[Emerging into consciousness in such a way is…strange to him; it's unlike anything he's experienced, it's unlike his time spent fifty days ago, but there's a sense of closeness and familiarity that doesn't quite leave him alone, either. This is him, and it's those wandering nearby, and it's everyone all at once; it's a connection to the universe both comforting and alarming. Standing in the presence of something greater than himself, seeing the universe for what it is, and what it was, and what it shall be...
It isn't anything like he could have imagined it being, but that doesn't surprise him - for what mind may comprehend the vastness and the greatness of God?
He does pause, however, as he comes to the crossroads, that split in the path between light and dark; one choice seems obvious, one somewhat less so - but then, is it not his calling to dispel the darkness? There's an irony in that, surely, the outpouring of the fourth vial anointing his head, but for the time being it leaves him indecisive, his heart hesitant to follow.
The arrival of someone else seems to bring him back into himself, one of those wandering close enough to address; he knows better than to think it's someone interested in joining him, at least intentionally, but he isn't going to refuse to remain in their presence, either.
Paul has always been slow of speech, drawing his thoughts as though from the pit of a well far below; they're thought-out, measured, but overall not the sort that's trying to coax any particular conclusion from his current company.]
We should choose a direction; whichever calls to us most strongly. Will you come with me?
II. Acts of Service.
[He's captured in the shrine of the Martyr; although he notes his captor's lack of willingness to enter, he chooses to not make life harder on anyone than it really needs to be. There's fear in it, surely; he would have to be insane for there to not be fear in it, but largely there's just a feeling of emptiness - the sensation of being cut off from everything he knows, everyone on Crockett Island just gone from him, and for the first time in a long time he doubts. For in the absence of his world comes the shaking of his faith; there should be joy in it, if what happened was an act of God - his Lord reclaiming His people, as opposed to the darkness at the edges of his mind.
So he goes with his captors willingly; the whip does bite into his skin, offering him a strange sort of blank respite from having to consider anything too deeply. He can just be alone with his thoughts, and not have to worry about making himself do anything; his lips move silently in practiced, rote memorized prayer, because even if he can't be sure of the how or why of anything, it offers the dubious promise of eventual intercession.
If there's anything to hear him; if there's anything to intercede for them anymore. Just the same, there's a source of strength there, maybe. Be not afraid.
He doesn't eat.
It's noticeable, on this journey, that he eats nothing; rather, he'll offer his rations to anyone that seems to want it, or need it, or just generally seems to be going through it. Occasionally he'll offer for no better reason than you tried to sock a guard in the goddamned face, and while they may frown upon doing that, he certainly doesn't.
Whatever his reasons, you're being approached today.]
Father Paul Hill | Midnight Mass | Martyr
[Emerging into consciousness in such a way is…strange to him; it's unlike anything he's experienced, it's unlike his time spent fifty days ago, but there's a sense of closeness and familiarity that doesn't quite leave him alone, either. This is him, and it's those wandering nearby, and it's everyone all at once; it's a connection to the universe both comforting and alarming. Standing in the presence of something greater than himself, seeing the universe for what it is, and what it was, and what it shall be...
It isn't anything like he could have imagined it being, but that doesn't surprise him - for what mind may comprehend the vastness and the greatness of God?
He does pause, however, as he comes to the crossroads, that split in the path between light and dark; one choice seems obvious, one somewhat less so - but then, is it not his calling to dispel the darkness? There's an irony in that, surely, the outpouring of the fourth vial anointing his head, but for the time being it leaves him indecisive, his heart hesitant to follow.
The arrival of someone else seems to bring him back into himself, one of those wandering close enough to address; he knows better than to think it's someone interested in joining him, at least intentionally, but he isn't going to refuse to remain in their presence, either.
Paul has always been slow of speech, drawing his thoughts as though from the pit of a well far below; they're thought-out, measured, but overall not the sort that's trying to coax any particular conclusion from his current company.]
We should choose a direction; whichever calls to us most strongly. Will you come with me?
II. Acts of Service.
[He's captured in the shrine of the Martyr; although he notes his captor's lack of willingness to enter, he chooses to not make life harder on anyone than it really needs to be. There's fear in it, surely; he would have to be insane for there to not be fear in it, but largely there's just a feeling of emptiness - the sensation of being cut off from everything he knows, everyone on Crockett Island just gone from him, and for the first time in a long time he doubts. For in the absence of his world comes the shaking of his faith; there should be joy in it, if what happened was an act of God - his Lord reclaiming His people, as opposed to the darkness at the edges of his mind.
So he goes with his captors willingly; the whip does bite into his skin, offering him a strange sort of blank respite from having to consider anything too deeply. He can just be alone with his thoughts, and not have to worry about making himself do anything; his lips move silently in practiced, rote memorized prayer, because even if he can't be sure of the how or why of anything, it offers the dubious promise of eventual intercession.
If there's anything to hear him; if there's anything to intercede for them anymore. Just the same, there's a source of strength there, maybe. Be not afraid.
He doesn't eat.
It's noticeable, on this journey, that he eats nothing; rather, he'll offer his rations to anyone that seems to want it, or need it, or just generally seems to be going through it. Occasionally he'll offer for no better reason than you tried to sock a guard in the goddamned face, and while they may frown upon doing that, he certainly doesn't.
Whatever his reasons, you're being approached today.]
Take this; it's yours, if you want it.