It was only a short walk to the chapel, and there Katya saw that the altar had been broken, blood poured on it, and ashes scattered around it. The iconostasis had been broken down, and the icons had been trampled upon. There was even a dismembered hand, apparently forgotten by the goblins, decaying slowly next to the door to the sacristy.
She dropped to her knees and wanted to do nothing more than cry and flee. Suddenly, however, she saw light coming from the broken altar, and from every one of the trampled icons, and she was transfixed by the color of it -- golden, like honey from the comb, or firelight, or pure liquid gold; golden, like the color that iconographers used to represent the light of Heaven.
Heedless of the filth on the floor in front of her, Katya fell on her face. She could still see the light, and now she could taste the sweetness of it, like honey on her tongue, and feel the warmth of it, like the heat of a fireplace after hours outside in the cold.
The reassuring light, the nourishing sweetness, and the comforting warmth filled her, and though some part of her knew that she was still prostrate on the floor, she felt as though she was looking down from the ceiling. Monks were fighting and dying to defend the chapel, against two men with armor, swords, and supernatural strength. Katya could see that the monks were all glowing dimly with the same kind of light that had exuded from the altar, while the attackers seemed to darken the area they were in, with vaguely red-tinted shadows.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-11-21 10:50 pm (UTC)She dropped to her knees and wanted to do nothing more than cry and flee. Suddenly, however, she saw light coming from the broken altar, and from every one of the trampled icons, and she was transfixed by the color of it -- golden, like honey from the comb, or firelight, or pure liquid gold; golden, like the color that iconographers used to represent the light of Heaven.
Heedless of the filth on the floor in front of her, Katya fell on her face. She could still see the light, and now she could taste the sweetness of it, like honey on her tongue, and feel the warmth of it, like the heat of a fireplace after hours outside in the cold.
The reassuring light, the nourishing sweetness, and the comforting warmth filled her, and though some part of her knew that she was still prostrate on the floor, she felt as though she was looking down from the ceiling. Monks were fighting and dying to defend the chapel, against two men with armor, swords, and supernatural strength. Katya could see that the monks were all glowing dimly with the same kind of light that had exuded from the altar, while the attackers seemed to darken the area they were in, with vaguely red-tinted shadows.