✞[ I. ]✞ Station of the Cross

[sanctus_cineris]

† Isaiah 10:16-20 †

[ Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil;
 Learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.
 Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
 If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
 But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the Sword: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it. ]

[ † ] Genuflecting low before St. Peter's altar the looming Priest bent his head respectively before the monumental Cross he'd spent most of the previous evening weighting down, fingers of a gloved right hand lightly touching his forehead and quietly murmuring the words "In nomine Patris". They then follow down to the top of his breastbone—"et Filli"—down to shoulder from left to right, finishing "et Filli, Amen" with lips barely grazing his thumb. 

With a deep inhale along with the rustle of cloth his mouth begins to move, words barely above a reverent whisper. [ † ]

sshh...Maxwell.....Forgive.....Ah am heartilieh sorry.........Midian......

[ † ] When he moves away something black and metallic tumbles out from the folds of his clergy robes, short-circuiting the feed. [ † ]

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[sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com]

[ But to a shepherd who tended his flock, even the littlest lamb that bleated was no less cherished than the others. There, in the House of his Lord, even in the midst of an estranged world, he would Give unto Others, if only to offer Refuge for all Men, be they friend or otherwise.

For God looked favorably on His Ministers who welcomed the Congregation through the selfless pursuit of the Seven Gifts and the Heavenly Graces. Only through Holy Virtue could he Guide them out of Darkness to embrace the Light.

A placid smile as he gazes down into her eyes with his own vibrant green, caressing the winged fae-child's silken locks very lightly.]

O'..Ho' Dove...Sooch precious tears...'Ere..

[Moving to press his thumb to the corner of that leaking hue, soothing the tears with his balmy touch. Slowly lowers down to one knee, taking her hand in his own.]

Dinnae fret, loov'. Ar' ye joos' worried 'boot His Grace? ...Ah'm gonna be takin' care o' 'im frem now oon...Sae thar's nae need tae cry.

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[heinesangel.livejournal.com]

[As her hand dropped limply back down to her side, the girl shifted her own gaze away from the Father, pouting her lips.

The reassuring touch he gave was not unwelcome, as there was no recoiling from it. However, she would still begin to slowly turn herself back inward into her own shyness.]

...

[The soft brush of his thumb against her skin forced her eyes to look back up, and with another tiny wet sniffle aside, it was as if her tears never were there to begin with.

She followed him with her gaze as he lowered himself down on bended knee, and soon felt her hand being taken in his. It was so small in comparison, and her fingers curled out of impulse.

There wasn't a single sound, except that of her breath being let out slowly with relief. It felt better now that the tension of the moment was gone, and... The Archbishop. That was what brought her here, wasn't it? It was partly true.

Nill gave a small nod of her head, while the fallen cassock was being looked down at rather remorsefully.]

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[sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com]

[Blunt fingertips splay and extend across the way to retrieve the abandoned Bishop's article and simultaneously slink an arm over the small of her back, carefully straightening up off his knee.

The Priest leads her back towards the nearest pew, inviting her to sit with him awhile.
]

Maybe we can 'ave ye visit 'im soon when he's feelin' ae wee bit better, alrigh', lassie?

Ye moos' ken 'im....O'..Coul' et bae ye're lookin' after 'im?

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[heinesangel.livejournal.com]

[Nill obediently followed the lead of the Father, feeling significantly calmer--if not uncertain. Sitting down next to him on the pew, she gazed up as he spoke.]

...

[A worried look came across her face. Then the Archbishop really wasn't feeling well...

She didn't hear anything about his condition after the accident, and so Nill could only assume the worst. It was part of the reason why she rushed over, pushing herself when it was important for her to take it easy with her own recovery.

At least... it didn't sound like the situation was dire. Nill could breath easier knowing that, giving a nod of her head in reply. She would have to do that.]

...?

[His accent almost caused her to stumble mentally at first, but then she was able to figure out the meaning. The question just made her flustered. The girl hasn't been able to do much for the Archbishop in return, and so it felt strange to hear that asked of her.

Neither nodding or shaking her head in reply, Nill simply took her right hand and pressed the tip of her index gently against the wood between them. There, she traced a short message composed of invisible letters. Slowly tracing the shape of each one.]

'to return it'

[Once finished, the winged girl silently pointed over toward the cassock that was now in Anderson's possession.]

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[sanctus-cineris.livejournal.com]

Ye're ae good girl. Wee cherub.

[Staring straight across the way with his hands folded together on top of the partly folded cassock in his lap he appeared somewhat weary until she had him snap to attention with her scrawling, the Scotsman scritching at an unshaven chin while he deciphered her meaning.]

O'...Ah'll make sure 'e gets et, mae winged Dove. Dinnae ye fret. Make sure ahn let 'im ken thaet he's goot angels watchin' o'er 'im, tae.

[A small chuckle that was a little more forced than before, large fingers curling over the still pristinely starched fabric.]