http://crucifriction.livejournal.com/ (
crucifriction.livejournal.com) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2011-12-09 02:36 pm
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there's a fire in your eyes
WHO: Azrael and you.
WHERE: City streets.
WHEN: The night of December 9th.
WARNINGS: Violence; others will be added as they occur.
SUMMARY: His desire has filled and burst. And all Michael wants now is to be the City’s God.
FORMAT: You choose.
I want to be seen as God.
The thought festered within him for years, blasphemous. To even think it, much less let it grace his lips, much less actually believe it. As a pious altar boy, he had brought it up in the confessional multiple times. But the lack of absolution brought him to only stick the desire to the back of his mind, with the knowledge that it would inevitably worsen. Become more tangible.
A thousand voices rise from a chorus of whispers to a cacophony of cries.
Now. One moment, he's sitting watchful on a rooftop, thoughtful. The next, what could only be described as revelation, a breakdown of irrationally built walls, flaring into a bright, pure yearning. Even the recent corruption that had plagued him is ignored, in favor of this. This need for devotion.
I WILL BE SEEN AS GOD HIMSELF.
The concrete should bend under his righteous feet as he dashes across the streets, the roofs, in search of disciples and sinners alike.
WHERE: City streets.
WHEN: The night of December 9th.
WARNINGS: Violence; others will be added as they occur.
SUMMARY: His desire has filled and burst. And all Michael wants now is to be the City’s God.
FORMAT: You choose.
I want to be seen as God.
The thought festered within him for years, blasphemous. To even think it, much less let it grace his lips, much less actually believe it. As a pious altar boy, he had brought it up in the confessional multiple times. But the lack of absolution brought him to only stick the desire to the back of his mind, with the knowledge that it would inevitably worsen. Become more tangible.
A thousand voices rise from a chorus of whispers to a cacophony of cries.
Now. One moment, he's sitting watchful on a rooftop, thoughtful. The next, what could only be described as revelation, a breakdown of irrationally built walls, flaring into a bright, pure yearning. Even the recent corruption that had plagued him is ignored, in favor of this. This need for devotion.
I WILL BE SEEN AS GOD HIMSELF.
The concrete should bend under his righteous feet as he dashes across the streets, the roofs, in search of disciples and sinners alike.
no subject
"Please, stop."
no subject
"You ask me to spare you now? Why? Your whole life was filled, moment to moment, for chances to atone, before it escalated to here." Each word feels like scripture and his voice only becomes bolder. "You've wallowed in sin for so long now and you still expect mercy?"
no subject
The night sky above them darkened. Clouds shifter over the crisp moon. Eddie took a step back, and then another. There was a lack of people on the streets, a lack of throngs due to the chaos earlier in the day. This was quiet, this was dark and lonely.
no subject
"I do not give mercy freely." Here, he bows his head. "I only give it to those who prove themselves worthy. And you, your pride is growing by the day."
no subject
"Pride has always been innate to me, hasn't it?" Eddie was stalling, swallowing and staring. "I know that. And so do you, I'm aware. But let me ask you this -- why confront me, here? Isn't it a waste of your time?"
no subject
Slow steps, but around. He revolves around Edward, not looking at him directly, not allowing his awful visage to offend his grace. "This time is as good of a time as any to me, Ananias."
no subject
"Ananias," he said. "He who was struck dead for 'lying to God', or the disciple?" It was a point to prove his smirk. "That's the thing with ambiguity, Azrael. It leads the way to questions." Eddie wrinkled his nose, looking at his own shoes. And then sought to stare into Azrael's eyes. "And you don't want to be questioned, do you?"
no subject
He stays silent, for a moment. Then, taking a few quick steps towards the damned, he throws the full weight of his metal boot toward his cast.
no subject
"God why oh fucking --" Eddie gasped, eyes flooding. "God damn it!"
He couldn't see, his palms clawed blindly at the ground. Whimpering, moaning. A figure cut down by pain.
no subject
"Acknowledge me. Kiss my feet in devotion. If you lie," he warns, capitalizing on what he's called Edward before. "I will know of it."
no subject
"I did this to you," he whispered. "I confess. I made you feel like this. I did it with Desire. You're not a god. You're just Michael Lane, a man beneath his own blood."
uh
He stands here, motionless, looking down upon him. Beneath the suit, he begins to tremble, mind suddenly blank. Action should be taken--he should crush his heretical head underneath his leg, bring Sin upon his neck. But he can't. His righteousness has faded into something feeble, something too human, incongruent with what he finds himself.
aw anna you let the cat out of the bag
"You know I'm not lying, Michael. You know you're not a god -- you're just a machine; empty, save for those puppet strings of my own device," he spoke softly, his fingers clawing. "You just want to be it otherwise. You want to be adored, beloved, worshiped. You want it because I made you -- you'd want anything I'd make of you."
His voice was growing louder, bolder.
"I could make you want her -- Lust. I could make that happen."