(no subject)
Cold rain fell in sheets from the sky above libria as citizens went about heedless, opening their umbrellas almost in tandium. Rain was not something to be feared anymore. They walked through it at their own pace and tromped through puddles as they came.
Deep within a far white building at the center of the palace of victory (lacking stone winged lion) stood a monument to Father’s Greatness.
His new vision for the world.
The Palace of Justice.
John Preston passed the enterance, a pair of imposing stone pillars carved with the words of Father’s manifesto. The pillars had been the subject of some scrutiny in recent years, considered “artwork” it was thought that the tetragrammaton should tear them down.
When a similar case was unearthed in Pre-Librian Law however, it was decided that to make an issue of it would be tatamount to reverting to pre-libria’s way of life and-
That cannot be tolerated.
Preston slid past the main desk, presenting his identification.
“Thank you very much Cleric.” The desk clerk scribbled a note in his log, “Cleric Brandt has already started without you sir.”
Preston blinked, “Already-”
“Started without you.”
He had to run down the hall.
Preston counted off the numbers from memory, Each one connected to a case. He hesitated before 101 and moved on.
100.
We will cure you before we kill you. Then you will name your accomplaces.
Preston grimaced and pushed the door open.
Room 100 was white. Populated by Technicians, Brandt sat next to the leader of the resistence, whispering in his ear.
“...Didn’t I tell you there’d be trouble?” Brandt stood, smiling white teeth in Preston’s direction, “Cleric Preston. You’re late.”
“There was trouble at the monestary.” Which you should know about.
Jurgen turned his head as much as he was able and Preston found himself repulsed by the pallid look of his friend’s face and the blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.
Brandt smirked, “He’s all yours.”
The second class cleric smirked, raising a hand and letting it fall. The guards shuffled out followed by the technicians, leaving them alone save for a two-way window set agains the far wall.
The white hurt his eyes.
It was so...stark. Jurgen was all in white as well, a blended mosaic with the wall behind him.
“Cleric....”
There was a class that Preston recalled then from the monestary. The final class a Cleric took before graduation.
Seven students, himself included.
“You are here today to learn about Emotion.” The docent murmured, “And why it is the ultimate downfall of mankind.”
“Have you been more forthcoming?”
Jurgen muttered something.
And then the films. All kinds of films. Films where people were ripped apart, Girls clung on wires that connected them to pianos, twisted marionnettes-
“I like full cooperation when I’m talking to you.”
Preston twisted a dial and jurgen screamed, his body writhing.
But the worst had been a cartoon about giant robots arguing with god or something. Nothing but a string of images. This is the me that exists in your mind.
“Now. Is there a resistence cell?”
“Fu...”
Blood darkened the white around them.
“fuck...you.”
this is the me that exists in your mind John.
The man, the leader. Jurgen’s Smiling up at him.
And his conversation with Mary Comes back.
Without thinking Preston’s fingers found the dial and twisted the numbers rising. Twenty, thirty, forty-
Jurgen just kept smiling.
The human.
How can you be a human and just-take this?! preston mentally screamed, fight back goddamnit! stand up! try to kill me!
Why do you hate me?
I was happy before you came.
Your happiness was a prison.
I may not have been free but I was complete!
You can’t be complete without emotion.
“Cleric-”
Preston shoved the technician back out of the room.
The voice in his head and from the tv so long ago melded into one as Preston turned the dial up and up and up.
“Cleric!”
Brandt’s voice was sharp.
Preston, stepping outside, was accosted.
“What was that?” Brandt hissed, “You nearly killed the poor bastard. John-you almost looked like you were enjoying it.”
We cannot exist without a measure of control. Without control we’re-
Scared and crying children. Prey to the forces of darkness and the universe.
animals.
Preston twisted his head around, staring at his face in the mirror.
His eyes were hard, his face frozen in a near half-snarl. With a shock he dropped the expressoin and strode as quickly as he could out the back, past the enterance with the guards at the back.
Past the furnaces.
The Rain came down heavier as Preston lost himself in it, hands wide, open. Soaking into his clothing and his coat. It darkened the heavier stains from Jurgen’s blood to black until Preston was a sopping wet version of himself as he opened the door to his building-
And into somewhere else.