capeandcowl | twenty-two. voice.

[There's the soft sound of a heater in the background, a pleasant, continuous hum. Katurian's voice is clear but decidedly subdued, a contrast to his typically frantic nature.]

Aristotle once said that most of humankind is swayed by fear rather than reverence, that they refrain from evil not because it's the right thing to do but because they're afraid of punishment. It gets me thinking about religion more than anything.

[Pause. The faint sound of nails tracing wood. Tapping.]

After all, religion builds monsters to keep people in line. Fantastical beings. Or-- not so fantastical. But of course, I never needed them. I never payed attention to all the monsters that people cowered over in groups behind pews. The monsters described on clear blue pamphlets.

I'm a writer. I make my own monsters.

[Pause. Then, softer:]

There are, of course, quite a few people who don't refrain in the first place. I suppose that's what Aristotle meant. Most humankind.

[More tapping. Drumming.]

I suppose-- [Pause.] Well. I suppose that's it for today.

[Click.]

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[ Covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shake. He's weeping. ]

[WEEPING... OH MY GOD EDDIE IS WATCHING THIS. SO. ARDENTLY.]

[this thread... THIS THREAD.........]

[

]

[Katurian is aware of the sound, aware of the tears, but he still stays silent. The only noise from his communicator is feedback. Breathing.]

[ Finally lifting his head, his eyes blink. Red and bleary. ]

I wouldn't kill you, Katurian. [ A wet cough. ] I swear to God, I wouldn't.

You wouldn't kill me.

[It's nothing more than a dull echo.]

[ Pathetically: ] I could use your help. Please.

There are so many sinners here. I don't know how to start.

[There's another, too long stretch of silence. Eerily long.

Katurian only looks at the communicator in his hand.]

I've just made so many mistakes.

You've made so many mistakes.

God is merciful, God is benevolent.

I will be forgiven, you will be forgiven. Please. I beg of you.

You're distressed.

[There is no concern behind his words. No motivation. Just a dull facsimile of conversation. A script.]

Katurian. Speak to me.

Edited 2011-12-13 01:18 (UTC)

[But he doesn't. A longer stretch of silence.]

Hm.

[ His tone begins to harden. ]

Have some compassion.

(no subject)

goryteller - 2011-12-14 05:43 (UTC) - Expand

Okay, you've practically already given him a baptism. Leave him be, won't you? He's clearly... Acting needlessly weird.

Go to Hell, Riddler.

Damn you. God damn you.

Wow. Someone needs to dislodge the halo from their Cave of Machpelah.

Edited 2011-12-12 03:37 (UTC)

[ unsteadily: ]

"And he whose sight is dim to the remembrance of the Beneficent, We assign unto him a devil who becometh his comrade."

Azrael. Focus. Do you not recognize something strange about Katurian?

Edited 2011-12-12 03:53 (UTC)

He's shunned me. I...

It would be arrogance for me to say that he is ill in his thoughts.

I think you mean hypocritical, if we're talking mental illness.

[private]

He called it Lord and Lady. No one calls it that but -- [Beat.] No one calls it that without personal investment. I've been in this debacle with him for months, and he's never called it that. And now he's acting lobotomized. [Beat.] So, you did something to instigate something, what was it?

I didn't do anything to him. I'm not the corrupting influence that you are; I only wish him the best, the most virtuous life that there is. You had done something, haven't you? I think I can feel it.