sirilla black is horny with her heart (canisirillacus) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-04-20 17:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | ch: asoiaf: regulus black, ch: swap: sirilla black, p: annalisa, p: merry |
Who: Sirilla2-swap & Regulus12-asoiaf, aka Temperance & Miles Church
What: keeping Sirilla alive? Although, she's not actually fatally injured.
When: Friday after this
Where: their family house.
Warnings: Psychological breakdown, blood/injury (self-inflicted & possibly from torture as well).... THIS IS NOT A NICE THREAD.
Status: Threaded; incomplete
Temperance had lost track of the passage of time; she saw the light when the sun rose, but barely noticed when night fell. She had barely slept or eaten, only when reminded to do such by the kindly villagers. It was, truly, the end of the world. She was convinced of it: she saw the face of the devil everywhere she looked, and saw the futility of God's people trying to resist him. She had no hope, but she had faith. Faith that, if she could keep her soul intact to the very end, she would find herself in heaven at the end of this long and unholy mortal road.
The others were not so fortunate. So many had fallen; her friends, her neighbors. She knew them all by name, but they no longer knew hers. They called her the name of the devil, they sinned in the woods and in their homes, they came to torment her in her own home. Why she continued to survive, she did not know, but she knew the Lord was testing her. Testing her faith. She must hold strong, she must not let the Bible out of her sight, she must remain pure. But now there were wolves...
Somewhere inside her, in the tiniest part of her mind that was still truly her own-- Sirilla's, not Temperance's-- she had begun to scream. The wolves, the wolves... they must hunt down the wolves... no, not the wolves... YES, the wolves... It was too much. The devil's screaming, inside her head, the devil inside her, he was inside her head. She ripped at her own hair and face trying to get him out, and sobbed in despair when it was only blood that left her, not the devil's voice. And it hurt, but it was somehow not enough, and it was also too much; she was terrified of how much blood there was, terrified that she might have let the devil tempt her into killing herself, that most horrible and irreparable sin of all.
But was this dying? It was starting to feel peaceful, blackness was beginning to creep into the edges of her vision. Perhaps it was a blessed blackness, God's mercy, letting her lose consciousness to spare her from the voices inside her head. Yes... were those the beats of angel wings coming nearer?