Post XLV [Accidental Video]
[The communicator flickers on, located on a shelf just above Abels shoulder. It's looking down, right enough so that it can film what is on his lap.
A bible?
Well, don't forget, he is a priest. One finger gently roams down the old pages, stopping occasionally difficult passages, or maybe as he misses a line.
However... the one he has paused at... he lingers at just a little longer. Just a little more than the others.
"Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth generation."
His hesitation remains for a moment, before a few pages are slowly flipped, that finger coming to rest on another quote.
"But he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation."
The silence in the room and on the communicator is heavy, as if the weight of centuries had settled down on that moment. The mans shoulders are lowered, have been since the beginning, but what once looked like relaxation now seems to mimic exhaustion.
A hand raises to his face, perhaps to straighten his glasses, when he looks up, and spots the communicator. There's a flicker of something across his face, some unreadable emotion, before there's just a sigh, and he grabs the thing, shutting the bible firmly.]
Archbishop? [You know who you are, pal.]
I'm coming over to the church.
A bible?
Well, don't forget, he is a priest. One finger gently roams down the old pages, stopping occasionally difficult passages, or maybe as he misses a line.
However... the one he has paused at... he lingers at just a little longer. Just a little more than the others.
"Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth generation."
His hesitation remains for a moment, before a few pages are slowly flipped, that finger coming to rest on another quote.
"But he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation."
The silence in the room and on the communicator is heavy, as if the weight of centuries had settled down on that moment. The mans shoulders are lowered, have been since the beginning, but what once looked like relaxation now seems to mimic exhaustion.
A hand raises to his face, perhaps to straighten his glasses, when he looks up, and spots the communicator. There's a flicker of something across his face, some unreadable emotion, before there's just a sigh, and he grabs the thing, shutting the bible firmly.]
Archbishop? [You know who you are, pal.]
I'm coming over to the church.