Synthesis — Roleplayer Guild

Light fluttered in through a multitude of cracks and crevices, illuminating a million dancing motes of dust, lazily swirling in fluttering columns against a glittering backdrop of mosaic glass depicting he who would save the devout souls that worshipped him. The sanctuary seemed to be glowing, a picture of serenity framed by dusty crimson curtains, yet the congregation was still largely bathed in shadows. Pews sat toppled in broken piles, their pristine wooden finish marred with the stains of human life. A still image of a tragic painting, one depicting the aftermath of a congregation of hope turned into one of chaos and panic. Swathes of red despair stroked lovingly across floors and walls, a shoe perfectly placed in the light with the laces undone, a hat long forgotten. But the bodies had long since risen and shuffled onwards, seeking to spread the same brand of destruction.

Mikhael yawned, rubbing his eyes as the chill of early morning skittered across his flesh. It was amusing that he didn’t get goosebumps anymore, but that’s what happens when you give up your humanity. He chuckled, already in such a good mood so early in the morning. He had never been a morning person. Rather, he’d been a grumbling, barely functional, three cups of coffee kind of person. The likeness to the creatures labeled toxins was not lost on him as another throaty chuckle echoed across the surface of the pale darkness, rebounding off stained and cracked pillars.

He stood, running a hand through his dark hair, taking in the scene before him. A solid swathe of light was cutting straight down the middle of the church, illuminating the tangled runner that had once sat pristine and perfect between rows of pews full of humble servants. Mikhael strode out from the shadows, his haughty gate feeling like desecration itself as he strolled across the boundary separating prophet and flock. The hollow thud of his shoes rang out somberly as he walked across the raised platform, towards the pulpit. Surely miracles must be real, as the small wooden piece was still upright, the good book still splayed open revealing a passage bookmarked in blood.

”So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,” Mik read, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you of the faith?” A serene voice asked. Mikhael looked up, his eyes drawn to a pretty face framed by brilliant golden strands. Questioning blue eyes peered up at him, from below the pedestal which Mikhael stood upon, his face cast in menacing shadows. 

“Have you come to repent in your time of sickness?” She asked, moving around towards the steps leading up to the nave, “I saw you come in last night, but I did not want to disturb you.”

”Oh?” He questioned, turning to watch her ascent, ”I didn’t think there would be anybody else left here.”

The woman flashed a pretty smile, showing off pristine, pearly white teeth. She tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt however, one that was a disgustingly bright shade of pink and stamped with an iconic, cat looking character. It was clean however, as were her jeans. He hadn’t thought to check the rooms, too caught up in the irony of a demon sleeping in a church. He had thought perhaps he would burst into flames, killed with holy retribution for trying to disturb the lord’s children.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” She asked, her hand rising slightly towards him, “But.. you don’t look like them, you look.. Normal.”

’Normal’

A sinister grin slowly split his face. His eyes pulsed, their vibrancy seeming to intensify briefly as he stood up straight, looming over her. She nearly cowered back, but she pressed her lips together stubbornly, forcing herself to look at him.

”I’m damned, there is no repentance for me,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thin metallic case, ”There never was.”

“Anybody can be saved as they as they accept the savior into their heart,” She persisted, a small frown crossing her face as Mikhael breathed out a hazy plume of smoke. He didn’t notice however, as his eyes remained transfixed on the liquid motion of the gas as it momentarily joined the dance with the illuminated dust, before dissipating into nothing. He felt like that sometimes, like the smoke.

He took another drag, shooting her a sideways glance, ”Do you ever wonder?” he asked, casting his gaze up towards the ceiling of the structure, ”Where he is, if he exists?”

Her eyes followed his, even there, at the highest point of the temple, the painted imagery of the heavenly hand touching that of the mortal man was stained with red. 

“No-” She began.

”Bullshit,” He countered.

She paused for a moment, the perfect blue pools of her eyes reflecting the light as she looked at him, contemplating his question.

“..Sometimes..” She admitted ruefully, sticking her thumbs in her pockets and casting her eyes down towards the floor.

”I thought so,” He said, shrugging a leaning back against the barrier of the choir stands, exhaling another cloud desaturated of color.

“Do you?” She asked, her eyes shimmering with the need for hope, pleading to be consoled.

”No, there’s no need to wonder where your god is,” He answered, straightening up once more.

“What do you mean?” She asked, the uncertainty of the situation finaling dawning on her like the slow creeping of the sunrise. She took a step back as Mikhael took a step closer, another, and another, until her foot failed to find a solid surface and she tumbled down the small staircase with a cry of shock.

”Because he’s right here,” Mikhael answered, taking the steps down slowly. She stared up at him, the minor pain of her fall ignored, swallowed by the darkness that gripped her. She stared up at him, eyes wide, limbs trembling. Mikhael thrust his right arm out away from his body with a flourish, the skin erupting into strands of the darkest black. They whipped out, circling around his arm, weaving in and out of each other violently. Crystalline shards ripped through the oily substance taking over his limb, forming long jutting spikes that glowed with an ominous, neon green.

The woman’s mouth worked soundlessly, her body frozen into shock. The entire process lasted only a few seconds, leaving his arm encased in a sickly black coating, broken at intervals with crystalline barbs far too similar to those of the toxins.

“W-what are you?” She stammered, pitifully scooting herself away from the beastly visage before her.

Mikhael smiled, eyes gleaming with an eerie light, ”Fresh out of mercy.”
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