[Marius clutches his rosary tightly in his hand, feeling the wooden cross digging into his palm, as he looks up at the cathedral of Ruby City. There’s nothing holy about this place and he’s almost wary to go inside, but he swallows his concerns and pushes open the heavy door, fingers lingering on the deep scratch marks presumably caused by some creature from the ‘event’ that he had been told happened only days before his arrival to this place]
Avē Marīa, grātiā plēna, Dominus tēcum.
[The old words come naturally within such a setting, even one with so strange an aura as this. Dark things have happened here, he can sense that much, and the smell of blood lingers in the air even now from events long since past]
Benedicta tū in mulieribus, et benedictus frūctus ventris tuī, Iēsus.
[He reaches the chancel, beyond which he would normally expect to see an altar, but instead there is nothing. This in itself is unsettling. He draws a candle and a small box of matches from his pocket]
Sāncta Marīa, Māter Deī, ōrā prō nōbīs peccātōribus, nunc et in hōrā mortis nostrae.
[Placing the candle down, on the floor for the lack of anywhere else, he lights it, and smiles gently]
Āmēn.
Third Person:
“And, you understand, I have no comprehension of how something like this works.” Poring over said contraption, Marius carefully pulled out a small cog with his long fingers, and winced as something inside the thing creaked in protest. Quickly, he stepped back, then tapped the cog gently against his lower lip. Perhaps he should have employed someone to help him before he started taking a clock apart, but he could learn by doing, and he still remembered where everything went.
The small feline that he was engaged in conversation with simply blinked slowly at him, and he let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing one hand over his hair. When he had become immersed in dealing antiques he had been utterly ignorant of the kind of work it would involve, it had simply been a vocation that had called to him. Now, looking at the mass of cogs and delicate pieces of clockwork spread out over the tablecloth in front of him, he had to wonder if he had really made the right decision.
“Heavens help me,” he muttered, setting the cog down. He crossed himself and turned from the table, moments later hearing the unmistakeable sound of the clock falling apart. Marius closed his eyes, and lifted his eyes heavenwards. “… That is not funny…”
[OC] | Marius Eldritch
[Marius clutches his rosary tightly in his hand, feeling the wooden cross digging into his palm, as he looks up at the cathedral of Ruby City. There’s nothing holy about this place and he’s almost wary to go inside, but he swallows his concerns and pushes open the heavy door, fingers lingering on the deep scratch marks presumably caused by some creature from the ‘event’ that he had been told happened only days before his arrival to this place]
Avē Marīa, grātiā plēna, Dominus tēcum.
[The old words come naturally within such a setting, even one with so strange an aura as this. Dark things have happened here, he can sense that much, and the smell of blood lingers in the air even now from events long since past]
Benedicta tū in mulieribus, et benedictus frūctus ventris tuī, Iēsus.
[He reaches the chancel, beyond which he would normally expect to see an altar, but instead there is nothing. This in itself is unsettling. He draws a candle and a small box of matches from his pocket]
Sāncta Marīa, Māter Deī, ōrā prō nōbīs peccātōribus, nunc et in hōrā mortis nostrae.
[Placing the candle down, on the floor for the lack of anywhere else, he lights it, and smiles gently]
Āmēn.
Third Person:
“And, you understand, I have no comprehension of how something like this works.” Poring over said contraption, Marius carefully pulled out a small cog with his long fingers, and winced as something inside the thing creaked in protest. Quickly, he stepped back, then tapped the cog gently against his lower lip. Perhaps he should have employed someone to help him before he started taking a clock apart, but he could learn by doing, and he still remembered where everything went.
The small feline that he was engaged in conversation with simply blinked slowly at him, and he let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing one hand over his hair. When he had become immersed in dealing antiques he had been utterly ignorant of the kind of work it would involve, it had simply been a vocation that had called to him. Now, looking at the mass of cogs and delicate pieces of clockwork spread out over the tablecloth in front of him, he had to wonder if he had really made the right decision.
“Heavens help me,” he muttered, setting the cog down. He crossed himself and turned from the table, moments later hearing the unmistakeable sound of the clock falling apart. Marius closed his eyes, and lifted his eyes heavenwards. “… That is not funny…”