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Nov. 9th, 2004 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ragdoll1320,339 words so far. Slowing down. Not happy about it.
"Robert 'Chance' Dailey, please stand," said the attendant. I was back in that strange black room. Behind the table an older man was seated in the black chair. Before him on the table rested a huge book and a set of golden scales. His hair was brown, cropped short, and he wore a full beard. His large frame was encased in a shining and elaborate suit of armor, and an unsheathed sword rested on the table near his right hand. I was seated in a chair beside the one Chance occupied. "Abaddon," I said softly, upon recognizing the gorgeous raven-haired young man standing behind the table to the left. He walked forward, gave a feral grin and took my hand.
"Rachel. As enchanting as ever, I see," he said, his voice like velvet, and he bowed over my outstretched hand and kissed it, his lips moving softly against my skin. I blushed hotly.
"Hey, hands off!" Chance leapt from his chair and took an angry step forward.
"Stop!" Another familiar voice, and I saw golden-haired Gabriel standing to the right of the brown-haired man. He held up his hand, and Chance stopped mid-step, his mouth working mutely, his expression rageful.
Abaddon chuckled, his brilliant green eyes merry. The brown-haired man gave him a warning glance, and he subsided, still grinning. He paced back to his place behind the table.
"The rules of this trial will be adhered to, by force if necessary," said the brown-haired man. "My name is Michael, The Sword of God, Prince of Serraphim and First General of the Legions of Heaven. Robert Dailey, you are now to be judged based on the contents of your mortal life. If you prove righteous, you will join us in the kingdom of Heaven and leave behind the trials of your mortal existance, to live for ever in the light and love of God."
"Chance, please," he said, and walked forward, taking the seat in front of Michael.
"If you are judged wicked, you will remain on earth in your mortal body, deprived of the gift of Death and removed from the sight of God, to burn in the fires of Gehenna and then drift in the emptiness of the Void in eternal torment," Michael replied. He placed a snowy-white velvet sack on the table. "Shall we proceed?"
Chance swallowed and nodded. He was nervous, and rightfully so, I thought. It was a shock to me to see him so subdued, shoulders hunched, head down.
"Chance Dailey. Over the course of your life, you have been lustful. You have commited acts of fornication and are guilty of adultery. You have given your life over to the pursuit of earthly pleasures, you have indulged in strong drink and intoxicating substances, you have profited by distributing those substances to others. You are a theif and a liar," with each statement, Michael dropped a small black weight onto the left side of the scales, "you are given to fits of temper. You have engaged in acts of voilence, and are guilty of murder." Chance flinched.
"You are given to acts of kindness," he said, now placing small weights of gold in the right hand side of the scale, "and are strong in defense of the weak. You do not suffer from avariciousness. You have acted in a just fashion on more than one occasion in the past."
The four small weights on the right hand side did not compete with the number of black ones on the other. Chance slumped and moaned softly.
"Chance Dailey, you have not led a righteous life, and though you were warned specifically that this day would come, you have not taken the time to focus on the spiritual and ask for forgiveness for the things you have done wrong. Because of this unrepentant attitude, the gates of Heaven are barred to you. You will return and continue life among the earthly things that brought you so much pleasure."
"You may return to your seat, Mr Dailey," said Abaddon, gesturing. The young man could not keep laughter from his eyes, and the tone in his voice was richly mocking.
"Rachel MacAllister, please stand," said the attendant.
I remained silent, and seated myself in the chair across from the table. I glanced back at Chance, but he was seated, staring daggers at Abaddon, who smiled mockingly back at him.
"Rachel MacAllister, you have shown over the course of your life that you are a kind person. You have engaged in acts of charity, you are honest in most situations. You have not given yourself over to indulgence in intoxicating substances. Your actions are, for the most part, just. You do not engage in acts of violence, nor are you given to vanity." With each virtue named, Michael dropped a small gold weight onto the right-hand side of the scale.
"However, you are lustful, and are a fornicator," he said, and two small black weights dropped into the left-hand side of the scale. "You covet the things of others, and suffer from greed. You have engaged in acts of soddomy." Three more little weights dropped onto the scale. Abaddon cocked an eyebrow at me and his smile widened. I looked down. Michael continued, "You have allowed the physical pleasures of mortal life to turn your face away from God. You have indulged in fits of wrath, and have spurned love in favor of fury. While you have largely acted in accordance with your personal sense of honor, these things, combined with a host of minor sins, do not weigh in your favor."
He stared for a moment at the scales before him, perfectly balanced.
"Robert 'Chance' Dailey, please stand," said the attendant. I was back in that strange black room. Behind the table an older man was seated in the black chair. Before him on the table rested a huge book and a set of golden scales. His hair was brown, cropped short, and he wore a full beard. His large frame was encased in a shining and elaborate suit of armor, and an unsheathed sword rested on the table near his right hand. I was seated in a chair beside the one Chance occupied. "Abaddon," I said softly, upon recognizing the gorgeous raven-haired young man standing behind the table to the left. He walked forward, gave a feral grin and took my hand.
"Rachel. As enchanting as ever, I see," he said, his voice like velvet, and he bowed over my outstretched hand and kissed it, his lips moving softly against my skin. I blushed hotly.
"Hey, hands off!" Chance leapt from his chair and took an angry step forward.
"Stop!" Another familiar voice, and I saw golden-haired Gabriel standing to the right of the brown-haired man. He held up his hand, and Chance stopped mid-step, his mouth working mutely, his expression rageful.
Abaddon chuckled, his brilliant green eyes merry. The brown-haired man gave him a warning glance, and he subsided, still grinning. He paced back to his place behind the table.
"The rules of this trial will be adhered to, by force if necessary," said the brown-haired man. "My name is Michael, The Sword of God, Prince of Serraphim and First General of the Legions of Heaven. Robert Dailey, you are now to be judged based on the contents of your mortal life. If you prove righteous, you will join us in the kingdom of Heaven and leave behind the trials of your mortal existance, to live for ever in the light and love of God."
"Chance, please," he said, and walked forward, taking the seat in front of Michael.
"If you are judged wicked, you will remain on earth in your mortal body, deprived of the gift of Death and removed from the sight of God, to burn in the fires of Gehenna and then drift in the emptiness of the Void in eternal torment," Michael replied. He placed a snowy-white velvet sack on the table. "Shall we proceed?"
Chance swallowed and nodded. He was nervous, and rightfully so, I thought. It was a shock to me to see him so subdued, shoulders hunched, head down.
"Chance Dailey. Over the course of your life, you have been lustful. You have commited acts of fornication and are guilty of adultery. You have given your life over to the pursuit of earthly pleasures, you have indulged in strong drink and intoxicating substances, you have profited by distributing those substances to others. You are a theif and a liar," with each statement, Michael dropped a small black weight onto the left side of the scales, "you are given to fits of temper. You have engaged in acts of voilence, and are guilty of murder." Chance flinched.
"You are given to acts of kindness," he said, now placing small weights of gold in the right hand side of the scale, "and are strong in defense of the weak. You do not suffer from avariciousness. You have acted in a just fashion on more than one occasion in the past."
The four small weights on the right hand side did not compete with the number of black ones on the other. Chance slumped and moaned softly.
"Chance Dailey, you have not led a righteous life, and though you were warned specifically that this day would come, you have not taken the time to focus on the spiritual and ask for forgiveness for the things you have done wrong. Because of this unrepentant attitude, the gates of Heaven are barred to you. You will return and continue life among the earthly things that brought you so much pleasure."
"You may return to your seat, Mr Dailey," said Abaddon, gesturing. The young man could not keep laughter from his eyes, and the tone in his voice was richly mocking.
"Rachel MacAllister, please stand," said the attendant.
I remained silent, and seated myself in the chair across from the table. I glanced back at Chance, but he was seated, staring daggers at Abaddon, who smiled mockingly back at him.
"Rachel MacAllister, you have shown over the course of your life that you are a kind person. You have engaged in acts of charity, you are honest in most situations. You have not given yourself over to indulgence in intoxicating substances. Your actions are, for the most part, just. You do not engage in acts of violence, nor are you given to vanity." With each virtue named, Michael dropped a small gold weight onto the right-hand side of the scale.
"However, you are lustful, and are a fornicator," he said, and two small black weights dropped into the left-hand side of the scale. "You covet the things of others, and suffer from greed. You have engaged in acts of soddomy." Three more little weights dropped onto the scale. Abaddon cocked an eyebrow at me and his smile widened. I looked down. Michael continued, "You have allowed the physical pleasures of mortal life to turn your face away from God. You have indulged in fits of wrath, and have spurned love in favor of fury. While you have largely acted in accordance with your personal sense of honor, these things, combined with a host of minor sins, do not weigh in your favor."
He stared for a moment at the scales before him, perfectly balanced.
