(no subject)
Title: "Saving" the Sinned
Characters: Prussia, Holy Roman Empire
Notes: Related to Damned Are They
Sunday was the day when everyone stopped working and went to the church to pray and give thanks. The monster spat on the ground as he listened to their prayers float up to him. One woman wanted to be rich, a man who wanted to be king gave his prayer next. A boy even gave thanks to the God that had killed his older brother; he would be the next in line for whatever fortune was left by his noble heritage. The devil stomped on the floor and he heard a gasp, then someone said that God must have heard them and given them a sign! How stupid, he thought to himself as he pushed open the only window of the room and sat on it. As he watched and listened to the noise below, an evil idea entered his mind and a grin stretched across his face as he thought about it. They wanted a God? He'd give them one. He walked across the room to where the voices were most clear and began his game.
"Calm, my stray lambs," he called out to the crowd below, the people quieting beneath his feet, "you have nothing to fear from your God."
They muttering quietly to each other about the authenticy of the "God" and the creature grew angry.
"Do you dare question me?! Do you dare to question the God who created you and gave life to you?!" He yelled, silence his only answer. Good. That meant they were listening. The wicked boy sneered as he sat down, tapping the floorboards in impatience. Finally, a man answered him.
"N-no, my lord, we would never dare question your presence! But why, my lord, have you come now to listen to our prayers?" He asked, and God thought for a moment.
"I have decided now to be your most desperate time of need, my children, and as such I will tend to your wounds." He answered. The murmers of fear below caused him to grin and laugh despite of his role.
"Do you really think I would hurt you, my children?" He crooned with fake-tenderness, pretending to love the fools he despied so much.
"You would only hurt the heretics, my lord?" A woman asked timidly.
"That is right, my child. Only the heretics and those who have sinned."
He could almost feel their relief. God held in a laugh, clearing his throat instead. He laid down, comfortable in his new seat of power, and spoke.
"That is right, little lamb. Tell me your prayers again so I might hear them clearer and grant them."
All at once they began shouting their wishes to him, to their fake-god and the spawn of Satan who drew pleasure in their meek cries of sin. He laughed again, loud enough to silence their pleas.
"Do you really think that I would grant all of those sins? All of your pure wishes and desires you so eagerly put forth because you think that I would listen and give them to you? Hear this, mortals, and wisen up. There is no God and no Holy Light, there is only Me and I am--"
"Gilbert!"
The cretin scowled and sat up, then turned his head to the door with a friendly smile plastered on his face as his brother entered. The intruder glared, dropping the basket onto the table as he strode towards the abomination of a sibling.
"Good afternoon, kid! Looks great outside." The monster said cheerfully, ignoring the ill feelings coming from his brother.
"What do you think you're doing, pretending to be our holy Lord and Savior?" His brother demanded, his voice rising with every word. The imp grinned, his sharp teeth visible in the dusty light.
"I'm having fun, kid. Do you hear their cries? Their pleas? Their sins? They actually think that God is going to listen to their pathetic words and grant them whetever they desire. It's fun. Do you wanna play?"
His brother only glared, hatred for the goblin in front of him increasing with every step.
"Your loss," he said shrugging. Then he laid on the ground and pressed an ear to the dust-covered floor, chuckling at the cries of distress and confusion below him. His keeper continued to frown, then grabbed the damned teen by the hair and pulled him upward, ignoring the strained squeals caused by the sudden attack.
"I have no words for you, brother. You're a vile human, a disgusting person, and you wonder why God hasn't graced you yet? Your attitude, brother, is the problem. You take this all as a joke. If you would just accept His light and let yourself be saved by Him, you would be accepted yourself into His Kingdom. But you won't be, you will be cast down from this earth like the fallen angel Lucifer deep into the grounds and put into one of the rings of Hell. Does that give you happiness? Does it make you want to change your ways?" His brother asked desperately, shaking the other by his pale hair.
"Nope." His brother dropped him, scorned by the single word.
"Then let Hell consume you until you do!" The devil's protector yelled, turning from the lost soul and marching rigidly to the door. With one last rueful look cast in the fiend's direction, he slammed the door shut and locked it. The Hell-born boy hummed a quiet, almost sad song, picking himself off the floor and walking to the table. He reached inside the covered basket and pulled out a loaf of bread, ripping off a large chunk of the baked good with his teeth and chewing it as he pushed away the regret and sorrow that plagued him.
"Poor kid." He muttered after swallowing the food. "He thinks I'm the one who needs saving when he's the one stuck in his stupid religion. If anything, he's the one who needs to be saved."
The hellion picked up the basket and walked to where he sat before, a smile playing on his lips as he dropped the loaf and retrived an apple from the wicker container. He made himself comfortable on the floor and took a bite of the cursed fruit, calling out again to the poor sheep below.
"Now, my children, where were we before Satan rudely interrupted our holy session?"
Characters: Prussia, Holy Roman Empire
Notes: Related to Damned Are They
Sunday was the day when everyone stopped working and went to the church to pray and give thanks. The monster spat on the ground as he listened to their prayers float up to him. One woman wanted to be rich, a man who wanted to be king gave his prayer next. A boy even gave thanks to the God that had killed his older brother; he would be the next in line for whatever fortune was left by his noble heritage. The devil stomped on the floor and he heard a gasp, then someone said that God must have heard them and given them a sign! How stupid, he thought to himself as he pushed open the only window of the room and sat on it. As he watched and listened to the noise below, an evil idea entered his mind and a grin stretched across his face as he thought about it. They wanted a God? He'd give them one. He walked across the room to where the voices were most clear and began his game.
"Calm, my stray lambs," he called out to the crowd below, the people quieting beneath his feet, "you have nothing to fear from your God."
They muttering quietly to each other about the authenticy of the "God" and the creature grew angry.
"Do you dare question me?! Do you dare to question the God who created you and gave life to you?!" He yelled, silence his only answer. Good. That meant they were listening. The wicked boy sneered as he sat down, tapping the floorboards in impatience. Finally, a man answered him.
"N-no, my lord, we would never dare question your presence! But why, my lord, have you come now to listen to our prayers?" He asked, and God thought for a moment.
"I have decided now to be your most desperate time of need, my children, and as such I will tend to your wounds." He answered. The murmers of fear below caused him to grin and laugh despite of his role.
"Do you really think I would hurt you, my children?" He crooned with fake-tenderness, pretending to love the fools he despied so much.
"You would only hurt the heretics, my lord?" A woman asked timidly.
"That is right, my child. Only the heretics and those who have sinned."
He could almost feel their relief. God held in a laugh, clearing his throat instead. He laid down, comfortable in his new seat of power, and spoke.
"That is right, little lamb. Tell me your prayers again so I might hear them clearer and grant them."
All at once they began shouting their wishes to him, to their fake-god and the spawn of Satan who drew pleasure in their meek cries of sin. He laughed again, loud enough to silence their pleas.
"Do you really think that I would grant all of those sins? All of your pure wishes and desires you so eagerly put forth because you think that I would listen and give them to you? Hear this, mortals, and wisen up. There is no God and no Holy Light, there is only Me and I am--"
"Gilbert!"
The cretin scowled and sat up, then turned his head to the door with a friendly smile plastered on his face as his brother entered. The intruder glared, dropping the basket onto the table as he strode towards the abomination of a sibling.
"Good afternoon, kid! Looks great outside." The monster said cheerfully, ignoring the ill feelings coming from his brother.
"What do you think you're doing, pretending to be our holy Lord and Savior?" His brother demanded, his voice rising with every word. The imp grinned, his sharp teeth visible in the dusty light.
"I'm having fun, kid. Do you hear their cries? Their pleas? Their sins? They actually think that God is going to listen to their pathetic words and grant them whetever they desire. It's fun. Do you wanna play?"
His brother only glared, hatred for the goblin in front of him increasing with every step.
"Your loss," he said shrugging. Then he laid on the ground and pressed an ear to the dust-covered floor, chuckling at the cries of distress and confusion below him. His keeper continued to frown, then grabbed the damned teen by the hair and pulled him upward, ignoring the strained squeals caused by the sudden attack.
"I have no words for you, brother. You're a vile human, a disgusting person, and you wonder why God hasn't graced you yet? Your attitude, brother, is the problem. You take this all as a joke. If you would just accept His light and let yourself be saved by Him, you would be accepted yourself into His Kingdom. But you won't be, you will be cast down from this earth like the fallen angel Lucifer deep into the grounds and put into one of the rings of Hell. Does that give you happiness? Does it make you want to change your ways?" His brother asked desperately, shaking the other by his pale hair.
"Nope." His brother dropped him, scorned by the single word.
"Then let Hell consume you until you do!" The devil's protector yelled, turning from the lost soul and marching rigidly to the door. With one last rueful look cast in the fiend's direction, he slammed the door shut and locked it. The Hell-born boy hummed a quiet, almost sad song, picking himself off the floor and walking to the table. He reached inside the covered basket and pulled out a loaf of bread, ripping off a large chunk of the baked good with his teeth and chewing it as he pushed away the regret and sorrow that plagued him.
"Poor kid." He muttered after swallowing the food. "He thinks I'm the one who needs saving when he's the one stuck in his stupid religion. If anything, he's the one who needs to be saved."
The hellion picked up the basket and walked to where he sat before, a smile playing on his lips as he dropped the loaf and retrived an apple from the wicker container. He made himself comfortable on the floor and took a bite of the cursed fruit, calling out again to the poor sheep below.
"Now, my children, where were we before Satan rudely interrupted our holy session?"