missliddell (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
missliddell.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2005-08-29 03:00 pm
missliddell.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-29 03:00 pm
[august 29] [guilty gear] the cross of the world to bear
Title: The Cross of the World to Bear
Day/Theme: August 29 / Hatred is holy
Series: Guilty Gear
Character/Pairing: Ky Kiske
Rating: PG13
Ky was guilty man. He carried with him, always, the awareness of this, a slow, constant writhe of his soul under the weight of his morals. He burned with equal zeal and shame.
Ky could not stand the rites of the confessional. His litany of faults was too long, too great, he feared if he started, a whole lifetime of misdeeds would rush forward and crush him completely. Instead, he kept his own vigil, at the feet of stone statues with hollowed-out eyes. There is nothing to be hidden before the Lord, he remembered being told. All our sins are laid bare. He was his own priest, his own confessor, and he dealt out penances with an unflinching, and often, unthinking severity.
Sometimes, he scored himself, fingers ghosting the edge of his blade, his shield arm afire as he wept and prayed. He would stare at the latticework he made later and feel a relief so profound, he would be sickened.
==
The killing fields were more black than red; the ground charred to ashes and dotted with still-smoking heaps of once-bodies.
He stood, very still on the side of it, the earth smouldering at his feet. His white coat was torn and stained.
Veni, Sanctificator omnipotens aeterne Deus, et benedic hoc sacrificium tuo sancto nomini praeparatum. He said, and genuflected.
He should have been pleased. They had won, this part of the battle at least.
They had crossed swords, briefly, in the midst of the madness. He had run, taunting, and Ky pursued him, cutting down whatever reared in front of him. It was in vain - the ranks swelled around him and he was lost.
You let him get away.
He drove his sword into the ground, quelling a surge of blind rage. Ky felt his knees shake, finally. He sank down, hands still wrapped around the hilt and growing numb.
Overhead, he heard the first screams - crows coming to feast.
==
He was sorry later, upon waking, finding his bandages wet through, and still damp with blood. He ached when he sat up. The slow burn of anger had made him too careless, made him cut too deep. Dispelling guilt with more of the same; it was a strange notion, this liturgy he wrote for himself. On mornings like these, he could barely pretend to have understood.
He was always sorry later.
=
Come, O Sanctifier, Almighty and Eternal God, and bless, this sacrifice prepared for the glory of Thy holy Name.
Day/Theme: August 29 / Hatred is holy
Series: Guilty Gear
Character/Pairing: Ky Kiske
Rating: PG13
Ky was guilty man. He carried with him, always, the awareness of this, a slow, constant writhe of his soul under the weight of his morals. He burned with equal zeal and shame.
Ky could not stand the rites of the confessional. His litany of faults was too long, too great, he feared if he started, a whole lifetime of misdeeds would rush forward and crush him completely. Instead, he kept his own vigil, at the feet of stone statues with hollowed-out eyes. There is nothing to be hidden before the Lord, he remembered being told. All our sins are laid bare. He was his own priest, his own confessor, and he dealt out penances with an unflinching, and often, unthinking severity.
Sometimes, he scored himself, fingers ghosting the edge of his blade, his shield arm afire as he wept and prayed. He would stare at the latticework he made later and feel a relief so profound, he would be sickened.
==
The killing fields were more black than red; the ground charred to ashes and dotted with still-smoking heaps of once-bodies.
He stood, very still on the side of it, the earth smouldering at his feet. His white coat was torn and stained.
Veni, Sanctificator omnipotens aeterne Deus, et benedic hoc sacrificium tuo sancto nomini praeparatum. He said, and genuflected.
He should have been pleased. They had won, this part of the battle at least.
They had crossed swords, briefly, in the midst of the madness. He had run, taunting, and Ky pursued him, cutting down whatever reared in front of him. It was in vain - the ranks swelled around him and he was lost.
You let him get away.
He drove his sword into the ground, quelling a surge of blind rage. Ky felt his knees shake, finally. He sank down, hands still wrapped around the hilt and growing numb.
Overhead, he heard the first screams - crows coming to feast.
==
He was sorry later, upon waking, finding his bandages wet through, and still damp with blood. He ached when he sat up. The slow burn of anger had made him too careless, made him cut too deep. Dispelling guilt with more of the same; it was a strange notion, this liturgy he wrote for himself. On mornings like these, he could barely pretend to have understood.
He was always sorry later.
=
Come, O Sanctifier, Almighty and Eternal God, and bless, this sacrifice prepared for the glory of Thy holy Name.