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rainbowfic2012-04-18 01:23 am
lexicalcrow) wrote in rainbowfic2012-04-18 01:23 am
Celestial Blue #3, Atomic Tangerine #14, Xanadu #10
Title: Star of the Sea
Author: Sashataakheru
Colours: Celestial Blue #3 (doubt), Atomic Tangerine #14 (Doomsday), Xanadu #10 (Paradise lost)
Word Count: 2,394
Rating: FRT
Warning: one instance of non-explicit self-injury in a religious context
Author's Notes: Sparkadia's video for 'Mary' is partly responsible for this. The rest... IDEK. Quasi-Catholic religious End Times IDEK what. This is pretty rough, tbh, and it's only had a quick and dirty revision for spelling/grammar. This was one of those 'you can't go to bed til you've written this down' pieces. I have no idea if this is another universe to play in, or just a one-shot. We'll see.
Star of the Sea
Brother Jacque had been dreaming of the End Times for months. He had not found any peace, not with the world as it was. The country was falling, of that most people were convinced. The monastery belonging to the Order of Our Lady of Benediction had never been so busy, tending to all those in need. It was stretching their small resources to their very limit. If not for the gardens and farms that kept the monks mostly self-sufficient, they would have had to turn people away.
The fall had been so rapid no one had barely had time to realise what had happened before they had lost everything. What Government was left had fallen into the hands of the rich and corrupt. The only ones the people could rely on was themselves, and possibly the Gods, assuming they hadn't abandoned the country already like rats in a sinking ship.
The only Divine voice had been the Blue Goddess, who had not been able to stand the sight of the suffering people. She had not been Jacque's God, She belonged to other people, but Jacque was the only one who was listening. She knew what was to come and shared it with him. The people deserved more warning than other Gods cared to offer.
But She was not welcome in the monastery, and Jacque had been counselled to seek purification. She was obviously a demon trying to tempt him away from the faith, according to the Abbot. But it had not helped. The dreams continued. They were filled with unspeakable horror, telling of more than just corrupt Government. He saw lands laid to waste, even the monastery itself. Whole countries lay in ruin, the people extinguished in an instant, or so it seemed. An empty barren Earth had never seemed so frightening. How anyone could survive that was beyond him.
After the first dream, he had run into the chapel to pray, beseeching Saint Mary to reassure him it was not prophecy and to relieve him of the nightmare. Jacque was not cut out to be a prophet. He had heard tales of madness and exile from others who had been called to be prophets, and he felt he'd lived long enough to leave prophecy to other monks.
But he got no reply. Saint Mary's silence disturbed him, and it was not until the second dream that he began to understand the Blue Goddess was his Saint Mary, but was also a fully divine Goddess in Her own right. That had scared him even more. He'd heard of blue Goddesses from India with lashing tongues and a violent disposition. She reassured him She was not like this. She was compassionate and kind, and She only cared that the people did not suffer.
Jacque wanted to believe Her, but he had been a monk too long. Not even Saint Mary's reassurance that they were prophetic dreams helped. Prophecy was for others, not him. He did his best to ignore them until he could not ignore them anymore.
Praying in the chapel at dawn, Jacque was plagued by doubt. He had become convinced he had been chosen as a prophet, but he was so reluctant to speak of his visions he kept silent. The only people at the monastery who knew was an eclectic group of fifteen believers who had also been dreaming. Not so strongly as the monk, but enough to convince him they were dreaming about the same thing. They'd all been visited by the Blue Goddess.
They were not all Catholic. There were two ex-Amish kids, a few frightened Protestants, two Jewish women who had found nowhere else to go, and a group of young men and women who had been turned away from every other church, monastery, temple and synagogue in the vicinity because their faith was considered too pagan. Jacque had convinced the Abbot to let them stay, that they should not be turning people away during such a time of strife and distress.
The dreams were becoming much more persistent and urgent now. Jacque was not entirely sure that angering the Gods was actually the cause. Perhaps Saint Mary had become angry at them for bowing to another Goddess. Perhaps his instinct that the Goddess and Mary were part of the same energy had been incorrect. Perhaps the Goddess was a demon after all. It did not matter where he was. The Goddess did not leave his vision.
'Come to the water's edge,' was all She said.
Her voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Jacque knew of no shrine by the water except for an old shrine to Saint Mary Star of the Sea that hadn't been used for at least a hundred years. It was an old pilgrimage site that had been closed off because the rocky shore was considered too dangerous after a small boy drowned there attempting to reach the Lady's shrine.
But it was the only place that felt right. Jacque did not want to go. He had heard bad stories about that place. But She was calling to him. She called to the others who could hear Her and asked them to come.
"If the Lady calls us, we must do as She says," Corinna had told him as he sat in the olive groves, wracked with doubt. She was a twin, and she and her sister had been at the monastery for six years now, abandoned by their parents who had fled back to Africa. Her sister Ardia sat beside her, quietly reciting the rosary, the beads slipping through her fingers with ease.
Jacque held his head in his hands. "It is far too dangerous. It is far away and a desolate beastly place. I should not like to go there, not now. Not when the sky is glowing and I am being told to foretell the end of the world. Not by some woman I hardly think is a Goddess."
Alix knelt in front of him. "There must be a reason She wants us down there. Perhaps She knows how to end this. Maybe She can save us all."
Jacque looked up at the blonde girl. "I doubt any Goddess can save us now. All the Gods have forsaken us. We are doomed to our own destruction."
She did not look pleased. She reached for his habit and shook him. "She may be our last hope, brother. She may be the only one who's listening to us now. If She calls us to the sea, we must go. Perhaps She is leading us to our own destruction. At least it would be of our own choosing. We are listless here, sitting around waiting. If we have a chance to act, why wouldn't we take it? It might just save us. What have we got to lose?"
Brother Jacque scratched his head wearily. He had been here too long. He was no prophet. But what else did they have to lose? If he was dreaming true, they would die soon enough anyway. What did it matter if they died in the ocean before Doomsday came to pass?
Brother Jacque insisted on offerings. If they were going to visit a sacred shrine, they should come with the proper offerings. Saint Mary would not accept them if they did not come prepared. Loading the offerings into the old wooden cart, the pilgrims set off for the old shrine as the sky turned dark around them.
They travelled for three days until they came to the ocean. The rocks were just as hostile and formidable as they'd been when the site was still used. The ground was flat in places, the old bitumen car park had half crumbled apart as the acid rain fell on it all those years ago. Brother Jacque stopped them at the entrance and led the group in prayer.
"Oh Holy Mother, Saint Above all Saints, hear the cries of your children. Saint Mary, Star of the Sea, who appeared here all those years ago, may you accept these our humble offerings from us that you may help us now when the world is in dire need of your presence. Great Lady, please hear us now. No one else is listening. The Gods have fallen silent and the world has fallen. There is nothing but crying now. Nothing at all but the cries of the destitute, the poor, those who have been left behind. We dream of what is to come, and it frightenens us, Great Mother. You have called us to the sea, and we are here. We pray you hear us now. Save us all from what is to come."
There was a murmuring of similar prayers and the faithful bowed their heads to the sea as they offered up their gifts. Prying the old gate open, brother Jacque led the procession down the old road towards the shrine, singing and chanting as they went. Kasy played a soft beat on a snare drum to keep them all in time.
The air was still and quiet. The crash of waves against the rocks was a soft intrusion into the sacred space before them. The old altar had fallen apart a long time ago. They lay their gifts nearby as best they could.
Jacque wasn't sure he remembered all the old rituals he was meant to do when offering at a shrine, but he started the opening prayers, leading them all in song and dance as they tried to appease the Gods above. Perhaps if they did it right, they would be spared.
A storm brewed around them. Clouds covered the sky and rain fell on them as they danced. Jacque decided against seeing the storm as a terrible omen. He had seen quite enough of those for a lifetime, and had no desire to have any more.
"Saint Mary, Great Mother to the Holy Christos, hear us now! Your Children call to you!"
The cry echoed around the space, bouncing off the rocks as it travelled to the Heavens. A roll of thunder replied, along with a flash of lightning. Jacque knelt down and turned his gaze to the Heavens, begging anyone who would listen to save them from what was foretold. He had decided to trust this Goddess, because he had no one else to turn to. If She was Mary like Mary was the Goddess, then perhaps She would still hear them.
Jacque led them in confession, offering all their sins up to Her that they may be forgiven for any wrongdoing they may have committed. Jacque had never felt so afraid in his life. This was not just an economic crisis. The last one had rocked the world, yes, but they had recovered. This was the End Times. There would be no escape. He hated that most people did not know what was coming. He hated that he had been chosen as prophet. He did not think there would be enough time to prophetise to the whole world before it would all end in flames anyway.
All fell silent as the last notes of their song floated out to the sea, lost in the roar of the waves. Their crash was louder now, threatening to flood over the rocks and drown them all, spurred on by the storm above.
"Leave me a moment. I must pay my respects to the Lady," Jacque said.
They bowed their heads and watched him begin the climb past the public worship area towards the much smaller sacred shrine tucked up behind the rocks. It was precariously close to the sea, and he could feel the spray on his face as he approached. There wasn't much of a shrine left. The sacred icon had vanished, probably looted, and only the cross bolted to the rock remained, as well as a few scraps of paper with prayers scrawled on them tucked into any crevace that they could find.
Jacque had his own offerings to leave, and he bowed deeply as he offered the wine, pouring it onto the ground. It wasn't as much as he should leave. Stealing sacramental wine was not something he wanted on his conscious. To make up for it, he made a shallow cut in his palm and let the blood drip onto the rock.
"My blood may not be that of the Holy Christos, but I offer it as a true believer in your honour, my Lady. I offer it as a sacrifice. May you grant us your presence," Jacque whispered.
Clasping his fingers around the wound to try to stem the blood, he knelt down, overpowered by the sudden sensation of love and compassion he felt around him. He could see no one, but that soft voice called to him again, and the doubts in his mind almost fled.
"Can you save us all, my Lady?"
The wind picked up, blowing cold air over him. He had his message. Curling into himself, he bowed once last time before straightening. As he stood, he saw Her. She glowed with golden white light, and She observed him with a calm expression.
Jacque fell to his knees again, ignoring the jarring pain as he fell down onto rough stone ground. A deep fear speared his heart.
"Why? Why is this happening? I don't understand any of this. What's going to happen? Are we all going to be wiped out? Is that what the dreams are foretelling?"
She did not speak, but pointed off into the distance. Jacque turned and looked in the direction She indicated. He could not have described what he saw if anyone had asked. He had no idea what to do. He wasn't sure he could go back to them, to those loyal faithful believers, and tell them that. He had no words for that.
She came up beside him and rested a hand over his heart. She kissed his cheek, and told him what to do. She had saved them. But the cost was enormous. Jacque did not know how to react. She touched his heart again. He understood, but he did not like it.
He closed his eyes a moment. The Goddess was gone from him, Her presence as empty as the world they would be returning to. All was lost, everything had been burnt in flames, and only the dreamers were safe.
(How am I the first person to use the colour Xanadu? I'll need a tag for that, thanks, mods, as well as an author tag. If I write in this universe again, I'll request a story tag. But you can leave it for now, if you like.)
Author: Sashataakheru
Colours: Celestial Blue #3 (doubt), Atomic Tangerine #14 (Doomsday), Xanadu #10 (Paradise lost)
Word Count: 2,394
Rating: FRT
Warning: one instance of non-explicit self-injury in a religious context
Author's Notes: Sparkadia's video for 'Mary' is partly responsible for this. The rest... IDEK. Quasi-Catholic religious End Times IDEK what. This is pretty rough, tbh, and it's only had a quick and dirty revision for spelling/grammar. This was one of those 'you can't go to bed til you've written this down' pieces. I have no idea if this is another universe to play in, or just a one-shot. We'll see.
Star of the Sea
Brother Jacque had been dreaming of the End Times for months. He had not found any peace, not with the world as it was. The country was falling, of that most people were convinced. The monastery belonging to the Order of Our Lady of Benediction had never been so busy, tending to all those in need. It was stretching their small resources to their very limit. If not for the gardens and farms that kept the monks mostly self-sufficient, they would have had to turn people away.
The fall had been so rapid no one had barely had time to realise what had happened before they had lost everything. What Government was left had fallen into the hands of the rich and corrupt. The only ones the people could rely on was themselves, and possibly the Gods, assuming they hadn't abandoned the country already like rats in a sinking ship.
The only Divine voice had been the Blue Goddess, who had not been able to stand the sight of the suffering people. She had not been Jacque's God, She belonged to other people, but Jacque was the only one who was listening. She knew what was to come and shared it with him. The people deserved more warning than other Gods cared to offer.
But She was not welcome in the monastery, and Jacque had been counselled to seek purification. She was obviously a demon trying to tempt him away from the faith, according to the Abbot. But it had not helped. The dreams continued. They were filled with unspeakable horror, telling of more than just corrupt Government. He saw lands laid to waste, even the monastery itself. Whole countries lay in ruin, the people extinguished in an instant, or so it seemed. An empty barren Earth had never seemed so frightening. How anyone could survive that was beyond him.
After the first dream, he had run into the chapel to pray, beseeching Saint Mary to reassure him it was not prophecy and to relieve him of the nightmare. Jacque was not cut out to be a prophet. He had heard tales of madness and exile from others who had been called to be prophets, and he felt he'd lived long enough to leave prophecy to other monks.
But he got no reply. Saint Mary's silence disturbed him, and it was not until the second dream that he began to understand the Blue Goddess was his Saint Mary, but was also a fully divine Goddess in Her own right. That had scared him even more. He'd heard of blue Goddesses from India with lashing tongues and a violent disposition. She reassured him She was not like this. She was compassionate and kind, and She only cared that the people did not suffer.
Jacque wanted to believe Her, but he had been a monk too long. Not even Saint Mary's reassurance that they were prophetic dreams helped. Prophecy was for others, not him. He did his best to ignore them until he could not ignore them anymore.
Praying in the chapel at dawn, Jacque was plagued by doubt. He had become convinced he had been chosen as a prophet, but he was so reluctant to speak of his visions he kept silent. The only people at the monastery who knew was an eclectic group of fifteen believers who had also been dreaming. Not so strongly as the monk, but enough to convince him they were dreaming about the same thing. They'd all been visited by the Blue Goddess.
They were not all Catholic. There were two ex-Amish kids, a few frightened Protestants, two Jewish women who had found nowhere else to go, and a group of young men and women who had been turned away from every other church, monastery, temple and synagogue in the vicinity because their faith was considered too pagan. Jacque had convinced the Abbot to let them stay, that they should not be turning people away during such a time of strife and distress.
The dreams were becoming much more persistent and urgent now. Jacque was not entirely sure that angering the Gods was actually the cause. Perhaps Saint Mary had become angry at them for bowing to another Goddess. Perhaps his instinct that the Goddess and Mary were part of the same energy had been incorrect. Perhaps the Goddess was a demon after all. It did not matter where he was. The Goddess did not leave his vision.
'Come to the water's edge,' was all She said.
Her voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Jacque knew of no shrine by the water except for an old shrine to Saint Mary Star of the Sea that hadn't been used for at least a hundred years. It was an old pilgrimage site that had been closed off because the rocky shore was considered too dangerous after a small boy drowned there attempting to reach the Lady's shrine.
But it was the only place that felt right. Jacque did not want to go. He had heard bad stories about that place. But She was calling to him. She called to the others who could hear Her and asked them to come.
"If the Lady calls us, we must do as She says," Corinna had told him as he sat in the olive groves, wracked with doubt. She was a twin, and she and her sister had been at the monastery for six years now, abandoned by their parents who had fled back to Africa. Her sister Ardia sat beside her, quietly reciting the rosary, the beads slipping through her fingers with ease.
Jacque held his head in his hands. "It is far too dangerous. It is far away and a desolate beastly place. I should not like to go there, not now. Not when the sky is glowing and I am being told to foretell the end of the world. Not by some woman I hardly think is a Goddess."
Alix knelt in front of him. "There must be a reason She wants us down there. Perhaps She knows how to end this. Maybe She can save us all."
Jacque looked up at the blonde girl. "I doubt any Goddess can save us now. All the Gods have forsaken us. We are doomed to our own destruction."
She did not look pleased. She reached for his habit and shook him. "She may be our last hope, brother. She may be the only one who's listening to us now. If She calls us to the sea, we must go. Perhaps She is leading us to our own destruction. At least it would be of our own choosing. We are listless here, sitting around waiting. If we have a chance to act, why wouldn't we take it? It might just save us. What have we got to lose?"
Brother Jacque scratched his head wearily. He had been here too long. He was no prophet. But what else did they have to lose? If he was dreaming true, they would die soon enough anyway. What did it matter if they died in the ocean before Doomsday came to pass?
Brother Jacque insisted on offerings. If they were going to visit a sacred shrine, they should come with the proper offerings. Saint Mary would not accept them if they did not come prepared. Loading the offerings into the old wooden cart, the pilgrims set off for the old shrine as the sky turned dark around them.
They travelled for three days until they came to the ocean. The rocks were just as hostile and formidable as they'd been when the site was still used. The ground was flat in places, the old bitumen car park had half crumbled apart as the acid rain fell on it all those years ago. Brother Jacque stopped them at the entrance and led the group in prayer.
"Oh Holy Mother, Saint Above all Saints, hear the cries of your children. Saint Mary, Star of the Sea, who appeared here all those years ago, may you accept these our humble offerings from us that you may help us now when the world is in dire need of your presence. Great Lady, please hear us now. No one else is listening. The Gods have fallen silent and the world has fallen. There is nothing but crying now. Nothing at all but the cries of the destitute, the poor, those who have been left behind. We dream of what is to come, and it frightenens us, Great Mother. You have called us to the sea, and we are here. We pray you hear us now. Save us all from what is to come."
There was a murmuring of similar prayers and the faithful bowed their heads to the sea as they offered up their gifts. Prying the old gate open, brother Jacque led the procession down the old road towards the shrine, singing and chanting as they went. Kasy played a soft beat on a snare drum to keep them all in time.
The air was still and quiet. The crash of waves against the rocks was a soft intrusion into the sacred space before them. The old altar had fallen apart a long time ago. They lay their gifts nearby as best they could.
Jacque wasn't sure he remembered all the old rituals he was meant to do when offering at a shrine, but he started the opening prayers, leading them all in song and dance as they tried to appease the Gods above. Perhaps if they did it right, they would be spared.
A storm brewed around them. Clouds covered the sky and rain fell on them as they danced. Jacque decided against seeing the storm as a terrible omen. He had seen quite enough of those for a lifetime, and had no desire to have any more.
"Saint Mary, Great Mother to the Holy Christos, hear us now! Your Children call to you!"
The cry echoed around the space, bouncing off the rocks as it travelled to the Heavens. A roll of thunder replied, along with a flash of lightning. Jacque knelt down and turned his gaze to the Heavens, begging anyone who would listen to save them from what was foretold. He had decided to trust this Goddess, because he had no one else to turn to. If She was Mary like Mary was the Goddess, then perhaps She would still hear them.
Jacque led them in confession, offering all their sins up to Her that they may be forgiven for any wrongdoing they may have committed. Jacque had never felt so afraid in his life. This was not just an economic crisis. The last one had rocked the world, yes, but they had recovered. This was the End Times. There would be no escape. He hated that most people did not know what was coming. He hated that he had been chosen as prophet. He did not think there would be enough time to prophetise to the whole world before it would all end in flames anyway.
All fell silent as the last notes of their song floated out to the sea, lost in the roar of the waves. Their crash was louder now, threatening to flood over the rocks and drown them all, spurred on by the storm above.
"Leave me a moment. I must pay my respects to the Lady," Jacque said.
They bowed their heads and watched him begin the climb past the public worship area towards the much smaller sacred shrine tucked up behind the rocks. It was precariously close to the sea, and he could feel the spray on his face as he approached. There wasn't much of a shrine left. The sacred icon had vanished, probably looted, and only the cross bolted to the rock remained, as well as a few scraps of paper with prayers scrawled on them tucked into any crevace that they could find.
Jacque had his own offerings to leave, and he bowed deeply as he offered the wine, pouring it onto the ground. It wasn't as much as he should leave. Stealing sacramental wine was not something he wanted on his conscious. To make up for it, he made a shallow cut in his palm and let the blood drip onto the rock.
"My blood may not be that of the Holy Christos, but I offer it as a true believer in your honour, my Lady. I offer it as a sacrifice. May you grant us your presence," Jacque whispered.
Clasping his fingers around the wound to try to stem the blood, he knelt down, overpowered by the sudden sensation of love and compassion he felt around him. He could see no one, but that soft voice called to him again, and the doubts in his mind almost fled.
"Can you save us all, my Lady?"
The wind picked up, blowing cold air over him. He had his message. Curling into himself, he bowed once last time before straightening. As he stood, he saw Her. She glowed with golden white light, and She observed him with a calm expression.
Jacque fell to his knees again, ignoring the jarring pain as he fell down onto rough stone ground. A deep fear speared his heart.
"Why? Why is this happening? I don't understand any of this. What's going to happen? Are we all going to be wiped out? Is that what the dreams are foretelling?"
She did not speak, but pointed off into the distance. Jacque turned and looked in the direction She indicated. He could not have described what he saw if anyone had asked. He had no idea what to do. He wasn't sure he could go back to them, to those loyal faithful believers, and tell them that. He had no words for that.
She came up beside him and rested a hand over his heart. She kissed his cheek, and told him what to do. She had saved them. But the cost was enormous. Jacque did not know how to react. She touched his heart again. He understood, but he did not like it.
He closed his eyes a moment. The Goddess was gone from him, Her presence as empty as the world they would be returning to. All was lost, everything had been burnt in flames, and only the dreamers were safe.
(How am I the first person to use the colour Xanadu? I'll need a tag for that, thanks, mods, as well as an author tag. If I write in this universe again, I'll request a story tag. But you can leave it for now, if you like.)
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I'll come back and read this when not at work.
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By all means, come back and read it when you have a spare moment. That's totally fine.
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I totally, totally want more.
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I have got some more in store, as it happens. Though at the moment, I'm tossing up a few ideas. I have to figure out where I want to go with it. But I've done some more character work, so I feel like I have the beginnings of proper characters.
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