Post by Dominik Jaeger on Jan 5, 2011 9:35:11 GMT -5
Dominik felt distinctly uncomfortable, as he did with all churches he had not visited before. Perhaps it was simple unfamiliarity. More likely it was the fact that most of his visits involved telling a priest about particularly deep sins, and even with their vows not to share confessions with anyone, you cannot guess how someone would react to them.
Just as much of it could be attributed to the fact that his clothes were very different than he preferred. This is not Alaska, and nowhere near cold enough to provide an excuse for a long jacket or cloak. Nor could he wear his armor. Instead he was in a business suit, which is a fine outfit to be sure, but Dominik was not a proper "business man" and never felt entirely comfortable dressed like one. He was a hunter and a killer, but the only sign of this was his sword, belted to his waist and in it's sheath. He was quite happy that the laws here permitted him to carry his sword openly, provided he was able to get certain documents to do so. This did manage to get him some looks, but being well-dressed meant his blade appeared to be a distinguishing accessory for a slightly-eccentric but well-off man, instead of a weapon carried by a killer.
The Cathedral of St. Helena was also imposing all on it's own; even if someone was familiar with it, Dominik doubted anyone could be entirely comfortable there. It looked less like a cathedral and more like a stylized fortress, with strange engravings that made Dominik think of old pagan practices more than of Catholic dogma. An impressive building in the heart of the homelands of the Church, and a clear demonstration of their authority and power for sure, but strangely off-putting. His own home church, far away and on another continent, was much smaller and and lacked the decorations of this one, being in a land where people tended to be Protestant if anything at all. By comparison this Church could use it as a small storage building.
Crossing the doorway threshold helped a great deal, particularly when he spotted his goal. Within the actual church was that familiar item, and one Dominik had been eager to get to. A confessional. No church, no matter the size or importance, would avoid having a confessional, and confession was his only goal here. He had much to admit to.
The booths were empty, not in current use, and Dominik merely opened the door and sat inside. He would wait for someone to come along in their own time. For the moment, he could relax a little and plan on how he was going to confess what deeds he was in this city for, and how he would have to handle things if the priest did not take the confession well.
Planning mass-murder was probably not something they heard often.
Just as much of it could be attributed to the fact that his clothes were very different than he preferred. This is not Alaska, and nowhere near cold enough to provide an excuse for a long jacket or cloak. Nor could he wear his armor. Instead he was in a business suit, which is a fine outfit to be sure, but Dominik was not a proper "business man" and never felt entirely comfortable dressed like one. He was a hunter and a killer, but the only sign of this was his sword, belted to his waist and in it's sheath. He was quite happy that the laws here permitted him to carry his sword openly, provided he was able to get certain documents to do so. This did manage to get him some looks, but being well-dressed meant his blade appeared to be a distinguishing accessory for a slightly-eccentric but well-off man, instead of a weapon carried by a killer.
The Cathedral of St. Helena was also imposing all on it's own; even if someone was familiar with it, Dominik doubted anyone could be entirely comfortable there. It looked less like a cathedral and more like a stylized fortress, with strange engravings that made Dominik think of old pagan practices more than of Catholic dogma. An impressive building in the heart of the homelands of the Church, and a clear demonstration of their authority and power for sure, but strangely off-putting. His own home church, far away and on another continent, was much smaller and and lacked the decorations of this one, being in a land where people tended to be Protestant if anything at all. By comparison this Church could use it as a small storage building.
Crossing the doorway threshold helped a great deal, particularly when he spotted his goal. Within the actual church was that familiar item, and one Dominik had been eager to get to. A confessional. No church, no matter the size or importance, would avoid having a confessional, and confession was his only goal here. He had much to admit to.
The booths were empty, not in current use, and Dominik merely opened the door and sat inside. He would wait for someone to come along in their own time. For the moment, he could relax a little and plan on how he was going to confess what deeds he was in this city for, and how he would have to handle things if the priest did not take the confession well.
Planning mass-murder was probably not something they heard often.
