Post by Clementine Roshan on Jul 8, 2011 14:01:28 GMT -6
Though the neon blue of the room dimmed and brightened as it always did, the worshiping halls seemed to grow darker as Clementine strode into the room, seemingly coming from pure shadow. She looked neither and Tobias nor Julian, and though her face was pointed straight towards the grand audience, her eyes so clearly did not acknowledge them. No, it was as if she was God herself, speaking from the clouds, but to no man in particular. She adorned a ragged polka-dotted skirt and a business-casual suit that shaped her body in a masculine manner, inaccurate to her otherwise tiny, shriveled body. She walked to the wooden pedestal with slowness, as though respecting the ground that supported her, and the reasons to why she was here. She cleared her throat loudly when she finally reached it, her eyes still blank and looking towards the concrete ceiling, blue light extending to and fro majestically; it was clear she brought no material for the speech, and during that moment of silence, the right words were conjured.
"What are we, without our sight?" She said, her hands tightly latched onto the cherry wood stand. "It certain respects, there is no necessity for us to live with it. We can smell our meals many yards away, feel the comfort of one's warmth with our hands, taste their lips with our savage tongue. Without sight, we have no need for balance! What you do not see provides you no fear for a coming storm, a barbarian lord's army, the relentless Infected horde. Though we can hear their cries, one without sight sees it as fate to come. But is a lack of sense the correct way to live?"
She walked over to Tobias, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her to the top. "For years, the Sanctum has been without its senses. For years, we have not seen our true enemies, sighted our promised lands, scouted promising new recruits to our glorious Sanctum. A stringed puppet, of course, is but a wooden husk controlled unscrupulously by its tired master, our Lord. But seeking out our senses, we relieve our Lord of his exhausting duty. For with sight, He needs not look for us! We shall live with His senses on the mortal plane, and soon we shall grow to His power, His duty! WE SHALL BECOME THE JUDGES OF THE WORLD!"
A dark robbed cultist holding a bucket that produced steam and a smell reminiscent to a pre-mange grill scuttled towards Clementine, presenting the object. A large iron prod stuck out of the opening. Clementine grabbed it and lifted it above her head like a crusader holding a holy scepter; it was a heated brand. "Do you, Tobias McAlister, swear to bring Holy Sight and unquestioning loyalty to the Sanctum and its Lord? If so, lift up your shirt and present to me your back." She brought the heated brand down, preparing for his yes and preparing to placing the searing object onto his skin.
"What are we, without our sight?" She said, her hands tightly latched onto the cherry wood stand. "It certain respects, there is no necessity for us to live with it. We can smell our meals many yards away, feel the comfort of one's warmth with our hands, taste their lips with our savage tongue. Without sight, we have no need for balance! What you do not see provides you no fear for a coming storm, a barbarian lord's army, the relentless Infected horde. Though we can hear their cries, one without sight sees it as fate to come. But is a lack of sense the correct way to live?"
She walked over to Tobias, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her to the top. "For years, the Sanctum has been without its senses. For years, we have not seen our true enemies, sighted our promised lands, scouted promising new recruits to our glorious Sanctum. A stringed puppet, of course, is but a wooden husk controlled unscrupulously by its tired master, our Lord. But seeking out our senses, we relieve our Lord of his exhausting duty. For with sight, He needs not look for us! We shall live with His senses on the mortal plane, and soon we shall grow to His power, His duty! WE SHALL BECOME THE JUDGES OF THE WORLD!"
A dark robbed cultist holding a bucket that produced steam and a smell reminiscent to a pre-mange grill scuttled towards Clementine, presenting the object. A large iron prod stuck out of the opening. Clementine grabbed it and lifted it above her head like a crusader holding a holy scepter; it was a heated brand. "Do you, Tobias McAlister, swear to bring Holy Sight and unquestioning loyalty to the Sanctum and its Lord? If so, lift up your shirt and present to me your back." She brought the heated brand down, preparing for his yes and preparing to placing the searing object onto his skin.