[ When Ortus first beheld God, he had knelt with grace, submitting before the might and glory of the divine with the awe he had once believed that august personage to merit.
Here, when he falls to his knees, the surf splashes up around them. Something sharp bites behold his left kneecap, another piece of detritus, but he does not feel it as he gazes up into the eyes that have been closed, never again to be opened - the eyes that blaze like God's own child's with a truth that was never to be known - the eyes that once were God's - the eyes of the Beast that could be defeated once, but never twice, and who stands before him in an apocalypse of beauty.
She has no wings. It does not seem right to him, in the buzz of his rank horror, that she does not have wings. ]
I do not know what I could offer you.
[ His voice is pale under this oppression, fine and soft as silt, and he must avert his gaze from her, and cannot wrest himself away. ]
no subject
Here, when he falls to his knees, the surf splashes up around them. Something sharp bites behold his left kneecap, another piece of detritus, but he does not feel it as he gazes up into the eyes that have been closed, never again to be opened - the eyes that blaze like God's own child's with a truth that was never to be known - the eyes that once were God's - the eyes of the Beast that could be defeated once, but never twice, and who stands before him in an apocalypse of beauty.
She has no wings. It does not seem right to him, in the buzz of his rank horror, that she does not have wings. ]
I do not know what I could offer you.
[ His voice is pale under this oppression, fine and soft as silt, and he must avert his gaze from her, and cannot wrest himself away. ]
But I would offer, if I knew.