03-06-2008, 05:49 PM
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The pew was cold beneath him, its stone having not felt the warmth of a living creature's touch for a good while now. A lone ray of light fell from a small crack in the ceiling above, and within this golden streak there danced small particles that twirled about like tiny ballerinas. Yellow eyes flew to the panel of stain glass windows alongside the wall, montages of what would have once been considered holy scenes. Now they were just broken images of what once was: a shattered woman's face, missing pane here and there, a spiderweb crack that stretched far more than it should. He sat silently in this church, hands loose in his lap, face limp with no expression. It was sunset, and soon enough there would be no light to guide him back home. Silver Arcona didn't care much; at least not now, anyways. He was lost in thought, dreaming up past images of Scotland and what had once been the present. As much as he denied the past, it still had a way of infiltrating his thought processes. So he succumbed every now and then to these daydreams. Only for a short while, though.[/html]