sickly sweet memories of you

ventilate

there was a hush in the council chambers as he sat down. this was to be the culmination of seven years of deliberations and tribulations, the end of seven years of politicking and lies.

and as he clears his throat, it begins.

"we have always held this council in high regard. we have always given guidance to this council when necessary, shaping the nations with reverence toward the divine will that flows through us. we have tried. you have failed.

there was a stunned silence throughout the councillors, the only sound the fidgeting of bodies and the shuffle of paperwork.

"we have found that all of your efforts to stop the insugents, the three minor insurgents that we have asked for from the beginning, these efforts have not been sufficient in our eyes nor those of the powers that guide our hands. the divine will has instructed us to personally take care of this problem.

"as below, so above.

a sudden rush of armed men, dressed in black with steel plates covering their faces, invades the room grabbing each councillor by the neck, the arm, the hair, whatever is available.

"we apologise for the inconvenience, but failure extracts a heavy price. it was a pleasure to work with you all.

the executions began within three minutes.

i never thought that i would be retelling that tale to you now, that it would be something of so much importance in our history. i never thought that his crimes would become heroic, nor his mandates and edicts so integral to our way of life.

i never thought that it would go this far.

you came in search of the truth. you came here to learn about what has come to pass, regardless of the book and the knife.

six days later, an edict was issued and carried out throughout the adriatic territories. military rule had been issued and all traces of a rebellion were to be crushed with lethal forces. i remember looking out the window at the bonfires in central park, the screaming of the children, the beat of the wild drums. it reminded me of my war, so long ago. our war.

i know that everything comes full circle, that everything has a reason.

when i sat in the council chamber and watched all my works go to waste, watch my brethren hunted down like dogs all in the name of divine progress, i think that was the second time in my existence that i have wept. i saw raphael dismembered, his limbs fed to the iron clad dogs that the he kept for protection. i saw michael exsanguinated, i saw uriel skinned. they took the punishments of the poets and they enacted them on all of my kindred. actually, one of your poets put it rather nicely. i saw fear in a handful of dust.

of course they couldn't destroy us, and we only let them think so because we thought that it suited the ultimate end, the one that we had been praying for since the beginning. i had this glorious thought of the beasts falling into the pit, of an anger subsiding, of seeing the light once again.

the carnage was beautiful. that is why i wept.

i go on though. would you like more scotch? it will relax you. maybe enough to where you will stop levelling that damned shotgun at my forehead.

nebulize

machines of loving grace - last