Father Paul Hill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vivificantem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aionlogs2022-09-04 03:41 pm
vivificantem) wrote in aionlogs2022-09-04 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
[open to kenoma] If it's small enough to carry, you and I can call it home.
WHO: Paul; any Kenoma Aions that wish to attend
WHAT: Church gathering; the mourning of things that have been lost
WHERE: The cathedral belonging to Our Dark Regent's Church of the Precious Blood
WHEN: Sone days after the execution of the Innocent
WARNINGS: None
[The cathedral set aside for Our Dark Regent's Church of the Precious Blood is one that relatively few Aions have been in, from the sound of it; it's decadent in its own way, long and high-ceilinged and with a dark interior lit entirely by flame, candles set into the sides of the pews and torches set into the walls, their light not quite illuminating the insides of the tall spires all the way to their peaks, leaving areas above the congregation cloaked in shadow. The church itself is bedecked in banners and ritual cloths, blood-red and edged with gold and white; the altar itself is swathed in crimson cloths that go a long way toward obscuring its form, but it looks as though it's likely made of stone of some sort. The altar is clear of any relics or the like, those likely put away in the recesses of the cathedral to avoid their theft; they aren't needed tonight, at any rate, since tonight's service is different.
Tonight they aren't here to celebrate the Regent, or even to praise them and the Aions for their recent triumph against the Pleroma; tonight they're here to let go of things, to release them to the Kenoma, to offer them to entropy with one final blessing to see them off to the end.
Paul has ensured that the church will be closed-off to any Achemite onlookers, or for that matter to anyone except the Aions; he'd extended an invitation to Xishen and Dionys as well, in case this was anything that might interest them, but in the end he doesn't expect them to come. Whether they do or not is entirely their choice, and he's not going to enforce it either way; it's the same with everyone else, with the other Aions that have received invitations prior delivered to them by way of Paul's retainer. The invitations are simply-written and blunt, with no embellishments to their name; they simply give an address, a time, and a message across the front of a card made of thick paper:
FOR THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO MOURN, AND FOR THOSE WHO WOULD LIKE TO DO SO, WE PROVIDE YOU WITH AN OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO. FOR THOSE WHO WISH TO SPEND ONE MORE NIGHT IN THE PRESENCE OF THEIR WORLDS, AND WHO WOULD LIKE TO SEND THEM OFF WITH A BLESSING, PLEASE ATTEND.
[The main sanctuary is large, particularly in comparison to the number of those attending; one can sit wherever they please, it isn't as though Paul is going to specify. Hold up the walls in the back, sit attentive in the front, it really doesn't matter to him in the end; the point is that people attended at all, because that means in the end that they likely had a reason for doing so.
The altar is massive at the front of the church, and so is the reredos behind it; the altarpiece is made of darkened, stained glass divided into four sections, and though it's difficult to see at the late hour of this particular service, it depicts some of the Regent's past victories; Paul can be found in front of the altarpiece itself, behind the altar, preparing…something, it seems.
Eventually, though, he addresses the congregation.]
As we are of the Kenoma, and so shall we ever be, we're given special privileges - namely, those of knowing what awaits us, at the end of all things. Knowing of the peace that stretches out into eternity, knowing that one day that peace will be ours to have and to hold close. We know that our lives can be given infinite purpose, in bringing peace and shelter to those who have never felt the embrace of either of those things. Those of us present at the cleansing of the Innocence from one of our newest have felt this peace in full; we can speak to the feeling of it, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say it renewed our confidence in what it is that we must do.
But that doesn't mean that the task that lies before us is easy, or that the cost we've paid has been sparing in any way; we've lost that which is most dear to many of us, our friends, our family - our homes, the only places many of us have ever known have been torn from us, have been destroyed in the name of the Kenoma and in the name of the ultimate sacrifice that we're all going to be asked to make. This… It isn't a fair circumstance, it wasn't anything we asked for, it isn't anything that most of us would have wanted - many of us would have wanted time to say goodbye, if nothing else. We would have wanted more time with those that are gone now, we would have wanted the ability to bring anyone we would have wanted into this world with us.
But I believe that looking at it that way is… It's understandable, but it's the sort of mindset that we're aiming to combat. Holding on to those things we deem important, refusing to do what's right in favor of what we would prefer to do - isn't that the sort of mindset with which the Pleroma has infected several of our fellow Aions? It's the rot that runs deep, it's that which we need to find it within ourselves to purge ourselves of - we aren't wrong for feeling that way, but we cannot allow ourselves to become steeped in it, to let it take hold in our hearts. Our worlds are gone, and while we would change that if we could, being part of the Kenoma means accepting it for what it is, and what we need to do in response to it.
I miss my world. I would give anything to have it back. But I know that those within it have found their eternal peace, and I wouldn't tear that away from them. They're at rest, as your worlds are at rest. And when our time with the Regent is over, I believe we will rejoin them in whatever peace they've found - our time with those worlds isn't over, and if anything it has potential to extend forever, into however long we find that peace with the Kenoma.
Bless the worlds you came from for what you were given. They've made you what you are. They've made you resilient, they've brought you whatever power you have now, and they've guaranteed you whatever glory you are to come into. Always take strength and solace in where you've come from. Be proud of it. Be firm in it. But don't mire yourself down in grief and fear and rot; rise up, and take command of the gifts you've been given. Find strength in them, and find solace in their peace. The Kenoma grants you ways to find peace; utilize them, and no one can take those worlds from you ever again.
[The rest of service is straightforward; the consumption of ceremonial wine to give strength and courage, the burning of a few items Paul has brought with him to represent letting go of worldly possessions and the attachments that bind them to the world, releasing those things to the Kenoma. The smudging of the ashes on the hands of the congregants - a message to let go of that which is gone, but carry the strength you received from them. It ends some time after it started, after which…well, you're free to remain and commune with each other. That's what all the non-ceremonial wine is for; have that at your leisure.
Otherwise…well, this is really just a glorified gathering, at the end of things. Someplace we can go to not be alone with our thoughts, someplace we can get our feelings out about our worlds, someplace we can discuss them out loud for once in our godforsaken lives. Go forth and mingle. Poke around Paul's church. Do whatever you want as long as you don't desecrate anything?]
WHAT: Church gathering; the mourning of things that have been lost
WHERE: The cathedral belonging to Our Dark Regent's Church of the Precious Blood
WHEN: Sone days after the execution of the Innocent
WARNINGS: None
[The cathedral set aside for Our Dark Regent's Church of the Precious Blood is one that relatively few Aions have been in, from the sound of it; it's decadent in its own way, long and high-ceilinged and with a dark interior lit entirely by flame, candles set into the sides of the pews and torches set into the walls, their light not quite illuminating the insides of the tall spires all the way to their peaks, leaving areas above the congregation cloaked in shadow. The church itself is bedecked in banners and ritual cloths, blood-red and edged with gold and white; the altar itself is swathed in crimson cloths that go a long way toward obscuring its form, but it looks as though it's likely made of stone of some sort. The altar is clear of any relics or the like, those likely put away in the recesses of the cathedral to avoid their theft; they aren't needed tonight, at any rate, since tonight's service is different.
Tonight they aren't here to celebrate the Regent, or even to praise them and the Aions for their recent triumph against the Pleroma; tonight they're here to let go of things, to release them to the Kenoma, to offer them to entropy with one final blessing to see them off to the end.
Paul has ensured that the church will be closed-off to any Achemite onlookers, or for that matter to anyone except the Aions; he'd extended an invitation to Xishen and Dionys as well, in case this was anything that might interest them, but in the end he doesn't expect them to come. Whether they do or not is entirely their choice, and he's not going to enforce it either way; it's the same with everyone else, with the other Aions that have received invitations prior delivered to them by way of Paul's retainer. The invitations are simply-written and blunt, with no embellishments to their name; they simply give an address, a time, and a message across the front of a card made of thick paper:
[The main sanctuary is large, particularly in comparison to the number of those attending; one can sit wherever they please, it isn't as though Paul is going to specify. Hold up the walls in the back, sit attentive in the front, it really doesn't matter to him in the end; the point is that people attended at all, because that means in the end that they likely had a reason for doing so.
The altar is massive at the front of the church, and so is the reredos behind it; the altarpiece is made of darkened, stained glass divided into four sections, and though it's difficult to see at the late hour of this particular service, it depicts some of the Regent's past victories; Paul can be found in front of the altarpiece itself, behind the altar, preparing…something, it seems.
Eventually, though, he addresses the congregation.]
As we are of the Kenoma, and so shall we ever be, we're given special privileges - namely, those of knowing what awaits us, at the end of all things. Knowing of the peace that stretches out into eternity, knowing that one day that peace will be ours to have and to hold close. We know that our lives can be given infinite purpose, in bringing peace and shelter to those who have never felt the embrace of either of those things. Those of us present at the cleansing of the Innocence from one of our newest have felt this peace in full; we can speak to the feeling of it, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say it renewed our confidence in what it is that we must do.
But that doesn't mean that the task that lies before us is easy, or that the cost we've paid has been sparing in any way; we've lost that which is most dear to many of us, our friends, our family - our homes, the only places many of us have ever known have been torn from us, have been destroyed in the name of the Kenoma and in the name of the ultimate sacrifice that we're all going to be asked to make. This… It isn't a fair circumstance, it wasn't anything we asked for, it isn't anything that most of us would have wanted - many of us would have wanted time to say goodbye, if nothing else. We would have wanted more time with those that are gone now, we would have wanted the ability to bring anyone we would have wanted into this world with us.
But I believe that looking at it that way is… It's understandable, but it's the sort of mindset that we're aiming to combat. Holding on to those things we deem important, refusing to do what's right in favor of what we would prefer to do - isn't that the sort of mindset with which the Pleroma has infected several of our fellow Aions? It's the rot that runs deep, it's that which we need to find it within ourselves to purge ourselves of - we aren't wrong for feeling that way, but we cannot allow ourselves to become steeped in it, to let it take hold in our hearts. Our worlds are gone, and while we would change that if we could, being part of the Kenoma means accepting it for what it is, and what we need to do in response to it.
I miss my world. I would give anything to have it back. But I know that those within it have found their eternal peace, and I wouldn't tear that away from them. They're at rest, as your worlds are at rest. And when our time with the Regent is over, I believe we will rejoin them in whatever peace they've found - our time with those worlds isn't over, and if anything it has potential to extend forever, into however long we find that peace with the Kenoma.
Bless the worlds you came from for what you were given. They've made you what you are. They've made you resilient, they've brought you whatever power you have now, and they've guaranteed you whatever glory you are to come into. Always take strength and solace in where you've come from. Be proud of it. Be firm in it. But don't mire yourself down in grief and fear and rot; rise up, and take command of the gifts you've been given. Find strength in them, and find solace in their peace. The Kenoma grants you ways to find peace; utilize them, and no one can take those worlds from you ever again.
[The rest of service is straightforward; the consumption of ceremonial wine to give strength and courage, the burning of a few items Paul has brought with him to represent letting go of worldly possessions and the attachments that bind them to the world, releasing those things to the Kenoma. The smudging of the ashes on the hands of the congregants - a message to let go of that which is gone, but carry the strength you received from them. It ends some time after it started, after which…well, you're free to remain and commune with each other. That's what all the non-ceremonial wine is for; have that at your leisure.
Otherwise…well, this is really just a glorified gathering, at the end of things. Someplace we can go to not be alone with our thoughts, someplace we can get our feelings out about our worlds, someplace we can discuss them out loud for once in our godforsaken lives. Go forth and mingle. Poke around Paul's church. Do whatever you want as long as you don't desecrate anything?]
no subject
He's honestly not really been one to socialize at most Kenoma gatherings, though, and this isn't too much of an exception? He's kind of keeping an eye on things where he's taken up a station near the walls, but he can be approached for literally any reason out there and he'll likely answer; he's kind of just like that.]
no subject
He goes through the rest of the service rather teary-eyed but as a man who typically looked sad, anyway, it only really meant looking additionally sadder on top of that usual sadness. He is, as ever, a walking broadcast of woe, although by now he's figured out how to rein it in somewhat.
By the end of the service, as it trails off into a gathering for those attending to visit and speak to one another, Bruno remains seated in the pew he'd chosen out. Not quite at the front but at least one or two back. He's looking down at his ash-smudged hands, idly running a thumb through some of the black markings and spreading it around further, lost in thought rather than getting up to get a glass of wine and mingling. ]
no subject
Of all of the places he can remember from his country, the ache of his loss is fiercest for his home temple. This might be because he can only recall a bare handful of places in Taldor with any real clarity, but the temple was home, and it shaped him into, if not a worthy man, then at least a convincing approximation of one. He does mourn it, as he mourns every person who ever passed through its doors.
It's in this attitude of sombre contemplation that he awaits Paul's sermon, and in this same attitude that he receives it, back straight, hands folded in his lap. And as he listens, a feeling steals over him that isn't quite peace and isn't quite hope and isn't quite resolve. He turns it over in the back of his mind as the service progresses, this strange and near-familiar steadiness, like something he knew once and has since forgotten. It feels revelatory; it feels like the death of fear.
After the service, something is different. The world seems altered somehow, as if shifted in some way he can't perceive but still can't ignore. It looks the same, and yet he feels certain it's darker somehow, crisper, more real. When he squints, he sees shadows radiate softly from those gathered, limning them in degrees of blackness more intimately familiar even than the welcoming embrace of night. He feels off-balance enough already, so he doesn't partake of the wine—but he does linger some in the company of those who have also chosen to attend, casting quiet, appraising looks about the church and its occupants alike.]
no subject
He unofficially concluded that by the next morning, when Liem vanished from his bed as if he'd never been there. Matt probably shouldn't have felt sad over that--they barely knew each other, and they hadn't exactly made any plans to keep hooking up--but he couldn't help a pang of rejection. The realm of sex and intimacy is one of the few where he feels like he can really connect with other people, and he thought--
It doesn't matter what he thought. They all have larger concerns. In the past few weeks alone, there's been Abel and Himeka's execution date, the appearance of the Sanctifier, Matt's death and rebirth, the Innocence's execution, a vague and muzzled Estinien haunting the Citadel's halls. Liem did check in with him after his revival, but his manner was--in Matt's opinion--politely distant. Matt can tell when he's being rebuffed. So when they both show up at Paul's service, Matt shoots him a lingering smile, but doesn't try to sit beside him, as he might have done last month.
Paul's speech is great. His preaching always is. Matt feels, as he so often does in Paul's presence, that he's been handed the tools he needs to thread the needle between his own feelings and convictions, the Kenoma's power, and the Regent's demands. He can't help how his gaze returns to Liem throughout the service; he's fretted over Liem's homesickness (and godsickness) ever since Venera, so he hopes that Liem gets something out of Paul's words. Something like what Matt gets.
And then it's over. Matt takes his ash, he takes his wine, and he begins a leisurely exploration of the cathedral. He's dressed neatly, in dark boots and trousers and a long, flowing-sleeved shirt buttoned up to the throat, with only slightly more leather straps than are strictly necessary. He wore a mask to the cathedral, but has since removed it so he can inspect his surroundings more closely. At the moment, he's on the left side of the cathedral; he moves slowly towards the altar, footfalls very soft in the cavernous space. He wants a better look at that stained glass. ]
no subject
There was one thing Liem had told himself that he absolutely wouldn't do when he reached Achamoth, and he had done it. He'd done it to the only person who had touched him gently since before his world had died. And he didn't know how to deal with that.
Fortunately, Liem had over a century's worth of practice not dealing with things, so he did what he always did in this circumstance: he tucked the problem away somewhere he didn't have to look at it, and he pretended everything was normal. This was simplest when he just happened to be in places where Matt wasn't, but he couldn't manage that forever, and in any case his worry wouldn't let him stay away when he ended up dissipated and tucked away beneath the Citadel to recover. But it was a cool and over-courteous reunion Liem offered, and he couldn't help but think that Matt would have preferred it if he hadn't bothered. After all, in the following days, it wasn't as though the other man made any effort to seek him out.
Matt looks good when he spies him at the service. Better than Liem might have expected, given his recent brush with death. When their eyes do meet, he's surprised into a small answering smile and an incline of his head. He expects it when Matt chooses not to sit with him during the service—but once, when he's discreetly patting his cheeks with a folded handkerchief, he looks up from beneath damp lashes to see him looking at him.
After the service Liem ends up near the head of the grandly-vaulted space, his hands tucked around a goblet of water as he looks out over the rows of pews. The church is really nothing like the one he knew back home, but it has its own penumbral beauty, swathed in crimson and lit by the flickering glow of the surrounding candles. His expression is wistful as he stands next to the altar, looking down the aisles, and—for an unwary moment—a different kind of wistful when he looks at Matt.]
no subject
I've been wanting you to touch me again.
--he recognizes the guy he's been hooking up with. The sweet, gentle man with so many secret sadnesses. And for the first time, he considers that people who are sufficiently attracted to him to sleep with him twice probably don't stop being attracted to him overnight. Or even over the course of several weeks.
Matt takes a step towards the front of the cathedral, then another. His fingers ghost over the side of one glossy-smooth pew.
Pitched just loud enough to carry, he says: ]
I've always liked churches. [ A small smile. ] Any religious building, really.
[ It's organized religion he's had the problems with. ]