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what can you do when your good isn't good enough
♪ C'mon show 'em what you're worth.
showchoirstar wrote in adstrngndumlog
Characters: Rachel Berry [showchoirstar] and YOU!
When: Wednesday January 11th.
Where: Saint Basil's Cathedral.
Rating: PG. It's Rachel. In a church. Seriously.
Summary: Rachel has decided to turn to the one person that has always been there and never made her cry in order to get through the latest week in Adstringendum -- God. Provided He is listening to her, of course.

She had no idea why she was here, really -- she could easily pray at home and it wasn't as if this specific building was suited for her own religious beliefs anyway -- but she needed a place of solace, a way to get away. And the moment she had stepped inside the massive structure, she had immediately felt as if she was transported back in time, safe and tucked away within a pocket of Adstringendum where nothing could harm her.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the massive corridor toward the central church, her dog's nails clicking quickly after her (as Evita was her constant companion), carefully making note of where she was walking in order to not get lost among the nine smaller chapels within the church. And when Rachel found the main altar, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes immediately went to the ceiling, to view the ornate artwork, the beautiful pieces of glasswork, and most importantly, the intact ceiling. A ceiling that her theatre no longer had thanks to the massive fires that had been going on for three days straight.

"Hello, God," Rachel said suddenly, crossing her arms across her chest as she walked forward, past the pews, to stop in the center, glancing around to make sure that she was alone. She then moved her eyes back to the ceiling, continuing to speak in a quiet tone. "It's Rachel -- in a church. I imagine that would be the fastest way for you to listen to what I have to say, but I'm not entirely sure you're always listening anymore, so -- "

She cleared her throat before she pursed her lips together, stepping forward toward the altar.

" -- I've never been to Russia. Or anywhere outside of Ohio, actually, before I came here, but this place is beautiful... and one of the only real buildings still left after the event. There was constant fire and bloodshed and -- " She rested her hands on the altar before looking back up at the ceiling, frowning slightly to herself. "I don't understand why you don't see fit to just -- fix this place and I'm certain that you have better things to do than fix a hole in space and time, because that isn't a big deal or anything." And Rachel rested her chin in her hands with a huff, her lips pouting out slightly as she stared at the golden ornamental decorations of the altar. "I sound like a selfish brat, but I'm thoroughly tired of having to re-make my life every other week thanks to these psychotic Animus ghosts that have little place in the world that I live in and I'd like to think that I've lived a perfectly good life to request this one little problem to be fixed so that my friends and I can go a week without dying or -- or being tortured -- and I'm going to have to start eating meat now because a fire monster decided to destroy my vegetable garden."

And Rachel heaved a sigh before she rested her head in her arms, leaning on the altar, offering a final muttered:

"Get back to me, I guess."

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Armand also has a permissions thing. I don't want to cross any boundaries.

The church was a huge place, with many chambers and sections. Each part was covered in gilded art that Armand decided he should appreciate now, while this building was still here and standing. He had intended on seeing how a church like the one in Kiev that he knew would have been in their glory.

He didn't move when he heard someone enter the church. He didn't even bother trying to seem human as he stood there appreciating a piece of the wall.

He couldn't help but hear her words though. Her words or her tone. He soundlessly walked closer and closer until he was standing in the doorway between the main chapel and one of the side churches. He was initially only going to listen, but finally spoke, "God isn't going to do anything for you. From what I can tell, he watches and does nothing. It is up to you to fix things."

He walked forward, making sure that his now scuffed shoes clicked on the floor. He had found a white shirt two sizes too big in one of the suites here, though his black slacks were still tattered with burns. His auburn curls fell about his face in the same way Botticelli painted his angels.

"You can still find him here, but you're looking in the wrong place."

I commented on it! Anything is fine. :3

Rachel looked up sharply at the unfamiliar voice, her fingers tightening on the edge of the altar. She almost opened her mouth to snap at him that she could believe whatever she wished about God and what He heard, but something Armand said caught her attention.

"What do you mean, you can find Him here?"

Armand walked over to her, genuflected, and then walked up the stairs of the Dias to stand by one of the paintings on the wall. "Come, look at this," he said as his fingers ghosted over the paint without really touching it. It looked as if touching anything for him might be painful, as the skin on his hands still had not completely healed, but was left with horrible burn scars.

"What is it that you see when you look at these paintings?" He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he looked at the paintings. All the colours, every brushstroke made him think of Marius, Venice, even the ikons he once made. It was such a wild mix of emotions, he was sure some of it must have seeped through into the timbre of his voice.

"Your -- "

But Rachel stopped herself before she could finish her worried comment about his hands -- he clearly had to know about them and if she had known this individual more, she would have harped on it, but as it was --

She stepped forward, almost shy, before she turned her attention up at the paintings. She appreciated art in all forms -- music was only one way to capture the beauty in the world. Painting, the physical creation of something beautiful, was just as important as music.

"Something beautiful," Rachel said finally, glancing over at him before she stood on her toes to gently touch her gloved fingers against the wall. "Art -- someone's life work put on a canvas."

"They'll be fine," he assured before going on, "humans have this ability to create. To create beauty, to create life, to create whatever they can dream of."

He smiled at her, and then at the wall, looking up to the geometric flower patterns that covered the walls were there were not these frescoes.

"I used to be told that it was God painting through these artists, but..." He paused a moment. He had never thought to put this feeling into exactly these words before, "but it is God's power granted to humans, so that they may create what it is they need. God gave humans all they need to fix this. Now it is a matter of figuring out what to do."

Rachel was quiet as she digested that before she returned his smile, oddly satisfied with that answer, as she lowered her hand to slide them back into the pockets of her coat.

"So God is here because we're all here?" Rachel asked, for clarification, oddly pacified as she looked back up at the painting. "I like that idea... though I know several angels that would disagree with you."

Armand chuckles a bit, "I doubt I would get along well with angels. I might be wrong. I don't know God or His will, but I've done just the sort of thing you were doing; I was praying to God, hoping that he would fix everything. It took a lot more than a stranger in a church to get me to at least figure out that I had to stand on my own."

Armand leaned in, inspecting every centemetre of the image. "If there are angels here, I would be glad to meet them. It seems that I'm cursed to never meet them in heaven.

"The angels here are very kind. Castiel, Gabriel, and Raphael have been nothing but nice to me since I've met them," Rachel said informatively. "I could introduce you to some of them, if you want. They are my friends."

He was an artist -- or someone who appreciated art -- which meant, somewhere, that he was clearly not out to kill her or do anything outrageously evil.

She had a great barometer for those that could be trusted.

"It isn't that I don't think I can stand on my own, it's -- " Rachel shrugged slightly, frowning to herself. "I'd just like to whether or not He listens when people pray, that's all. I've received some evidence that He doesn't lately, but -- that's what faith is for, isn't it?"

She looked back up at Armand, frown deepening.

"Why do you think you won't go to Heaven?"

Soon you might be able to add Uriel to that list. I'm thinking of apping him from Paradise Lost!

"I would like that very much, even though I wonder if they could give me much advice." He sighed, stepping back and looking up, admiring the painting as it rose ever higher above them.

"I wonder if I can even die now. I survived the one way that seemed to be certain. Though I repent for my sins, it seems that God would not have me."

Even this felt dangerous to Armand. He doubted that he would ever be as comfortable about revealing his nature as a vampire as Lestat seemed to be. But Lestat was always the one who played with fire.


"They give me advice on a semi-constant basis. They aren't quite so unapproachable and celestial as their title makes them out to be. Most of them are actually rather friendly and personable."

Though Rachel paused, at his next sentences, and considered that to herself. She had seen a lot of weird things in her time at Adstringendum -- angels, for starters, were probably the least bizarre thing she had encountered since she had stayed. So it was a mark of an Adstringendum veteran that she didn't look too bothered, instead frowning in thought.

"So... you aren't human -- or are you condemned, in your world?"

:3 I try~ But Uriel showed up on his own, and demanded attention.

Armand wasn't sure if he should be happy or upset that most were not perturbed by his being a vampire. Or by any of the supernatural here. He kept looking at the ceiling with a frown.

When he spoke it was slow and cautious, "I am not human." He didn't offer any more. If she was friends with Angels, he wasn't sure how much of his evil he wanted to show her.

omg the Supernatural angels will be so 'wat' over the difference!

"I've met several non-human individuals."

It was said as a reassurance, with an instant smile of comfort as she stepped a little closer to Armand, to show that she wasn't afraid.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of whatever it is you are. I'm not going to judge you."

Haha! yeah! It will be fun! Uriel will be confused too!

Armand didn't move away from her or show any distaste for her presence closer to him. "Even if no one here judges me, I judge myself.

"It has long been a law of sorts for my kind to keep what we are hidden. It is the one thing almost all of my kind in my world agreed on. I was once one who would enforce that and other laws, and I find it the one most difficult to break."

He looked to her and smiled gently, "Even though I think of myself as something sinful, I won't hurt you. All that matters is that I would rather be in God's good graces."

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