✞27 Days since my Last Confession✞
Jun. 12th, 2010 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
[†]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
Date: 2010-06-15 07:19 am (UTC)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
Date: 2010-06-17 11:02 pm (UTC)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
Date: 2010-07-05 03:29 am (UTC)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.