Post by Civ on Jun 15, 2009 11:49:28 GMT -5
Authors Note: This game is VERY religious. Which mean this fanfiction will be VERY religious. If you find religious things offensive, or twist of christianity and angelism offensive, I suggest you go yell at Sting and atlus about it or leave. Kaythankz. Also if you find torturing and gory things hard to bare... yeah you get the point.
A damaged soul, a lost wing. Someone possessed by power's curse. Someone who just couldn't get over his loss to snap back into his senses.
That's right. This person was me. Maybe my flaw isn't that I tried, but the fact that I tried too hard to please others and serve everyone the way they wanted to be served. I tried to protect my family as best I could, but it wound up being to their downfall. The hands of fate picked me up as a child, and dropped me carelessly as I aged into some power-hungry monster.
I didn't have anyone to tell me where to go, and I didn't have a map to tell me. So I drew my own path and tried to follow my heart. This, sadly led to my distortion. I see a faint image of a girl. She's frowning over at me. Tears leak from her crimson eyes, and a pair of real wings rest at her sides.
She's my sister. And she's now dead because of this so-called 'fate'. If I had known fate was going to be so cruel, I wouldn't of chosen to live on. I would've left this wretched world before I crushed my fate further. Now I'm stuck in a twisted world to live through the distortion's torture. The horrible feel of a wooden spike stabbing through the core of my chest remains wherever I choose to walk. Sadly, it doesn't even bother me anymore.
Now, if you have absolutely nothing else better to do maybe you'd like to stop and listen to this young angel's story? If you're going to swear or criticize me may I please ask you to take that door to your left or right and leave. Watch out for Moon on your way out...
However, if you actually choose to listen I'd be quite grateful. With two organizations pitting you against their will, it's quite hard to explain yourself to anyone other than this crimson sky. Or perhaps that young angel who has ceased to speak to me...
It all began at age fifteen. Yes, me as a younger-ER teen. The morning was bright and shone through the churches stained-glass windows onto the ground beneath my family and I. Many other people gathered around us to seat for the church's ceremony.
“Hello there, young Micheal.” A voice greeted me. I turned to see an aged woman bowing her head over towards me. She wore a nun's cloak and clasped her hands together gratefully. “I'm glad you and your family could find the time to make your way over to our church.. How is the next heir of the angel's crest?
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Suzuki. I'm quite fine, how about you?” I asked with a dip of my head. Now, you may be wondering 'angel's crest?'. The answer to that question is quite simple, my friend. The crest of the angel. Not technically an 'angel' but it's a type of person to be the head of god's will in that selected family. Once my father died, that position would go to me. And it'd be up to me to inspire others about our ultimate Seraphim.
“Oh, you know me. I'm just as fine as I'll ever be.” She said in reply. Before we could carry on our conversation the church bells rang. This signaled for us to take a seat. As if we were all in some sort of odd spiritual harmony, everyone sat down all at once. My little sister, Eloa sat to my right while my father sat to my left. We all bowed our heads as the head master walked up onto the stage of the church.
“ May the light of the gods launder through this building and wash out any evil from within it! May I call upon thee to pick out the sinful spirit in this room today?”
As the church master spoke these words an immediate darkness held overhead. This ceremony was held every year. It was used to give an evil sacrifice to the ultimate. Of course, the families with seraphim blood had nothing to worry about. They were considered pure from the inside out and were often supported.
I didn't exactly encourage this ceremony. Being my families next heir I didn't want to admit I hated seeing the 'sinned' tortured atop the building's deck. It pained me to see what sorts of devices they came up with and I could only do so much as to turn away or stare on vacantly. 'Is this really god's will...?' I remember this thought, racing through my mind. 'To torture the innocent?'
As the darkness dimmed overhead I slowly closed my eyes and felt my sister's hand reach out and grab mine. Eloa didn't need to see all of this... she was only twelve. But being apart of our family she was forced to endure this eye torture.
'Who will die? Are they expecting it? What pain do they feel?' I thought while wrapping an arm around Eloa to comfort her. Why was she being so hostile...? The girl was usually quiet and never said anything... I didn't want to think of the possibility that she'd be the outcast this year. There was just no possible way.
“May the light of god's will strike down and claim the one whom has sinned!” The master called. He threw his arms up into the air, and with that final motion I closed my eyes as I felt a light land somewhere near me.... 'No... it couldn't... please god, what has she done to you?' I thought in despair. I quickly opened my eyes as I heard gasps throughout the crowd and turned towards my sister. The light beamed onto the poor girl and the look of fear was obvious in her eyes.
“A child? We can't harm a child!”
“She's only a small girl... shouldn't she bare innocence?”
I heard frightened murmurs throughout the crowd and clutched my fists. Disappointment filled my fathers eyes and my mother stared on vacantly. They weren't going to say anything? If they weren't going to take a stand, then I would.
“...Very well, god has chosen his sacrifice. Young Eloa, please step up to meet your fate.”
Fate. That cruel game god has played. Yet, I wouldn't blame god. Just the idiots that filled this church. They had no idea what god's will was! Last I checked, the light meant hope! I stood up and urged my sister down. “You'll hurt a child over god's light? Have you no soul?” I growled and narrowed my light brown eyes. “Very well. If you must harm someone then harm me.”
Silence filled the room. I stared on with challenging eyes. My father looked so immensely ashamed that it nearly killed me. “Well? Surely god would rather have a grown man than a young girl, am I right? I have no supporting in this stupid ceremony. God doesn't need 'sacrifices' for him to stay to his will. You're all just committing a sin yourself, that's what!”
Oh, the enthusiasm I had to stand up for her. It was enough enthusiasm to send the head master into silence as I told him off. Surely they'd be convinced I was the 'sinner' from there on.
I saw fury light up in the pope's eyes. He took a step down the stage and slowly made his way over to me. The faint tapping of his feet filled the wake of the room as he stopped in front of me. “But you very well know, those that defy god's will slowly distort.” He hissed into my ear. “You wish your sister's distortion, rather than her immediate death?”
“Distortion is better than death!” I retorted angrily. It took every last will of power I had not to attack the older geezer. “If you're going to put on the show of torturing my sister, sorry but then I'd rather take the stage. Do as you wish to me, but leave her alone. Even if she is to distort I'm not going to let her die in such an undeserving way! You want to heal gods will? Then torture someone of the same blood!”
I stared around at the 'audience'. Some tried to look away, and tears began to form in some of the other's eyes. My father tried to motion me down but I ignored him. “What? You aren't afraid to torture someone of angel's crest, are you?” I smirked.
“You brat... you're just undeserving of your crest. Very well, take the stage. Even if you'll ruin the life of your sister. We will create those 'wings' of yours.” He scowled. “Take your stand up onto the stage. I'll send the curse bringer out to show you some dominance.”
'This can't be gods will. These are monsters... demons, more so.' I thought in my rage. I wouldn't dare say it out loud. Since I held the crest, I wouldn't be completely killed. I'd hold some scars but save a life. Without taking note to his 'brat' comment I forced myself up onto the stage. The wooden floor creaked under my feet and the multicolored lights from the stained glass windows danced on the walls. “Very well, do your worst.” I commented.
I slipped out of my church-symbol shirt and vest and placed them away from the floor next to me. I didn't want blood to stain the clothing. 'I'm doing this for you... don't feel guilty at all.' I thought while vacantly staring over at my sister. Another girl caught my eye. She tried to contain her tears, but it wasn't working well. '...Eliza.' I thought silently. 'I'm sorry you have to see this...'
I felt a cold hand grab me and didn't even flinch. The torturer had begun the process of ridding me of any fighting skill. He tied a rope around my wrist and locked my arms together, along with my legs. Then he rose the ropes to the point where I hung. They lit a wooden cross behind me and only then did I scowl as I felt the mildly burning heat reach my bare back. Burning wasn't apart of the ceremony. It was just for reassurance.
“Go ahead! Get on with it! Burn the traitor!” I heard a familiar voice yell. I examined the crowd and looked to see my father, the source of the noise. My heart began to turn cold. '...Who's the traitor now? May you rot in hell you selfish *******...' I thought in despair. To my dismay, others joined in. All but most females, some males, and my young sister who stared at me guiltily.
I heard a blade sheathe behind me and felt my pulse lower. 'What are they planning to do?' I thought with an acceptance of great pain. Almost instantly after my thought, I felt the edge of a blade gouge into my side and slash down all the way to my rib-cage. I felt blood ooze through the fresh wound and onto the ground below me.
With a scream of agony I only managed to thrash around as the torturer did the same with my other sides. 'Makes wings? Is this what you call 'wings'?' I thought to myself in dismay. More blood fell onto the floor, and great pain filed my sides. I slowly stared up at my sister and found a smile curve onto my lips. “Go ahead...” I muttered. “Go ahead and torture me. But may you rot in hell, for I see an angel.”
I felt the blade mark itself through my flesh once again. It formed a cross on the base of my back, and stung even more than the last wounds. Yet, despite my grunts of pain I couldn't help but smile. “Go ahead, continue what you're doing. You have no idea what gods will or what god wants. You've got a dark future ahead of you all if you believe torturing me is going to do much to crush my spirit. I will defy the will of god! I will carry on and inspire ultimate without this belief!” I shouted. Several cheered in, and the last thing I remember of this... people were running up to the stage to maul the torturer while others embraced in battle as they fought on different sides.
In front of me, I caught I view of my sister. Horns had begun to rise from the base of her skull... her distortion had only begun.
'...Even when distorted, I'll still love you.'
A damaged soul, a lost wing. Someone possessed by power's curse. Someone who just couldn't get over his loss to snap back into his senses.
That's right. This person was me. Maybe my flaw isn't that I tried, but the fact that I tried too hard to please others and serve everyone the way they wanted to be served. I tried to protect my family as best I could, but it wound up being to their downfall. The hands of fate picked me up as a child, and dropped me carelessly as I aged into some power-hungry monster.
I didn't have anyone to tell me where to go, and I didn't have a map to tell me. So I drew my own path and tried to follow my heart. This, sadly led to my distortion. I see a faint image of a girl. She's frowning over at me. Tears leak from her crimson eyes, and a pair of real wings rest at her sides.
She's my sister. And she's now dead because of this so-called 'fate'. If I had known fate was going to be so cruel, I wouldn't of chosen to live on. I would've left this wretched world before I crushed my fate further. Now I'm stuck in a twisted world to live through the distortion's torture. The horrible feel of a wooden spike stabbing through the core of my chest remains wherever I choose to walk. Sadly, it doesn't even bother me anymore.
Now, if you have absolutely nothing else better to do maybe you'd like to stop and listen to this young angel's story? If you're going to swear or criticize me may I please ask you to take that door to your left or right and leave. Watch out for Moon on your way out...
However, if you actually choose to listen I'd be quite grateful. With two organizations pitting you against their will, it's quite hard to explain yourself to anyone other than this crimson sky. Or perhaps that young angel who has ceased to speak to me...
It all began at age fifteen. Yes, me as a younger-ER teen. The morning was bright and shone through the churches stained-glass windows onto the ground beneath my family and I. Many other people gathered around us to seat for the church's ceremony.
“Hello there, young Micheal.” A voice greeted me. I turned to see an aged woman bowing her head over towards me. She wore a nun's cloak and clasped her hands together gratefully. “I'm glad you and your family could find the time to make your way over to our church.. How is the next heir of the angel's crest?
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Suzuki. I'm quite fine, how about you?” I asked with a dip of my head. Now, you may be wondering 'angel's crest?'. The answer to that question is quite simple, my friend. The crest of the angel. Not technically an 'angel' but it's a type of person to be the head of god's will in that selected family. Once my father died, that position would go to me. And it'd be up to me to inspire others about our ultimate Seraphim.
“Oh, you know me. I'm just as fine as I'll ever be.” She said in reply. Before we could carry on our conversation the church bells rang. This signaled for us to take a seat. As if we were all in some sort of odd spiritual harmony, everyone sat down all at once. My little sister, Eloa sat to my right while my father sat to my left. We all bowed our heads as the head master walked up onto the stage of the church.
“ May the light of the gods launder through this building and wash out any evil from within it! May I call upon thee to pick out the sinful spirit in this room today?”
As the church master spoke these words an immediate darkness held overhead. This ceremony was held every year. It was used to give an evil sacrifice to the ultimate. Of course, the families with seraphim blood had nothing to worry about. They were considered pure from the inside out and were often supported.
I didn't exactly encourage this ceremony. Being my families next heir I didn't want to admit I hated seeing the 'sinned' tortured atop the building's deck. It pained me to see what sorts of devices they came up with and I could only do so much as to turn away or stare on vacantly. 'Is this really god's will...?' I remember this thought, racing through my mind. 'To torture the innocent?'
As the darkness dimmed overhead I slowly closed my eyes and felt my sister's hand reach out and grab mine. Eloa didn't need to see all of this... she was only twelve. But being apart of our family she was forced to endure this eye torture.
'Who will die? Are they expecting it? What pain do they feel?' I thought while wrapping an arm around Eloa to comfort her. Why was she being so hostile...? The girl was usually quiet and never said anything... I didn't want to think of the possibility that she'd be the outcast this year. There was just no possible way.
“May the light of god's will strike down and claim the one whom has sinned!” The master called. He threw his arms up into the air, and with that final motion I closed my eyes as I felt a light land somewhere near me.... 'No... it couldn't... please god, what has she done to you?' I thought in despair. I quickly opened my eyes as I heard gasps throughout the crowd and turned towards my sister. The light beamed onto the poor girl and the look of fear was obvious in her eyes.
“A child? We can't harm a child!”
“She's only a small girl... shouldn't she bare innocence?”
I heard frightened murmurs throughout the crowd and clutched my fists. Disappointment filled my fathers eyes and my mother stared on vacantly. They weren't going to say anything? If they weren't going to take a stand, then I would.
“...Very well, god has chosen his sacrifice. Young Eloa, please step up to meet your fate.”
Fate. That cruel game god has played. Yet, I wouldn't blame god. Just the idiots that filled this church. They had no idea what god's will was! Last I checked, the light meant hope! I stood up and urged my sister down. “You'll hurt a child over god's light? Have you no soul?” I growled and narrowed my light brown eyes. “Very well. If you must harm someone then harm me.”
Silence filled the room. I stared on with challenging eyes. My father looked so immensely ashamed that it nearly killed me. “Well? Surely god would rather have a grown man than a young girl, am I right? I have no supporting in this stupid ceremony. God doesn't need 'sacrifices' for him to stay to his will. You're all just committing a sin yourself, that's what!”
Oh, the enthusiasm I had to stand up for her. It was enough enthusiasm to send the head master into silence as I told him off. Surely they'd be convinced I was the 'sinner' from there on.
I saw fury light up in the pope's eyes. He took a step down the stage and slowly made his way over to me. The faint tapping of his feet filled the wake of the room as he stopped in front of me. “But you very well know, those that defy god's will slowly distort.” He hissed into my ear. “You wish your sister's distortion, rather than her immediate death?”
“Distortion is better than death!” I retorted angrily. It took every last will of power I had not to attack the older geezer. “If you're going to put on the show of torturing my sister, sorry but then I'd rather take the stage. Do as you wish to me, but leave her alone. Even if she is to distort I'm not going to let her die in such an undeserving way! You want to heal gods will? Then torture someone of the same blood!”
I stared around at the 'audience'. Some tried to look away, and tears began to form in some of the other's eyes. My father tried to motion me down but I ignored him. “What? You aren't afraid to torture someone of angel's crest, are you?” I smirked.
“You brat... you're just undeserving of your crest. Very well, take the stage. Even if you'll ruin the life of your sister. We will create those 'wings' of yours.” He scowled. “Take your stand up onto the stage. I'll send the curse bringer out to show you some dominance.”
'This can't be gods will. These are monsters... demons, more so.' I thought in my rage. I wouldn't dare say it out loud. Since I held the crest, I wouldn't be completely killed. I'd hold some scars but save a life. Without taking note to his 'brat' comment I forced myself up onto the stage. The wooden floor creaked under my feet and the multicolored lights from the stained glass windows danced on the walls. “Very well, do your worst.” I commented.
I slipped out of my church-symbol shirt and vest and placed them away from the floor next to me. I didn't want blood to stain the clothing. 'I'm doing this for you... don't feel guilty at all.' I thought while vacantly staring over at my sister. Another girl caught my eye. She tried to contain her tears, but it wasn't working well. '...Eliza.' I thought silently. 'I'm sorry you have to see this...'
I felt a cold hand grab me and didn't even flinch. The torturer had begun the process of ridding me of any fighting skill. He tied a rope around my wrist and locked my arms together, along with my legs. Then he rose the ropes to the point where I hung. They lit a wooden cross behind me and only then did I scowl as I felt the mildly burning heat reach my bare back. Burning wasn't apart of the ceremony. It was just for reassurance.
“Go ahead! Get on with it! Burn the traitor!” I heard a familiar voice yell. I examined the crowd and looked to see my father, the source of the noise. My heart began to turn cold. '...Who's the traitor now? May you rot in hell you selfish *******...' I thought in despair. To my dismay, others joined in. All but most females, some males, and my young sister who stared at me guiltily.
I heard a blade sheathe behind me and felt my pulse lower. 'What are they planning to do?' I thought with an acceptance of great pain. Almost instantly after my thought, I felt the edge of a blade gouge into my side and slash down all the way to my rib-cage. I felt blood ooze through the fresh wound and onto the ground below me.
With a scream of agony I only managed to thrash around as the torturer did the same with my other sides. 'Makes wings? Is this what you call 'wings'?' I thought to myself in dismay. More blood fell onto the floor, and great pain filed my sides. I slowly stared up at my sister and found a smile curve onto my lips. “Go ahead...” I muttered. “Go ahead and torture me. But may you rot in hell, for I see an angel.”
I felt the blade mark itself through my flesh once again. It formed a cross on the base of my back, and stung even more than the last wounds. Yet, despite my grunts of pain I couldn't help but smile. “Go ahead, continue what you're doing. You have no idea what gods will or what god wants. You've got a dark future ahead of you all if you believe torturing me is going to do much to crush my spirit. I will defy the will of god! I will carry on and inspire ultimate without this belief!” I shouted. Several cheered in, and the last thing I remember of this... people were running up to the stage to maul the torturer while others embraced in battle as they fought on different sides.
In front of me, I caught I view of my sister. Horns had begun to rise from the base of her skull... her distortion had only begun.
'...Even when distorted, I'll still love you.'