✞[ VII. ]✞ Station of the Cross

[sanctus_cineris]

[ † ] Fingers barely grazed the serrated edge of windows, and humming low to himself he reached up across the scattered pieces of a stained glass, picking up shards and carefully, very carefully extracting them with the tip of a bayonet. His movements were balanced and controlled, fingers working diligently to piece together what materials he'd managed to gather and melt, having found and saved most of the remains.

Elevated high above the ground one wrong move could be treacherous, or even fatal. The clergyman sat in the cradle of wood and stone as he worked, skirting around the sharper parts in order to build the glass from the base up. He'd hoped to finish the task before sunrise, if it could be helped, yet with limited tools and time, could only hope for so much progress to come out of this.

Then a small tingle begins to spread down his arms, and up his legs, and he has a peculiar expression as he comes to realize the sudden jolts were coming from the device he'd held in his palm for the sketches of plans he'd drawn out, muscles clenching so hard his grip began to slip. [ † ]

G-ghn..! A-a-aaaa...

[ † ] As the electrical shocks assaulted his body he involuntarily shuddered and teetered backwards, tensing up so tight he couldn't quite hold on. The weight of his cassock decides his fate, and tugs him down, a loud crash and splitting of wood echoing as the commlink is left spinning as the feed cuts out. [ † ]

[OOC: Anderson was working on fixing the stained glass windows when he got shocked, causing him to lose his grip. He crashed through the floorboards, though the extent of whatever injuries he has are unknown. There won't be any responses to voice or text posts, given he might be unconscious. Action threads are welcome, but don't make them independent of each other. Sorry for the confusion~]

Comments

[Action!]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[What a dreadfully familiar predicament (http://13th-crusader.livejournal.com/1623.html) that would have been, had the archbishop seen the incident, instead of hearing the shattering bedlam from his bedroom. Enrico jolted from his mattress, Vatican issued pistol inexplicably brandished as if it were an extension of himself at this point.]

What in Hell's blazes is---!?

[Dashing into the auditorium, his bleary eyes caught sight of dust welling up near the iridescent windows. He took a moment to gaze in awe that their former glory had nearly been restored, taking him aback...]

H-how...

[The shuffle of something near his feet drew his hands tighter around his weapon, aiming downward with an iron click... only for his eyes to widen that he was pointing down at a... Anderson-sized hole in a space of floor-board surrounded by the rest of the church's stone basin.]

Anderson!?

[Action!]

[sancta-sedes.livejournal.com]

[Alessandro was trying to get out more, he had spent most of his time in the apartment to himself. People had been trying to encourage him to go out more and insisted the city wasn't always horribly dangerous. So, this time he thought he would go to the church.

He entered just in time to watch Father Anderson fall to the floor, he froze, wide eyed and in shock. Even when Bishop Maxwell had come out and rushed to the hole defensively, he still couldn't find a voice. Finlay when Maxwell called out Anderson's name, Alessandro snapped out of it.]

F-F-Father Anderson!

[Action!]

[sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com]

[A deep groan echoed from the mouth of the gaping hole, a deep throbbing between his two shoulder blades at having landed so hard. The shock left his body temporarily with limb paralysis, though he could hear the results of the plunge had caused his ears to ring with what he thought might have been a familiar voice.]

...Ales...san..dro?

Pl...ea...se...Dinna shoot...Ah'm n-nae armed...

[He croaked out when he caught sight of the end of Maxwell's barrel, stirring enough to where the sound of wood clicked together. When he tried to suck in for the breath he'd lost his reward was a mouthful of dust and stale air, causing him to gag and cough.]

Nn...gh...

[Action!]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

[Hearing the staggering child's cry and Anderson's mewling from deep below, the Archbishop sighed with heavy exasperation and clicked the safety back onto his weapon.]

I should shoot you for turning this church into more of a hazard zone than it already is!

[Yet that fall was enough punishment, he gathered as he slicked his hair back, pondering how he would get the woolly beast out of there...]

Aha...

[Then of course there was the boy...]

Vi.. Il papa. Perhaps you could keep Father Anderson talking, whilst I find the entrance to the basement, si?

[Action!]

[sancta-sedes.livejournal.com]

[He shook in the corner for a little bit before nodding several times and running over. He looked very pale and very nervous and a bit like a deer in headlights.]

O-Okay.... W-Will Father A-Anderson be a-alright? M-maybe we should c-call for a doctor....

[Action!]

[sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com]

[Father Anderson failed to respond in time before Maxwell left the edge of the prominent depression in the floor, far enough down to where the shadows hid him well enough.]

D-dinna think ah need a doctor...Moor' like ae chiropractor...Think ah pulled soomthin'...

[And a sickening crack like thunder accompanied his words, something popping into place. Fortunately for the good Father he was built sturdier than an ox.]

T-think...Ah'll be alrigh'..

[His lungs were telling him otherwise however, and he had to turn to cough again, still unable to quite catch his breath.]

[Action!]

[13th-crusader.livejournal.com]

He's had worse!

[The director called from the alter before muttering to himself at a disdainful memory.]

Had only you seen the time he fell off the dome of the basilica.

[Oh how THAT went over well with the public explaining how the holy man survived. The patrons of St. Peters wanted him canonized to sainthood, stating it was a miracle! The high priest was on Maxwell's back for a week!

Meticulously running his gaze over the floor-plan of the church, he knew a hatch to the lower reaches should have been around the podium, like most Gothic sanctuaries had... Tapping the heel of his boot about the floor, he waited till he heard a hollow resound in one of the thinner slabs of slate.]

Magnifico!

[Praising as he uncovered just what he was striving for and bent to dust off the stone and pry his slender fingers into the crack to wrench it open.]

[Action!]

[sancta-sedes.livejournal.com]

[At the crack sound coming from below Alessandro squeaked and paled even more. It looked like he could fall over at any moment from illness.]

Th-that isn't really r-reassuring....

[Though, his words were mostly to himself as Maxwell had already left to find a way down. Alessandro stooped down and tried to pear over the side of the hole, to see if he could see Anderson at all.]

T-try holding your b-b-breath... it m-might help.

[heinesangel.livejournal.com]

[ FATHER! ]