[Action!] Maxie's coomin' en tae joooiin us. ( Sorry Abel, 'Rico goes next. xD ))sanctus_cinerisApril 1 2010, 10:08:46 UTC
[Eyes widening as he suddenly becomes very rigid and temporarily alert, beads of sweat glistening off of his brow and the rise of cheekbones. His jaw draws taut, the scar that ran the length of his left side giving tiny spasms.]
O'och, o'och! E-ee....A-aaaa.
[Chocolate-toned lips laced with protest, and his limbs flail outwards out of instinct, almost attempting to struggle until he caught sight of her serious expression. There would be no getting out of this then now that she'd started, staring into those soulful eyes communicated that much.
Before too long Father Anderson's cassock is shed, along with fingers begin to trail down the front of his vest, swiftly unbuttoning though he looked rather grim with uncertainty. There was only so much he was willing to reveal . . . though the Scotsman was aware she meant well.
A loud clearing of his throat and his clergy collar is unclipped, hands pulling back the garment to slowly unveil the virile expanse of a scar-littered chest, peeling away enough to allow the stethoscope access, and nothing more.
The fine line of golden hairs prickled at the sudden exposure and drew gooseflesh to the surface, yet he did his best to ignore it, the chill that settled in his bones already enough to where they overshadowed the sensation.]
[Action!] Awkward moments abound here!13th_crusaderApril 1 2010, 11:03:34 UTC
[Throughout the eve as Anderson went about his charitable duties, Maxwell had confined himself to his hospital bed, restless and vexed to be sentenced here for the umpteenth time. And while he was the sort to cherish his solitude, having that priest here once again had spoiled him with the subconscious sensation of codependency.
Grinding his teeth as the hours ticked by and the pain medication kicked in, he threw the sheets off of himself and staggered out the door. He did not trust this world for a moment with Anderson out of his sight, knowing well that the man was a walking disaster and a personal responsibility he had taken unto himself since the age of 12.
Walking through the mists whilst three sheets to the wind, the stealthy Archbishop manages to peer his way into every room along his trek to find his subordinate... Likely reading off the Last Rites to some poor soul, or lifting the afflicted youth with his words of encouragement. Such a good and pure man was his coveted priest...
So when his misty sea-green eyes pierced the crack in a doorway to see that man flushed and panting in what appeared to be depraved abandonment, his flesh slick with sweat, a cherished Roman collar pulled open, and a delicate woman arching over him... Maxwell could not help the sudden sickness that filled his stomach and nearly retched up his throat.]
P..Paladino..!
[The small shout was subconscious, an accident in his shock while he stood in the threshold. Realizing he had projected he swiftly stilled the trembling of his viperous mouth, a hand clasping over it as redness stained his marble cheeks in abashment.]
[Action!] Ho Mah Gawd, Max13sugarsApril 1 2010, 15:48:31 UTC
[Every thing handed over, Abel took a step back, staring in what was now quite obviously concern and worry.... until Lilith gave him the silent order to knock it off and look somewhere else. Wait, wh- Oh. Oh.
Well... of course, he didn't want to humiliate the poor man, he was unwell enough as it was, and Abel turned to face the door. Considering the great deal of shuffling and fidgeting he was doing there, it was clear the man was uncomfortable with just pretending nothing was going on. Well, he was worried about him!
... Wait, did the door just move? Abel blinked for a moment, and was indeed about to write it off as just some figment of his imagination, until the man on the other side of it suddenly let loose with a protest.
Oooh, he knew that voice. Abel was at the door in seconds, holding the blasted thing just open enough now so that he could freely talk to Enrico... buuuut, allow poor Anderson some privacy.]
Archbishop, please! We just got him to sit back in a seat, if he hears you, he might just get up again! Please try to keep it down, there's something wrong with him...
[Action!] so the holy madonna, the archbishop, contra mundi, and a paladin walk into a bar...pacifyinghandApril 1 2010, 17:12:52 UTC
[she paid Maxwell's outcry no mind. in fact, she paid no mind to anything else at all but her duty; she was unperturbed by the man's sheepish nature in regards to sharing his skin and intended to give him no further pause by making a spectacle of the event.
she pressed the stethoscope to his chest, having attempted to warm the cool metal against the shell of her arm as she'd waited for him to peel layers, and her eyes were distant - focused inward on listening to the sorry state of his breathing - as she gestured for him to take a few deep breaths.
[Action!] Hilarity ensues..Drugged Maxwellsss. :3sanctus_cinerisApril 1 2010, 21:24:02 UTC
[An exhale cut sharply by drawn out bursts of pitiful warbling, head whipping in the direction of the door way; The Iscariot instinctively rose up off the hospital mattress and pushed up, mewling hoarsely. His name being called in shrill intonations had rattled the poor Priest's nerves, and as predicted he made an attempt to get up, catching one look on the Archbishop's face and knowing somehow he'd done something horribly wrong.
With a detached lift of hands around the Madonna's dainty wrists to still her movements his flush-darkened skin only becoming more vibrantly dusted with splotched rosette, though this time it had nothing to do with the fever.
He seemed to know exactly what the Archbishop had entertained in his mind's eye, and he responded in kind, hair completely standing on end.]
[Action!] THIS IS WHY HE DIDN'T WANT TO COME, THEY PUT SOMETHING IN HIS WATER >8(13th_crusaderApril 2 2010, 05:41:23 UTC
[Like the Ninth level of Hell frozen over, Maxwell glared icicles at the would-be priest who acted like a fleshy blockade to he and his subordinate. Balling his fist at the insolence, indignantly he stamped his heel and hissed.]
...Move!
[Anderson's clamoring was not helping his patience. Not what it looks like? Ha! Words of a guilty man!]
That's my...
...he's my. . .
[Vassel? Workhorse? Slave? Oh, right, Responsibility of course.]
[Action!] YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE ANDERSON IS MAKIN' THE WOOBIE FACE FOR LILITH13sugarsApril 2 2010, 05:48:30 UTC
[... The action rather reminded him of a small child... Abel had to remind himself that this was an archbishop he was talking to, technically. He glanced back at Lilith, more likely to heed the womans words over any that Maxwell might have.
Archbishop he might be, but no one held any authority over Lilith.]
... I'll see if that's okay. I know it's hard, but I really have to ask you to be patient... Father Anderson almost collapsed a moment ago, the last thing he needs is to be anxious.
[Action!] oh, my. and he's just jealous she got him out of his shirt so quick 8DpacifyinghandApril 2 2010, 13:16:42 UTC
[as Anderson attempted to push his weight up from the bed and gently seized her wrists, she tilting her eyes towards his face, forsaking her task in favor of softly laying delicate hands on his shoulders and with surprising force for a woman with a frame as petite as hers, pushed him back down.
she leans over him, vibrant red hair spilling over a shoulder to drape over one of his thighs as her cheek hovers beside his, her lips at his ear. a soft, barely audible whisper; shame, priest. to make her go so far to placate you and yours in such a condition should be a sin.]
Please heed me. Please, Father.
Stay still.
[she pulls away, the softest trail of soothing, dark fingertips at his cheek before she turns to face the door.
and the look she affixes the Archbishop whose flustered countenance she spots in the doorway behind Abel's shoulder, is...
the Naia Sancta is slightly amused. as much is betrayed in her eyes. she lifts a finger to her lips, apology in her expression; she would offer you greeting, Maxwell, but the woman is unable. even so, the message is clear - please, dear Lord... behave yourself. clearly he isn't threatened by a mere woman who obviously means well if the stethoscope dangling about her chest is any indicator...
is he?
without waiting for a proper response, she turns back to the bed and resumes her work.
[Knotted sinew and tendon bunched and coiled beneath her with all the determination of a devout Servant, the Champion of the Church forgetting himself to that point where the only element in the room was Section XIII's Division Leader and Iron Will glaring the Fear of Dagger and Poison into his ailing bosom. A desperation presented in the Bearer of Good Will's countenance in return, the Priest obviously wanting so badly to explain, and yet his Salvation through words failing him.
What the Madonna couldn't understand was that a Priest's Honour in the eyes of his Bishop, his Divine Sovereign on Earth, was everything. During the Reign of Iscariot in the Year of the Lord Anno Domini 1999, Canon Law, which was necessary to maintain Order, made Enrico an Enforcer. The prominent place held by the Inquisitor in carrying forth the Holy mandate of Catholicism and Christ was to be indiscriminate and efficient in carrying out His Will and His Ministry, making sure that everyone beneath his station stayed within their Proper place, and Fulfilled their Duties chastely and virtuously. A Bishop who failed to employ the appropriate provisions of Canon Law failed not only his fellow clergymen and congregation, but was liable to penal sanctions imposed by the Holy See.
"The Bishop is the successor of the Apostles, sent out to guide the flock of Christ and ensure the unity of Christians. The Bishop is a representative of Christ, commissioned to bear witness to Him, to speak in His name, and to preserve all that has been handed down by means of the apostolic body. He must therefore boldly preach the Cross for the sake of the souls entrusted to him."
[ † ] Matt 28:20 [ † ] "Go therefore . . . teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." [ † ] Luke 10:16 [ † ] "Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me."
Men in Enrico's position were charged with being a sign, voice, and means of salvation; they carried out the Orders of the Papacy, and were expected to instill Control upon their subordinates.
That being said, to be accused of abusing one's clerical duties in a carnal fashion was perhaps the Gravest Crime and most Grievous Sin of all, for the clergy were made to lead His Children on the Straight and Narrow, not to cause them to stray from it.
The moment he had Promised himself to the Lord through the Sacrament of Devotion and Allegiance he was eternally bound not to deviate lest he, as an Apostle, be accursed as an Adulterer, and be Cast Down, Stripped of his Collar, and Excommunicated. For Men of the Cloth were wedded men, Married for Life to the Catholic Church and their Faith.
Maxwell had the Right to Judge, for if Lechery abounded within the Ranks, then they be not Ranks at all, but Facilitators of Depravity, Fallen prey to the Machinations of Devilry and Filth.
Even in this distant realm Father Anderson still Abided and Abstained; he kept Faith and Virtue. Though his Body might Betray him, his Spirit most certainly would not.]
[Action!] Lates D:13th_crusaderApril 4 2010, 19:32:00 UTC
[While his indignation and impatience had been spurned on by a world that tried him day and night, Satan's temptations constantly knocking on his door and his talons clawing at his feet, there was no better man to lead God's Earthly Agents of Divine Punishment. And while his lusts for power divine had darkened his soul to the pitchest of black, there was something innately partial when terms came to the man who lied in that bed...
He coveted him as his Nobel Cornerstone, who upheld his church upon strong unwavering shoulders. Anderson, in Maxwell's present mind, had never failed to heed to his call. . . That cold countenance diminishing, he averted his gaze from Abel as he heard his priest's request.]
O'och, o'och! E-ee....A-aaaa.
[Chocolate-toned lips laced with protest, and his limbs flail outwards out of instinct, almost attempting to struggle until he caught sight of her serious expression. There would be no getting out of this then now that she'd started, staring into those soulful eyes communicated that much.
Before too long Father Anderson's cassock is shed, along with fingers begin to trail down the front of his vest, swiftly unbuttoning though he looked rather grim with uncertainty. There was only so much he was willing to reveal . . . though the Scotsman was aware she meant well.
A loud clearing of his throat and his clergy collar is unclipped, hands pulling back the garment to slowly unveil the virile expanse of a scar-littered chest, peeling away enough to allow the stethoscope access, and nothing more.
The fine line of golden hairs prickled at the sudden exposure and drew gooseflesh to the surface, yet he did his best to ignore it, the chill that settled in his bones already enough to where they overshadowed the sensation.]
Reply
Grinding his teeth as the hours ticked by and the pain medication kicked in, he threw the sheets off of himself and staggered out the door. He did not trust this world for a moment with Anderson out of his sight, knowing well that the man was a walking disaster and a personal responsibility he had taken unto himself since the age of 12.
Walking through the mists whilst three sheets to the wind, the stealthy Archbishop manages to peer his way into every room along his trek to find his subordinate... Likely reading off the Last Rites to some poor soul, or lifting the afflicted youth with his words of encouragement. Such a good and pure man was his coveted priest...
So when his misty sea-green eyes pierced the crack in a doorway to see that man flushed and panting in what appeared to be depraved abandonment, his flesh slick with sweat, a cherished Roman collar pulled open, and a delicate woman arching over him... Maxwell could not help the sudden sickness that filled his stomach and nearly retched up his throat.]
P..Paladino..!
[The small shout was subconscious, an accident in his shock while he stood in the threshold. Realizing he had projected he swiftly stilled the trembling of his viperous mouth, a hand clasping over it as redness stained his marble cheeks in abashment.]
Reply
Well... of course, he didn't want to humiliate the poor man, he was unwell enough as it was, and Abel turned to face the door. Considering the great deal of shuffling and fidgeting he was doing there, it was clear the man was uncomfortable with just pretending nothing was going on. Well, he was worried about him!
... Wait, did the door just move? Abel blinked for a moment, and was indeed about to write it off as just some figment of his imagination, until the man on the other side of it suddenly let loose with a protest.
Oooh, he knew that voice. Abel was at the door in seconds, holding the blasted thing just open enough now so that he could freely talk to Enrico... buuuut, allow poor Anderson some privacy.]
Archbishop, please! We just got him to sit back in a seat, if he hears you, he might just get up again! Please try to keep it down, there's something wrong with him...
Reply
she pressed the stethoscope to his chest, having attempted to warm the cool metal against the shell of her arm as she'd waited for him to peel layers, and her eyes were distant - focused inward on listening to the sorry state of his breathing - as she gestured for him to take a few deep breaths.
honestly, Maxwell.]
Reply
With a detached lift of hands around the Madonna's dainty wrists to still her movements his flush-darkened skin only becoming more vibrantly dusted with splotched rosette, though this time it had nothing to do with the fever.
He seemed to know exactly what the Archbishop had entertained in his mind's eye, and he responded in kind, hair completely standing on end.]
M-max..w-well?!
T-t-thaes es....Nae whit et looks like!
Reply
...Move!
[Anderson's clamoring was not helping his patience. Not what it looks like? Ha! Words of a guilty man!]
That's my...
...he's my. . .
[Vassel? Workhorse? Slave? Oh, right, Responsibility of course.]
I demand you let me see him!
Reply
Archbishop he might be, but no one held any authority over Lilith.]
... I'll see if that's okay. I know it's hard, but I really have to ask you to be patient... Father Anderson almost collapsed a moment ago, the last thing he needs is to be anxious.
Please.
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she leans over him, vibrant red hair spilling over a shoulder to drape over one of his thighs as her cheek hovers beside his, her lips at his ear. a soft, barely audible whisper; shame, priest. to make her go so far to placate you and yours in such a condition should be a sin.]
Please heed me. Please, Father.
Stay still.
[she pulls away, the softest trail of soothing, dark fingertips at his cheek before she turns to face the door.
and the look she affixes the Archbishop whose flustered countenance she spots in the doorway behind Abel's shoulder, is...
the Naia Sancta is slightly amused. as much is betrayed in her eyes. she lifts a finger to her lips, apology in her expression; she would offer you greeting, Maxwell, but the woman is unable. even so, the message is clear - please, dear Lord... behave yourself. clearly he isn't threatened by a mere woman who obviously means well if the stethoscope dangling about her chest is any indicator...
is he?
without waiting for a proper response, she turns back to the bed and resumes her work.
ah... boys will be boys...]
Reply
What the Madonna couldn't understand was that a Priest's Honour in the eyes of his Bishop, his Divine Sovereign on Earth, was everything. During the Reign of Iscariot in the Year of the Lord Anno Domini 1999, Canon Law, which was necessary to maintain Order, made Enrico an Enforcer. The prominent place held by the Inquisitor in carrying forth the Holy mandate of Catholicism and Christ was to be indiscriminate and efficient in carrying out His Will and His Ministry, making sure that everyone beneath his station stayed within their Proper place, and Fulfilled their Duties chastely and virtuously. A Bishop who failed to employ the appropriate provisions of Canon Law failed not only his fellow clergymen and congregation, but was liable to penal sanctions imposed by the Holy See.
"The Bishop is the successor of the Apostles, sent out to guide the flock of Christ and ensure the unity of Christians. The Bishop is a representative of Christ, commissioned to bear witness to Him, to speak in His name, and to preserve all that has been handed down by means of the apostolic body. He must therefore boldly preach the Cross for the sake of the souls entrusted to him."
[ † ] Matt 28:20 [ † ] "Go therefore . . . teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you."
[ † ] Luke 10:16 [ † ] "Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me."
Men in Enrico's position were charged with being a sign, voice, and means of salvation; they carried out the Orders of the Papacy, and were expected to instill Control upon their subordinates.
That being said, to be accused of abusing one's clerical duties in a carnal fashion was perhaps the Gravest Crime and most Grievous Sin of all, for the clergy were made to lead His Children on the Straight and Narrow, not to cause them to stray from it.
The moment he had Promised himself to the Lord through the Sacrament of Devotion and Allegiance he was eternally bound not to deviate lest he, as an Apostle, be accursed as an Adulterer, and be Cast Down, Stripped of his Collar, and Excommunicated. For Men of the Cloth were wedded men, Married for Life to the Catholic Church and their Faith.
Maxwell had the Right to Judge, for if Lechery abounded within the Ranks, then they be not Ranks at all, but Facilitators of Depravity, Fallen prey to the Machinations of Devilry and Filth.
Even in this distant realm Father Anderson still Abided and Abstained; he kept Faith and Virtue. Though his Body might Betray him, his Spirit most certainly would not.]
...Pleas' let 'im en.
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He coveted him as his Nobel Cornerstone, who upheld his church upon strong unwavering shoulders. Anderson, in Maxwell's present mind, had never failed to heed to his call. . . That cold countenance diminishing, he averted his gaze from Abel as he heard his priest's request.]
If you will, Reverendo.
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