✨ Nuestra Señora del Rosario ✨
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“Esta advocación mariana fue instituida por el papa San Pío V en 1571, en agradecimiento por la victoria cristiana en la batalla de Lepanto, atribuida al rezo del Santo Rosario.
María, bajo este título, nos invita a meditar los misterios de la vida de Cristo junto a Ella, a través del Rosario, oración sencilla y profunda que une al pueblo de Dios en la contemplación de su amor.
Nuestra Señora del Rosario es la Madre que escucha, consuela y fortalece, recordándonos que cada Ave María es una rosa ofrecida al cielo y un arma espiritual contra el mal.”
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🎥 Su historia aquí 👉 https://h2p.rocks/Nuestra-Sra-Del-Rosario
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➡️ Síguenos 👉🏻 @here2pray
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[spoilery, I guess but whatever, it’s nothin major]
The seabird leads Jess to a small town base of the republic, wherein she finds a figure from her past -- Marco Velasco, captain of the Ghost -- a ship said to be deadly and swift, silent as a phantom.
Just a rough draft of what I want him to be like.
Honestly, I’m struggling with working out Marcos character so thoughts + feelings on him would be great? I want someone who challenges Jess’ ideas of the past and her rose-tinted view of her mentor. Like feedback would be good of the kind of vibes ya’ll are getting? Just plz be nice I’m figuring things out.
Excuse any typos as well :[ I tried to write within a time limit to see what would happen and I don’t have an editor/beta anymore. (So uh, that’s open right now, if anyone wants to hit me up~)
“The both of us, we’re alive for a reason.” Jess murmurs, trailing her fingers along his jawline, his cheek, lightly across the leather strap of the eyepatch. “We survived for a reason. The last children of the Leviathan.”
“You’re the only one who claims such a title. Emmerson is my past, I don’t intend to make him my future.” Marco reaches up for her hand, still resting on his cheek, intertwines their fingers as he pulls her hand away. “I wonder what the republic would say, if they knew the truth of the Leviathan’s bastard son.”
“Do you intend to tell them?”
“No.” He murmurs, letting go of her hand and dropping his arm. “You wound me to assume I would ever betray you.” He pauses, seemingly skims her expression, before. “Besides, you fit the role quite well.”
“Oh?”
“You’re quite like him, you know,” Marco tells her, a sardonic smile playing on his lips -- and the look he’s giving her is almost pitying. She despises it. “It’s almost as if he put a piece of himself in your heart, carved a place there to stay.”
“Thank you.” She replies, meeting his gaze head on -- matching the fire in that single, gleaming hazel eye. There’s more burning determination there than when he still had two.
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.” Marco retorts, casually, and Jess balls her hands into fists by her side, nails digging sharply into her palms -- it’s all she can do not to wrap her fingers around his throat. He’s still smiling, head tilted slightly to the side as he watches her. “Emmerson’s mistakes were what got him killed. I hoped you would see that.”
“He was like a father to us.” She bites out, through gritted teeth, muscles in her clenched jaw jumping. “And yet you insult him.”
“He was like a father to you.” Marco corrects her, voice still soft. “Never to me.”
“He loved us.” Jess hisses back -- how can he deny that? “All of us.”
“I don’t doubt that. He loved us as any man loves his weapons. They protect him, after all.” Marco shrugs, and his gaze is fixed on her still -- and finally, that smile wobbles, becomes something more like a grimace.
“He was training us.”
“To be his soldiers.”
“To be his crew!”
“We were children.” It’s the first time Marco’s voice has raised, has come anything close to harsh -- but he’s composed himself a moment later. “What good man does that? What good man moulds a child into a weapon?” He stares at her for a while longer, before scoffing, dismissively.” “You want to hit me for that, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. I don’t see why not; it’s what Emmerson would have done.”
There’s a deadly pause then -- a stiff, awkward silence, and she can feel the tension crackling in the air between them. She digs her nails deeper into the palm of her hand as she fights to restrain herself, jaw clenched so tight that her teeth hurt.
“No, that’s not you,” Marco says, gently, almost fondly, with a soft sigh. “You wouldn’t do that. I always thought you’d be like Emmerson, but I always hoped that you’d be better.”
“No one could be better.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Marco asks her, single eye alight with something new now -- deeper than pity, beyond some condescending sneer. Concern? “If you do, perhaps you truly are lost.”
Only two more weeks left here on campus before graduation! I’m excited to take part in the end of year activities and finish out my last semester strong! #mypittstory #h2p #Pitt2022 (at University of Pittsburgh)
