| Hearts and Thorns |
[18 Jun 2007|03:07pm] |
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mood |
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 melancholy |
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music |
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"Listen to the Rain" by Evanescence |
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Rosa wandered quietly down the garden path, until she reached her quiet little circle of rosebushes. She had left Miria and Eva to their own devices... they were grown girls, and surely capable of amusing themselves without her. She had too much to think over.
Gone. Not left, not sleeping... gone. She reached up absently, rubbing lightly at the place where her neck and shoulder met... then sliding the hand back a touch further, her fingertips gently tracing the barely-tangible lines of the scar that graced the back of her neck. In her mind's eye, she saw his eyes as she agreed to let him mark her. She could see the tracery of her own artwork on his skin... he had kept every line she cut into his flesh, seemed to treasure each one. Because she belonged to another, she had only kept the one. It seemed very little to remember him by, now.
Of all the men that had passed through her Requiem, he was... unique. She'd had lovers, and conquests, and students, and rivals, and even enemies. But he alone had become something else. He was neither her prey, nor her inferior, nor her master. He had been her equal... her friend. A rare and precious commodity indeed.
Rosa sighed quietly, letting her hand fall back into her lap as she knelt on the soft grass by the flowerbeds. Maybe when Aroex came out of his room, finally, she would find out what had happened to him, but she didn't suppose it mattered. Nothing could last forever, really, not even the Damned. Still, she would remember him, for as long as her forever lasted. It would be her last promise to him.
"May the wind be ever at your back, Connor...."
As she rose to head inside, she absently remembered another promise, one she hadn't been able to keep. She never did get a chance to teach him to dance.
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| Tempering the Steel |
[16 May 2007|04:53am] |
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mood |
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 determined |
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Rosa paces quietly back and forth in the garden, her eyes burning an odd, lambent blue, like a gas flame.
I am a creature of weakness, of indulgence. Thus I have been since before my Damnation. I have nurtured this in myself, thinking my sin and weakness to be the tools with which I was to serve God's purpose. But in these nights, such tools prove unwieldy, made of substance too soft to shape the stone-bound minds of both unbelievers and my own covenant-mates. Such tools are meant to mold the souls of mortals. Damned are made of sterner stuff.
She pauses, looking around her at the roses that hedge in the small circle of garden in which she kneels. Other than the thorny rows of greenery, with their heavy-headed buds waiting for summer's blessing, there is no shelter here. Perfect.
The tools with which I have served God for these past two centuries prove unworthy for the new task to which I bend myself. And thus, I must have new tools. Stronger tools, better tempered. Their substance cleansed of impurities. She glances up at the honey-touched sky in the east, and a faint smile curves her lips. Fire makes pure. As the sun crests the horizon and falls across her flawless skin, she drops to her knees and faces the dawn. Her voice comes in a tightly controlled whisper, though she cannot quite choke out every hint of pain:
"Dios Mio
Me paro antes usted, irredimible...."
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| OOC Post - Trying to Credit |
[21 Nov 2005|07:24pm] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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I have several LJ Icons here that I would *dearly* love to credit to the creators. Unfortunately, I can't find my notes on where I got them, and I can't find the website anymore. Google has failed me.
My current icon is one of these four images. If you recognize it, or own it, please post a response here with a link to your site, so I can credit you properly. They really are beautiful work, and I want you to get credit for them.
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| La Niña Caída |
[19 Nov 2005|06:18am] |
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mood |
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 peaceful |
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music |
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"Ave Maria" |
] |
Rosa pushed back the heavy velvet curtains that covered the window in her bedroom. In the east, the perfect black of the night sky had faded to a deep, rich blue. Even as she watched, the colour lightened further, tinged with aqua. Dawn was coming.
With a faint smile, Rosa pulled down the black-out blinds, and let the claret draperies fall back into place. Smoothing her black satin nightgown over her hips as much from habit as from any need to straighten it, she turned and glided silently across the room to the tall cherry-wood credenza set against the wall opposite her bed. Once she reached it, she took a moment to compose her state of mind into something appropriately reverent, and pulled open the upper cabinet. The cabinet was empty of shelves, the back of it completely covered by a large, framed mirror. Set on a small pedestal back against the mirror was a large and ornately carved cross of ebony, standing over a foot tall. Affixed to the front, blade up, was a miniature replica of a Centurion's lance, perfect in every detail. On either side of the cross were tall white tapers in simple gold candlesticks. Before it, in neatly ordered ranks, were small red votives in glass globes, showing varying degrees of use. Lying across the table between the cross and the candles was an obviously antique and valuable rosary - the beads were solid gold, shaped into remarkably detailed roses. The crucifix was gold inset with ruby, the body of Christ carve of ivory. At the crux of the chain was a small, delicately crafted vial of water - holy water from the font of Rosa's first baptism. The crucifix had been the last gift of a long-dead family that had given up on her. She didn't know why she kept it, but there it sat all the same.
Opening one of the drawers beneath the cabinet, Rosa pulled out a box of long-stemmed matches and lit one. For a moment her Beast stirred uneasily, but the single match was not enough to alarm it. She lit the candles in careful sequence - first the right taper, then the left, then the tiny votives one by one - one for each member of her familia. There were quite a few, these days. Blowing out the match, she pulled the cushioned stool around from next to the credenza, and knelt, gazing unblinkingly at the candlelit cross. It was time for her morning prayers. At Mass, there wree Litanies and passages of the Testament, in Latin and English and Italian. They had their beauty, and were all fine and good. But in the privacy of her own sanctuary, Rosa had a prayer all her own.
"Dios Mio;
Yo me paro antes Usted, irredimible
He girado a Su luz, y escogido las sombras
He tirado my llave al Paraíso, y abrazado las llamas del Infierno
He negado a Su gracia, y se negó Su amor
Pero todavía cumplo fielmente mi papel en Su gran plan
Para soy encargada en el Purgatorio que Usted ha hecho
Soy la loba en Su multitud, y la serpiente en Su jardín
Les muestro a Sus niños los horrores de la oscuridad
Que ellos buscarán Su luz con todos corazones
No confieso nada
Quiero no perdón
No me dé absolución
Yo no me arrepiento
Soy la Niña Caída,
Y en mi Condenación, soy Santificada."
For several moments after she finished she remained kneeling, gazing at the dancing firelight in her private altar as a familiar sense of peace washed over her. Smiling quietly to herself, she rose and snuffed the candles, then closed the doors and padded across the room and crawled into bed. With a gentle sigh, Rosa slipped away into dreams, content in her place in the world. After all, she was a childe of Longinus - a Predator of God. And for her, that was enough.
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