for priestly_demon
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"That does sound awful," Remiel said, patronizing him slightly. Most of his attention was on Michael, rather than what he was saying, watching him fight his way to the inevitable slumber. As the young man mumbled the last question, and both eyes were finally closed, the Grigori smiled. "Oh, undoubtedly. Very real indeed." His tone was ( Read more... )
"That does sound awful," Remiel said, patronizing him slightly. Most of his attention was on Michael, rather than what he was saying, watching him fight his way to the inevitable slumber. As the young man mumbled the last question, and both eyes were finally closed, the Grigori smiled. "Oh, undoubtedly. Very real indeed." His tone was ( Read more... )
The shadow forming behind him was perhaps too unreal to even turn around and see what was causing it. Michael did not so much blink as he sat there at the foot of the statue watching the shadow figure unfold. He was lost in whatever good thoughts his prayers were allowing. Fleetingly, he thought of Maggie when he thought he hear a woman's giggle, but otherwise, he was content to just be.
But then the shadow did something that he could not expect to happen. It was surpassed by its maker. Son of the maker to be exact. He was either dead or hallucinating. He was sure of it. The only explanation. But when a hand was placed on his shoulder and real words were spoken, Michael Jacob Francis stared with gaping mouth before he inelegantly and humbly prostrated himself before the son of God. With reverence, he looked up into compassionate eyes and at the thorny crown.
"Demons. My faith could not defeat ...I. I failed you." And with that, he burst into horrified tears.
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As Michael began to cry, he appeared to take pity on him, signalling him to join him. "Are you certain of that, Michael?" Gently, he place his hand on his shoulder as again a woman's light laughter sounded, although no one else could be seen. And he took no notice. "How do you know that creature was demonic?"
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"I know what I saw. No one person or thing who defames your image like that, can possibly be angelic or good, my Lord." He stared straight ahead, focused until his attention taken away by the sound of feminine laughter. When no culprit was seen, he breathed deeply. "I mean in what possible world, was what I saw, a good being?"
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He placed his twisted hands neatly on his lap, and looked down as if in deep thought. All the while there was still that laughter. "But I'm confused. Why did you run away? Weren't you strong enough in your faith of me to confront it?" Now he looked at Michael, concern in his eyes.
From behind, unseen by Michael, a beautiful woman, covered only by the sheerest and smallest pieces of material approached. She smothered her laughter with her hand, her amusement dancing in her dark eyes.
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The loss of feminine laughter without any replacing sound, gave Michael a start. He mussed up the back of his own hair, as if swatting at flies in response to the suddenly muffled sound. All the faith of his fathers and family, even Maggie, could not help him with this question. And this new irritant wasn't helping.
Cupping both ears with his hands, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he rocked back and forth gently, without losing his seating. The motion calming, he eventually paused, breathed, and let down his hands to fold into his lap, wringing them in true repentance.
"Christ forgive me, I did not. You have to believe me. I was weak. It was so ..." Even as he spoke, Michael's ears were cocked and listening for even the slightest sound.
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When the want-to-be priest had finally composed himself and made his admission, he nodded. It was not a nod of empathy, but one of agreement. "Yes, you are weak." The change of tense was subtle, barely noticeable. "You failed to defend me from that creature's desecration, but that is really not surprising. While there are many...noble things about the path you have chosen, and it is indeed, the one true faith, the church is weak and fearful of that which they don't understand."
While he was talking, the woman had walked around the bench and sat on the other side of the figure, although he paid her no attention, even as she leaned forward to smile through her thin veil at Michael and rested a hand on the figure's thigh.
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Michael shot up of the bench as if his pants were on fire. He did not have to look down to know that they were, at least in a metaphorical sense. Was he shocked that there was actually a real woman, that there was a sense of attraction to or that he had just argued with Jesus himself? There was a look about his face that showed the first signs of real panic. Shame came out on top and Michael took off running for only God knows where, but straight was his path, should any follow him. He was never really all that stealthy.
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As Michael fled, the figure called after him. "Michael, you are running straight into the arms of Lucifer himself. Listen to me. You know you should." The young man could not possibly know how true those words were.
And although Michael was making enough noise that a deaf man could follow him, Remiel had no need to even have that skill. Still very much looking like Jez, he stepped out into Michael's path. "Michael? Why are you running? Is it another demon?"
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He barely heard the warning about Lucifer when he rann into a bigger predicament. That woman. He tried to pretend that was the last thing he saw before beginning to run away. He would have that image forever in his mind. That of the woman attempting to molest Christ himself,but it was the last image that he thought he would be thinking about as he rammed straight on towards Father Jez. Shaking off hysteria and a sense of deja vu, he tried to calm himself, but to no avail.
And before he could stop himself, he said all that had just occurred - all that he had seen, including the woman and Christ. The rest was pure incoherent babbling of a panicked man.
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The figure was still sitting, but leaning over and kissing the woman. Her hand was now firmly in his lap, stroking him through the linen of the loin cloth around him. Remiel whispered in his ear. "Saviour he might be, but he's just a man, as well."
With Michael facing away from him, he wouldn't notice the change in the priest. His features grew sharper, eyes more sunken, and the teeth more pointed.
ooc: sorry about all the reposts!
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He did pull Michael away, and as the woman scooted from her attacker, they sat on the ground, Christ's arms still around him. The woman smiled, maybe from gratitude maybe something else, and despite the beating looked barely bruised. "If I was not offended by her attention, why are you? Do you presume to tell me what is right? What is good?"
Watching still half way between human and demon form, Remiel hung back, content for now to be forgotten again.
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There was nowhere to look away and not see what was before him now. Trembling before God took on a whole new meaning and he was currently praying for death before anyone realized that he was hard all over.
"...I, I don't know."
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"Michael, there is nothing wrong with enjoying another's body. Why else would my Father make it so pleasurable? Those representatives on Earth have decided their own laws, twisted my words. It is that everything must be in balance. It is prohibition that leads to sin."
The woman's hand moved lower.
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No, he had nothing. Most especially when his eyes became riveted upon the same woman he was about to beat senseless before. Those hands were going lower than he was comfortable. Even as his chest arched out in response, his lower half was doing its damnedest to back away, only meeting resistance from behind as he was he still held firm.
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