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[†]Video feed focuses in from table-level, angled towards curling parchment paper and stocky fingertips scribing across them with a quilled pen. The view is cropped just enough to see the slightly exhaust-torn face of the writer who diligently paints his diatribes. If one looked hard enough they could just faintly read his archaic handwriting as he scrawls in utter silence at the balcony of his apartment.[†]

[][]

[†]CLINK![†]

[][]

[†]With a flustered hiss after he had successfully knocked over the jar of ink, he pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose, only to realize he had just smeared more of the offensive ink between his eyes.[†]

O'criminy...

[†]Getting up, the priest walks away from the table to go wash up, leaving the camera to watch the ink dry till it times out.[†]



((OOC:Text: Isaiah 13:21-22:
Wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there. And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces: and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged. Babylon. I think that is what this place truly is. She is ruinous and full to the brim with heathens, wickedness, and abominations. I foresee an end for her, just as she fell before the mount of Zion. Hitherto, like Sodom and Gomorrah, there are but a few innocents left here. For that, in my soul I feel it is my duty to deliver them out of the mouths of lions. Dear children outcast to the wind into this peril. Like Lot’s angel I wish to send them a warning and lead them from this place and let them not turn their eyes back for fear they may become as pillars of salt. Alice, curiouser and curiouser is she, the petite petal. I cannot but help that I have met her someplace before. Edward, an odd but smart duck, she speaks in brill riddles that are a joy to decipher. Nia, with flowers in her eyes, and foreign expressions of how she feels, I can only hope to understand with time. Abel and his brother Cain, whom I pray do not fall to their namesakes, find strength in their bond. The littlest one, Nina, taken from her father and brothers, I cannot help my anger spurned to bring one so lost and to toss them into this madness alone. Leave behind no child, says I. That is my conviction. What I believe now of this island. Perhaps it was not He who sent me to this place, yet it was He that allowed me to come, so that nary one of His little ones would face this peril alone. Their shield is my soul, their sword is my body. Now it is here I face another qualm. The unwellness of my brother. Neither do I know it’s true cause, nary do I know what he faced before coming here. Succinct is he to me now, yet I can only pray it is the upheaval into this foreign madness. I pray for his betterment daily till I reach a conclusion to the means of our exodus. A means I am about face now will be waiting for me at the park later this evening. I hesitate to take my brother along. Lest he face an injury of another sort: within his mind. For that I shall be going alone; what comes of it will pave the way to deliverance for us all before the end comes. Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. Amen, Fr. Alexander Anderson. ))
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Alexander Anderson

January 2010

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