FIC: Faith (Enigma, Kurisu)
Jan. 31st, 2012 02:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sententiaTitle: Faith.
Fandom Enigma.
Rating: PG
Fan bingo squares: Ghosts and hauntings, imprisonment, character study.
Summary: Kurisu loses his faith, first. Set pre-series.
Kurisu loses his faith, first. The spindly shadows spin around the cross that hangs from his neck, corroding the cheap, intimidation silver into something closer to ash. He thinks that he can almost feel the pulse of his lord and savior against his chest, whispering His closeness and promising some version of heaven, but it is only his skin bubbling.
He loses his ability to prioritise, second. So sudden that logic becomes a mockery of everything that has lead him this far, he no longer holds onto memories or thoughts or finding someway out of here (wherever here is, he no longer thinks it is hell because the cross is ash and so are all his beliefs). Instead, he seeks out warmth, even though that is all the shadows offer in their burning, searing hatred.
Kurisu’s pride falls third. The strange and unfamiliar emotion spikes and spirals first, trembling through him with such viscosity that Kurisu can barely stand the raw heat of it. He sags against a corridor wall as everything he holds as his own is shredded like wheat. Humility. Kindness. Thoughtfulness. For one moment, there is nothing but pride – hot and dark and pulsing evil – and then there is nothing.
His sense of self falls next. Kurisu barely notices. He can barely breathe.
Kurisu loses his faith, last. The name that tips his tongue in desperation takes on the heat of the shadows, of hell, and he finds himself an albatross that has been flung off for the scavengers to feast on instead of the savior he was once ordained to be.
Fandom Enigma.
Rating: PG
Fan bingo squares: Ghosts and hauntings, imprisonment, character study.
Summary: Kurisu loses his faith, first. Set pre-series.
Kurisu loses his faith, first. The spindly shadows spin around the cross that hangs from his neck, corroding the cheap, intimidation silver into something closer to ash. He thinks that he can almost feel the pulse of his lord and savior against his chest, whispering His closeness and promising some version of heaven, but it is only his skin bubbling.
He loses his ability to prioritise, second. So sudden that logic becomes a mockery of everything that has lead him this far, he no longer holds onto memories or thoughts or finding someway out of here (wherever here is, he no longer thinks it is hell because the cross is ash and so are all his beliefs). Instead, he seeks out warmth, even though that is all the shadows offer in their burning, searing hatred.
Kurisu’s pride falls third. The strange and unfamiliar emotion spikes and spirals first, trembling through him with such viscosity that Kurisu can barely stand the raw heat of it. He sags against a corridor wall as everything he holds as his own is shredded like wheat. Humility. Kindness. Thoughtfulness. For one moment, there is nothing but pride – hot and dark and pulsing evil – and then there is nothing.
His sense of self falls next. Kurisu barely notices. He can barely breathe.
Kurisu loses his faith, last. The name that tips his tongue in desperation takes on the heat of the shadows, of hell, and he finds himself an albatross that has been flung off for the scavengers to feast on instead of the savior he was once ordained to be.
