02-09-2014, 09:14 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-15-2020, 02:11 PM by Ascendancy.)
Morning Mass, led by the venerable Pope Patricius I in Domus Sanctae Marthae.
"A return is needed, to ourselves. We need to embark on an internal pilgrimage, to that often far-off place within ourselves, that place of reflection and meditation we refer to as the conscience, where we may weigh and measure and take stock, as the year ends. This is the specific action of reasoning creatures, of human beings who must choose between good and evil, or between lesser evil and greater good."
Armande tuned him out.
Overhead, a white ceiling yawned, and aided the design of a lofty space, but it was all an illusion. The room was grand, but not large. Marble stretched from Armande's chair in the back to the altar in the front. White also, it shone like the heavens with rivers of gold. The same gold as what streaked the Papal vestament adorned by the Holy Father.
Ordained clergy filled the rows separating Armande's place in the back to where the Holy Father delivered his speech. IF the Holy Father had noticed Armande's presence, he continued with the remainder of his homily and did not acknowledge him.
He looked well, but despite words to the contrary, there was a tension to his eyes that spoke of unease with the world. For this, Armande admired his counterpart. Pope Patricius I, and his predecessors though Armande could not ascribe to their countenance personally, doggedly clung to the Faith in everlasting redemption, even to the dismissal of all earthly ills. The Vicar of Christ was dealt the burden of guiding the souls of man to spiritual peace; but the Regus was their worldly champion. He would forge a legacy for humanity that would guide their children to their rightful place; that is, toward freedom.
The Eucharist prayer had begun. The offeratories were made, and Armande stood with those around him. A series of prayers followed. The epiclesis called upon the Holy Spirit to imbue the bread and cup with the body and blood of Christ. The words of Jesus at the Last Supper were recounted, followed by a narrative of his death and resurrection.
Armande fell through the motions with crisp replies of the tongue and devout movement of the hands, but his soul was empty of faith. As the Holy Father ignored the flesh, so also did the Regus ignore the spirit. They were two halves of the same whole, a balance of body and spirit, distinct but connected at the same time. Where one office ended, the other began. Just as the white robes of the papal capes, the mozzetta, reflected the stretch toward heavenly futures, the long, black cassock of the Regus' robes reflected the death of what has already been: a cataclysmic past that must be amended if mankind is to be saved.
By all outward appearances, he was as penitent and pilgrim as any other participant, but he was the first to depart at the end of mass, hands tucked behind his back, and luminous eyes burning with the significance over this reunion with his counterpart. His attendance meant one disturbing thing. That the end was come unless the warriors of the Atharim stood to stop it.
Patricus I saw him then, without mistake, and the heavy burdens both men carried crashed about their senses. They would meet in private.
"A return is needed, to ourselves. We need to embark on an internal pilgrimage, to that often far-off place within ourselves, that place of reflection and meditation we refer to as the conscience, where we may weigh and measure and take stock, as the year ends. This is the specific action of reasoning creatures, of human beings who must choose between good and evil, or between lesser evil and greater good."
Armande tuned him out.
Overhead, a white ceiling yawned, and aided the design of a lofty space, but it was all an illusion. The room was grand, but not large. Marble stretched from Armande's chair in the back to the altar in the front. White also, it shone like the heavens with rivers of gold. The same gold as what streaked the Papal vestament adorned by the Holy Father.
Ordained clergy filled the rows separating Armande's place in the back to where the Holy Father delivered his speech. IF the Holy Father had noticed Armande's presence, he continued with the remainder of his homily and did not acknowledge him.
He looked well, but despite words to the contrary, there was a tension to his eyes that spoke of unease with the world. For this, Armande admired his counterpart. Pope Patricius I, and his predecessors though Armande could not ascribe to their countenance personally, doggedly clung to the Faith in everlasting redemption, even to the dismissal of all earthly ills. The Vicar of Christ was dealt the burden of guiding the souls of man to spiritual peace; but the Regus was their worldly champion. He would forge a legacy for humanity that would guide their children to their rightful place; that is, toward freedom.
The Eucharist prayer had begun. The offeratories were made, and Armande stood with those around him. A series of prayers followed. The epiclesis called upon the Holy Spirit to imbue the bread and cup with the body and blood of Christ. The words of Jesus at the Last Supper were recounted, followed by a narrative of his death and resurrection.
Armande fell through the motions with crisp replies of the tongue and devout movement of the hands, but his soul was empty of faith. As the Holy Father ignored the flesh, so also did the Regus ignore the spirit. They were two halves of the same whole, a balance of body and spirit, distinct but connected at the same time. Where one office ended, the other began. Just as the white robes of the papal capes, the mozzetta, reflected the stretch toward heavenly futures, the long, black cassock of the Regus' robes reflected the death of what has already been: a cataclysmic past that must be amended if mankind is to be saved.
By all outward appearances, he was as penitent and pilgrim as any other participant, but he was the first to depart at the end of mass, hands tucked behind his back, and luminous eyes burning with the significance over this reunion with his counterpart. His attendance meant one disturbing thing. That the end was come unless the warriors of the Atharim stood to stop it.
Patricus I saw him then, without mistake, and the heavy burdens both men carried crashed about their senses. They would meet in private.