keep your temper, silas — you have taken a vow of pacifism, and that vow is not to be broken unless this man threatens the very foundation of the Church. as he is now, the military-man is harmless — misguided, perhaps, but his words are weak in comparison to the power of the Church. he is not worth your anger, silas.
his jaw works, and he keeps his eyes closed, breathing in the crisp winter air. as the man continues to speak, doubting the certitude of his father, silas’ angers spikes to such a level that he NEARLY dares to leap across the space between them and strangle the man to death.
yet this anger had tightened the muscles in his thighs, causing the spiked thighstrap to dig deep into his flesh, drawing blood. as quickly as it came, his anger was gone.
❝ you obviously have fallen prey to the sweet murmurs of lucifer. ❞ a lowered head, soft droplets of crimson painting his thigh as he spoke. ❝ i pray you find the path to salvation. ❞
“ oh, will you? ” sarcasm drips from his tone ; the smile that hints on the corner of his lip is ironic and cruel, and dies as quickly as it comes. no matter how many times he hears this ( that someone will pray for him ) it never ceases to seem inane. what will words muttered to an carved wooden cross do but dry the mouths of those who speak them?
his gaze is level, and his posture is trained with the calm expected of a military man. andrei’s religion is war as far as he knows —- his study is not of divine intervention, but of movements over a field, of bullets whistling through the air, of the aggregate resolve of the countless individuals. though andrei has never taken life, his own has almost been stolen, and the memory of pain still strikes where the bullet had lodged in his side —- no one steps in active combat and returns believing there exists a benevolent higher power.
whatever controls this world is lofty, but indifferent. it cares neither for salvation nor for damnation, but instead concerns itself only with the harsher task of being the unreachable standard to which they must all strive, and whom they will all fail. death is not the beginning of judgement —- it is the release from it.
“ i’m afraid, monsieur, that you will only end up wasting your time. are you arrogant enough to think it matters —- to think that because you have decided on some normative moral code, everyone else is obligated to follow it? people do not fall prey to the whispers of lucifer, you must know. lucifer doesn’t exist. people fall prey to their own foolishness. ”