul-shattering assent.]
I never... grew to your standards. Never to let go of my loathing for all who had trespassed me.. or would soon do so.
[The utterance left him like a hushing calm before the maelstrom. His body shook violently, the torrent of misery against the floodgates of his frail heart burst. Maxwell roared through the agony of his sobbing, stripped of all his regalia and majestic august. Before the shepherd was a crying sheep lost from the fold miles and miles away from home.]
And why should I have!?
Why, teacher!?
Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee? And am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee?!
[Was it not written to loathe what was wicked? Had that not been ingrained into him since he was but a babe? Irate that all he had lived up to had brought him nothing but a lonely grave with none to grieve him, he strangled a scream through his stinging tears.]
My heritage is unto me as a lion in the forest; it crieth out against me.. therefore have I hated it. Hated, hated those revilers..
[His so-called mother and father. The whore and the selfish noblemen.]
...just as I hated the dissenters of Midian. It was divine retribution! There was nothing left for them! They dug their grave, teacher! To have slayed them all instead of turning them over to the ghouls of the damned...
That was My mercy!!
[Watching the flames of purgatory, he saw that damned island for what it was. A lake of fire within whom no one could escape. To have attempted to save a single soul there would have meant corruption to those who touched their sinful flesh. The ghouls were spreading like a plague. Iscariot was the cure. The final solution. Genocide.]
And you... You in in your... undeserved kindness and love and mercy... you slayed me instead.
Was that it, Father?
Teacher?
Was that your mercy!?
Was that your love, Alexander Anderson!?
no subject
Let my prayers come before ye like incense tae be pondered by all who love thaem.
Ah trusted e'en when ah said "Ah am sorely afflicted" ahn when ah said en mae alarm:
"Nae man can be trusted."
O precious en th' eyes o' th' Lord es th' death o' his faithful. Yer servant, Lord, yer servant am ah; ye have loosened mae bonds.
Humbly, humbly thaen. En veneration.
[He then took in his arms his child and cherub, his melancholic ward whose fears and anguish poured forth like a fountain mopped up by the corner of each cassock sleeve. The flimsy cot creaked, but still he remained steadfast. Cradling that spindly form closer than he coveted life itself he would offer his comfort and compassion—be a Guide to the Light the way in the path of Darkness.]
Th' Lord Jesus, on th' night when he was betrayed, took bread, ahn when he had given thanks, he broke et, sayin' : "Thaes es mae bodieh which es fer ye."
He whom disciples woul' sell tae jealous men firs' gave, as verieh food o' life, Himself tae disciples still. He gave his blood, his flesh tae eat, sae thaet he migh' replenish th' hearts ahn souls o' mankind. Christ's food ahn bountieh es rich; he shall yield royal dainties, alleluia. Th' holieh priests offerin' ae ransom fer mankind at his death.
"Ah ahm th' livin' bread which came doon frem heaven. Ef anyone eats o' thaes bread, he will live forever, alleluia.
[Comfort and care, of a kind like this, could only bring deliverance should it be accepted.
His carpenter's hands slid down to Maxwell's mid-back, steadying him there, serving as his support system.]
E-et's nae too late, Enrico. We've bin given ae second chance. Ef ye forgive mae, we coul' be one agaen.
"Sit at mae right: Ah will scatter th' Heavens ahn put yer foes beneath yer feet."
Th' Lord will send frem Zion yer sceptre o' power: rule en th' midst o' all yer foes. A prince frem th' day o' yer birth on th' holieh mountains; Frem th' whom before th' daybreak ah begot ye.
A thanksgiving sacrifice ah make; Th' cup o' salvation ah will raise. My vows ah will fulfill. O blessed, o dove, ye will be happieh ahn prosper by thaes hands....
Alleluia.
Th' bread which ah shall give ye, alleluia, es mae flesh fer th' life o' th' world, alleluia, alleluia.