66 YMIDEN, 720
UNDER GLEAM
UNDER GLEAM
You are not alone. I am here, now.
Vito tried to hold onto the crying child. He tried… and he listened to the stuttered phrase, and he felt pride for the first time in something other than himself. It did not serve him well to feel for a child that would likely not ever see the light again… and the Tribunal considered, quite seriously, the possibility that he would not see it either. That by leading his congregation into the depths, he had sealed not only the fates of those he viewed as somewhat expendable, but his own fate as well. The fate of Woe, too, who faced his own battles unseen while Vito held to the child.
What had he done?....
...the gut-wrenching sense of despair plucked at his tangle. The thread had risen to the surface while he looked away; the damnable thing had taken the advantage. But that, too, lasted a trill and no longer. It faded like the shadowed faces of Heralds from times long ago. Vito knew how to live with the fear. It was not sheer discipline but belief that guided him through, and carved a home for him within its shaky structures. So long as they were built upon a solid foundation… and nothing solidified more, in the hijacked beating of his heart, than the awe-induced relief he felt as his limbs moved without his control.
It was one thing to hear it. It was one thing to say it. It was one thing to go through all the motions, and recite the holy prayers, and live his life according to the Scarlet Belief. It was one thing to believe.
It was another thing to know.
And Vito knew, as sure as he had ever known anything in life, that he had made the right choice. He felt it underneath his skin, within his bones, melded with his very existence. He knew that he was right, that he was not… so… alone. That there was so much still to learn. His body moved, and his mind did not resist. What ever would he fight against it for? Why would he dare to shoo away the guiding presence inside, when its words of calm instruction spoke so deeply to his soul?
The Tribunal could only observe, eyes as red as the tall Herald’s behind him, useless but for the spectation of his own guided actions. He spoke the words he had never heard before, in a tongue only understood for the familiar sounds that followed. And he felt them, believed them, soaked them in as a sponge of all his scarlet beliefs and how he WISHED he could shower them upon all the world, every soul, every prisoner of heretical faith and thought.
Unwrapped from its red velvet bundling, the blood chalice was as beautiful in the dim glowing light as it had been in the brighter office room. Vito saw the shadows of ancient Heralds surround, and felt the cold air against his pale skin as his sleeve was lifted to free his arm. Marked over and over again in his bloody devotions, his arm once again found the sharper end of a sacrificial blade… and silver blood came quickly from the wound.
Into the chalice, it filled and overflowed. The Tribunal would have smiled, but he settled in his silent observation while the gems lining the chalice turned… silver?
“You will be one of us, Herald…”
One of them. One of us. He wanted the Herald’s approval; he sought the acceptance he had longed for from his many holy fathers.
“...soon.”
The bleeding biqaj held to the silver-filled chalice as he lifted to his feet. In ever forward motion, he led into the darkness, to illuminate with sacrifice and blood. Red turned to silver above, and the priest’s pale skin almost shimmered beneath the new light.
“Where do you think it goes?”
Eve. His Zoe’s sister. The memories played out before his eyes, as if they were his own. Vito could imagine himself in Zoe’s place, even while he took it in her memory. Why did Eve have to look into the tunnel? Why did she have to disobey? Why did she have to make it harder to do the same herself? All she had to do was be good like him. Yet she pulled them farther down the tunnel until the Herald caught up. He considered the man walking nearest to him, the mentor of foreign origin whose soul shared something of his own.
b r o t h e r ?
s i s t e r ?
s i s t e r ?
“You want to know so badly? Is that it? Then you will learn…”
Vito could do nothing but observe the fuming Herald in his willing mind’s eye. He wanted to know so badly. He wanted desperately to learn, to know that the silver blood that streaked his arm and fingertips would serve its holy purpose.
OOC
No attempt to resist.
