The Haunted Angel
Apr. 23rd, 2010 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielThe Augury of Gideon begins with Kallum McCreary, which should make ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luvthyjoker very happy indeed.
Sometimes we’re only the action figures of ourselves. This is the sort of thing you couldn’t make up. Banality is the camouflage that God wears to walk unseen. It’s a very funny dream, sometimes we wake up. ~ Stic Basin “Downthere”
Fascination is what drew him to the incorruptible body in which his endless spirit had once resided. No sign of the Pariah’s vicious intrusion upon his physical person could be seen and he was just as young and vibrant-looking as the day Rebekah and Mephistopheles paid him the bloody visit that forever altered the course of Kallum’s life. In this stasis, the body of the Vampire once called Faust, rest in perfect repose, his bare-opened eyes the only indication of his death, being dried by the dust that buried him several feet below the new building that had long replaced his old apartment domicile. It was still a haven for the artistic folk who so preferred SoHo, but there was no indication whatsoever that these painters, singers, composers, actors, and comedians spent their evenings treading the ground where a saint rested waiting.
For what was he waiting? Rosetta, his angel who had embraced his spirit during the worst moments of his misery at Cadmus’ hands, never revealed to him what that might be. He cherished every moment of paradise afforded him, but he was still drawn to the place of his death and very much enthralled with the body that carried Kallum in mortal form and then as Faust.
Indeed Kallum, mortated from the young Vampire Faust was whisked away from the mundane world which had become an immortal hell for him had beheld the face of God and had been told that, someday, Kallum would be asked to return to this Vale of Tears to bring about a sort of redemption for those seemingly incapable of such a spiritual miracle.
His paradise was his alone and indescribable in even the simplest of terms. Heaven was indeed a unique experience for each soul and was incapable of spoken explanation not only to living beings, but also to disembodied souls. When he left his special place of bliss, Kallum longed momentously for his presence in that sacred space, but he was equally as compelled to return to the place of his murder and ponder the words of Rosetta and the nature of his destiny.
Kallum studied his wan face as encased solidly in packed Earth, forgotten rubbish, and seemingly impenetrable concrete. Above his resting place was a four-story building comprised for twenty-four fairly sized, poorly built apartments, all in which resided struggling artists of every race, creed, and colour. The only thing that had changed was the building and its owners.
Sensing that he was no longer alone in the etherealness of his sainted existence, Kallum sent forth waves of unconditional love for angel. “Rosetta, why is it you are here?”
“My dearest sainted confessor, I come to drench you with the blessedness of respite and pure love only the Creator can bestow upon the children of the universe. Your time is nigh, Saint Kallum, to redeem all that the Apostate has twisted in his unnaturally long and miserable life. You come here more and more often, I have seen you.”
“I am compelled, even though I’ve never known the joy and contentment that the afterlife has to offer.”
“You know in your heart, dear Kallum, that no afterlife will be wholly complete when the existence in this plane has been so warped in a way never intended. This realm is one of mortal understanding. The walking dead is an aberrant that only you, Kallum, can help to rectify, to redeem. Touched by the Gideon’s divine madness, only you can complete his song and reveal to the immortal cursed what it is they must do to end the wretched blight cast upon the teachers so very long ago. Your presence will set things aright and, once you’ve achieved this miracle, your heaven will complete and eternal.”
Kallum thought back upon his last days on Earth, bound by a variety of geasa and tortured in ways that would immediately have killed a mortal, he felt that all-too-well-known dread boil up in the pit of his spiritual throat.
“Rosetta, I will not have to be near…him…will I?”
“Kallum…” Rosetta said softly, wrapping her rainbow arms around the indigo-eyed saint. “Cadmus Pariah is why you must go back.”
Kallum’s dread manifested in diamond teardrops that fell to the pavement below becoming tiny quartz crystals picked up by the delighted passersby.
luvthyjoker very happy indeed.CHAPTER 1
THE HAUNTED ANGEL
THE HAUNTED ANGEL
Sometimes we’re only the action figures of ourselves. This is the sort of thing you couldn’t make up. Banality is the camouflage that God wears to walk unseen. It’s a very funny dream, sometimes we wake up. ~ Stic Basin “Downthere”
Fascination is what drew him to the incorruptible body in which his endless spirit had once resided. No sign of the Pariah’s vicious intrusion upon his physical person could be seen and he was just as young and vibrant-looking as the day Rebekah and Mephistopheles paid him the bloody visit that forever altered the course of Kallum’s life. In this stasis, the body of the Vampire once called Faust, rest in perfect repose, his bare-opened eyes the only indication of his death, being dried by the dust that buried him several feet below the new building that had long replaced his old apartment domicile. It was still a haven for the artistic folk who so preferred SoHo, but there was no indication whatsoever that these painters, singers, composers, actors, and comedians spent their evenings treading the ground where a saint rested waiting.
For what was he waiting? Rosetta, his angel who had embraced his spirit during the worst moments of his misery at Cadmus’ hands, never revealed to him what that might be. He cherished every moment of paradise afforded him, but he was still drawn to the place of his death and very much enthralled with the body that carried Kallum in mortal form and then as Faust.
Indeed Kallum, mortated from the young Vampire Faust was whisked away from the mundane world which had become an immortal hell for him had beheld the face of God and had been told that, someday, Kallum would be asked to return to this Vale of Tears to bring about a sort of redemption for those seemingly incapable of such a spiritual miracle.
His paradise was his alone and indescribable in even the simplest of terms. Heaven was indeed a unique experience for each soul and was incapable of spoken explanation not only to living beings, but also to disembodied souls. When he left his special place of bliss, Kallum longed momentously for his presence in that sacred space, but he was equally as compelled to return to the place of his murder and ponder the words of Rosetta and the nature of his destiny.
Kallum studied his wan face as encased solidly in packed Earth, forgotten rubbish, and seemingly impenetrable concrete. Above his resting place was a four-story building comprised for twenty-four fairly sized, poorly built apartments, all in which resided struggling artists of every race, creed, and colour. The only thing that had changed was the building and its owners.
Sensing that he was no longer alone in the etherealness of his sainted existence, Kallum sent forth waves of unconditional love for angel. “Rosetta, why is it you are here?”
“My dearest sainted confessor, I come to drench you with the blessedness of respite and pure love only the Creator can bestow upon the children of the universe. Your time is nigh, Saint Kallum, to redeem all that the Apostate has twisted in his unnaturally long and miserable life. You come here more and more often, I have seen you.”
“I am compelled, even though I’ve never known the joy and contentment that the afterlife has to offer.”
“You know in your heart, dear Kallum, that no afterlife will be wholly complete when the existence in this plane has been so warped in a way never intended. This realm is one of mortal understanding. The walking dead is an aberrant that only you, Kallum, can help to rectify, to redeem. Touched by the Gideon’s divine madness, only you can complete his song and reveal to the immortal cursed what it is they must do to end the wretched blight cast upon the teachers so very long ago. Your presence will set things aright and, once you’ve achieved this miracle, your heaven will complete and eternal.”
Kallum thought back upon his last days on Earth, bound by a variety of geasa and tortured in ways that would immediately have killed a mortal, he felt that all-too-well-known dread boil up in the pit of his spiritual throat.
“Rosetta, I will not have to be near…him…will I?”
“Kallum…” Rosetta said softly, wrapping her rainbow arms around the indigo-eyed saint. “Cadmus Pariah is why you must go back.”
Kallum’s dread manifested in diamond teardrops that fell to the pavement below becoming tiny quartz crystals picked up by the delighted passersby.
