✞30 Days since my Last Confession✞
[†]Habakkuk 1:2-4
Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.
For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass:
For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.[†]
[☨]Going about his way in restoring the sanctum, the Archbishop is bending at the knees deeply, his gloved fingertips carefully sorting through the remnants of stained glass on the floor to remove what could be reused. The filaments of iridescent glass shimmered like tiny prisms in the candlelight as he fished through them.. Anderson had done such a fine job in making them, to see them go to waste would have been tragic.
Howevere he did not recall this particular piece of 'glass' in the shape of a dipyramid... In it he saw his own reflection. Yet not that of the regal Prince of the Church, but that of a Raucous little Runt scowling back at him.[☨]
Che.. Wha.. what devilry is this!?
Sir! What is this place?
...
Sir? Why are you getting back in the car... Papà?
Wa..wait! I'm not inside yet!
Wait for me! Wait please! Papà!
Papà!!
[☨]O' GOD! In a scattering arc of shards Maxwell slams up against a pew as the crystal leaves his hand in a panic. He about shrieked at the vision of a memory long buried beneath his bitter contempt and vanity he built as his Tektite fortress about his mind and despicable heart.
The little wispy boy in the glass stood in stock horror in the street as the vehicle sped away and disappeared over the hills outside of Rome, never to be seen again.
The prism flickered and the memory was eclipsed by another of that same youth only a few years older clutching a bible to his small breast; so tight and shuddering so violently under his own enmity, he could have shred the tome to ribbons.[☨]
Don't lie to me! It's because she was a whore and he was a lecher!
They had to get rid of their bastard son before the aristocracy found out!
...That's why they left me here. That's why they won't come back.
...I was just a mistake to be swept under the rug...
Ye're nae ae cast aff, Maxwell.
[☨]A benevolent brogue met the seething youth, and followed with a broad hand placed upon a shoulder burdened by dejection. He could only shiver more as his misty eyes stung, neither moving closer or away from the priest's touch.[☨]
I am! I saw it in the market today! That's why the Abby brought me to you to punish me...
[☨]The crystal flickered and beheld that boy shoving his way through a crowd in Campo dei Fiori, whilst a frantic nun was giving chase. Before she could grab him, the boy attacked a man in noble attire, walking with a women in a fur stole and a bundled infant carried proudly in her arms.[☨]
V'testa di cazzo!! Mannaggia a te! Va 'all'inferno e muori!
God help you, you insufferable child, let go of that man!
[☨]The nun latched onto the boy who could barely get a pummel into the man before he was pulled back by the scruff of his neck. The woman and noblemen were horrified whilst the nun profusely apologized through the cries of the startled babe. Caught by the ear, the violent child was dragged off, swearing like the possessed.[☨]
Va a farti fottere! Vaffanculo!! Tu e il tuo porco vacca puttana!
...
[☨]The vision blears back out to the boy standing with a mark on his cheek where he had hurt himself in his thrashing, whilst the Priest knelt in front of him.[☨]
They replaced me...
[☨]A panged look in his eyes, and the Priest is unsmiling, encircling, drawing the small figure close unto his own.[☨]
Yer heart es here. Nae wit' thaem. Do nae linger thaer, o' yer soul will be stagnant, fated tae suffer th' pain o' manieh fools.
[☨]Lenses reflect in the Roman sunlight, and the Shepherd is staring straight ahead beyond the boy, laying a hand upon his head. A small snivel hisses through the child's fragile form as he rests his burning eyes against the priest's stalwart shoulder.[☨]
I... I wont be anyone's fool.. and it doesn't hurt.
It doesn't hurt at all...
[☨]Completely aghast Maxwell was shaken from his very foundation by the horrid visions this piece of blasphemous divination shewn unto him. The sound of iron suddenly clicked into his palm and in the reflection of the fine glass was the barrel of a gun.[☨]
Sorcery.. It-it's sorcery! Get out! Get behind me and get away from me!
[☨]PING![☨]
((ooc: Backdated to the evening of the 10th. ))
Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.
For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass:
For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.[†]
[☨]Going about his way in restoring the sanctum, the Archbishop is bending at the knees deeply, his gloved fingertips carefully sorting through the remnants of stained glass on the floor to remove what could be reused. The filaments of iridescent glass shimmered like tiny prisms in the candlelight as he fished through them.. Anderson had done such a fine job in making them, to see them go to waste would have been tragic.
Howevere he did not recall this particular piece of 'glass' in the shape of a dipyramid... In it he saw his own reflection. Yet not that of the regal Prince of the Church, but that of a Raucous little Runt scowling back at him.[☨]
Che.. Wha.. what devilry is this!?
Sir! What is this place?
...
Sir? Why are you getting back in the car... Papà?
Wa..wait! I'm not inside yet!
Wait for me! Wait please! Papà!
Papà!!
[☨]O' GOD! In a scattering arc of shards Maxwell slams up against a pew as the crystal leaves his hand in a panic. He about shrieked at the vision of a memory long buried beneath his bitter contempt and vanity he built as his Tektite fortress about his mind and despicable heart.
The little wispy boy in the glass stood in stock horror in the street as the vehicle sped away and disappeared over the hills outside of Rome, never to be seen again.
The prism flickered and the memory was eclipsed by another of that same youth only a few years older clutching a bible to his small breast; so tight and shuddering so violently under his own enmity, he could have shred the tome to ribbons.[☨]
Don't lie to me! It's because she was a whore and he was a lecher!
They had to get rid of their bastard son before the aristocracy found out!
...That's why they left me here. That's why they won't come back.
...I was just a mistake to be swept under the rug...
Ye're nae ae cast aff, Maxwell.
[☨]A benevolent brogue met the seething youth, and followed with a broad hand placed upon a shoulder burdened by dejection. He could only shiver more as his misty eyes stung, neither moving closer or away from the priest's touch.[☨]
I am! I saw it in the market today! That's why the Abby brought me to you to punish me...
[☨]The crystal flickered and beheld that boy shoving his way through a crowd in Campo dei Fiori, whilst a frantic nun was giving chase. Before she could grab him, the boy attacked a man in noble attire, walking with a women in a fur stole and a bundled infant carried proudly in her arms.[☨]
V'testa di cazzo!! Mannaggia a te! Va 'all'inferno e muori!
God help you, you insufferable child, let go of that man!
[☨]The nun latched onto the boy who could barely get a pummel into the man before he was pulled back by the scruff of his neck. The woman and noblemen were horrified whilst the nun profusely apologized through the cries of the startled babe. Caught by the ear, the violent child was dragged off, swearing like the possessed.[☨]
Va a farti fottere! Vaffanculo!! Tu e il tuo porco vacca puttana!
...
[☨]The vision blears back out to the boy standing with a mark on his cheek where he had hurt himself in his thrashing, whilst the Priest knelt in front of him.[☨]
They replaced me...
[☨]A panged look in his eyes, and the Priest is unsmiling, encircling, drawing the small figure close unto his own.[☨]
Yer heart es here. Nae wit' thaem. Do nae linger thaer, o' yer soul will be stagnant, fated tae suffer th' pain o' manieh fools.
[☨]Lenses reflect in the Roman sunlight, and the Shepherd is staring straight ahead beyond the boy, laying a hand upon his head. A small snivel hisses through the child's fragile form as he rests his burning eyes against the priest's stalwart shoulder.[☨]
I... I wont be anyone's fool.. and it doesn't hurt.
It doesn't hurt at all...
[☨]Completely aghast Maxwell was shaken from his very foundation by the horrid visions this piece of blasphemous divination shewn unto him. The sound of iron suddenly clicked into his palm and in the reflection of the fine glass was the barrel of a gun.[☨]
Sorcery.. It-it's sorcery! Get out! Get behind me and get away from me!
[☨]PING![☨]
((ooc: Backdated to the evening of the 10th. ))