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 GOD'S AWAY ON BUSINESS., --denton moraes
ISANDER RAFFAEL LOCKE
 Posted: Jun 29 2014, 04:35 AM
QUOTE
ANGEL


Theology Professor
Male
46 posts
member no. 93
"I would never blame you for the heartache. I would never blame you for the tears. I blame my stubborn heart, soul, body -- every single thing around me stays the same... No matter what. I wanna roll with the wind, bringing distance to everything. I-- Oh... I wanna sit by the fire and glance at the pouring rain."
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THE AWARDS
N/A


Ten o’clock.

The bells began to toll, the walls of the church belfry shaking with their voices. Isander stood below, his neck craned back as he watched the matron bell pass overhead like a giant pendulum. After all these years, wonder still sparked in the Angel’s blue eyes at the sight of swinging church bells and excitement still showed in the easy smile which graced his features. Bells were a lovely thing. From afar, they called to the faithful with their beautiful voices in chorus and, up close, they shook the very foundations with their mighty forces. Bells... One of mankind’s lovely inventions.

Isander gave a glance over the railing of the open sided tower top, watching for a moment as the people on the street below continued on by without so much as a glance toward the old church. How times had changed... Just two-hundred years ago, the town would have been filing in for a mid-week service. But Man was ever-changing, and that, in itself, was not a bad thing. The days of fearing the lord’s wrath because you forgot to put on your church bonnet or could not recite the required passage from last week’s sermon were all but gone, and, for that, everyone could be thankful. Silly to think that something so divine and beyond human comprehension would be so very concerned with such trivial mortal worries, anyway.

As the last echo of the tenth chime faded, the angel gave a pleasant sight before opening the trap door and working his way down the narrow, winding staircase. At the bottom, an old wooden door opened to the wings of a small cathedral, the gentle angle of the morning son casting long shadows and columns of light colored by the eastern painted glass windows. Isander stepped from the darkness and entered a middle row of pews, walking down beside the long wooden bench slowly until he reached a portion bathed in brilliant purple, red, and green light, and sat. Leaning back as comfortably as the sturdy pew would allow, the Angel closed his eyes.

Here in the house of God, he sat and listened to the silence, contented by the painted light of the warm sun on his face.

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DENTON SILVIA MORAES
 Posted: Jul 2 2014, 03:30 AM
QUOTE
SHIFTER


Animal Sciences Major
Twenty Two
Male
63 posts
member no. 18
"You fall to your knees, you beg, you plead Can I be somebody else For all the times I hate myself? Your failures devour your heart in every hour You're drowning in your imperfection"
Crystal IS Offline!
THE AWARDS
N/A


Denton was a funny being sometimes.

Funny in how he worked that was. Or thought about things. It was no secret that he probably thought of a lot of things differently then a lot of other people did. But he supposed that was a lot of people actually. He mentally shrugged to himself as he walked along the streets. It was a regular old weekday ... kind of a day. Wednesday to be precise. I mean there wasn't anything spectacular about that day of the week. It was the middle of the week. Hump day as some people called it (he never would understand why though). And other then school and homework -- he wasn't up to much really. Of course that wasn't new news either--he never was going to be a social butterfly. Never really had been and he definitely wasn't now. He was just wandering around hoping to get his mind off of things. Which was a chore in and of itself really.

Cause he always had crap on his mind. School crap, homework crap, past crap, worrying about the future for himself kind of crap...well it was just a lot of crap in general...crap of all kind. Perhaps he was being a bit cranky here but gosh darn it--was there ever going to be a day in which he was left in peace? Peace from the past that was? He sighed softly to himself as the admittedly stupid question crossed his mind. He already knew the probable answer to that. No. No he probably wasn't. Not until he faced it head one -- but he didn't want to. He was scared of what could happen and he didn't want to face up to that. Call it childish but he wanted to face the future not what had happened. Even if would in turn be for the best...

He froze as the church bells began to toll--he stood still looking at the building as the bells clanged and the sound reverberated for what was probably a decent distance. He never understood church--or religion as a whole. It was the whole belief in that someone who you could never see, never meet was watching over you--it baffled him. It was a mystery he wasn't sure if he was ever going to understand.

But still--the sanctuary--the peace...it was nice compared to the hustle and the bustle of the outside world. To the hustle and bustle of him. And he had nothing better to do. And so why not? Why not spend an hour or so away from everything and away from everyone. Just by himself and hopefully at peace for a change...though the last one was a stretch he supposed.

Still though he walked inside--the door being unlocked--it was always unlocked if memory served him right-- and he was marveling at the architectural beauty of the place. Even if he wasn't going to understand the purpose of the place--the place itself was still very nice. He had not yet noticed that he was not alone as he ran at hand alongside the pews. It was different. There was no other way to put it. He probably could have sat down and no one was going to have said something but he walked onward.

Suddenly though he looked up--head tilting to the side in confusion yet awe all at the same time as he looked at the crucifix symbol that was at the far back of the church behind the stand where the preacher would have spoke. He still didn't get it. Didn't understand why someone would believe that someone dying would help them in any way.

He shook hie head--he wasn't here to make sense of a religion he had barely heard of before however. He was here to relax. And as he saw in a pew and leaned back with closed eyes--he was planning on doing just that

Of course whether or not it actually worked was another matter all together...


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Credit to my good buddy Dante for the awesome sig! Credit to Nina for the avatar re-sizing!
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ISANDER RAFFAEL LOCKE
 Posted: Jul 3 2014, 04:52 PM
QUOTE
ANGEL


Theology Professor
Male
46 posts
member no. 93
"I would never blame you for the heartache. I would never blame you for the tears. I blame my stubborn heart, soul, body -- every single thing around me stays the same... No matter what. I wanna roll with the wind, bringing distance to everything. I-- Oh... I wanna sit by the fire and glance at the pouring rain."
Lark IS Offline!
THE AWARDS
N/A


The sound of silence -- was there such a thing?

No. No there was not. Silence was defined as the complete absence of sound, therefore it could not make sound. That would be very contradictory. Isander chuckled to himself on the thought, recalling that there had been a very popular musical number on the sound of the complete absence of sound back in the year 1966. Oh, Simon and Garfunkle... Oh, humanity... There can be no sound of silence.

So, quite truthfully, as the angel sat in placid, relative quiet, he listened to many sounds. Most notable was that of traffic, cars humming by on either side of the median church plot, and then there was the sound of his own steady, soft breathing-- his heart-- the rattle of the wind on the glass windows-- the tick of a clock in some adjacent room... There were plenty of things to be heard in this rather still cathedral if one were to only listen. Including the hitch of a door on its hinges.

Isander did not stir to see who was joining him this quiet, but not silent, morning. He merely tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the side, and he listened. There was a loud sound as the heavy front door swung shut of its own accord which echoed through the cathedral hall, followed by a series of smaller sounds he recognized to be footfalls, and then the soft, rhythmic rap of fingers on wood as this new someone -- he was guessing now -- ran their hands along the pews down the main aisle. The gentle thrum stopped rather suddenly, however, and the footsteps passed him by before halting, too.

The angel opened his soft blue eyes, his gaze settling almost immediately on the young, dark-haired boy. Isander didn’t need his profound celestial intuition to know that this boy was a lost and troubled soul -- or maybe he did, sometimes he was mistaken on the sensitive or insensitive nature of the mortal races. There was a heaviness about him, and not in a physical sense of the word. But the very air in the cathedral began to weigh down around the angel, and his gaze softened with a sincere sort of worry as he watched the dark shifter stare ahead to the alter for a long moment -- though, still fairly brief, as moments could only be classified as brief periods in time.

The dark haired boy, apparently still unaware of the angel’s presence, slipped into a pew on the other side of the aisle. Isander remained still and observant as the child leaned back and closed his eyes, and he let this quiet linger in the hall for a minute more before choosing to speak.

“You are troubled?” He had no question on that fact, but still, the quiet inquiry of his gentle voice was made with the intent to coax an answer without fear. With free will, it would be left to the boy’s decision whether or not he should answer. And the angel would wait and listen to either a response or the myriad, soft sounds of life around them. Isander, after all, had all the time in the world.

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