[It feels good, in a way. Cleansing. Stripping away a layer - mentally and physically - to render him shiny and new.
As Christ has undergone bodily suffering, you too should arm yourselves with the same conviction, that anyone who has undergone bodily suffering has broken with sin-
He needs this just as much as Alucard does. He wants it, so his prayer is steady and full of conviction. Even when his breathing becomes harsh and oppressive, he continues on, uttering each word one after the other and pausing between syllables where necessary. Sweat develops on the nape of his neck and it stings as it slides down his back and into the lingering welts.
It isn't until the metal bites into his skin that he lets out a sound. A low, short guttural sound that doesn't quite manage to end before the next strike. It's much easier to make these welts overlap: they dig deeper, stay longer. At some indeterminable point, his jaw falls open to accommodate harsh, whimpering breaths. This ones pain is much more difficult to take with his usual stoicism. He can feel blood gathering and sliding in slow rivulets down the length of his back, soaking into the black of his trousers. Which is a convenient colour for them to be, since blood can be damned hard to get out of fabrics.
Still, the prayer continues, a little more brittle than before but maintaining the same conviction. This is a good pain. For Alucard, for him, and for God.]
no subject
As Christ has undergone bodily suffering, you too should arm yourselves with the same conviction, that anyone who has undergone bodily suffering has broken with sin-
He needs this just as much as Alucard does. He wants it, so his prayer is steady and full of conviction. Even when his breathing becomes harsh and oppressive, he continues on, uttering each word one after the other and pausing between syllables where necessary. Sweat develops on the nape of his neck and it stings as it slides down his back and into the lingering welts.
It isn't until the metal bites into his skin that he lets out a sound. A low, short guttural sound that doesn't quite manage to end before the next strike. It's much easier to make these welts overlap: they dig deeper, stay longer. At some indeterminable point, his jaw falls open to accommodate harsh, whimpering breaths. This ones pain is much more difficult to take with his usual stoicism. He can feel blood gathering and sliding in slow rivulets down the length of his back, soaking into the black of his trousers. Which is a convenient colour for them to be, since blood can be damned hard to get out of fabrics.
Still, the prayer continues, a little more brittle than before but maintaining the same conviction. This is a good pain. For Alucard, for him, and for God.]