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Bead of Red Wax

Lore posted:

The abbey ceased to be a quiet place. Cries of pain coming from every cell pierced the walls. The old friar knew he would be next, so he got up from his cot, where he had been huddled, and glanced at the few items that lay on his table, most of them mementos from his life before joining the Order. He wanted to be kissed by the Miracle while immersed in those gentle thoughts. Triggering most memories were some small balls of wax, now covered in dust, that he used to enlarge by picking up wax from the candles during processions.



Black Grieving Veil

No. 2 posted:

No one knows what they asked for in that prayer, nor why they didn't want to be wedded. The Miracle, with its grievous plans, went to the aid of the sisters, if you can call that aid.



Fourth Toe Made of Limestone

Lore posted:

Finally he said, "A genuine genuflecting pilgrim will always walk alone. It is the solitary path that will grant him constant meditation and understanding of what it means to be a pilgrim in the lands of the Miracle. For that is our rule."
Then he got up, and looked at all of us for a long time while we remained silent. Then he left, and we never saw him again.



Holy Wound of Contrition

Santo Credo, Verse II posted:

The Miracle created the Golden Visages from the very fervour of the uncorrupted saints, in order to preserve them, eternal, in the forbidden Dream. Three identical faces covered in torrid gold are the guardians of the three wounds in His Holiness' soul.



Taranto to My Sister

Lore posted:

"Sister of mine, don't leave me,
for I carry you in my breast and in my heart

Sister of mine, don't leave me bleeding
for I carry you in my chest and in my blood

Sister of mine, don't leave me in silence,
for I carry you in my bosom and in my song."



Token of Appreciation

Lore posted:

Finally, the church is going to open after so long. Soon, the constant silence of this place will end. A new light will enter through the gate and dust will rise from the worn tiles and damp wood of the pews. Everything must be perfect. Everything in place and ready. I am the child of the mass. This is my calling.