Salutations (Peregrine x Gulliver)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Peregrine, Jun 1, 2014.

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  1. 1: Every morning the tones of the church bells echo across the valley. To those who live there it is an act of God, a confirmation of their faith. They do not know that, long ago, a bellringer was placed high in the reaches of the church, to ensure that the bells rung out faithfully. But all secrets were made to be broken. A churchgoer climbs into the secret and forbidden heights of the church, and there meets the bellringer. Slowly the two explore their newfound relationship, and, for the first time in living memory, the patterns of the bells begin to break.
     
  2. Dawn spread slowly over the valley, first touching the high peaks of the mountains before creeping slowly down into the lush green field. Long before the houses ever got a touch of morning light the rays struck the high steeple, turning it bright gold.

    Inside, the pigeons stirred gently, upset by a rustle of movement among them. They cooed softly, lifting a tailfeather here and a wing there, before bobbing their heads and drifting back towards sleep. The first note of the morning bells was high and sweet, peeling across the valley in a golden wave that seemed to herald the coming dawn. It echoed through the streets, before falling slowly to silence. Just as the memory of the echo was beginning to fade a second note struck out, this one deep, like the pulse of the city coming to life. In a sudden wave, every bird in the church took off, their wings beating almost in time with the bells, which struck to life in a sudden resounding chorus.

    Around the city people were woken from their dreams to the sound of the bells. It was the morning call, something that had come as long as they had been alive, and as long as their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents had been alive. It told them that their God was watching, reminded them to have faith no matter what kinds of trials or tribulations struck the world.

    Soon the bells were accompanied by the lifted voices of the priests. They too were roused from their slumber by the sounds of the bells, the tones that guided their days and their prayers. The first notes left their lips as they woke, almost as though by instinct. They sang as they rose from their pallets, donned their robes, and walked out into the halls to perform their morning devotions.

    They did not know that the bellringer watched them from above. To them the ringing of the bells was an act of God, a confirmation of their faith. The bells rang no matter what, no matter what they did. They did not know that, long ago, someone had been placed in the belltower, someone who faithfully rang the bells no matter what passed below. But sometimes the eyes of the bellringer drifted down, watching the passage of the priests below. And, sometimes, there was the gentlest taste of sorrow, the sense of something lost, something missing, that would be drowned away moments later by the echoes of the bell. The bells, which cleaned the soul and emptied the mind, returning their guardian to the task at hand.
     
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