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- WOD:STH - Cohen's Story
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| WOD:STH - Cohen's Story; For myself and Yves (Mr. Tabbard) only | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 27 2013, 07:50 PM (666 Views) | |
| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Aug 27 2013, 07:50 PM Post #1 |
~ RP Knight ~
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Six Months Earlier...
In late October, the campus was thick with fallen leaves, painting the campus in vibrant colors of red and yellow. Gusts of wind defeated the efforts of the campus groundskeepers, whipping the leaves to and fro. The leaves did their best to coat the buildings where they touched the earth, and the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de l'Empire was no exception. The old building stood on on the property long before there had been a college campus there. It was the home of the Empire City Diocese, in the city’s early days. After the seat of the Diocese moved downtown to the newer Cathedral Church of the Holy and Indivisible Trinity, the building was placed on the city’s Landmark Preservation Commission, which pleased the local parish. Even after the cathedral property was incorporated into the Empire Metropolitan University campus, the building was still regularly used. The cathedral had a separate wing maintained by a handful of brothers from the Order of Friars Minor, and an empty reliquary. Even on a school day, the cathedral was open to outsiders, especially on blustery days like this. The friars and priests in attendance were happy to attend to visitors. In fact, they would probably be willing to listen to many things, to provide guidance and suggestion. Edited by Talancir D'Landior, Aug 27 2013, 08:18 PM.
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 RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | Aug 28 2013, 04:29 PM Post #2 |
Sandopolis Act 1
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So, there he was. He didn’t want to be there (which was pretty unusual for him, but, hey, it was a pretty unusual day, haha), but there. He. Was. Fidgeting. With his hunched back and (he knew) shifty, awkward eyes, under that all-too-high vaulted ceiling, wandering in the aisle behind the pews. He wanted to seek advice. OK! From whom? And on what exactly, if you had to put it into words?” Father, Father, please help me Father, I had a bad dream” ? Really, being here was the result of just one of those impulses he had when some aspect of his day didn’t go exactly as planned. He just couldn’t be satisfied if he didn’t make a goddam scene out of every goddam quirk of his day. (“Goddam.” He crossed himself for the mental outburst.) This time, it was his morning practice of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. In theory, he was supposed to make it through the third exercise. But he didn’t. And why? Because he sat there on his cushion, facing the morning light, rocking on his haunches, chewing the fat with the good St. Iggy. He thought maybe his venerable patron could answer a question: Was he possessed? God… God’s just not into, you know. Pillars of salt anymore. Now demons ahahaha… Well, you and I both know about them, yeah. They’re freaking everywhere, he said, shaking his finger at the sunrise outside his window, So if we just look, statistically, at the incidence of demonic activity and confirmed miracles (including visions), and that whole… MASQUERADING AS AN ANGEL OF LIGHT business… Well… I mean… etc. etc. Needless to say, Ignatius did not make an appearance. And then a little later the alarm clock went off, and Cohen had to end his prayers and meditations two exercises early, and it just drove him nuts, so he had to get help from someone so he could get over this thing. And so he was here. (Except that wasn’t the full story, was it? No, Cohen, didn’t want to admit it, did he, but he was scared. He was just shivering like a puppy at a fireworks display. And he did come back to his Exercises now and then, didn’t he? Yes, but then he had to read and practice the Third Point of the Second Exercise (again): Third Point. The third, to look at who I am, lessening myself by examples: First, how much I am in comparison to all men; Second, what men are in comparison to all the Angels and Saints of Paradise…” And he would see him—St. Michael in all his glory descending on him with a sword of fire...with the whole, wailing chorus of God behind him. And Cohen’s feet would go cold. A lump would grow in his throat. His skin tightened until it made him shiver, and he would start talking to Iggy again. And that was why he was here, keeping his eyes to the ground, fidgeting with a button on his worn-out denim blazer until it broke off, swallowing and swallowing again. That’s why he needed help but trusted no one to give it, especially if they made eye-contact. That’s why he felt alone in his own house of God.) Edited by Katsuko, Aug 28 2013, 04:30 PM.
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 <3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Sep 18 2013, 02:33 PM Post #3 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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Very few of the Cathedral's attendant priests and nuns were present, and those that were had duties to perform, There were some people in the cathedral who were not of the clergy, and they also went about various activities. Some just prayed quietly by themselves, scattered through the pews. The cathedral had a pipe organ near the nave, and soft music filtered through the awnings and into the large open space between the pillars. Theodosius held his own private meditations. The member of the Franciscan Secular Third Order sat in the last pew in the rear just off from the center, smiling beatifically to himself and occasionally greeting visitors who entered the great hall during school hours. For the moment, no visitors were scheduled, so he contented himself with idly fingering a rosary and carefully flipping through the Book of Psalms. Presently, he noticed some odd shuffling steps from behind him. He gave himself a moment, finishing the chapter he had begun while listening to the odd, non-rhythmic steps behind him. ...I will sing to the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the Lord. But may sinners vanish from the earth and the wicked be no more. Praise the Lord, my soul. Praise the Lord. No, the indecisive rhythm of the footsteps didn't even pause. Theodosius raised an eyebrow, curiosity and perplexity written on his face as he searched for the source. An instant later, he found it in the form of the troubled, young mobian pacing indecisively behind the pews. Both his eyebrows were raised, now; he had never known the young mobian on a personal level, but he had seen him in passing. He also was familiar with the fellow’s proficiency at boxing (Theodosius was usually in the back rows, as he was wont to be as unobtrusive as possible). Theodosius harrumphed audibly -he had been without water for some time and his throat was dry- and turned in the pew in Cohen’s direction. His arm resting on the pew, he said, “Is that young Cohen I see? Welcome to the house of God, my son. You’re usually early to a boxing practice, as I recall… tell me, what troubles you?” |
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | Nov 29 2013, 04:51 AM Post #4 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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“Theodosius. Good morning.” (Tell me: What Troubles You?) Cohen bobbed in a way that was somewhere between a nod and genuflection—that awkward movement of reverence from a feudal religion, tempered by the modern egalitarian spirit. It was worse with Theodosius. He had the reverence of a priest, especially seated in the pew with a rosary-laden bit of scripture. But you couldn't call him father, and he lacked the power to be anyone's confessor, however much you might want to Confess. (Tell me: What Troubles You?) Cohen crossed himself, apologetically, while he smiled, sheepishly, at Theodosius. A row of votive candles flickered on the edge of Cohen's vision. That's right: I'm in a church. A warm drag of incense settled in his throat. And he saw St. Michael, shining white and gold through the stained glass chancel window that seemed to hang over the Fransiscan secular monk. After a pause, Cohen sat down beside Theodosius-- Theodosius, who was patient while Cohen crossed himself a second time, and sighed, and squirmed uncomfortably into the polished dark wood pew. Theodosius would be patient—you could tell that about him, at least, Cohen thought. He had time for boxing. Though not the Holy Orders, that at least was a real qualification for... something. (Tell me: What Troubles You?) “Brother,” said Cohen, “in our… holy tradition, we venerate St. Joan. St. Joan claimed… well, she did hear God. And she saw the holy virgin, and other… heavenly… people.” “OK. That’s nothing unique. Lots of saints have that kind of experience, and lots of them get burned at the stake for it. Like Joan. That’s the, uh, mystical-martyr-narrative, you know? But it doesn’t happen. Anymore. At all, the mystical stuff. You know?” You’re not really giving him bank to run with, Cohen. He sighed, and, humming and hawing, added lamely, “Um… why do you think that is?” Edited by Katsuko, Nov 29 2013, 05:16 AM.
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Jan 6 2014, 12:24 AM Post #5 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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'Oh my, there was very little shallow depth before the drop, wasn't there?' Theodosius "hmm'd" thoughtfully. It certainly wasn't a discussion that happened every day; indeed, such visions and dreams that St. Joan received get dismissed as simply 'weird' or are forgotten entirely in this day and age. That Cohen brought it up could be simple curiosity. On the other hand... Theodosius shifted his grip on his rosary. "That depends on the person, I think. Many people could have the same experiences St. Joan had and dismiss it as mere fits of the subconscious," he said, giving voice to his thoughts. "One could also draw a connection to a matter of faith. In Matthew, Jesus tells his disciples about moving mountains with the faith of a mustard seed. In the secular world we live in, faith could be so diminished that one would not even be worthy of receiving an experience like St. Joan did, or even worse, dismiss it with the force of disbelief. Why do you ask?" Edited by Talancir D'Landior, Jan 7 2014, 12:34 PM.
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | Jan 7 2014, 11:51 AM Post #6 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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Cohen’s grip tightened on his legs. Neither gods nor demons ever held any real terror for him. But then, gods and demons had always been the creatures of imprinted merely on the yellowed pages of his books, and even his prayers were as much a ritualized form of meditation as a means of communicating with… anyone. That wasn’t the kind of God who hunted His disciples down with arrows of lightning, who sent whales to swallow up the recalcitrant. Cohen’s voice was held low when he spoke. “Suppose someone did have a nightmare. One where, well. It would be hard to prove it’s not… something like Joan’s. One putting the heavenly host into a higher order of color than… usual. How do you respond to that safely?” (As in, in such a way that you won't think I'm crazy, the pontiffs won't think I'm a heretics, my friends won't think the books have gotten the better of me, and the whale won't swallow me, and the heathen king won't crucify me, please, if that's not too much trouble) |
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Jan 7 2014, 02:21 PM Post #7 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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Theodosius smiled gently. He'd been around long enough to sense what parts of the conversation was left unsaid. This would have been easier for him to speak if he was seeking advice on the behalf of someone else. So, he had a dream, or vision that put him out of sorts. The question that bore some meditation on was, just what was it he saw? "Prayer, most certainly. Remember Genesis, when Joseph received the interpretation of dreams about the destiny of Egypt. Dreams always require some interpretation, more so for others and especially for those received from God. Dreams and visions of the likes of St. Joan were meant for a specific time and place, and it's not always that we understand the true depth and intent behind the message. For one who never received such visions before, the first would be certainly bewildering, I'd imagine. I would think that the best thing to do is to let it sink in. Meditation and prayer on what it would mean and what it was meant for ought to provide clarity after a time." |
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | May 20 2014, 12:41 PM Post #8 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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He had tried prayer, thank you. For several hours. ...Possibly to the wrong saintly person, he had to admit. After all, he thought he had seen St. Michael the Archangel. If he'd really wanted a response, perhaps he should have tried a prayer directed at the spirit himself. (And do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the divine power, thrust into Hell Satan and all evil spirits who prowl about the world, seeking the ruin of souls) Cohen tried to run the words through his head while Theodosius spoke, but other words intruded themselves over the silent prayer: You have drifted, Singer. Too long have you Sung alone, and you have forgotten your beginning. Hear the decree of Michael: rejoin the chorus, and Sing once more in the harmony you helped create. It was enough to set a boy trembling. He had to swallow a nauseous wave. (This was why he'd avoided the angelic prayers) "MmmOk sir..." Cohen murmured, "That's an, um. Interesting thought. Thank you. Ah, it would be nice to talk longer, but my schedule's going to be all out of whack of I don't get going. Have to, you know, keep my exercise schedule intact, plus there's this calc test tomorrow, and classes... Anyway. See you later?" Edited by Katsuko, May 20 2014, 06:04 PM.
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | May 29 2014, 12:06 AM Post #9 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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Theodosius did feel a measure of compassion for the young lad; crises of faith were often hard to weather. He smiled sympathetically when he saw Cohen's eyes shift to the side as he swallowed. Let it never be said, however, that a brief diversion could do wonders for seeing things from a different perspective. "Ah! Oh, do you mind if I join you? The exercise schedule, I mean. You're due up for a stint in the boxing ring, as I recall, and I wouldn't mind watching for a while." |
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | May 31 2014, 10:03 PM Post #10 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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Ordinarily, Cohen would have been thrilled. It wasn't that Cohen would be looking for an opportunity to impress one of the revered secular brothers, or anything, but you know. He was pretty good, for a novice, and an audience was nice, especially one with a holy vocation. But today... "I, er, well. Um..." Theodosius was not a person given to the boundless peace of the more sagely saints. His sister referred to his condition as "Fretful Fred" syndrome. It was a flaw. A sin, even (for does God not keep his eye on the sparrow?). It was worse today. Today it had become head-poppingly unpleasant. "Well, you see sir...Of course you're welcome. But..." Cohen's insides knotted together as he tried to find a polite way to say it. "Ah... Well. I probably won't say much of anything to you while we're there, you know? Working out is my, uh, my escape." It was more than an escape, really--it was like meditation. It was a moment when he could cut out the constant static of his thoughts and concentrate, really concentrate, on something simple. Physical. Manly, like working on a farm with calloused hands and a John Wayne cowboy hat. "...I sort of push out the rest of... stuff." Which I could really use to do today. "So... don't be offended if I'm um. You know. Distant." Edited by Katsuko, May 31 2014, 10:05 PM.
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Jun 1 2014, 09:21 PM Post #11 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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Theodosius chuckled. Carefully, he gathered up his rosary, and slipped them and his pocket bible into a pocket inside his jacket. Gathering himself up, he gave Cohen a comforting pat on his shoulder. "Oh, I've no worry of that. Watching a boxing match is definitely a spectator sport, and there's no talking to the combatants until the fighting is done. I don't mind if you don't feel up to talk. I just rather enjoy the sport. I'm no good at it, mind you, but I admire those who are." |
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | Jun 1 2014, 10:06 PM Post #12 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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Well yes but I won't be able to relax if you're watching, sir... But...you just couldn't say no to a holy Brother. Nor could you even not-so-subtly insinuate that you'd like to say no. And apparently, vague, awkward, half-choked and nigh nonsensical hints just didn't cut it. Cohen's insides sank, heaving with exhaustion, into a puddle. It helped when Theodosius lay a hand on his shoulder. It was exactly the kind of norms-ignoring intimacy you'd expect out of a Friar Tuck type. Kind. Generous. Not-quite orthodox. "Great." Cohen smiled--then grinned. Then went back to a smile. "Well...I guess we might as well walk over together, hm?" Edited by Katsuko, Jun 1 2014, 10:07 PM.
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Jun 2 2014, 09:51 PM Post #13 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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"Oh, of course. Perhaps you could tell me of some of your best moments?" The men's locker room stank, as it always did, of sweat and musk and the scented sprays meant to keep the former two away from sensitive nostrils. Being located on a university, there was enough to and fro activity from the various students to allow for even a modicum of crowding. A dull roar could be heard from the basketball court adjacent to the locker room. Further down the hall, a weight lifting hall catered to those eager to pump muscle and joint for their physique. Connected to that, an area was partitioned off for the more physical of the university sponsored programs, of which boxing was just a part. Cohen's sparring partner for the day - a short but stoutly built mobian boar named Philippe - had already departed for the boxing ring. He had given the De Brazza's monkey a none-too-affectionate shove when they crossed paths (read as "collided") at the locker room entrance. The boar took a second to realize what had happened, then looked down over his tusked snout at his opponent. "Oh. Bonjour, mon frère." Philippe reached down and hauled Cohen abruptly to his feet. "You are late," the boar rumbled. "The coach will make you hurt for that." Philippe's blunt demeanor, coupled with his hooded, squinty eyes always gave him a stern, grouchy manner. It probably didn't help that the boar was a native to the neighboring Second Republic of Orléans; their cultural mannerisms didn't always translate well in Empire City, despite their similarities. Philippe didn't wait to hear Cohen's response. "Be quick with your preparations so we may have a contest or two. Do not keep me waiting, non?" and with that, Philippe shuffled off to the boxing ring, leaving Cohen to his devices. |
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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| Katsuko | Jun 10 2014, 09:20 AM Post #14 |
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Sandopolis Act 1
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Phillippe. There was always a Phillippe. Cohen had struggled through more years of college than most people spent filling desks in secondary school. He had seen two classes start at the University and graduate. And there was always, every year, a Philippe. Phil took boxing rather seriously. “Heh. Thanks…” Cohen muttered as the boar hauled him to his feet. If the contstant (and none-too-scholarly) fighter was listening, he didn’t give any indication. Lectures about punctuality followed: Don’t keep me waiting, Cohen! And then, before he knew it, Cohen was alone in the locker room again. His mouth was open. He clicked it shut. And then he grinned. Well, Cohen never took fighting too seriously. Not nearly as seriously as Philippe and his kindred--but Hell. It was fun to fight someone who got into the competitive spirit of things. “Well! I s'pose I best not keep him waiting...” Cohen muttered as he opened his locker and stripped of his collared shirt and much-abused, holey blue jeans. -- By now, the gym had filled up with its usual early-morning clients. A hummingbird girl counted 125 as she jumped a jump-rope. A bear in much-too-tight gym clothes shook and trembled under a 50 lb bar while his much-skinnier weasel friend spotted him (and smirked at his struggles). A few students simply stood around the square blue and white boxing ring, waiting to spectate the first spar of the morning. Cohen stood across from Phillippe. He jumped, and danced, and put up his guard—warming up in the last few moments. He enjoyed the gym’s familiar smells, and the feel of his body as it went live with activity. The anticipation of the fight (with a serious and unsmiling opponent) made him grin wide and then wider, and for the moment, St. Michael the Archangel was a far distant worry. Why, he was hardly aware of that low-rumbling, still simmering hot coal of anxiety burning a hole through the floor of his brain at all. "So, ah, read any good books lately, Phil?" Edited by Katsuko, Jun 10 2014, 09:21 AM.
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<3 All you need is love <3 | |
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| Lord Talancir D'Landior | Jun 13 2014, 10:00 PM Post #15 |
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~ RP Knight ~
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Outside of the ring, Theodosius shook hands with Canning, the boxing coach. The two exchanged a greeting in subdued tones before they both took a seat to watch the fight. A couple of students stood by to watch, while others were practicing on their own drills. Philippe watched Cohen with seeming impassiveness while his opponent limbered up. Having warmed up himself, he sighed once through his snout. When Cohen finished, he inclined his head, bringing his right hand across his chest in a salute, then took up his stance and started a slow sidestep to his left. "Oui, I have." To the side, the boxing coach called out, "I hope you're not planning to fight with your tongues, boys!" "Désolé. I will use my fists, Coach Canning." Philippe crouched slightly, dipping his snout below the top of his boxing gloves. Edited by Talancir D'Landior, Jun 13 2014, 10:06 PM.
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RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft. RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir. Millstone of Time Resources
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