• March 31, 2012 /  Reflections

    Oh, it feels good to be on me feet again. I was not made to lie in a bed, hospital or otherwise, and my bones were itching to return to the city. And return I did.

    Seems not much changed in my absense, save the arrival of this noblewoman. Lien le Storm. She is an interesting soul, that much can be seen. Reminds me of Jules in someways, other ways no. They both have an aptitude for trouble, that is quite evident. She’s become something of a daughter to me, which is interesting. I like her, she’s nice enough. An interesting woman and a challenge to be honest. I do like challenges. Oh and her soul, it has many little things to work out, love not the least of which. That seems common.. love is either perverted to politics or to pleasure. Our greatest sin really, for is God not Love? The love of a priest to his flock, the love of a mother to child, of a husband to a wife, these are things which come from God and yet, its become a commodity in our culture. People use it for everything it is not for: forming alliances, justifying evils, hedonistic searches for happiness, so many things..

    And then there is the common men. I’ve been taking a lot of confessions lately, this is true. Gives one a lot of perspective, which is good. My theory with the last upholds. People are looking after God but in all the wrong places. They say they want to be happy, so they throw themselves to drugs, sex, parties, general debauchery. Its disturbing really. The soul of man cannot find peace save in God and all which is not God is dust. It is here for but a moment and then passes upon the winds of time. That which comes from God lasts into eternity. I am not saying life cannot be fun, but we have to have a base, a firm foundation, and the only one that shall do is the Lord and His Church. Such has been my advice of late, God grant that the souls that need it do hear.

  • March 22, 2012 /  Memories

    The brothers met me at the Abbey door.  Dressed in their volumous black robes and cloaks, so far removed from the plain white of my own, hood raised, hands crossed. One looked older, the other two a little younger, closer to my age. As I dismounted, they spoke quietly, in whispers amongst themselves, a few hand signals given in passing to suppliment the conversation. And there I stood, alien.

    The elder came forward after a while, a small bow and his hand jutted out to greet me. “Hello. I am the Father Prior.” he introduced himself in a rasping voice, “You are the Abbot they’ve sent, I presume.” His gaze looked me up and down, studying me. I could see it linger on my brand which, despite my best attempts at covering it as far as sumptuary would allow, was still quite visible from its home on my jugular.

    “Yes.” I responded, trying to draw his attention away from the penitential mark, “Father Bene ab Piuso.” he nodded finally and motioned me to follow.  The Abbey Church was massive. Stunning. Even more beautiful than the Cathedral by some judges.  Its lights had been unlit save a few candles and it was filled with the congregation of black robed monks and nuns.  I was led to the altar where the Father Prior made his announcements.  The other two monks stood beside me, a silent honor guard. Finally, the bells began to ring.

    The Father Prior turned to face me. “Piuso, do you swear to me now, before God, the vows of monastic life? Of celibacy, of obedience to the law of God, and to poverty?” “I do.” He nodded and I was gently, if ever so firmly, pushed to the ground. I lay on my stomach before the altar.  A black funeral pall was laid over me. All was silent save the church bells which kept their heavy, mournful toll.

    I lay there in the darkness, my life passing before me. I saw in the shadows the red cloth of prelacy, the altar of the Cathedral. I saw Deviah, I saw Cedany. And above all, I saw her. I whispered my prayer, “Dav, I know this may seem like a little much now after it all.. You know my thoughts and my heart, no need to voice it. I think I’ll be a fine monk.  Give me strength and Faith. Give me hope and joy. I need both.” I laughed softly to myself but soon silenced as I felt the cloth around me being removed. I rose, a nod was given by the Father Prior who put and hand on my shoulder to guide be down from the altar, “Come, Father Abbot, the cloister is this way.”

    The halls of the monastery, sitting at their perch at the very head of the Church, were long and echoing. The Chalice windows streaming faint light into the area. It was absolutely silent in the abbey, even the footfalls seemed dulled by an unknown and heavy solemnity. No laughter, no shouts, no song past the steady chants of the day’s prayer life.  The monks and nuns were similarly somber, dressed in the heavy sable of their habits they glided through on their detached march.  Their eyes were downcast and their minds seemed to be off somewhere else. Utter silence. I remembered Father Francis’s words to me when I told him I had been appointed abbot, “Ah, Piuso, be careful. A man can loose himself in a monastery.. much like a cemetery, everyone there have long since passed to the Lord.” I had not quite believed him at the time but now, what he said was right before me.

    The tour was short, the quarters for the sisters and brothers, a council room where I would be expected to greet the monastery tomorrow, and finally my quarters. I remembered the place from before, I had helped get everything organized. It seemed so long ago now and even in this small piece of preserved time, like a memory come to life, it all seemed foreign.  I shuffled through everything, looked at the ledgers and notebooks kept for me. The Father Prior updated me on the comings and goings of the abbey. I nodded, we would see the library and scriptorium tomorrow, then onto Southside for my maiden voyage as ‘Father Bene ab Piuso, High Priest for the Southside of Lithmore.’ Oh, such weighty titles.

    That night, I longed for my bed by the Cathedral which seemed so far off. I missed her all the more, suddenly, everything that had happened seemed so much more real. She was gone and I now lived in the constraints of the cloister, even when I were to leave its physical bounderies. But a month ago, I had been young, in love, looking ahead to marriage, children, a happy, normal life. A few months before, I had been Cardinal of Lithmore. Now Bene ab Piuso had been submitted, I was little more than a simple, anonymous title, ‘Father Abbot.’

    Dav save me.

    Only a few days later, I would find myself in a different cloister. The dank walls about me and the ever present promise of tortures to come.

  • Protected: Desc Notes!

    Enter your password to view comments.
    March 18, 2012 /  OOC

    This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

  • March 15, 2012 /  Reflections

    Sunlight filters through the stunning stain glass of the Cathedral as I step in. All at once, it is familiar, warm. Home. Yet, it seems to be too large for home. Its expanse too great. Its air too cold.

    I remember the last time I was thinking of these things. I was an Acolyte with too much zeal for my own good. I’d passed all the tests with flying colors. This had been what I’d been moving to my entire life: Priesthood. Because of that, it’d be alright. I could not be more wrong.

    And here I am again, on the threshold of this movement yet again.  I feel so sure, yet so unsure.  Its the Cloth that I’ve always known, so why am I anxious.  I wore it many years, why is it now seeming so heavy.

    I was Cardinal, then nothing, now Priest. Funny how it all comes full circle. This time though, it shall be better. This time, I shall stay the course. This time, I know what must be done.

  • March 14, 2012 /  Reflections

    Undoubtedly, the whispers have been heard. They are true, most at least, I am sad to say. Much of this time, I have been thinking on if I should say anything to it to the King. The man is one who I have, admittedly, been wanting to speak to yet, wholly cautious of any encouter. Suffice to say, I believe he was utterly wrong in this case. Indeed, this I believe, that Julea had sin, yes. But that sin was not enough for her death. I’ve been asked, why I stoped her Pyre. It is because, I believe, to send her to it would have been sacrelige. We have the Pyre as a last and purely final resort. To send a soul not needing it to the flame taints the flame, a sin which shall be answered for. This was not simply my decision, as I stated, the clergy and prelates agreed. Indeed, there were but two advisors who disagreed: His Majesty and Her Holy Honor. I prayed, Dav spoke, I followed.

    And yet, there was sin later. I’ll freely confess it, as I did in the cellula, I fell to sin. It has been a wholly.. humbling experience. Often, we who sit so high in the Church forget that beneath all the robes, we are but men. Our souls are no more strengthened than the man who walks down the street. Our virtue is no inherently greater. Our hearts are not somehow protected by greats walls. Indeed, its these things that we must always remember, for two reasons. Firstly, to keep ourselves always aware and on the look out, but also to improve who we are as Priests, to remember that we are just as much a sinner as the man on the otherside of the confessional. We’re afraid to admit it, I think. As are the people.

    I offer no excuses for my actions. They were my sins, borne of human error. They are my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault. Yet, can I say I regret? I’m not sure.. I am penitent, yes. I admit the wrong. I admit that I am sorry. But, when it comes to it, I look and see that what I did, in some ways, was going to pass eventually. Once I admitted to myself my heart, I think it would not allow itself resolved. I’ve come out the wiser. One of the greater powers of Heaven is not to keep us from sin, but to transform sin to virtue. I think, in an odd way, I found a chastity in my lust. A fuller understanding of the celibacy I shall retake from its prior violation. Come the end, I love Julea Sanguine and she loved me. -That- needs no penance. -That- was not a wrong. I but wish it could have come to a better conclusion. That I had had the strength to allow myself to make the right decision sooner and left the clergy before I tried to run after and explore that love. My sin, truly, was disgracing the Church. It is for that which I wear my new brand. Its for Jules’s death that I wear the scars of my heart.

    Come the end of this, we all have lessons to learn. Forgiveness not being the least. Julea Sanguine should not have died that night. She was not treasonous. All I can say now is that I know she is in Heaven, I shall meet her there one day. I pray for His Majesty’s soul, for understanding on his part for something I frankly believe he did not understand and yet acted on nonetheless. He is a man too, I hope he never forgets that. For just as I have sinned, so shall he. He’ll have to be ready to face his conscience once he does.

    Now, I take my final penance. The cloth shall again be mine, though now properly consecrated to atonement. I’ll take whatever burden the Mother Church sees fit.. its only proper. I again am a servant, the servitude I violated. In the end, I’ll be the better for this, God be willing.

  • March 11, 2012 /  Reflections, Soundtrack

    This world is dark, Jules.

    Its full of evil, full of hurt.

    Men wander, like shades, seeking happiness.

    Seeking but a moment of love.

    I found it in you, my love.

    I was happy, if but for a moment.

    And now, dear.

    We pass into the dark.

    Don’t be afraid.

    I’m close behind.

    http://youtu.be/j6XZsau7CSk
     

  • March 9, 2012 /  Soundtrack

    love is not a victory march,

    its a cold and its a broken

    Hallelujah.

    And I remember when I moved in you,

    the holy dark was moving too

    and every breath we drew was

    Hallelujah.

    Maybe there’s a God above

    and all I ever learned from love

    was how to shoot at someone

    who outdrew you.

    And its not a cry you can hear at night.

    Its not somebody whose seen the light,

    its a cold and its a broken

    Hallelujah.

  • March 8, 2012 /  Quotes and Logs

    “And upon this rock I shall build my Church and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.” – Matthew 16:18

    My Dear Brothers and sisters, the Clergy of the Holy Order:

    I come before you today as your spiritual Father, a man dedicated to God in all his actions and a Servant of Dav as you all are. Over the last few days, I have been setting myself to prayer on disturbing trends which I have been observing with increasing outrage as well as with guilt in recognizing, humbly, my own faults in these things. I take to the pen here today resolved on change. Change for the Order, change for the Church, change for Lithmore.

    The very problem that disturbs me so greatly is the conflict with that ancient enemy of ours, the smoke of the Abyss, heresy. Like a great cloud, it wafts over us, obscures the clear vision of the Faithful and blots out the light of Truth. Indeed, it creeps over us, breaking its way in every weakness of our defense. Any crack in the walls which we erect about our Church shall constitute a weakness, a means by which evil might come to manipulate and control us.

    The mood among the laity, I grieve to say, is not one which befits the Church in the least. Irreverence grows, clergy are questioned in their wisdom, the Faith is being taken into the hands of those not ordained to bear it. While the Faithful indeed have the right and the duty of discerning their Faith through prayer, we must remember that Truth has been given to this Church to be safeguarded and by the graces of God, we are protected in our custodial ministry, watching over the Sacred Traditions which has been passed down to us from the earliest of all days.

    Thus, I charge each one of you, we must take a stand. Though keeping in mind charity, compassion, and mercy, the virtues which must always guide us, we must also take up the sword of Truth and the shield of strong Faith. Our Hope must be in Heaven and our Consolation in the Chalice. It is time to blot out heresy, take arms, my brethtren, in Faith. For it is time for the good fight to be fought. The very soul of Lithmore lies in the balance.. To the Church we must return her holy patrimony. To the Church we must confirm and invest the authority to safeguard and care for all souls as the -final- authority on Faith, not open to the questioning and attacks of others. For when we expose ourselves to such things, when we abandon the Church to lukewarm resolve and compromise, we shall fail.

    To this cause and to all your good endeavors, I glaldy and proudly impart my blessing. I assure you of my prayers and ask for yours as we take up this call.

    In Faith, Before the Lord of the Springs and Dav,
    Benedictus Piuso
    Cardinal of Lithmore

    This letter is sealed with a depiction of Saint Celeste and Saint Aelwyn bowing, on opposing sides, of the chalice.

  • March 3, 2012 /  Quotes and Logs, Reflections

    “His power is infinite, and if I lean on Him it will be mine; His wisdom is infinite, and if I look to Him for counsel I shall not be deceived; His goodness is infinite, and if my trust is stayed on Him I shall not be abandoned. Hope unites me to my God and Him to me. Although I know I am not sufficient for the burden, my strength is in Him. For the salvation of others I must bear weariness, face dangers, suffer offences, confront storms, fight against evil. He is my Hope.” – St. Pope Pius X

    Consider, my brethren, Saint Celeste. An odd request, you all may think, to think on this child-martyr of ours. She is an oddity in the Faith of this Church, an inexplicable figure amongst the high and mighty saints and lords of Heaven, the likes of Saint Aelwyn and Dav. These were mighty men, great politicians and statesmen. These were men of honor, of strength. They bore with them the great swords of Faith, the strong blades of Truth. And with them, the executed the will of God without question. Their memories be blessed and may we all look to them as examples in our own lives. Yet, I’ve not called you here to consider St. Aelwyn and Dav. I’ve not called you here to as what is easy, to think on a bravery which though uncommon, can be said to come naturally to us men. No, my friends, I’ve called you here on a wholly different purpose. On one which indeed may be all the harder than asking you to fight for your Faith: the task of dying for it.

    Saint Celeste, as you know, was a child and she bore that one thing which it seems so many of us, indeed Cardinals an Priests included, have lost, that is, innocence. Saint Celeste had no memory of the blade, the ways of war were wholly unknown her. Of all the great, wonderful, and terrible things of the Urth, St. Celeste knew but one, God. And with that knowledge, she went unto a vocation not unlike that of Saint Aelwyn or Dav, yet entire worlds apart. She went to death.

    St. Celeste remainds us of, what I think, is thing we struggle the most with as people. She reminds us of our mortality, that common thing which many over the years have tried to cheat, but which we all have failed. I do not believe there are many among us today who couls speak with perfect honesty and say that they are at peace with the prospect of death. All our lives, we spend evading it in one form or another. We are driven by the hunger to live, to somehow carve out a niche in this world which is unerasable. We are driven mad by our desire to create a lasting existence, one which remains past the brief blink of an eye which is our time here. Yet, with Saint Celeste, we are reminded it is all for not. Where others dream of deaths surrounded by glory. Where others seek a passing which is to be remembered, one passed down in the tales of bards and the writings of scholars, Celeste sought holiness. She did not desire the world see her. She slipped from it and disappeared into the deep forests that surround the Spring. She ran from the world and fled into the arms of God. And there, she died. She died not with a blade in her hand or on her feet in battle. She died not with the fervor of a warrior in her heart or the strength of a soldier. She but fell to her knees, took up a rose, a flower which she meant to empart unto the Spring to which she had dedicated her life. she closed her eyes and with little but the last breath of a prayer, she accepted death. She accepted mortality.

    When I began my Cardinalate, I saw myself as to stand in the shoes of St. Aelwyn. I saw the world as a battlefield where the enemies of the Faith prowled like wolves to destroy the innocents. I saw the Urth as a dark wilderness full of dangers and snares and I looked to St. Aelwyn as an example of how one must take such things on. I took up his sword. I told myself that I should serve the Chalice by it, like he did. That it would be the mighty reckoning for sin that was needed if we ever were to be free of it. I left St. Celeste and I took up the war banner of the armies of Heaven. I can say now, that as I stand here, that though I joined a good and mighty company. One which many of you are destined to join and that the members of should always be remebered for their bravery and sanctity, I had chosen not the path carved out for me by the Lord. My predecessors have been great politicians and statesmen. They have been examples of the greatness a Cardinal can achieve. I look to them with great admiration, but also with the realization that I cannot be as they were. I, to be frank, play a horrible game of chess. Yet, what does that game of chess matter? For what do I play it? For when I pass this life, as I one day shall, for what do what to be remembered? Do I wish to be remembered for myself? Do I want for my name the mighty title of ‘Saint’ or the great ceremonies of the Church? Nay, indeed I would deplore such for myself. For when I pass from this world, I do not desire these things. Indeed, I desire that I be forgotten. For nothing which I do here today, have done in days past, or shall do in the days come has proceeded from myself, but from God. Nothing good which shall come of my moment here on Urth shall have been the product of my own ingenuity or cleverness, of my political savvy or careful play. No, it shall have come from Heaven. For, in the end, what things of this Urth shall last the winds time save that which is grounded in holiness? We, friends, are dust. All that we do is dust. And unto dust all these things shall return. Yet, when we take up prayer. When we take up the path which we have been given. We need not fear. Death is not my enemy. He is powerless against me for he cannot take from me anything which has not already been given. My mission is to toil for the salvation of souls, and death cannot take salvation from any man. Though time shall wear at my body and at all human memory of my existence. Though years from now, I may be at the very best a footnote in an ancient book of history, I shall not have lost. For, if I live my life as I now resolve to. If I now throw myself into the fullest service of God, what shall come of me that I desire to remain is that everyone here may recieve the bliss of heaven. I give my name as ransom for your souls. I give my strength as payment. My comfort as trade. I desire that I die poor of all honors, a pauper of all things but holiness.

    Some among you may call me a fool for this. There shall undoubtedly be whispers in courts of the mad Cardinal who commited for himself a death to all political success. Very well, for if what do now is folly, I desire not wisdom. Indeed, the wisdom of God makes all men fools. I’d gladly be fool for God.

    I’ll not wear my sword again. Instead, I’ll carry my rose.

  • March 1, 2012 /  Reflections

    Of all the things I’ve done in this life, I feel most like a Priest when I hear confessions.  The cellula is dim, I sit behind the grate. No longer am I ‘Your Holiness’ I am ‘Father’.  Lithmore trickles in, the rich and the poor, the humble and proud, strong and weak.  It helps us to see, I think, that despite what we may think , we truly are not that different.  Each of us has a face, each of us has a soul, and each of us sins.  I listen to their whispers, their tears, in the dark. And I speak softly, not with mine own words, but as God’s mouthpiece.

    Beyond that confessional, who I am is flawed.  I am the Cardinal and try as I might, I am but a man.  Yet behind that grate, I’m able to be what God wills me to be.  I am a Priest, a holy Priest, and despite any of my human weakness, I am there, stripped of my sin, to be a guide. A light in the darkness moving forward to say ‘Come! Follow me and when you do, be not afraid!”  Its that moment when all the mistakes of this life fall away to its successes, that my weakness, which is so evident to me, fades away.

    In the confessional, I find the path to Heaven. Beyond it, I follow along faithfully.