FATHER

[littyfam 790]

 

 

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O N C E   F R A N T Z I S K O

O N C E            D E U N O R O

N O W                           G O N E

 

B U T   O W Y N   W A S   W R O T H    F O R 

T H E    D E A T H    O F    H I S    F A T H E R

 

 

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I

F R A N T Z I S K O

 

And a man came to this sorry babe, who was his kin, and said: you are alone, and I am also, and so you are now mine. And so she was not so sorry, or so weeping, or so alone. She was gone from that little caravan, and with him to his manse. 

 

It was a pious place, but scarcely suited to some prepubertal girl - there were nuns, and priests, and Cardinals, and acolytes, and choirboys, and all of these were older and graver and she would bristle at that. No courtly governesses, or noble peers, or ballrooms, or training yards; there were halls of meek and holy men, who made their bickerings of semantic and theology, and she did not care. And so she did not like the man who had taken her from some unknown pasture to this sacramental district - perhaps she loved him, she did not know, but she did not like the man, for he had made of her youth a spinster’s life chambered in a country priory.

 

But he said, then: you must go unto the cities of our world, and find a suitor, find a husband, and she joyed. He had understood her, she thought, for this was all she wanted, this girlhood of hers. So she went to Valdev and to Whitespire, to Vallagne and to La Dorada. And she grew distant.

 

He met her once more and said: what is this impious creature you are? What accent, what foreignness, what impropriety, and she revolted from his touch.

 

In the eastern hills she encountered some fellow of her father and his little cohort, and joined them some ways along their pilgrimage, and she was soon joined to some man there, and said this to her father, and he joyed. No more cloister, said he, and so she joyed also, and they began their little ponderings and negotiations, once more as that sorry babe and her saviour.

 

And then, there was death.

 

 

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II

D E U N O R O

 

The little congress of the College began, and she sat near. He did not come with the rest from their chamber, and so she knew - of her father was now a Vicar, as was his greatest will and desire. And so was his joy hers.

 

She went with him on some of his trips - to the Princes and their little lords; to chapels and palaces. She understood it now, how man might his father like and love both, for she did, now. She gave her advice, and he heeded it rarely, but the mere giving was enough - for that was her place, and it was now fulfilled. She acted as aide insofar as she could, and so had presumed that role of daughter, and was no more a saved babe but a child of his.

 

Then, very then, too then, he had absconded from her side, or perhaps she his. She heard of him, but he spoke not to her. This was as it was, and she was contented in it, for she moved to a greater fate: to become as Julia or Tara. She did not know, o, she did not, not ‘till his finals days.

 

And then, there was death.

 

 

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III

G O N E

 

As Horen, or Owyn, or Godfrey, he was. A saviour, lost to Canondom. His death was not theirs; it was inglorious. No great betrayal, no great light, no great rising. Very soon, too soon; no, he had not been ill thus. He was crippled by some youthful ailment, but many men are made as injurious in their youth and live to their natural end. She had seen him only some year, some two, ago - this was not as Tylos II, who had withered in his monastic chamber for some great time. This was unfounded; this was unright.

 

Men - goodly men - did not die as this, save by the hand of some betrayer, some Saul.

 

And then, she wrote.

 

 

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IV

L E T T E R S

 

I

T I B E R I A S

 

 

Spoiler

 

AS SENT ONLY TO TIBERIAS @Tide1

 

Of the Lord Tiberias van Aert of the Middenland

 

He is dead, and you have not sent your letters. 

 

This is some impiety, for my father has had his faults and error gone unannounced, and his contrition unfulfilled. You are not the cause thereof - I know this, in my paltry and little mind; you had named your intention, and would have made all rightful and as it should be, yet there was some interloper.

 

As the Lord, our Lord, had bid Horen from his camp in the time of Saul’s Coming, so did he return him, and make rightful that which Saul had undone. This is not as us; we have seen the iniquity of our Saul, who I shall not name for fear of this letter being waylaid, and yet he who would see it and have ability to see it righted is made passed too soon. Our Horen is culled before his time, for the Denier is cunning and his agents made to make of our world greater iniquity than those ancient times. 

 

I tell you this: come see me, or send word, for these are graven times, and unholy machinations rot the very roots of Canondom.

 

In woeful faith

Ilia Josebiñe de Ekain

 

 

 

II

C A L L A H A N

 

 

Spoiler

 

AS SENT ONLY TO CALLAHAN @Fleeperpriest

 

Your Venerable Holiness

 

The Lord has sent you to His Vicariate, and we are blessed for it, and I know that this election is rightful and sanctified, and you know this, also, for the Lord favours you often with His Visions and glimpses insofar as we might glimpse of His Will.

 

Yet, and with due credence to Your Holiness, I submit that I think my father’s death of ill origin. It is not the rightful demise that the Lord God so implements for His goodly flock, but that of some unrepentant heathen. 

 

My father has had unfinished work, and unfinished duty, and the Lord does not let men’s Paths go unfinished, for their cog turns not and His System is made as halted ‘till rightness comes of it. So has the Aengul Raguel told us this of our times, and we are now sent to greater iniquity, and the Skies shut moreso.

I bid you thus: consider the Vision sent upon me, these Hearings of mine, that Saulician act has come upon my father in his death, and call me to you on this, and I will tell you in word, for the letter insuffices.

 

Your Ever-Sheep

Ilia of the Apostolic City

 

 

 

III

T H O M A S

 

 

Spoiler

 

AS SENT ONLY TO ANORHIL  @Nooblius

 

My Thomas

 

I weep, and I wept, and all of myself is made undone for my lost Vicar. See now, you have said he was ailing, and I did not know to see him, and now he is left from me.

 

He did not see me wed, and that was his wish for I; my sister has been made Reverend Mother, and he was made High Pontiff, and so I alone was his wish, and now he is taken from it, and this is not as it should be.

 

Our Lord does not make things so. Men are not taken so soon, save for the act of Kin of the Denier. He has taken Horen when his work was done, and Owyn, and Godfrey. He has taken Caius when he was listless and his Path had ended. He has taken the Canonised, and Beatified, and Venerated, all when they must be.

 

It was not my father’s time; you would know this. You would know how he so sought witness to my matrimony, to see my fruit and his, and then I thought, he might perish, but he has gone ‘fore this. He has gone ‘fore his work as Father, and as Holy Father also: he has not revised his Law, or concluded his negotiations, or seen his revisions and writings finished. None of this is done, for I know, and the Lord has told me verily, that Saulician intercept has made him undone. And I bid you now, I tell you, I ask you and advise you as the Julia I so declared to be upon you: come to me, and make of this wrongful world some rightness. Let us see Saul’s Coming culled, for that is our duty, for that is my father’s righteousness.

 

This Julia of Yours.

 

 

 

 

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[Irishmanmichael 504]

And it was the passing of time the true enemy of love and respect that came to pass. Manfred thought to himself as he penned his thoughts. “However duty it is only in death the duty ends.” Manfred though out to himself and set down his pen looking to the corner were his Halberd rested he walked over to it lifting to his shoulder. Before speaking the words he always spoke before stepping out the door. “Acriter et Fideliter.”

[Malta 2811]

Somewhere in the countryside, the soldiers of the old world wept. The King of King's, the Mercatorii to rule them all, had fallen. 

[MadOne 4945]

Caius I turned his gaze to his kindred brother, the one of the Laurel, among the host of Saints and Angels as Deunoro made his way towards that meadow. He had stood there for ages, his eyes fixed in an eternal, empty stare, waiting for one to once more become his narrative device. Yet, as he beheld Frantzisko, now ascended as Deunoro, his trance was shattered. There was surprise in his eyes, for he, while once dormant and incomplete, had now reached his fulfillment, and so soon. In that heavenly realm, Caius finally drew a deep breath.

 

"Get a hold of this guy, Frantzisko..." he began, both addressing and gesturing to the newcomer. @cadazio

[DahStalker 3692]

Lhoris the Elf mourns heavily, lips wavering. "Papi no." She'd say aloud to the skies, angry. 
 

Spoiler

not the latino pontiff... take borin instead