✞[ VII. ]✞ Station of the Cross
[ † ] Fingers barely grazed the serrated edge of windows, and humming low to himself he reached up across the scattered pieces of a stained glass, picking up shards and carefully, very carefully extracting them with the tip of a bayonet. His movements were balanced and controlled, fingers working diligently to piece together what materials he'd managed to gather and melt, having found and saved most of the remains.
Elevated high above the ground one wrong move could be treacherous, or even fatal. The clergyman sat in the cradle of wood and stone as he worked, skirting around the sharper parts in order to build the glass from the base up. He'd hoped to finish the task before sunrise, if it could be helped, yet with limited tools and time, could only hope for so much progress to come out of this.
Then a small tingle begins to spread down his arms, and up his legs, and he has a peculiar expression as he comes to realize the sudden jolts were coming from the device he'd held in his palm for the sketches of plans he'd drawn out, muscles clenching so hard his grip began to slip. [ † ]
G-ghn..! A-a-aaaa...
[ † ] As the electrical shocks assaulted his body he involuntarily shuddered and teetered backwards, tensing up so tight he couldn't quite hold on. The weight of his cassock decides his fate, and tugs him down, a loud crash and splitting of wood echoing as the commlink is left spinning as the feed cuts out. [ † ]
[OOC: Anderson was working on fixing the stained glass windows when he got shocked, causing him to lose his grip. He crashed through the floorboards, though the extent of whatever injuries he has are unknown. There won't be any responses to voice or text posts, given he might be unconscious. Action threads are welcome, but don't make them independent of each other. Sorry for the confusion~]