Post by jono on Jun 29, 2015 22:56:17 GMT -8
The heat fades slowly from the air as the dark of night grows thicker. Rafael walks through the cemetery moving slowly, deliberately. He mutters to himself. "Buon Dio. Sono andato perché i bambini volevano andare."
He paces between two large mausoleums, running his fingertips along the white marble. The latin phrases are like sonorous prayers in his mind. Requiem aeternam dona nobis fratre iacente. Carissimi matrem et uxorem et filiam.
More steps. Et si ambulavero in valle umbrae lo mortem metuam mali.
"Contro la mia migliore saggezza, sono andato." He growls, low in his throat. "Mi lasciai tirato in tale comportamento sciocco."
He turns in his pacing, leaving the mausoleum behind, walking to a small shrine. It is in Russian, but the iconography tells him that it is to the Holy Mother, and he kneels, taking his rosary from around his neck. Its jet and red beads familiar in his hands. The small silver crucifix smooth and familiar.
"Ave Maria, gratia plena.
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus:
et benedictus fructus ventris tui , Iesus.
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus ,
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae .
Amen."
He sighs. "Pray for us, now and in the hour of our death. Mother of God, the hour of my death has lasted long. Pray for me now, Mother of God, pray for my soul as I walk this path that is truly the Valley of the Shadow of Death. La valle umbrae mortem."
Still kneeling, he moves along the rosary beads, his head bowed.
"Patre nostro,
Qui es in caelis,
santificetur nomen tuum;
Adveniat Regnum Tuum;
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie;
et dimitte nobis debita nostra
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris;
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem;
sed libera nos a malo. Amen."
Another sigh, "Lead us not into temptation, my Lord. I only follow where you lead. Learning how the body made in your image works. I poke and prod the flesh. I make it move. I destroy it. I investigate it so that I can learn how a thing made in the image of the living God works. I manipulate flesh made in your image, and each night, I am become more and more like you."
"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio .
Contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium .
Imperet illi Deus , supplices deprecamur ;
tuque, Princeps militiae coelestis,
in virtute Dei
Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, mittatur in gehennam
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo . Amen."
He frowns into the dark. "Cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits, Michael - Prince of the Heavenly Hosts, who prowl throughout the world. Especially those beneath the grotto of Saint Edward's chapel." The last delivered in a growl.
He rises from his knees and begins to walk toward the exit of the cemetery. Behind him, one of his wraithly servants moves, almost in sync with the same reality as Rafael. Her voice is thin, and Rafael only hears her because she makes the effort to cross the sudario.
"Master... you still believe?"
He walks, silent for a minute, and she does not push him for an answer. Finally, the old vampire answers the spirit. "Yes, Selena, I do still believe. I believed when I was a mortal, and nothing that I have experienced or seen since has changed that."
"Even us?" Her voice trembles. She has only been a spirit a brief while.
"Yes, even you." There is a slight bit of warmth for his former blood doll turned spirit. "Those who die and become as you are only serve to support my faith."
The spirit and the vampire leave the cemetery, each thinking very different thoughts.
He paces between two large mausoleums, running his fingertips along the white marble. The latin phrases are like sonorous prayers in his mind. Requiem aeternam dona nobis fratre iacente. Carissimi matrem et uxorem et filiam.
More steps. Et si ambulavero in valle umbrae lo mortem metuam mali.
"Contro la mia migliore saggezza, sono andato." He growls, low in his throat. "Mi lasciai tirato in tale comportamento sciocco."
He turns in his pacing, leaving the mausoleum behind, walking to a small shrine. It is in Russian, but the iconography tells him that it is to the Holy Mother, and he kneels, taking his rosary from around his neck. Its jet and red beads familiar in his hands. The small silver crucifix smooth and familiar.
"Ave Maria, gratia plena.
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus:
et benedictus fructus ventris tui , Iesus.
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus ,
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae .
Amen."
He sighs. "Pray for us, now and in the hour of our death. Mother of God, the hour of my death has lasted long. Pray for me now, Mother of God, pray for my soul as I walk this path that is truly the Valley of the Shadow of Death. La valle umbrae mortem."
Still kneeling, he moves along the rosary beads, his head bowed.
"Patre nostro,
Qui es in caelis,
santificetur nomen tuum;
Adveniat Regnum Tuum;
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie;
et dimitte nobis debita nostra
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris;
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem;
sed libera nos a malo. Amen."
Another sigh, "Lead us not into temptation, my Lord. I only follow where you lead. Learning how the body made in your image works. I poke and prod the flesh. I make it move. I destroy it. I investigate it so that I can learn how a thing made in the image of the living God works. I manipulate flesh made in your image, and each night, I am become more and more like you."
"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio .
Contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium .
Imperet illi Deus , supplices deprecamur ;
tuque, Princeps militiae coelestis,
in virtute Dei
Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, mittatur in gehennam
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo . Amen."
He frowns into the dark. "Cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits, Michael - Prince of the Heavenly Hosts, who prowl throughout the world. Especially those beneath the grotto of Saint Edward's chapel." The last delivered in a growl.
He rises from his knees and begins to walk toward the exit of the cemetery. Behind him, one of his wraithly servants moves, almost in sync with the same reality as Rafael. Her voice is thin, and Rafael only hears her because she makes the effort to cross the sudario.
"Master... you still believe?"
He walks, silent for a minute, and she does not push him for an answer. Finally, the old vampire answers the spirit. "Yes, Selena, I do still believe. I believed when I was a mortal, and nothing that I have experienced or seen since has changed that."
"Even us?" Her voice trembles. She has only been a spirit a brief while.
"Yes, even you." There is a slight bit of warmth for his former blood doll turned spirit. "Those who die and become as you are only serve to support my faith."
The spirit and the vampire leave the cemetery, each thinking very different thoughts.
