07-25-2016, 08:12 PM
Anger touched Jensen's brow. Rare anger. It wasn't a sin. Emotion was never a sin. Even the hottest of lust wasn't a sin. Acting upon those emotions, placing them ahead of love, choosing a dark path: they were the sins.
So he told himself, surrounded by hundreds of people packed into the Red Square like sardines.
Anger brought him to the protests today. The Ascendancy said magic was real. He called it magic; Jensen originally called it a Curse, now, a Gift. All these years suffering alone, but he hadn't been alone. The Gift had been given first to the Ascendancy before Jensen left Dallas...before he abandoned his family...probably before he was ever born.
If I had known. Would I still have left?
He knew the answer. It hadn't been magical Gifts from God that shamed him. It had been his choices. His lies. His hypocrisy.
Jaw set, eyes sparkling forward, beating against the red bricks of the Kremlin wall, he stood with the rest of Moscow. Waiting for answers.
Waiting for something, anyway.
'Elias', a woman yelled. Instinctively, Jensen looked over. Searching her for a need he could provide. She exchanged greeting with a young man with thick black hair, and Jensen tried to step aside to give them greater space.
When he bumped into a much larger, much older Russian.
"Watch it!" The man yelled and raised his arm. Jensen flinched too late. His face exploded with pain, eyes watered heavy tears, his nose flared hot, aching. His shoulder slammed into the ground and tall bodies like trees loomed over head.
He was so shocked, he couldn't move.
So he told himself, surrounded by hundreds of people packed into the Red Square like sardines.
Anger brought him to the protests today. The Ascendancy said magic was real. He called it magic; Jensen originally called it a Curse, now, a Gift. All these years suffering alone, but he hadn't been alone. The Gift had been given first to the Ascendancy before Jensen left Dallas...before he abandoned his family...probably before he was ever born.
If I had known. Would I still have left?
He knew the answer. It hadn't been magical Gifts from God that shamed him. It had been his choices. His lies. His hypocrisy.
Jaw set, eyes sparkling forward, beating against the red bricks of the Kremlin wall, he stood with the rest of Moscow. Waiting for answers.
Waiting for something, anyway.
'Elias', a woman yelled. Instinctively, Jensen looked over. Searching her for a need he could provide. She exchanged greeting with a young man with thick black hair, and Jensen tried to step aside to give them greater space.
When he bumped into a much larger, much older Russian.
"Watch it!" The man yelled and raised his arm. Jensen flinched too late. His face exploded with pain, eyes watered heavy tears, his nose flared hot, aching. His shoulder slammed into the ground and tall bodies like trees loomed over head.
He was so shocked, he couldn't move.