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paradisalost2008-03-02 01:00 pm
h-townshend.livejournal.com) wrote in paradisalost2008-03-02 01:00 pm
Entry tags:
[thread;] kyrie eleison
Who: Henry Townshend and Alessa Gillespie
What: Going to church, lol XD;
When: Sunday morning, through most of the day
Where: Random church in the city
Rating: PG I think
Warm, morning sunlight shone in colored beams through stained glass, criss-crossing in mid-air to land in small pools on the stone floor, on the wooden pews lined up just like the obedient parishioners waiting to file into the chapel. They took their places automatically, as they'd probably done for years. Each family knew right where to sit, the younger guiding the elder, the small boys chafing in their Sunday best, the stragglers and the loners taking seats in the back. If he hadn't known better he might've thought this was a scene straight out of a memory, trailing along as a child beside his mother every Sunday morning to the church on the corner.
No amount of pretty colored light or pleasantly dull conversation, however, could quite make him forget.
He waited to enter until almost everyone was inside, comfortably seated and picking up their hymn books to casually leaf through before the service began. Purely on instinct he paused at the doorway, as he'd done last week as well, silently, unconsciously terrified that this would be the time.
And then the moment passed--or maybe he just reminded himself that he wouldn't mind entirely if some force were to strike him dead--and he took a step forward.
No bolts of lightning, no agony or flames. Just a small, warm chapel with a small, warm congregation. Further proof that there was something completely unnatural about this place, this world. No god would allow him, of all people, entry into a sacred space.
No real god, anyway.
He kept his shoulders down as he made his way to the very last pew in the back of the room. Many, many years of being a wallflower served him well, ensuring that very few noticed his entry and even fewer cared for more than a second that an awkward, lanky guy in street clothes had joined them for the service. He hunched over in the seat with his elbows on his knees and remained that way, folded in on himself, for the entirety of the service.
The congregation rose to sing, repeated blessings. The preacher spoke of forgiveness, of salvation.
Henry didn't bother to stand. He didn't know the words.
At last the rest of the crowd filed out through the front doors again, pouring from the pews together into the center aisle and streaming back out into the beautiful spring air. Everyone had places to be, he was sure. Lunch, or visiting relatives, or shopping; he remembered those days with Mom. Before long the only ones left in the chapel were himself, still curled up in the back pew, and the preacher, who gave him a long, steady look from across the room and then finally exited as well, and Henry was alone.
It was one of the reasons he'd eventually settled on this place, of all the various churches and temples and whatnots in the city--they didn't seem to mind if you sat around in the chapel as long as you didn't bother anything, and all he wanted to do was sit. He continued to sit, elbows resting on the knees of his jeans, for what was easily hours. The sunlight through the stained glass crept steadily along the floor as the sun moved, the day passed.
Henry didn't have any idea how long he'd been sitting in the chapel by the time he finally rose from his seat on the wooden bench. The sun was still out, still coming in through the windows, but he didn't care enough to try to calculate the time by the intensity of the light or the angle of the shadows. The acoustics of the empty room made the sound of his footsteps seem lonely and isolated.
He didn't leave yet, though. It wasn't quite time for that. There was still something he had to take care of before he could go back.
Back to that place, that madhouse. Back to the rooms that always seemed empty and lonely, even with Ruby living there now and art students trailing through at various times of the day, with cats chasing each other around the furniture and demanding attention. The rooms knew that they were missing something, some vital part of them, just like Henry was missing a part of himself. You could see it on the walls, hear it in the air...everything was flat. Lifeless.
Apathy--no, not quite. Hopelessness? Was it contagious?
He'd infected his rooms, then.
A fleeting image of the castle warping and twisting into Silent Hill flashed before his eyes and he shook his head to dispel it. He infected everything, didn't he? Everyone he loved left. Everyone he tried to save--
It always came back to Eileen, these days.
Anthony he'd loved, but Anthony had been only a symptom. How do you punish a man with nothing left? You give him what he wants most, and then you take it from him again, forever. You give until he feels like he's whole again, feels content and safe, and then you tear it all away, piece by piece, bit by bit until you're tearing flesh from bone, and this time you don't stop it never stops and it's all because of her; because of himself; because he hadn't saved her like he was supposed to how was he supposed to? Why didn't he try harder? He hadn't done enough and it was never enough--
This wasn't enough, either. Sitting in a church doesn't do much good when you're already in Hell. Praying to God doesn't do much good when it's the wrong one.
Lighting this candle wouldn't be enough either. It was for her, not for him. His fate was out of Henry's hands but hers had been his responsibility entirely and he'd failed. He always failed.
But he lit the candle anyway, the third one from the left in the front row of the metal rack holding the little white candles like pieces of bone, like a grinning rictus of teeth. A soft yellow glow bloomed, temporarily making the rest of the room that much darker in his field of vision; a light in the darkness of a beautiful, grotesque world that he'd seen the truth of, at last, where no one else had.
I lit a candle for you, Eileen. It wouldn't have been appropriate to wish her a peaceful rest, because she would never be at rest or at peace, but he bowed his head and closed his eyes anyway.
If he was going to be here forever, the least he could do would be to light a candle for her on Sundays.
There were so many Sundays yet to come...
What: Going to church, lol XD;
When: Sunday morning, through most of the day
Where: Random church in the city
Rating: PG I think
Warm, morning sunlight shone in colored beams through stained glass, criss-crossing in mid-air to land in small pools on the stone floor, on the wooden pews lined up just like the obedient parishioners waiting to file into the chapel. They took their places automatically, as they'd probably done for years. Each family knew right where to sit, the younger guiding the elder, the small boys chafing in their Sunday best, the stragglers and the loners taking seats in the back. If he hadn't known better he might've thought this was a scene straight out of a memory, trailing along as a child beside his mother every Sunday morning to the church on the corner.
No amount of pretty colored light or pleasantly dull conversation, however, could quite make him forget.
He waited to enter until almost everyone was inside, comfortably seated and picking up their hymn books to casually leaf through before the service began. Purely on instinct he paused at the doorway, as he'd done last week as well, silently, unconsciously terrified that this would be the time.
And then the moment passed--or maybe he just reminded himself that he wouldn't mind entirely if some force were to strike him dead--and he took a step forward.
No bolts of lightning, no agony or flames. Just a small, warm chapel with a small, warm congregation. Further proof that there was something completely unnatural about this place, this world. No god would allow him, of all people, entry into a sacred space.
No real god, anyway.
He kept his shoulders down as he made his way to the very last pew in the back of the room. Many, many years of being a wallflower served him well, ensuring that very few noticed his entry and even fewer cared for more than a second that an awkward, lanky guy in street clothes had joined them for the service. He hunched over in the seat with his elbows on his knees and remained that way, folded in on himself, for the entirety of the service.
The congregation rose to sing, repeated blessings. The preacher spoke of forgiveness, of salvation.
Henry didn't bother to stand. He didn't know the words.
At last the rest of the crowd filed out through the front doors again, pouring from the pews together into the center aisle and streaming back out into the beautiful spring air. Everyone had places to be, he was sure. Lunch, or visiting relatives, or shopping; he remembered those days with Mom. Before long the only ones left in the chapel were himself, still curled up in the back pew, and the preacher, who gave him a long, steady look from across the room and then finally exited as well, and Henry was alone.
It was one of the reasons he'd eventually settled on this place, of all the various churches and temples and whatnots in the city--they didn't seem to mind if you sat around in the chapel as long as you didn't bother anything, and all he wanted to do was sit. He continued to sit, elbows resting on the knees of his jeans, for what was easily hours. The sunlight through the stained glass crept steadily along the floor as the sun moved, the day passed.
Henry didn't have any idea how long he'd been sitting in the chapel by the time he finally rose from his seat on the wooden bench. The sun was still out, still coming in through the windows, but he didn't care enough to try to calculate the time by the intensity of the light or the angle of the shadows. The acoustics of the empty room made the sound of his footsteps seem lonely and isolated.
He didn't leave yet, though. It wasn't quite time for that. There was still something he had to take care of before he could go back.
Back to that place, that madhouse. Back to the rooms that always seemed empty and lonely, even with Ruby living there now and art students trailing through at various times of the day, with cats chasing each other around the furniture and demanding attention. The rooms knew that they were missing something, some vital part of them, just like Henry was missing a part of himself. You could see it on the walls, hear it in the air...everything was flat. Lifeless.
Apathy--no, not quite. Hopelessness? Was it contagious?
He'd infected his rooms, then.
A fleeting image of the castle warping and twisting into Silent Hill flashed before his eyes and he shook his head to dispel it. He infected everything, didn't he? Everyone he loved left. Everyone he tried to save--
It always came back to Eileen, these days.
Anthony he'd loved, but Anthony had been only a symptom. How do you punish a man with nothing left? You give him what he wants most, and then you take it from him again, forever. You give until he feels like he's whole again, feels content and safe, and then you tear it all away, piece by piece, bit by bit until you're tearing flesh from bone, and this time you don't stop it never stops and it's all because of her; because of himself; because he hadn't saved her like he was supposed to how was he supposed to? Why didn't he try harder? He hadn't done enough and it was never enough--
This wasn't enough, either. Sitting in a church doesn't do much good when you're already in Hell. Praying to God doesn't do much good when it's the wrong one.
Lighting this candle wouldn't be enough either. It was for her, not for him. His fate was out of Henry's hands but hers had been his responsibility entirely and he'd failed. He always failed.
But he lit the candle anyway, the third one from the left in the front row of the metal rack holding the little white candles like pieces of bone, like a grinning rictus of teeth. A soft yellow glow bloomed, temporarily making the rest of the room that much darker in his field of vision; a light in the darkness of a beautiful, grotesque world that he'd seen the truth of, at last, where no one else had.
I lit a candle for you, Eileen. It wouldn't have been appropriate to wish her a peaceful rest, because she would never be at rest or at peace, but he bowed his head and closed his eyes anyway.
If he was going to be here forever, the least he could do would be to light a candle for her on Sundays.
There were so many Sundays yet to come...
no subject
From these contraries spring what the religious call Good and Evil. Good is the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy.
Shoe covered footsteps on the concrete sounded out to Alessa as she read the small note and walked around the town. She quickly folded the note and shoved it in her pocket, then quickened her pace. Though why should she be in a hurry? Had she a place to be maybe, but she was only a teenager with all of the freedom and free time in the world.
Stangent freedom, horrible freedom. When a creature is released from it's confines sometimes the freedom can kill it. Unless it knows what to do. Sometimes the creature falls into familiar habits.
Alessa shouldn't have been surprised then when she found herself in front of a small church. God. Alessa thought. With a deep breath she entered the church. There was nobody in there except a lone figure. Praying no doubt. Alessa thought to herself. She looked up at the stained glass window. It was very unfamiliar to her. She was used to home where the stained glass depicted a man on the left side swathed in white robes holding a serpent, a woman on the right side dressed in white and blue and tenderly clutching a reed, and in the center above them a beautiful appearing woman clad in a red dress with white and yellow sashes over her dress. Half of her face from the top of her head to her eyes covered by a veil.
The man and the woman who had birthed God. But that's not what the glass painting here depicted. "This is unfamiliar." Alessa said to no one.
no subject
Her footsteps warned him that he was no longer alone but for a time Henry remained at the front of the chapel near the altar, standing in front of the rack of candles. His eyes opened, taking in once more the sight of the lone candle lit for Eileen and the various, somewhat familiar trappings of religion spread across the altar beyond that.
Familiar, of course, in the sense that he'd chosen this church for the similarities to the multitude of Christian denominations back on Earth and everything looked much the same throughout, but unfamiliar as she said in that nothing was quite exactly like he remembered. Stained glass was a given, but what were the pictures? The hymn books were nearly identical to the ones he'd sung from years ago, but he hadn't recognized any of the tunes.
It was almost uncanny, but then again nothing had been quite right in his life for the past year. Maybe longer, it was hard to tell anymore.
It wasn't her presence or her speech that startled him--it was the fact that he recognized the voice. Alessa...how...?
He'd made a mistake in telling the Twins about his visit to the church last week, a mistake he didn't intend to repeat. Eventually someone would see through the haphazardly constructed facade he'd taken up, but he would prefer it to be later rather than sooner. He knew it wasn't much of a front, but--
Had she--
After a long moment of silence he turned, looking tired or worn or faded (or maybe he just felt that way but certainly he could've shaved before church couldn't he?), and mustered a slight smile for his art student, the castle's newest addition to the happy Silent Hill family.
"It's weird, isn't it?" he asked quietly in his soft tenor, lifting his gaze to the stained glass windows high up on either side wall. "It seems so much like the churches back home but everything's just a little different."
no subject
"Why is God depicted as a man? God's a woman. That's why this place isn't familiar to me." Alessa asked with a somewhat confused tone. She made her way over to the pews and took a seat on one of them. Absent mindedly she picked up a hymnal and flipped through the pages before finding one in Latin. She softly sung the words to herself.
Sanctus...
sanctus... over and over again.