he brings his hands together in a gentle clasp as he casts his gaze hell bound, feasts his eyes on the ungodly sight before him . . . a trapped rotter under a fallen tree. these images were beginning to mingle in familiar patterns in father gabriel’s brain, burrowing homes in the catacombs of his subconscious, even flirting shamelessly with the collapse of his faith . . . but fear and faith weren’t supposed to belong in the same sentence. and skittish as he may be ordinarily, he does not bat an eye, not anymore . . . merely observes as it snarls, gnashes its terrible teeth, swats its free arm with impressive triumph toward the onlookers. luckily, he comes prepared . . . ❛ ‘and so we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen . . . since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen----- . . . is eternal’ . . . ❜ unfortunately for them, the only weapon he wields is biblical prose perhaps more platitudinous than the sight itself. as one might imagine, it does very little to temper the gnarly beast. in fact, it seems to snarl louder. ❛ that’s corinthians, 4:18 . . . ❜ he crooks his head in @ironrot‘s direction, though his eyes remain sutured to the ghastly sight below . . . merely temporary.