[At long last, Brethren in Christ were reunited: Resurrected by the virtues of their practice and by the Destiny in which He held for them. Separated at the End yet given a second chance, the two Spirits dwelled together in Everlasting Glory.
Like a roaring storm, like the swell of an ocean, Archbishop Maxwell was but putty in His hands—a tool to be cultivated, a tool to be dashed to pieces on a whim. He could no more control That than Man could capture the wind or tether down the moon.
The Forces of the known world held more dominion over humankind than he could ever care to imagine or conceptualize.
Through the haze of Purgatory he was to be Delivered into the Garden of Eden, Delivered at the Hands of the Saint before him. Now, Reborn, this pitiful creature was all that was left of the former.
Timorous, and shy, he strained against those invisible bonds and with a great effort reached out to take his Teacher's hand in his. He was cold like a body that had been lain in its resting place, tendrils of ice shooting up the larger man's arm like cold daggers.
Wordlessly, the miserable life form braced his back against the tree and pushed upwards with all the energy he could muster, body literally shaking uncontrollably with the effort. He was trying so hard—you could see it in his face, which at that point was turning red from the attempt—but sadly to no avail. To his credit, he got halfway before knees buckled out from beneath him, the blonde crashing headlong into the priest's chest.]
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timeasmymeasure
[Action]
Date: 2009-12-07 06:31 pm (UTC)Like a roaring storm, like the swell of an ocean, Archbishop Maxwell was but putty in His hands—a tool to be cultivated, a tool to be dashed to pieces on a whim. He could no more control That than Man could capture the wind or tether down the moon.
The Forces of the known world held more dominion over humankind than he could ever care to imagine or conceptualize.
Through the haze of Purgatory he was to be Delivered into the Garden of Eden, Delivered at the Hands of the Saint before him. Now, Reborn, this pitiful creature was all that was left of the former.
Timorous, and shy, he strained against those invisible bonds and with a great effort reached out to take his Teacher's hand in his. He was cold like a body that had been lain in its resting place, tendrils of ice shooting up the larger man's arm like cold daggers.
Wordlessly, the miserable life form braced his back against the tree and pushed upwards with all the energy he could muster, body literally shaking uncontrollably with the effort. He was trying so hard—you could see it in his face, which at that point was turning red from the attempt—but sadly to no avail. To his credit, he got halfway before knees buckled out from beneath him, the blonde crashing headlong into the priest's chest.]