fatherdorian It's not the end... It's just the beginning...
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@peccatumdelicata
fatherdorian It's not the end... It's just the beginning...
Father Dorian? Would your leg still ache, if we walked in the water?
Little bit of trivia? That whole "secret chord" that David played? Truth. It's supposed to be a big mystery, but pfft... It's A Minor. There. I said it. David's secret chord is A Minor. Wistful and sad and moving. And not in any way emo or whiny, so just get that right out of your head.
fatherdorian:
"Man of the cloth, demanding vengeance. Interesting. Were we absent the day they taught 'wrath' at seminary school? Because in case you've forgotten, as sins go? it's kind of a biggie."
Softening slightly at the priest's thunderous expression, she dropped her head; the picture of piety, hands clasped in front of her. "I understand, Father. An injustice has been done unto you. You feel you had more to accomplish. And deserved a more dignified end."
Looking up at him through long lashes, a blast of empathy so pure it could only be born of experience showing in her soulful eyes, she smiled; slowly shaking her head. "But as far as opening the doors goes, well... I'm afraid the answer is no."
Snow white wings unfurling in a rush, the girl's alabaster skin seeming to shine in the light through the stained glass of the chapel, she stepped towards the priest, laying her hand to his shoulder. "Vengeance is not your department. That's someone else's job... You're not done yet, for what it's worth. But before you move forward, you have to let go."
Turning the priest to face his body, brow arching at the mess the gunman had made, she snorted, shaking her head. "Someone had a tantrum. Never mind. They won't get far. Eli... Like life, death is a journey. For some, it starts in their bed at the age of ninety eight. Others get taken suddenly; car crash, or..." Gesturing vaguely towards the priest's corpse, she shrugged a shoulder, smoothing a hand over her hair.
"If you ask me, the best journey's are the one's that start with someone saying 'Hey! Watch this!' But I digress. Get it out of your system." Stepping back, she offered Father Dorian a reverent smile, nodding towards his bloodied body on the stone.
"The Newly Deceased are so cute. 'It's all about me. I can't be dead, I have too much to do! What if I just climb back into my body? No one's thought of that before! I'm a beautiful and unique snowflake... Father Dorian." Exuding calm, she smiled warmly, chin to her chest in a picture of pious grace. "Let go. Say goodbye. So you can move forward."
TAGGING ~ peccatumdelicata
“We’re closing in five minutes.” Pushing the stone doorstop away with his foot, he pivoted, pale blue eyes scanning the study room one last time, as he pulled the wooden doors closed, and reached into his robe for the skeleton key, turning it in the lock before…
“But I don’t /want/ to…”
Collapsing into the office’s overstuffed armchair with a huff, she glared balefully across the desk, eyes narrowing at the Collection Assignment Officer, an affectation that would have been on the intimidating side if she weren’t so petite.
Arms crossing over her chest as the burearcrat’s lips twitched in a barely smothered grin, her gaze turned thunderous, quietly thinking she’d gladly endure whatever penalty the Man Upstairs doled out for ripping the idiot’s wings off if he uttered any variation of the word that had plagued her for her afterlife entire; “cute.”
“Come /on/. The guy’s a priest! So it’s bound to be interesting! You like interesting!”
Curiosity rising, refusing to show it, she heaved an overly dramatic sigh, gazing at the center of the adjacent empty wall. “I guess. What’s his name?”
“Dorian. Father Eli Dorian.”
“Eli? Wow… His parents never gave him a chance, did they. Can you imagine going through school with that moniker? Why not just punch him and take his lunch money before he got on the bus? Time saver.”
Turning her petite frame towards the desk, she eyed the open file, brow arching as she stared down at the Recently Deceased’s photograph, taken by the hardness in his eyes. “No wonder the kid turned out rough.” Reaching out a hand, she traced the contour of the captured image of the priest’s jaw, pads of her fingers languidly learning his face, humming thoughtfully. “And the Boss thinks, there’s something here worth saving?”
“Wouldn’t be sending you if he didn’t. Do you accept your posting?”
“Does it make the slightest bit of difference what I say?”
“Not really.”
“Then /fine./ I’d be delighted to accept.”
The all too familiar sensation of being pulled downwards washing over her, she glanced to the Assignment Officer, rolling her eyes as he gave her a thumbs up.
“Remember to smile! You’ll put him at his ease if you smile!”
“Yeah, yeah…”
—
Landing in a crouch outside the church door, she slowly rose to stand, looking furtively left and right to see if her dramatic entrance had captured an audience. Nodding, she walked up the cement steps, flashing a dazzling smile skyward as she pushed the door open. “Smile! It’ll put him at his ease! Right. What about /my/ ease, you pompous blowhard…”
Stepping into the church, she saw the priest and bowed her head; putting on the reverent expression she’d worn so many times before. Always the same looks on the Newly Dead’s faces.
Confused.
Scared.
Waiting.
Remember to smile.
“You must be Father Dorian. I have some… Ew.” Sighing heavily, she stared down at the caramel of her designer boot, nose wrinkling at the copper bloodstain already setting into the buttery soft leather. “… news. I have news. Tidings from on high, if we’re getting all fancy about it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent pair of Docs these days?”
Gliding across the stone floor, she eyed the Father, nodding towards his bloodied corpse. “Do you have any idea what those tidings might be? Kind of a simple concept. Not a lot of gray area.” Rolling her eyes at the stunned silence in the space, she smiled thinly, planting her hands on her hips. “Fine. You’re sleepy. You need a clue. Ready? If you’re not alive anymore, you’re….”
TAGGING ~ peccatumdelicata
“We’re closing in five minutes.” Pushing the stone doorstop away with his foot, he pivoted, pale blue eyes scanning the study room one last time, as he pulled the wooden doors closed, and reached into his robe for the skeleton key, turning it in the lock before...
Proverbs.
Oh come /on/. Don't roll your eyes. I haven't /said/ anything yet. You see the word "proverbs," and you think I'm going to get all kinds of preachy. Do this. Do that. Play by the rules, the ten big ones anyway, and you'll reap your heavenly reward. Cue the choir of angels, and harps, and by the by, what size robe do you wear? Hollywood's got a fuckton to answer for, if you ask me. I mean, we don't /all/ float around dreamily, smiling like we've just eaten the best special brownie ever baked, beatifically offering the newly deceased an escort to the other side. Some of us have REAL jobs. Reception. Like that's hard. Parading around the pearly gates like they've never even /heard/ of the Seven Deadlies, much less committed one. Bunch of self entitled, holier than thou twats that couldn't find their ass with both hands and a map... I'm getting distracted. Where was I? Oh yeah, proverbs. You know the stories about the loaves and the fishes, right? So unrealistic. Do you know what you'd get if you gave the living a crust of bread, and a fresh fish /these/ days? Punched out. You want people to believe in miracles, produce a grande cinnamon soy latte with extra whip and chocolate sprinkles out of the air. I'm just saying. It did have one thing going for it though... That whole "Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime" thing... There's a certain wisdom to that. With the amount of time I spend around the newly deceased? I prefer Terry Pratchett's adaptation. "Give a man a fire, he's warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life." Thought I forgot about the whole proverbs thing, didn't you? Ha! Shows what you know Mr./Ms. I'm So Smart. Never doubt an angel. We'll surprise you. And if you can get over the cavalcade of ethereal bullshit La La Land has tried cramming down your throats, you might just learn a thing or two about us. Like we don't all wear robes and sandals. Or play the fucking harp. We do want to help people in trouble though... No matter how much it comes back to bite us in the ass. Ethereal piety doesn't get the job done. Never has. Never will.