food police. (heritable) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-10-19 19:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, amos luscini, morgayne falk |
while jesus is saving, i'm spending all my days.
WHO: Morgayne Falk & Amos Luscini.
WHAT: Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
WHERE: The Cathedral.
WHEN: Backdated to Monday (10/14), early evening.
RATING: G.
STATUS: Complete.
When Morgayne entered the Cathedral, it was cloaked in shadows. Candles lit the aisles, and only a pious few lingered in the pews. But it was the confessional that she headed toward, with strides long and certain. For once, no one was waiting in line, eager for the priest to absolve their sins. It was supper time, after all, and a weekday. She hesitated only after she’d stepped inside the compartment and taken her seat, her figure swathed in harsh yellow light from above. Morgayne felt, suddenly, as if she were in a courtroom, on the witness stand. All eyes on her. I swear by Faram that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. How fitting. She sat there for some time, eyes boring into the lattice that connected & separated her from the priest. Morgayne knew the usual opening line: Bless me Father, for I have sinned (after all, she had done this before -- a long time ago, when life had been simpler, and Lars had been waiting patiently on the other side of the door, ready to walk her home when she’d finished), but she chose not to use it. At long last, she said: “You must see a lot of people every day. Or hear them, rather.” “I do," came the response from behind the screen. It was followed by a rustle as the reverend shifted in his seat. She would not have been the first to eschew ceremony. And so it was not for this but for the edge of her voice, curious and dark, that he knew. The girl had not come for her sins. “Every encounter is a blessing,” Amos said. He peered down at his lap, where long fingers rested atop each other, bone-white in the light that filtered through the lattice. “What brings you to the Cathedral tonight?” Silence. Morgayne didn’t voice the question that echoed in her mind, the one that had been lurking beneath shadows & behind corners for months. It danced, tantalizing, waiting to be free, on the tip of her tongue. And then it receded one more. She chose a different tack. “What good is repenting our sins, Father? If -- if all the bad things we do to one another can be washed away in the eyes of Faram so quickly, they don’t seem so bad after all.” And what was the point of hell, if those who deserved to be there could just walk out, whenever they pleased, with the aid of a priest and some recitations? A flicker of anger sparked within her, at the memory of whispers in the streets and her brother’s weary face. Faram has written off that whole family, no doubt. “We must repent for our sins because they offend Faram,” said the reverend. “It is not an easy thing to acknowledge one’s sins, the blame in oneself—much less to admit such to a priest with genuine contrition.” “How do you know that someone actually deserves Faram’s forgiveness?” “Everyone deserves to be forgiven for their sins.” Morgayne gave the lattice an incredulous look. “Even those who sin repeatedly? Who harm others?” “You must knock for the door to be opened to you. If such individuals are willing to abandon their ways and begin anew, there is redemption even for them. Boundless are Faram’s love and mercy.” “What if—what if we don’t get the chance to repent, before we die?” She thought of a gaunt-faced man. “If there were absolute penitence in the final moments of life, then there is hope yet for salvation.” A beat. “Has someone dear to you passed on?” “Yes,” Morgayne admitted, after a moment of hesitation. “Some time ago.” “The act of contrition suffices in the hour of death. Have hope for that person’s salvation; pray for the repose of their soul. But death should not burden life, especially if it has indeed been some time.” “I suppose,” Morgayne replied softly. Death should not burden life. She certainly hadn’t been living by those words of advice. “—thank you, Father.” “You are always welcome.” She rose. |