Gilbert thought the church was a load of crap, but he was more than willing to take advantage of the promise of sanctuary. So he’d pissed on a government building, who cared? He was just a little drunk that was all.
(more) He stumbled past the heavy doors, the place looked empty, not surprising for this time of night. “I need sanctuary and shit. Anyone here?”
There was a noise in the corner, a swish of white robes. Gilbert’s mouth felt dry when he saw sharp hazel eyes and curled dark hair. “I thought priests were supposed to be old and ugly…”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Hot priests with a mouth on ‘em? Maybe I should start going to church…”
“I’m kicking you out.”
“You can’t do that! I said sanctuary!”
“Fucking watch me.”
“It’s not my fault you’re hot! Like I’m not supposed to notice!?”
Lovino scowled, not sure if he even wanted to touch the drunk man to push him out. “What’d you do?”
“Tch. Why do you need sanctuary, idiot?”
“I…stole some bread for my starving sister?”
“Are you fucking- Get out.”
“Can I at least have your number first…?” Gilbert tried to put on his most attractive smile, breath heavy with alcohol.
“I’m a /priest/.”
“I’ve seen the porn…”
Gilbert just smiled again, tugging on Lovino’s robes and stealing a quick kiss. “I’ll come back when my bro bails me out. You can…get on your knees and pray for me…”
Lovino didn’t even have the time to yell as Gilbert ran out with that obnoxious laugh, just scrunching his nose at the taste of cheap beer on his lips. (less)
It's a big war outside, and Germany knows it's a losing one, and Veneziano knows too. And they both know that the new republic isn't going to last, how could it, when Veneziano's people hate and fear Germany's and Germany's look down on Veneziano's?
(more) Yet here they are, shaking and curled around each other while Russia sweeps across the east (only a matter of time before Prussia gets caught) and England and America slowly, surely take the west and south (France and Romano have both run, Veneziano screamed when he saw Romano on the battlefield) and all they can do is hold each other in the temporary sanctuary of a camp bed while their governments eat them from the inside out.
The big war outside rages on, but here with each other, just maybe, it's almost possible to breathe. (less)
when you say that something's not possible
do you mean that you think that it's not possible because it goes against the laws of the world
or does it mean that it's unacceptable
does it mean that you don't want to leave your certain sanctuary you've created for yourself(more) or have had made
or does it mean that you're, simply put
anticipating a change
but afraid to accept
because you can never really tell if a change will be good or bad
and you're just stuck wondering "if"
and unable to decide "to"(less)
He stood, sword of typhoons lodged halfway into the ground, a fortress of sanctuary against the dark battalion that circled just beyond the edge.
The Judicator knew little of the people he currently protected. He didn't ask (more)their names, never wondered as to their purpose. He simply believed their purpose to be a good one, if only because the Grip had sent his forces after them.
He sensed, as though he could feel their muscles tensing up, that they were ready to move. For a short time, more than one hour but less than twelve, he held the will-shield in place. He had locked the shield into place when they entered, letting their battle-weary bodies and war-weary hearts take a moment of rest while they tried to piece together their situation.
So far, The Judicator had put together that they were from a time far beyond the one he was from originally. A land where magic was weak, if at all existent, and the projects of alchemists, engineers, and the half-mad tinkerers had taken the hearts and minds of people. Rather, he believed this from their tools and weapons. However he did know they were soldiers, from the way that many of them moved as though one body, how they had all looked to the single person that had tried talking to The Judicator.
Unable to respond from the strain of maintaining the shield, they came to believe this nameless beast of a knight was their only sanctuary against a nameless being that struck in them a sourceless fear. As time went on, they gathered closer and closer to him, building what energy they could.
There, in the distance, he felt it. Another hole in the abyss. One, he felt, would take them back.
"MOVE!", he roared.(less)
“Let me in!” Viola cried. Her small hands, coiled into fists, beat tirelessly against the stone door separating her from sanctuary. The only result from her frantic effort was a decided ache spreading through her body. Her hands would be bruised the next day, and she would likely feel(more) pain lingering throughout her arms, but that was only if the next day actually happened.
“Let me IN! Please!” Would politeness help? Doubtful. Nothing would, she suspected. At this point, she was mostly trying to distract herself from the inevitable. If they hadn't been moved by her pleas yet, she didn't expect that they would be affected by them ever. Her breathing was harsh and uneven. She could feel her thoughts begin to drift toward what would happen to her if she didn't get inside, her likely future. Anything to distract herself. She didn't want to think about that.
“PLEASE!” she screamed. She was plainly desperate, too afraid to feel shame. Her face felt hot, her mouth dry, her vision blurry. The surrounding area was unnaturally quite, and her loud, pleading voice seemed to echo endlessly.
She stopped for a moment, took a long breath, let her tired body rest for as long as she dared. She thought about giving up, knew it was useless anyway, and almost as soon as the thought passed through her mind she heard a muffled sound, something snapping or cracking, somewhere in the direction opposite of the sanctuary.
The aches in her body dissipated as fear took over. She threw herself against the door with renewed desperation, pounding her fists as quickly and firmly as her body would allow, absently fearing something inside of her might break.