sanctus_cineris: (Father - Bloody Prayer)
[personal profile] sanctus_cineris

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.†

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.†

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
By Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord .†



[ † ] A groan of metal screeching on wood as something rather heavy is dragged through the church doors, heated water sloshing precariously against the iron-coated sides. His cassock remained draped over the front pew while he hefted the filled tub up against his barrel-sized chest, white dress-shirt sleeves uncuffed and rolled up to his shoulders. Diagonal soot streaks smudged the end of his nose and his scarred cheek from his earlier efforts of building a fire pit outside to heat the water for its intended use, spectacles slightly fogged from the steam. Takes a moment to adjust the weight to his center before he trod forward, burden and all, making his way slowly down the aisle to avoid spilling any of the hollowed metal's contents.

He's slightly out of breath and sweat trickles down his bronzed brow, but he continues onward towards the altar regardless, reciting in an unwavering baritone in celebration of the date though he was alone. [ † ]

Keep ae...calm ahn sober mind. Above all, ne'er let yer love fer one another grow insincere, fer lo'e covers o'er manieh ae sin. Welcome each other entae yer houses withou' grumblin'. Each yin o ye 'as received ae special Grace; therefer', like guid stewards responsible fer all o' thae differen' graces o' God, put yerselves at thae services o' others. Ef ye bae ae speaker, speak en words thaet coom frem God; Ef ye bae ae helper, help as though e'erieh action was doon at 'Is Order, sae thaet en everythin', He may receive thae Glory through Jesus Chris', since tae Him all Glorieh ahn Power belong. Amen.

[ † ] At last when he reached a newly scrubbed stone baptistry he heaves a small sigh and tips the galvanized basin onto its side, managing to succeed in his endeavour with an earnest enthusiasm. A satisfied smile settles into place as he stands with both hands on his hips to admire his handiwork, lost for a time in the effect of the lit candles lining the edges and the wine placed strategically in front, with the bath salts and soaps he'd managed to scrounge up from doing trade with city residents.
Now there was only one thing to do . . .

A sad flicker in his weary eyes as he glances towards the door that had been barred to him for the past week, the smile slowly fading. [ † ]

/Action!

Date: 2010-03-18 08:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 13th-crusader.livejournal.com
[Having holed himself up in that room of his like a hermit, innate fear gripping and dragging him away from going near that door, the archbishop curved his ear to the rummaging sounds that echoed throughout the resounding church. From the very moment he had laid eyes upon his subordinate that had returned to him like the very Returning of the Messiah, he had been viced with a terror he could not begin to explain.

The nightmares of his supposed crucifixion had become more real to him as time had passed in this accursed city. Finally laying eyes upon the man who his subconscious told him was the cause of those wretched reveries had likely caused him to snap and hide himself away like a cockroach scurrying from the light. Only his hunger had moved him to brave towards the doorway when he smelled that the kind priest had left him nourishment over the past few nights... Yet that had been as far as he would go if he heard the man inside the church.

However this time the overabundance of noise had stirred Maxwell from his tremblings; curiosity getting the better of him. Creeping slowly towards the door, the handle clicked and the hinges creaked.

Moments later his eyes were upon the Good Samaritan's back, his hands beginning to shiver like before, yet not to the mortified extent that had caused him to scream like his life was at stake. Stilling himself aright, he sought to shove his fear aside... for what was a leader to show weakness in front of one whom he commanded? Even if those dreams were true or not...]


What are you doing?

Action!

Date: 2010-03-19 02:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
M-maxwell?

[ His ears burned like white-hot irons stretched over silk that had been pressed and melted against them the instant the Archbishop's voice carried through the extension of space between them, a strangled purl gurgling in the back of his throat. He turned around slowly, suspended in time, as though he might silently wrest and prey on that sound and pin it down, so very afraid that silvery Roman tongue was nothing more than a chimera—a mirage—something surreal his mind had compensated for in the midst of his loneliness, his yearning, and his uncertainty regarding his Brother's well being.]

Y-ye...Ye're oot o' yer room! Scarcelieh saed ae word tae mae since ah bin....Though' ah migh' bae dreamin'...

[A sort of surprised pull of brows elevating upon his stressed brow, a flickering half-smile put into place for a brief interval. The expressed joviality soon dwindled unto the pitfall of melancholia and regret he'd allowed himself to be stewed into every time he heard the door slam on its squeaking hinges, a storm that churned in sore shamrock eyes.

Hands placed very carefully at his sides he presents himself as meekly as possible, lowering his gaze in hopes he could at least placate the scrawny Italian with his humility, rather than stir up any dissension between them over fault and wrong.

He speaks very softly with a certain degree of hesitance flavoring his words, almost whispering for fear of upsetting the flighty Prince. ]


O-oh...Ye goot ae leetle color en yer cheeks, now....Thaet's...Thaet's guid....Joos'...Though' ye migh' want tae take ae bath...Ahn...Ah goot ye soom' o thae wine.. o' whit ye're used tae boot et's....Soomthin'....A-ah...Ken thaet et's nae exactlieh whit ye'd like...

[Nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other before shuffling to the edge of the baptistry to point out the results of his collective efforts, then stepping back again to give him room.]

T-thaer's 'nough soap fer ye tae last ye...Thae water's hot...Boot....Ah g-goot ye whit ah could. Ah'll joos'...Give ye soom' privacieh....

[Steps back further, retreating towards the back of the church, being as quiet as he possibly could.]

Action!

Date: 2010-03-19 03:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 13th-crusader.livejournal.com


[The mild tongue of his subordinate could assuage the most pother of souls. A lilt seeped in lore and harmony that one could not help but turn an ear to and listen, though the words shrouded in mysterious brogue. Despite the former arcane horror and qualms in the face of this Beast of Christ's burden Maxwell found himself soothed by Anderson's apparent awkwardness for a man of his great size; usually a sight that would cause the archbishop to smirk callously at and taunt him over.

Yet the burden of this wicked world had made itself garishly apparent on his body and soul, only the careful ministrations by the Patron Saint having brought a shade of life to the Prince's otherwise cadaverous frame.

At the very sight of what the priest had done... making an effort to run him a bath, a luxury that would have seemed small in their world, yet was more desirable than gold in this, Maxwell gripped his shoulder as a dull pang struck that heart of three sizes too small.]


Attendere prego...!

[Wilted white fingertips snatched at the coat of the priest to halt his stride from him. He would not have the man dismissing himself without his approval after all... Yet perhaps it was more than that.]

Something.. dreadful came over me.

I forbid you to leave. . .Sil placet.


Edited Date: 2010-03-19 04:22 am (UTC)

Action!

Date: 2010-03-19 06:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com


[ Anderson's legs halted at the pull of a taloned grip that bide him so solemnly, unable to muster any degree of resistance towards the desperation in that call even if he wished to. The implications behind doing so would prove his Betrayal, engraving that which could never be undone in Maxwell's stony heart.

He was bound as an embodiment of the Triquetra: Hand and foot; Tooth and nail; Intertwined completely in an interlaced weave as knotted as the Book of Kells to be delivered heart and soul to Service the very man whose existence he had shattered.

Theocratic Slave.

Were he not torn by his own actions, were he not guarding a secret that proved his Failing, Alexander would have been..Less careful, less anxious. He knew with every twinge of Guilt that struck that he could not mention a word of it, lest the Trust he'd tried so hard to build between them crumble into Dust, all for naught. Not now, at least.]


Maxwell, ah woul' ne'er..Leave ye completelieh...Joos' though' ye migh' 'ave wanted mae tae..

[Turning full circle to come into close contact with him for the first time since their previous meeting he noted with a deeper chord of shock at how gaunt his Leader was, how stretched—how sickly—translucent porcelain seemed to be, nearly colorless save for the purpled bruises under his forest green eyes. And oh, his hair...His pride and vanity...Tangled in the tightest of snarls,unkempt—a lackluster yellow compared to the shining gold he remembered.]

O-oh...Oh, Maxwell...

[Arms winding around that frail body before he could truly contemplate his own actions, threading gloved palms over his head and clutching him tightly.]

Et's alrigh' now. Ah'm 'ere tae take care o' ye...Dinnae ye worrieh nae moore.

Action!

Date: 2010-03-19 07:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 13th-crusader.livejournal.com
A..ahi..!

[A wreck. Shambles. Ruins likened to that very church they stood in. The noble aristocrat and Prince of the Church was hardly even a willowisp of that man Anderson had known and the wicked and the righteous of their world hand learned to fear. Malnourished. Maltreated. Browbeaten and broken. His clothing barely clung to him as it was once perfectly tailored to his lithe and lanky from. Pale cheeks were sunken, eyes once of a shocking and envious viridian, were deeply set and lacked any shine. A blonde mane that had grown nearly to his ankles without treatment had become ratted and jagged as a crown of thorns that weaved about his head and clawed disheveled down his backside. Maxwell was walking death; anemic and clinging to life by a thread with stubbornness in his cruel form that knew no bounds.

Yet to find himself then bound in arms of thick inescapable sinew had him struggling between fight or flight or reserve and acceptance. Pain struck him almost immediately, making the choice for him as he writhed in Anderson's albeit gentle hold for one so giant. Ribs that had taken heavy damage from being shattered by that cross were ultimately sore and drew a quavering and nearly child-like shout from him. Inexplicably he clung to the larger man to keep his spindly legs from collapsing beneath himself. Feeling a hirsute cheek brush his own he was placated somewhat, reminding him of his youth when the Shepherd would clutch him tightly despite his vehement protests and ungrateful thrashings.]


Fa...father..! That.. per piacere..!
Edited Date: 2010-03-19 08:28 am (UTC)

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Date: 2010-03-18 05:25 pm (UTC)
playwitchu: (Manthra/What's that?!)
From: [personal profile] playwitchu
*Congrats Anderson! You have gained a listener if only by your thick accent.*

Date: 2010-03-19 06:42 am (UTC)
playwitchu: (Manthra/What's that?!)
From: [personal profile] playwitchu
I neverrrr heard anyone speak like you beforrre! What was it that you were talking about?

Date: 2010-03-19 06:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
[Clears his throat.]

Well...A-ah...Peter 4:7-11. Thae Scripture....Doin' kindness unto others en dark times..Et's important tae bind together.

Date: 2010-03-19 06:55 am (UTC)
playwitchu: (Manthra/Bwah?!)
From: [personal profile] playwitchu
Are ya a prrriest?

*He goes to let out a chuckle.*

I think everrryone needs to hear more Scriptures in these types of days.

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From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com - Date: 2010-03-19 06:22 pm (UTC) - Expand

That is such a adorable icon.

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:3 Thank you.

From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com - Date: 2010-03-19 07:56 pm (UTC) - Expand

He...Can't help it. x3;

From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com - Date: 2010-03-19 09:13 pm (UTC) - Expand

<33 Oho~?

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Ooo, indeed.

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Yeeees~

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Voice

Date: 2010-03-18 09:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sancta-sedes.livejournal.com
W-will we be having p-proper services then? C-could we p-perhaps be able to h-h-have Easter Mass?

Voice

Date: 2010-03-19 03:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
Oh, Yer Holiness! A-ah was..Heh. A-aye. Yer always welcoom tae coom tae thae church ahn pray wit' mae before thaet, ef ye like.

Voice

Date: 2010-03-19 03:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sancta-sedes.livejournal.com
I w-would be glad to. But, it's a-also a nice idea, to think that there c-could be a s-s-semblance of a regular s-schedule. S-small things like that, do g-give comfort, especially in s-such a difficult place.

Re: Voice

Date: 2010-03-19 03:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
Aye! Ye're righ' aboot thaet, yer Excellencieh. Ah'm joos' beginnin' tae see....Boot ah think ah ken whit ye mean. Ah've nae had ae proper Mass maeself, en soom time.

Voice

Date: 2010-03-19 03:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sancta-sedes.livejournal.com
N-Neither have I.... I've b-been hoping that perhaps th-there could be some, at l-least by Easter.

Voice

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Re: Voice

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Voice

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Voice

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[voice]

Date: 2010-03-21 07:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] torchicked.livejournal.com
[have low laughter; he doesn't bother saying anything else for the moment]

[voice]

Date: 2010-03-21 08:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] torchicked.livejournal.com
Funny little words to nobody. You people really are pretty funny sometimes.

Voice

Date: 2010-03-21 08:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
. . .

[Then why bother at all, I wonder.

Have a small hiss in return.]


K~k~shhh.

Esss thaet sssoo?

[voice]

Date: 2010-03-21 08:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] torchicked.livejournal.com
[now what kind of a noise is that supposed to be?]

Not too good at listening, are you?

Voice

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[voice]

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Voice

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[voice]

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Voice

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[Video] Late comment is late.

Date: 2010-03-22 02:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] heinesangel.livejournal.com
[The frequency becomes active shortly after, with a curious and familiar face appearing on screen. She is not able to see what is happening at present behind the inactive camera lens, but her eyes are roaming and ears listening closely for new sounds.

What is he doing?]

...?

[Video]

Date: 2010-03-22 05:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
Mm?

[Glancing down he hears a small 'beep' and fishes the communicator device out of his pocket, peeeeering at the screen.]

O'...Dove..Ye...Gave mae a right fright, ye did.

[Chuckling low in his throat..]

[Video]

Date: 2010-03-22 06:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] heinesangel.livejournal.com
[She frightened him?]

...

[Goodness. That wasn't something she expected to hear out of anyone in a million years.

Nill promptly bowed her head forward apologetically.]

[Video]

Date: 2010-03-22 07:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com
[A gentle smile.]

Checkin' oop on mae, ar' ye? Well..Joos' helpin' His Grace..E's doin' ae leetle better now thaet ah've gotten 'im tae eat.

[Video / Text]

Date: 2010-03-23 02:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] heinesangel.livejournal.com
[A nod. Maybe a little.

-- That is good news, too!]


[Click.]

[Text]

I hope that he keeps getting better.

[Video / Text]

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