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capeandcowllogs2011-12-09 02:36 pm
crucifriction.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-12-09 02:36 pm
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
Her visage suddenly seems so foul, so terrible alongside his words that Michael casts his gaze away, keeps it on the hot blade within his hand. SLAY HER speaks one voice. SILENCE HER cries out another. Shaking his head slightly, ignoring that she's watching, he purges them. They sink to the back of his mind, ambient.
"Lust. What do you think I am?" Earnestly.