08-13-2020, 05:19 PM
Philip hoped his isolation would disrupt the link, that the marvels of modern technology failed to resurrect a past he thought sealed in eternity. A trick, he hoped. A cruel ruse. When the screen rippled to life, it found the wide eyes of the Pope ringed in disbelief. He was motionless otherwise, hands gripping each other tight behind his back, but the eyes betrayed him.
Armande’s authenticity corded the great distance between them. He was untouched by the grave though the shadows of a more sinister darkness touched his expression. He licked his lips and spoke without a single blink.
“Father Armande, I have no inclination about the bounds of your imagination. The dead have spoken before, but I am not surprised they seek me out,” even as he spoke, a veil glazed his expression cold.
“You are no longer Regus of the Archives, but I remain the Pope. I expect to be addressed as such. What do you want?”
Armande’s authenticity corded the great distance between them. He was untouched by the grave though the shadows of a more sinister darkness touched his expression. He licked his lips and spoke without a single blink.
“Father Armande, I have no inclination about the bounds of your imagination. The dead have spoken before, but I am not surprised they seek me out,” even as he spoke, a veil glazed his expression cold.
“You are no longer Regus of the Archives, but I remain the Pope. I expect to be addressed as such. What do you want?”
![[Image: hiclipart.com_-e1597513863757.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/hiclipart.com_-e1597513863757.png)