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- Author: Michael, PostPosted: Wed Mar 02, 2005 8:41 am
January 1st 1947, 09:00am
A bitter morning it was for Michael on New Years Day, and not one he was in any particular mood to celebrate. Away from family and from friends, he had left everything behind aside from the clothes on his back and further belongings in the backpack he carried with him. His black hair stirred restlessly in a passing wind, showing signs of the frustration he himself felt, a certain sense of being incomplete, estranged from his family. Though, the situation could hardly be helped, as neither could his beliefs and aspirations, the very reason why he was driven from his home.
Of course, he had no particular reason to travel to London, their were places back in Scotland where he could have visited, and would do so in the future.
No, in London was his greatest chance he felt. He knew this City was ripe with Occult knowledge, hidden away in Libraries and tombs, perhaps calling for a little adventuring? One such place was before him, it had been an Ancient Site for Pagan worship before christianity had claimed it and built the wonder of Westminster Abby. History would tell of this spot being a great well of energy, a powerful place of wisdom and knowledge. He hoped their libraries would hold true to this.
Michael had another reason for coming here, and perhaps a more important one...he needed a place to stay, and prayed to the Powers above that the Monks inside would be able to offer temporary shelter until he could find a place of his own. Though the latter was a long shot, a stranger from Scotland in an English City, he merely had to cross his fingers.
Approaching the entrance to the Abby, Michael curled his fist and hammered against the thick door, hoping his presence would be noticed. The young man knew fine well however, that he would have to keep his more religious reasons for being here, a secret, for although this place was once a Sacred Site, Christians now ruled here and would not take kindly to his blasphemous person entering the House of the Lord. They would be unable to understand him, it was one thing he detested the most about the Church System, they also rejected that which was not of their own making or beliefs. Misunderstanding always led to fear, and fear to hatred. Well, this was his own thinking, perhaps in time he would be proved wrong.
Last edited by Michael on Wed Mar 02, 2005 8:43 am; edited 1 time in total
- Author: Laveaux, PostPosted: Wed Mar 02, 2005 8:33 pm
The winter morning was overcast over the city of London. Deep clouds washed the sky like soiled feathers. Cold and wet air sat over the city cloaking windows with ice, frost, and snow from a recent fall. The morning was still.
The massive doors to the Abbey closed, because the Church recognized this holiday, albeit less-than-Christian in intent. Michael's pounding was met with cold silence. Standing still caused the chill to crawl up his clothing and grip him. Used to much harsher weather in the Scottish north it did nothing but pester his comfort.
At last the door opened by a balding, dark-haired priest wearing black cossacks and sash. His eagle eyes looked past Michael into the street and then floated back to him.
"Yes, child?" He said with a thick Irish accent.
- Author: Michael, PostPosted: Thu Mar 03, 2005 9:38 am
Michael offered a wide and innocent smile, " Forgive me if I caused any disturbance, Father, however I am new to London and.... ", he glanced about himself, wetting his lips, " I'll be honest and admit to being a little intimidated by its sheer magnitude. ", he allowed a little pink to brighten his otherwise colourless cheeks, a sign of small embarrasment, and in all truth, not one entrely feigned.
" I knew of the Abby however, and thought to find comfort in its walls, just for the day Father, I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. "
The youth took a step back, giving the appearance of shy and easily overpowered child. " Perhaps I was too forward in my thinking... the Lord forgive me. ", he half expected a bolt of lightning to smite him where he stood for invoking the Almighty's name in this situation.
" If anything, Father, do you by any chance know of accomdation suitable for an aspiring Historian? As I said I am new and know that some sinful men would take advantage of a young lad like myself. ", another small smile. " So the wise words of a man like yourself would be greatly appreciated. ", he bobbed his head once, signalling that he was finished his rant.
- Author: Laveaux, PostPosted: Fri Mar 04, 2005 9:24 am
The ordained Irishman smiled at the young man's bashfulness. He checked around again, perhaps seeing if he would have to invite an entire flock in on a day the Abbey was closed.
"Well it's like me mother used to say, the Almighty doesn't have locks on His door, now does He?"
The priest fell back and opened the door to Westminster Abbey allowing Michael to enter.
Inside, the partly cloudy morning through bright and amplified light into what could only be described as heaven on Earth. Black and white tiled floors stretched far up to the main atrium and rectory, which was dwarfed by immense stain glass windows and decorated arches. The coats of arms of Royal families dawned the side of the cathedral.
Cavernous arches built to represent God Himself towered high above a hardwood floor. Although pews were lined forward to the gold-adorned alter ahead, they were invisible beneath the grandiose vertical prominence of the main chamber.
The priest was not alone that day. Two other priests could be spotted wandering the area and a couple of devotees who managed to find there way inside as well.
- Author: Michael, PostPosted: Sat Mar 05, 2005 10:27 am
As Michael entered the Abby, he could do little else except bask in the astounding beauty he witnessed, the sense of power and well being. The Abby was old and it was that very fact that interested him the greatest, for many Old things tended to contain old secrets and knowledge. He could barely contain the excitement he felt, however manage to restrain himself enough and merely gaze in abject wonder.
" This place is beautiful, Father, I had heard of its splendour of course, yet to see it with my own eyes.... ", he allowed his eyes to mist slightly, which wasn't a hard task to do, already bursting with emotion. " I hope I am causing no trouble though. ", the corner of his lips twitched in a small smile, again his cheeks flushing. He pulled back a lock of black hair that had fallen astray across his vision. " Tell me, Father. I had heard the Abby has a rather impressive library? ", his gaze was wandering to the stained glass windows, keeping his voice soft, as though the question was merely a passing thought in the young man's head. " I am somewhat a Historian, or rather I like to think myself one..... finding out more about the Abby would be a great adventure. Of course, I mean not to appear ungrateful in anyway, allowing me to see inside the Abby on this day is kindness beyond measure. "
- Author: Laveaux, PostPosted: Sun Mar 06, 2005 2:51 pm
Smiling, the priest put a gentle hand behind Michael's back to guide him toward a chamber at the end of a wildly decorated corridor.
"The Library and Muniment Room is closed at this time, but you are in luck. Deacon Morris is doing his studies in there this morning and I'm sure he will not mind company."
Pointing two a double-door chambered at the end of the corridor he said, "Help yourself. When you are finished you may visit the Secretary about a place to stay."
The Irishman bowed politely and headed back to the rectory.
- Author: Michael, PostPosted: Fri Mar 25, 2005 7:42 am
Michael bobed his head, rather foolishly, " Thank you Father, it is most definately appreciated. ", he smiled warmly though as the irish priest made his way back to his previous venture, at which point the smile on his face vanished and his eye brow rose slightly. He turned and regarded the double doors at the other end of the corridor, he studied them silently for some several minutes, thinking hard.
With a deep breath, Michael made his way forward, reaching the doors quickly and pulling on the handle to open one of them. As it opened, he stuck his head inside, adopting once more that feigned innocent and somewhat bewildered expression, plus the truthful look of abject awe. He proceeded to enter the Library, making sure to keep a look out for any sight of this Decon.
" Deacon Morris? ", his voice was low, barely above a loud whisper, for he still retained that respect of silence for places of knowledge and learning. He had to admit that there was a great amount of excitement and apprehension building up within himself, not surprisingly considering where he was and what he was actually looking to gain.
- Author: The Ambassador, PostPosted: Sat Mar 26, 2005 6:45 pm
Upon entering no one was immediately visible, just the vast tomes and tables arranged neatly.
It was quite large, but it was as silent as its size, and even at Michael's whisper level, a body startled could be heard behind a few rows of bookshelves.
The shuffling of aged footsteps could be heard making it's way towards Michael's voice.
Michael would spot the Deacon before the Deacon him, and when the Deacon turned him he was startled.
He was a defintely aged man, deep wrinkles ran across his face, especially above his brow, no doubt from years of stern thought.
"Hello there, son, I'm sorry, the hearing has stayed, but the heart is easily stirred. Is there something I can do for you?"