Enrico Maxwell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
13th_crusader) wrote2010-06-29 10:26 pm
13th_crusader) wrote2010-06-29 10:26 pm
✞28 Days since my Last Confession✞
[†]Gospel: Matthew 16:13-19
When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?
And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.
He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon son of Jonah: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.
And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.[†]
[☨]It's late evening by the time he realizes the date. He had been keeping time merely by the dimming of light and darkness through the blinds over his eyes. And long before that, the phases of the strange moons had helped him keep track. A traditionalist man, he sat at the pews with father Anderson's large bible in his lap, playing his fingertips blindly over the pages and the rivets in the edge of the pages that marked each chapter.
Even partially sightless, he still knew exactly which scripture laid in front of him by ingrained memory and touch alone. Tonight was another important eve (of the dozens in strict Catholicism), forgotten by most, if not all Godless foes around him. So he kept it to himself, his faith and belief, and everything else of consiquence to himself as he read in an undertone, splaying his touch across the soft pages as if the deep-set ink were braille.[☨]
Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and keep watch with me. ...And he went a little further, and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will... but as Thou wilt.
[☨]He paused when his acute ears heard the footsteps of his subordinate.[☨]
Father.. do you know which solemnity it is today?
When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?
And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.
He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon son of Jonah: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.
And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.[†]
[☨]It's late evening by the time he realizes the date. He had been keeping time merely by the dimming of light and darkness through the blinds over his eyes. And long before that, the phases of the strange moons had helped him keep track. A traditionalist man, he sat at the pews with father Anderson's large bible in his lap, playing his fingertips blindly over the pages and the rivets in the edge of the pages that marked each chapter.
Even partially sightless, he still knew exactly which scripture laid in front of him by ingrained memory and touch alone. Tonight was another important eve (of the dozens in strict Catholicism), forgotten by most, if not all Godless foes around him. So he kept it to himself, his faith and belief, and everything else of consiquence to himself as he read in an undertone, splaying his touch across the soft pages as if the deep-set ink were braille.[☨]
Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and keep watch with me. ...And he went a little further, and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will... but as Thou wilt.
[☨]He paused when his acute ears heard the footsteps of his subordinate.[☨]
Father.. do you know which solemnity it is today?
no subject
[He moved through like a centurion rising to the very foot of the altar, standing before the great cross before kissing his thumb and bending on one knee.]
O God, ye sanctified thaes day by th' martyrdoom o' yer apostles Peter ahn Paul; grant thaet this yer church may follow en all things th' precepts o' those through whom she received th' fundamentals o' oor religion. Through.
[And turning, he faced the blind, taking both hands in his.]
Peter ahn John went oop tae th' temple at the hour of prayer, th' ninth hour.
Ah have nae silver ahn gold, boot ah give ye what ah have. Th' angel said tae Peter, "Dress yerself ahn follow me."
"Do ye love mae Peter? Tend mae sheep." "Lord, ye ken thaet ah love ye."
Sae thaen ye ar' no longer strangers ahn sojourners, boot ye ar' fellow citizens wit' th' saints ahn members o' th' household o' God, built upon the foundation of the apostles ahn prophets, Christ Jesus bein' the cornerstone himself.
Amen.
no subject
[Anderson's recount was a fresh breath in the asphyxiation that was the Church's constant silence. Make time for quiet moments as God whispers and the world is loud, his shepherd had oft reminded him in his youth. Yet the sound of silence roused his restlessness and spurned his thoughts to places he would rather not tread.]
We would be with Il Papa John Paul about this time... Walking to the Baldacchino (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Peter%27s_baldachin)... meeting down at the grotto. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Peter%27s_tomb#Nearby_papal_tombs)
[Lifting a sightless gaze it was obvious he was reminiscing of more gilded times (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/SeraphimSephiroth/Maxwell%20Journal/StPetersTomb.jpg).]
no subject
...Aye. Ah remember et well.
no subject
I can still hear the Schola chanting... and Grandioso L'organo (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/SeraphimSephiroth/Maxwell%20Journal/SPFacade2.jpg) shuddering my insides.
[Reaching up, he brushed his own brow as if he felt something missing there.]
Hah.. I might have even received my pallium then.
no subject
..Et's nae gone. Ye migh' lang fer et...Boot et's righ there wit' ye.
[A slight grimace--he knew Maxwell had once been looking forward to that. The time of the year must have made it more difficult to stomach that they were in some godforsaken place...Surrounded by non-believers and heretics.]
E-et's nae sae bad, es et? Bein' here?
no subject
...To be in complete control of every aspect of his life and the lives of myriads below him.
For Anderson, Maxwell ridding himself of those desires would have been seen as a blessing. For the Archbishop it was like losing a limb.]
Things were far worse.. Before you came, Anderson.
[The horrors he could recall.]
Part of me is at ease for that blessing.
no subject
[It was shocking, to say the least, that his icy ward could even come to admit such a heartfelt thing. The priest had fought so long, so hard for him to even get him to give an inch that he just...Couldn't come to bear with the thought that perhaps the reason he was offering this statement like a last testament to his will was because he was giving up.]
Enrico....
no subject
[It did not occur to him right away that he may have let something... remotely endearing slip past his lips. Yet in it's most detached form, those words were true. Maxwell was floundering and on the brink of death numerous times before Anderson had arrived.
And When he did, the priest found but a withered shell of a man. Hardly a man but more of a ghost. Anemic and macerated. The epitome of a soul in famine. Since that day, Anderson had tended to his lost little lamb till he was a glimmer of the regal Prince of the Church he had left behind... before Midian had taken that crusader from him.
Dipping his brow solemnly, curls of gold tresses cascading over Maxwell's shoulders, his sublime lilt dropped to a hush.]
I was brought into our world with nothing.
I went with nothing.
...Something in me wants to believe there is... something.. anything I might have.. now that I am in this world with you.
no subject
Affection..While he gave it freely....At times he found it difficult to receive, especially from the man in front of him. But for the sake of sanity, if nothing else, he clasped his fellow clergyman's hand firmly, slowly lowering in front of him on his knees.]
Ah'd give ye mae life, ef ye asked fer et.
no subject
no subject
To have been a memorandum in Alessandro's ear left him with a bad taste in his mouth... Such things seemed more suited for Anderson. His priest was in the career of babysitting after all.]
Hm?
[Merely the sound of the device receiving a 'ping' was the only indication his device had been knocked.]
Voice
Voice
Expect nothing less, Il Papa. The Liturgical year is the only order I find left here.
Voice
Voice
[He had to keep track by the mere phases of a moon he wasn't even sure was their own.]
One such as I cannot fault you.
Voice
Voice
While I'm well aware of your hes..ita..tion, Il Papa, I believe it would be in the best interest of the church's morale if you became a more... active participant, sì, no, sì?
Perhaps to be our Responsorial Psalm reader? I'll even send for Father Anderson to be your personal memorandum.
Voice
Voice
Do forgive my forwardness, Your.. Holiness.. but your reluctance spurns my curiosity.
Voice (Yeah... this journal has a better icon for this. >.>;;;)
B-Brother was v-very angry for a l-long time when I f-fainted during Easter M-Mass when g-giving out the Eucharist.... After that th-they always had an A-Archbishop do that. I would j-just read a p-p-prepared speech.
Voice (Oh my.. *fixes that*)
Capisco... Such.. innate fear could lead one to believe that you do not truly convict in or even advocate what you represent.
Is that it, Il.. Pa..pa?
Voice (L:FKJ:JLKJFDL:KF:LJKHFD OMG!)
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice
I-if I said things I d-d-didn't beleive, that would be l-lying, and th-that's a sin.
no subject
[Voice]
[Voice]
no subject
You're not dying, right?
[Meh Action!]
That's ludicrous!
Matthew 26: 38 through 39 is just part of today's Rosary.
[Action!]
...I was just making sure, you know. Since I used to be a hospital and everything.
...Who beat you up?