Requiem-Aidan: And Thus, The Final Chapter.
The night was windy, clouds passing between the stars and Kansas City only to move on their way East. The jet-black Jaguar drove over the cold asphalt of the backwoods street, pulling up to a small church in the country. Stepping out of the vehicle, Aidan's gothic coat caught the breeze, flaring about his knees. He walked to the front door of the church and opened the door, a small smile touching his undead lips as he did so. At the far end of the room was a large crucifix, and a row of pews on either side. The building, and the grounds, were abandoned for the evening. Aidan stopped at the foot of the dais and slowly made the sign of the cross over himself. An affectation from his nights as a mortal, but one vital to him still.
"Almighty God, who has given me Purpose, hear my prayer." The words slipped out between lips only slightly parted, his drawn fangs making his voice slightly lighter than it might otherwise be. "I pray this night for those lost, that you might judge them for their actions taken in the night - actions taken with beating heart and with blooded fang.
"I pray for my Father, who is destroyed. He was ever a monster, and he withstood the slings and arrows of his detractors in Your service. Weigh him, judge him, and offer him Your mercy or wrath as You see fit." His fingers found the small onyx beads of his rosary, and he began to tick them off one by one. "I pray for myself, the Son of my Father, destroyed the moment I felt my Sire leave this world. I ask that you grant me the nights needed to find vengeance for the crimes done to Your Purpose, that I might murder those who act against Your Will."
He paused, his eyes opening. Black, emotionless irises flowed seamlessly in to like pupils and blinked behind too-long lashes. He looked at the cross and trembled slightly, his child-like form teaming with emotion.
"I pray for Javhod Masoudi, who has endeavored to rob me of that which I have loved. I pray for Jesse Miller, who stood beside Javhod and condoned his acts with silence. I pray for one who would serve you, Edward Cromwell, who lashed out at my Father like an assassin in the night, cutting him with a coward's guile. I pray for..."
He paused again, and now his eyes found the floor. His mind teamed with thought, and his temples felt to bursting with blood-borne adrenaline and fervor. He saw before his mind's eye an image of his Father, face covered in blood and wreathed in flames. He saw the calm smile which must have come to Tiernan Callaghan in his last moment, and knew the peace which found him in those last moments. He found that he hated that peace, hated that serenity which his Father knew in destruction but had not found in life. He found himself jealous of the transition which God offered, and which his Father had so readily accepted.
Jealous? Of God? What hubris! The eternal child found his anger raging against his own temerity, shocked and awed that he might compare himself so to the Lord of Hosts. But to what end? Tiernan Callaghan had belonged to him - heart and soul, the Father and the Son had been joined. And God had taken him. Taken! A thief in the night! The Lord had stolen away that which belonged to Aidan, and the source? Jealousy! Can... can the Lord Our God be jealous of his own creation?
"I pray for Lukas Von Saenger, who attacked my Father out of spite. I pray for my Brother, for he knew his actions but could not see his recourse. I pray for my Brother, who had not the strength of will to turn from his folly. I pray for my Brother, who did not understand that the flames of his actions would burn all close to him. I pray for the pain which he has caused, and that which he now suffers under."
Old and potent blood willed slender legs to move, joints to straighten and spine to unfurl. He stood before the altar, looking up in to the crucifix and in to the unseeing, marble eyes of the Son of God depicted there. He looked in to the eyes of the Messiah, nailed to the cross in the hopes of redeeming mankind, and he imagined the eyes of his enemy there. He looked in to those eyes... and he found hatred.
"I pray for those who do not know pain yet, for I shall teach a lesson to make stone weep. I pray for those who believe my threats hollow, for I bring death to them. I pray for those who beg mercy, for they shall taste only ash."
A pause, and a few silent words were added in a very small, very young voice. A voice not heard by any save a few, and of those few only one who still walked this earth. The voice not of a monster, but of a child, scared and alone. A child who simply wished to curl up and fear the nightshades no longer.
"God... return me to my father."
Fin.
"Almighty God, who has given me Purpose, hear my prayer." The words slipped out between lips only slightly parted, his drawn fangs making his voice slightly lighter than it might otherwise be. "I pray this night for those lost, that you might judge them for their actions taken in the night - actions taken with beating heart and with blooded fang.
"I pray for my Father, who is destroyed. He was ever a monster, and he withstood the slings and arrows of his detractors in Your service. Weigh him, judge him, and offer him Your mercy or wrath as You see fit." His fingers found the small onyx beads of his rosary, and he began to tick them off one by one. "I pray for myself, the Son of my Father, destroyed the moment I felt my Sire leave this world. I ask that you grant me the nights needed to find vengeance for the crimes done to Your Purpose, that I might murder those who act against Your Will."
He paused, his eyes opening. Black, emotionless irises flowed seamlessly in to like pupils and blinked behind too-long lashes. He looked at the cross and trembled slightly, his child-like form teaming with emotion.
"I pray for Javhod Masoudi, who has endeavored to rob me of that which I have loved. I pray for Jesse Miller, who stood beside Javhod and condoned his acts with silence. I pray for one who would serve you, Edward Cromwell, who lashed out at my Father like an assassin in the night, cutting him with a coward's guile. I pray for..."
He paused again, and now his eyes found the floor. His mind teamed with thought, and his temples felt to bursting with blood-borne adrenaline and fervor. He saw before his mind's eye an image of his Father, face covered in blood and wreathed in flames. He saw the calm smile which must have come to Tiernan Callaghan in his last moment, and knew the peace which found him in those last moments. He found that he hated that peace, hated that serenity which his Father knew in destruction but had not found in life. He found himself jealous of the transition which God offered, and which his Father had so readily accepted.
Jealous? Of God? What hubris! The eternal child found his anger raging against his own temerity, shocked and awed that he might compare himself so to the Lord of Hosts. But to what end? Tiernan Callaghan had belonged to him - heart and soul, the Father and the Son had been joined. And God had taken him. Taken! A thief in the night! The Lord had stolen away that which belonged to Aidan, and the source? Jealousy! Can... can the Lord Our God be jealous of his own creation?
"I pray for Lukas Von Saenger, who attacked my Father out of spite. I pray for my Brother, for he knew his actions but could not see his recourse. I pray for my Brother, who had not the strength of will to turn from his folly. I pray for my Brother, who did not understand that the flames of his actions would burn all close to him. I pray for the pain which he has caused, and that which he now suffers under."
Old and potent blood willed slender legs to move, joints to straighten and spine to unfurl. He stood before the altar, looking up in to the crucifix and in to the unseeing, marble eyes of the Son of God depicted there. He looked in to the eyes of the Messiah, nailed to the cross in the hopes of redeeming mankind, and he imagined the eyes of his enemy there. He looked in to those eyes... and he found hatred.
"I pray for those who do not know pain yet, for I shall teach a lesson to make stone weep. I pray for those who believe my threats hollow, for I bring death to them. I pray for those who beg mercy, for they shall taste only ash."
A pause, and a few silent words were added in a very small, very young voice. A voice not heard by any save a few, and of those few only one who still walked this earth. The voice not of a monster, but of a child, scared and alone. A child who simply wished to curl up and fear the nightshades no longer.
"God... return me to my father."
Fin.