Halfway done! [Romeverse]
Jul. 6th, 2007 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freosanThe first appearance of these characters and this world, which I will call Romeverse until I come up with a better name! Mary Rose McComack is a research physicist who dabbles in chemistry (tallish, brunette, professional but practical), Joseph Wilson is a young priest (small, big blue eyes, blond, not as uke as you think), and Kalkin is a snake-demon and Something Special (very tall, very thin, black skin with a white cross-shaped birthmark over its right eye).
41. Detective
Rose read a lot of Sir Arthur growing up. Holmes was her role model – heroin aside. From nine to sixteen, she knew she’d be a PI someday.
Then she discovered physics, and particles and waves pushed investigating from her mind. Still, when she first meets people, she does the mental checklist – callouses, stains, dirt – that tells her more than she should know.
Priests unnerve her because her checklist fails in all that black and shine. Demons too, because they don’t bruise like humans. With one of each at her side, she’s off-balance. People are harder one action at a time.
42. Echoes
Joseph’s murmured prayer is lost in the cavernous sanctuary of Amiens Cathedral. Fifteen years ago Rose stood on line for hours to get in here. Now it’s empty.
Rose hates churches anyway, but empty ones are worse. They reach out desperately, a vacuum greater than something merely physical. Churches echo, late at night.
Joseph’s footsteps echo off the broken stained glass.
“You’re finally finished?”
“Yes. We should stay here tonight. It’s dangerous out there.”
“I thought you said we should reach Rome as fast as possible.”
“We’ll do no good by dying first.”
They stay. Rose doesn’t sleep all night.
43. Flame
Joseph prays because he has no proof. He believes but can’t know that the spirit within him is not a delusion.
He doesn’t have proof, because proof denies faith. So he keeps his faith, and is secure in his faith; even if it’s not real it’s his truth, and he can hold on to it. His faith can be stronger than iron, his spirit more pure than fire, and his conviction can move mountains. Somewhere, his truth can become real.
In the light of their campfire, he prays, rosary clicking through his fingers, and the flames surround him in gold.
44. Cards
Tarot is, of course, superstitious nonsense, but Rose still leans forward when the gypsy lays out the spread.
The tent is small and dark. Around her are carpets in colours from emerald to ruby, thick furs, embroidered and sequined hangings, a storybook castle writ small. The gypsy is small and weathered; her hands are cool on Rose’s when she holds them to the cards.
There are ten cards. They are illustrated with medieval images, and not one of them is pleasant. Wheel. Tower. Devil. Death.
Rose looks longest at the Six of Swords. Travel. Suddenly, all she wants is home.
45. Blood
Joseph wishes Rose would shut up. It would be so much easier to pretend this wasn’t happening.
He’s trying to ask for strength, a chant of pleaseGodpleaseJesuspleaseMary in the back of his head, but most of his thoughts are about how very much blood the body holds, and how very little Rose has left.
He knows he’s panicking, but he can’t stop. It takes Rose’s whispered curse to make him realize they’re no longer being attacked, and work out how to stop the bleeding.
He will remember, later, that blood is much more immediate than faith, and both are slippery.
46. Footsteps
Only after you’ve lost everything, Joseph thinks, are you free to do anything. That’s a quote, but it sums his experience. There’s a reason priests are encouraged to cut away from the world.
He didn’t do it well, and now he is mourning for the first time. He’s presided at funerals and weddings, and felt…faith. Not joy, not sorrow.
Kalkin is dead, and his hands shake too hard to count the rosary.
For the first time, he prays for something entirely selfish: Dear God, please let Kalkin come back to us. Please. Anything for that.
He hears footsteps behind him.
41. Detective
Rose read a lot of Sir Arthur growing up. Holmes was her role model – heroin aside. From nine to sixteen, she knew she’d be a PI someday.
Then she discovered physics, and particles and waves pushed investigating from her mind. Still, when she first meets people, she does the mental checklist – callouses, stains, dirt – that tells her more than she should know.
Priests unnerve her because her checklist fails in all that black and shine. Demons too, because they don’t bruise like humans. With one of each at her side, she’s off-balance. People are harder one action at a time.
42. Echoes
Joseph’s murmured prayer is lost in the cavernous sanctuary of Amiens Cathedral. Fifteen years ago Rose stood on line for hours to get in here. Now it’s empty.
Rose hates churches anyway, but empty ones are worse. They reach out desperately, a vacuum greater than something merely physical. Churches echo, late at night.
Joseph’s footsteps echo off the broken stained glass.
“You’re finally finished?”
“Yes. We should stay here tonight. It’s dangerous out there.”
“I thought you said we should reach Rome as fast as possible.”
“We’ll do no good by dying first.”
They stay. Rose doesn’t sleep all night.
43. Flame
Joseph prays because he has no proof. He believes but can’t know that the spirit within him is not a delusion.
He doesn’t have proof, because proof denies faith. So he keeps his faith, and is secure in his faith; even if it’s not real it’s his truth, and he can hold on to it. His faith can be stronger than iron, his spirit more pure than fire, and his conviction can move mountains. Somewhere, his truth can become real.
In the light of their campfire, he prays, rosary clicking through his fingers, and the flames surround him in gold.
44. Cards
Tarot is, of course, superstitious nonsense, but Rose still leans forward when the gypsy lays out the spread.
The tent is small and dark. Around her are carpets in colours from emerald to ruby, thick furs, embroidered and sequined hangings, a storybook castle writ small. The gypsy is small and weathered; her hands are cool on Rose’s when she holds them to the cards.
There are ten cards. They are illustrated with medieval images, and not one of them is pleasant. Wheel. Tower. Devil. Death.
Rose looks longest at the Six of Swords. Travel. Suddenly, all she wants is home.
45. Blood
Joseph wishes Rose would shut up. It would be so much easier to pretend this wasn’t happening.
He’s trying to ask for strength, a chant of pleaseGodpleaseJesuspleaseMary in the back of his head, but most of his thoughts are about how very much blood the body holds, and how very little Rose has left.
He knows he’s panicking, but he can’t stop. It takes Rose’s whispered curse to make him realize they’re no longer being attacked, and work out how to stop the bleeding.
He will remember, later, that blood is much more immediate than faith, and both are slippery.
46. Footsteps
Only after you’ve lost everything, Joseph thinks, are you free to do anything. That’s a quote, but it sums his experience. There’s a reason priests are encouraged to cut away from the world.
He didn’t do it well, and now he is mourning for the first time. He’s presided at funerals and weddings, and felt…faith. Not joy, not sorrow.
Kalkin is dead, and his hands shake too hard to count the rosary.
For the first time, he prays for something entirely selfish: Dear God, please let Kalkin come back to us. Please. Anything for that.
He hears footsteps behind him.