Lilith Sahl (darksaint) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-09-19 00:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | jan valek, lilith sahl |
Who: Jan Valek and Lilith Sahl
What: Meeting
Where: The "Precious Blood" Catholic Church.
When: After dusk.
Rating: TBD
Status: Ongoing
But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot, Lilith Sahl recalled that famous quote from John when she walked within the Precious Blood Church to ask God His forgiveness. There were sins she could not confess to the average parish and she hoped the cardinal in this building wouldn’t be occupied to greet her.
The church lacked the rich architecture and large dimensions from its European older sisters, but it wasn’t without charm. The saint observed as she waited that it presented an Italian Romanesque style shown by heavy masonry work, narrow openings and the use of arches. At the front doors were was a carved figure of Christ, there were also mosaics made of glass and marble were used for the panels above the main door depicting the seven sacraments and, finally, for the permanent stations of the cross in the nave of the church and in the sanctuary for the images of the Precious Blood of Jesus, St. Peter and St. John. She lifted her chin to admire the twelve large windows over the nave; the stained glass represented aspects of salvation.
She wondered, in a fleeting vain moment, how many of her exploits were added in these portraits in the future. Lilith knew of several paintings the Pope had insisted of her to pose, after the countless battles and when peace and victory had come to her hands. She had seemed the result product of several sepultures of her and Elissar, her mourned friend and Saint of Carthago.
They wouldn’t recognize her if they saw her now, dressed with modern clothing instead of her fine collection of saris and jewels, with heavy and complicated headpieces instead of tidying her brownish-red hair in such simple manner.
In all, Lilith felt as home. She stayed inside, even if it was nearly closing hour. The sun had gone down a few moments ago. The moonlight began to glisten at the glass. The woman was knelt at the front pews near the altar, praying with clasped hands and closed eyes, holding the beads of a rosary between her slender fingers.
“And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood,” she murmured under her breath. Had her tainted blood able to do the same in the future?