VISIONS | the Holy Grail & the Angel Raguel

[Werew0lf 12095]

In most faithful depiction, the seated angel Raguel  burning in righteous flames.

 

 

Bells tolled across each canonist kingdom and city on the sixth hour of the day.

 

They rang, knell, and clanged from every spire, to every temple. From the peak of watch-towers, to the undergroves of ancient tombs. 

 

Golden light basked through glass windows, opening breaks and cracks of divinity across each altar and their cloth. Candles swept by roaring, burgeon flames rippled and began to grow in size and ferocity. 

 

On the seventh hour of the day, men and women of the canonist faith - be they Owynist, Lucienist, Saulist, Judist, Sigismundi, or simply of any ecclesiastical background - found themselves drawn to premonitions and visions from above. 

 

(These visions are based on consent. Do not feel forced or inclined to have them. They are not restricted to anybody, canonist or not). 

 

These visions were in due course of a grey-robed man; his face is covered by a large hood adorning it - the hood was fitted by a white laurel that deigned him justice. He remains seated upon a chair; the room seems to resemble an ancient palace in Santegia. Flames burn and rip across his body, painfully clicking and popping, like sizzling flesh. 

 

In the vision, the angel makes to stand, revealing great, white, and feathered-wings from across his spine. His right hand is displayed, whereby two fingers are crossed over each other, denoting his righteous fury and justice. “Justice emanated from GOD, mastery over all life, death, and creation.”

 

From his left-hand, the angel Raguel presented an object; a holy relic - it was a golden chalice, or grail, embedded by numerous gems. A halo of sunfire permeates from the Holy Grail of Saint Lucien.

 

Promptly, the vision would fade.

 

The angel would descend soon, to pass on this most holy relic. 

 

 

References:

The Holy Grail of St Lucien - MART

 

[ClatterCake 262]

The Valkonen Knight erupted from his gloomy slumber with a heavy gasp for breath.  Often his dreams had caused him ceaseless trouble, yet nowadays they seemed to only grow worse and worse.  As the beads of sweat fell from his troubled brow, his thoughts turned to loss of his loved ones.  First, Stanislaw had ascended; he was a man that Mikhail rarely understood, often speaking and doing things that contradicted each other, yet his defense of the family and the faith was never in question.  It was he who the knight had confided in his darkest dreams to.  Then, there was Veronica; a woman whom he had considered a mother, for she had taught him much in his youth, and allowed him the opportunity to claw out of his meager beginnings.

 

Each of them had given him some kind of understanding of the faith.  Though he was by no means a holy man, one could not say that he didn't try.  And yet, the dream seemed all the more important to him, now that he had seen loss firsthand.  Their mortal forms would not last forever... but their spirits would live on within the Seven Skies.  His emerald gaze turned down to the pendant that hung from his neck; the aurum Hussariyan swayed gently as he recollected himself.

 

Slowly, he reached up for the cross, curling his fingers around it, and pressed it tightly to his chest.  A prayer, simple but humble, was given out in the hopes that GOD would answer them.

 

"Bless us with another man or woman, LORD, who can exercise your divine will.  Let them be kind, but firm.  Let them be a shepherd to watch over your flock... and deliver us from these dark days."

 

And as he returned to lay at his beloved wife's side, he whispered out...

 

"And let the souls of those lost be vindicated and avenged in His name..."