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Post by alaric nicolas keznov on Mar 4, 2011 23:00:09 GMT -5
Orange light streamed through the large open windows, effectively blinding the man who had just stumbled into the room. Alaric Nicolas Keznov muttered darkly in his native russian before ushering himself into the large spacious room. He continued a string of "Chyort voz'mi," over and over under his breath until he fled to a patch of shadows where he leaned against the warm wall and sighed. All he was looking for was a quiet place to read, somewhere quiet and with no people in it. The russian man took in his surroundings with icy blue eyes filled with a quiet analytic reasoning. The wall was almost completely covered in glass, creating a majestic view of the English countryside (when it wasn't blinding him) with discrete black curtain bunched up near the walls. The auditorium had a gentle slope to it and lead down to a wooden platform where speakers would address their speeches and such other potentially trivial things.
He spotted a seat on right side of the room that was well in the shadows but still got enough surrounding light that it would be possible to read still. A cloud passed over the wretched sun and the blonde man took the opportunity dash across the floor and slide into the comfortably cushioned seats. The man let out a sigh of content as he fished out his worn crime novel out of his coat pocket. Placing the battered piece of literature on his lap, tracing the cover with fond fingers, he shrugged off his coat and deposited it on the seat next to him. The sun warmed room was still uncomfotable to the icy man so he unwound the pale blue woolen scarf from his neck and placed it gently ontop of his coat.
The russian man slouched down in his seat slightly and threw his feet up on the back of the seat infront of him. Cracking the book open to the first page he ran a finger down the time softened pages and gave a dry smile. Surely no one would find him here.
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Post by konstantin levin buskirk on Mar 5, 2011 23:38:56 GMT -5
It had been a long day for Konstantin. Not one of those long days where his students acted out and made life miserable for him. It had just been a day where Konstantin had tried to restrain the vim and vigor that generally underlay his speeches because he didn’t want to scare his class on their first day together. Instead he had thrown up his hands and started yelling about how his walk to class had inspired him to teach to the music in his heart. He had promised himself he would not sing passionately in front of his students, but as soon as he started using the word music to replace the word God in class he had lost it. Music had streamed from his pores and broken from his lips in gusts of breathy, staccato excitement. It had then stopped mattering that most of his students had either been apathetically sitting around trying to keep a straight face or they had openly glared at him. All of the negative energy emanating off his students had floated over his shoulders and had ceased to line his soul with its heavy, apathetic hands. His spirits had soared and lifted him above the misery and unhappiness that was permeating his classroom. He had felt free to let loose and bare his love of music to his students, who responded with restrained interest to his ice breaking activity. God’s words and Konstantin’s love of teaching had been all that had mattered to Konstantin for the duration of his two hour class. He had lost himself to the beat of his soul and had ended up leaving class completely exhausted, yet bursting with pride in the Lord’s teachings, from the loud, passionate speeches he had given to his students. Konstantin still felt the same passionate stirrings of the Lord’s love and guidance that had prompted him to speak in class run through his soul. He was itching to let loose and get in touch with the music streaming through his body. The times in class during which he had tried and failed to restrain his impulse to sing had made him feel like he was singing a song that lacked substance. Konstantin needed the freedom to throw his body around in devotion to the Lord. He wanted to show the world that the Lord and he were one because of the music that he sang and the duties he performed in the Lord’s service. Right now he felt the first inklings of the powerful multi genre songs and spoken word that characterized a Joy William’s song pop into his mind. The song filled his mind with images of unity and man’s search for God’s love, which eventually expanded beyond his brain until he thought the entire world around him was a Joy William’s song. The walls of his classroom burst with God’s love and the trees outside his window seemed to beckon him to move to his world’s changing beat. He didn’t know where the school was telling him to go, but he suddenly got up and ran as if God was purposefully directing him somewhere. Konstantin let God steer him through the third floor’s marble halls, which glowed each time one of his boot’s thick rubber soles hit the floor. In Konstantin’s mind’s eye he could see yellow circles extend out from the tips of his shoes. They were marking his journey and illustrating the excitement which jerked his legs forward in long, eager strides. The whole world burst with color each time his body moved. His hands streaked a rainbow across the door he pushed open to reach the stairwell leading up to the fourth floor and beyond. He made sure his black bowler’s hat with a pair of goggles affixed to it and a clock in the center of the hat was attached to his head. Two of the fingers on his right hand drummed a steady rhythm across the rim of his bowler hat that sounded like falling rain or the rush of fingers typing across a keyboard. Konstantin’s green military jacket, with its two vertical rows of fourteen buttons each, caught the light from a few windows he passed on his way up. The giant patch across his left shoulder, which sported fourteen brass buttons and a circular insignia with a picture of Jesus, smiled with each glint of light that passed across it. God was surely looking down upon Konstantin at this moment; the miniature picture of Jesus on his left shoulder appeared to burst with traces of the light that was streaming down upon it. Whenever Konstantin’s left shoulder moved the light separated into an array of rainbow colors that highlighted the centrality of Jesus to both the patch and Konstantin’s life. The gold chain that linked the patch to a point on Konstantin’s jacket became a metaphorical representation of Konstantin’s devotion to God. Each ruffle in the jacket’s long tail seemed like it could sprout a pair of wings and carry Konstantin high into the sky of the inspirational world of Joy Williams’ song. The belt around Konstantin’s waist contained an escarpment and a patch with a picture of The Madonna and her fat, cherubic child. Another patch with a group of large angels looking down upon several tiny, sixteenth century men also rested on his belt. The images on these patches almost appeared to be moving to the beat of the capital “L” shaped escarpment that kept time in Konstantin’s current world. The angels cheered the small men on as they moved toward the light God was sending them. Madonna pulled her child lovingly toward her chest, smiling down upon one of the tiny disciple in her arms. Konstantin’s knee length, olive green pants with a series of white stripes down the middle seemed rather plain compared to the upper half of his outfit, which was screaming with jubilation. He pulled his black gloves tightly up toward his wrist and let God’s energy pulse through him. Konstantin put one foot forward on the landing of the fifth floor, stuck both of his hands out and twirled around in a fast circle. He pulled his hands in toward his chest to speed up his rotation. Whatever plans God had in store for him after class he knew he was getting close to his destination. His heart was pounding and his eyes were shining so brightly with mirth it looked like blinding rays of light were streaming out of them. The belt loops on his shoes, which buckled together to form a cog like those found in a clock, sparkled with merriment. Even the smallest button on Konstantin’s outfit reflected the joy expanding within his chest. His two other watches, one in the pocket of his military jacket and the other on a chain around his wrist, smiled up at him in deference to his excitement. He was truly bursting with energy that was coloring the world around him. He leaped into the auditorium through one of the side doors on the left side of the room that opened out on to a patch of red carpet, which gently sloped upward toward the room’s main entrance. He opened his eyes and breathed in the serenity and peace of auditorium’s atmosphere. A sense of belonging clouded his eyes with understanding and drove him further into the room. The gentle landscape brushing its fingers against the glass wall on the right side of the auditorium entranced him with its perfection. Yes, this was where he would release his devotion to God in all its fervent glory! He felt so confident about how the auditorium sang out to him in perfect harmony with the Joy William’s song driving his actions that he ran up to an organ parallel to the left side of the stage. He threw himself down upon the bench in front of the organ, cracked his fingers, which released several short noises like snapping branches, and began pressing his fingers down upon the organ’s keys. The organ bellowed a few deep notes from within its stomach, which it tossed neatly across the room. Konstantin noticed that the auditorium’s acoustics were such that the notes remained equally crisp and strong in all corners of the room. That thought brought a smile to his face. He leaned over the organ in a fit of passion and then straightened his posture. Konstantin continued on in that manner, bending over, straightening up, and swaying from side to side as his fingers clicked across the organ’s keys. At first the notes barely resembled a song because they were more a reflection of the spontaneous, disorderly joy that was swirling within Konstantin’s soul. As Konstantin became more energetic and his joy grew organized the organ burst into a crescendo of notes before descending into Léon Boëllmann’s classic organ song “Suite Gothique.” Konstantin let his fingers dance across the keys in short, staccato clicks while he played. He knew he would eventually switch to a more pointedly Christian song, but for the moment he wanted to warm up with something powerful that captured the full range of emotions inside him. The music soon took hold of Konstantin and bled into the world Joy William’s song had created around him. His world shifted from being characterized by bright bursts of Joy Williams’ genre – mixing music to the more emotional, serene music characteristic of “Suite Gothique.” The passion of Joy Williams and the order and drama behind Léon Boëllmann’s song united to give Konstantin’s passionate, wild joy a purpose and a clear direction. He now knew his only purpose was to devote himself entirely to playing songs expressing God’s words. This would help Konstantin release the energy he had built up in class and it would also teach him to use a message to unite his music behind a powerful goal. Konstantin continued playing, letting “Suite Gothique’s” serene second stanza dictate his quiet obeisance to God’s laws. The message behind Konstantin’s songs suddenly became clear in the form of a verse from Matthew 5:16. It read: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your father who is in heaven.” He instantly decided to play his music so that everyone could see the extent of his devotion to God. That way all the people around Konstantin would fall in love with his interpretation of God’s message. His world shimmered with a chrome, silver glow like that he had always imagined seeing around the gates of heaven while he was waiting to meet his maker. All of the objects surrounding Konstantin became hazy and surreal as if they were indirectly soaking up the ethereal message within his music. He could see the Lord’s powerful word’s exit the organ’s pipes in colorful bursts of Christian prayer inside his mind’s eye. And, as Konstantin entered the third part of “Suite Gothique,” he thought there was nothing more glorious and meaningful than spending an entire afternoon ensconced in the Lord’s glory. He continued relaxing and let his heart soak up the brilliance of God’s words. Konstantin was going to make the most of this rare opportunity, in which he could feel God’s hands uniting with his in support of the message behind his music. OOC: Here are links to the two songs I reference throughout this post. Joy Williams’ “We Are”: www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0xVHAxkmoE&feature=autoplay&list=PLD69C91B9ED35978F&index=1&playnext=5“Suite Gothique” Parts 1-3: www.youtube.com/watch?v=irvre6VG4uY&feature=related < -- Part one Part two: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebjDwNLo9es&feature=related (And you really need to turn the volume up on this part to hear it. This does not hold true for the first part and it is only partially true for the third part, which is loud enough to be heard on its own but still rather quiet.) Part Three: www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyLtBKNpcU4&feature=related
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Post by alaric nicolas keznov on Mar 6, 2011 22:43:56 GMT -5
Alaric was almost happily drifitng off into a quiet doze. The book in his strong hands felt ten times heavier than it normally felt and it's weight was causing gravity to take it's toll. The book sagged lower and lower in his hands until it gently touched his lap. The man's dark eyelashed seemed to be growing heavier with each passing second until they finally fluttered down to rest on his cheeks. Soon enough his breathing slowed and his body began preparing to sleep.
He welcomed sleep with open arms. He was exhasuted. Planning lessons were beginning to strain at his eyes as he looked up fact after fact to make his lessons at least seem somewhat interesting. Not to mention dealing with that student. He believed that said student simply exsisted to make his life a living hell, calling him "Pavlov," and generally being a little brat inside his sacred place of learning. Hopefully the detention with Dr. Ludvig cured him of that. His mind drifted off happily into darkness.
Sound blasted suddenly in the room knocking the poor man out of his slumber. He yelled something unintelligent and flailed around for a second to keep himself from falling out of his chair. His movements caused his poor book to fall to the earth with a quiet thumps. Growling, Alaric picked up the book and dusted it off briefly before setting it with his other things. Turning his head around he saw a strange man playing the organ. No wonder it woke him up, that thing was ungodly loud.
Sitting up in his seat he called out to the man, hoping his voice would reach "Hello?"
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Post by aaron wright on Mar 8, 2011 17:40:40 GMT -5
The slender figure that lurked the halls of the school was headed no where in particular at the moment. It meandered around the otherwise silent school accompanied by the rhythmic thumps of heavy soles on polished floors. With no path and no destination the thickly clothed lad found not only his body but his thoughts wondering along. Aaron's mind found itself often times flowing down old familiar paths of memories only to be pulled back to the original line of the music pumping through the large customized headphones encasing the boy's pierced ears. One moment the half-Japanese youth's thoughts lingered on a neon-lit alley leading through the backstreets of Tokyo toward well-known destinations of entertainment and escape. The next second this thought was interrupted by the light and sweet voice singing to him in a language nearly as familiar to him as that in the capital city he called home. Then he would be thinking about the latest release of one of his favorite Korean Pop bands and wondering if that female group would continue to remain together. These trivial wonderings engulfed the lad's mind as he let himself be led by nothing other than a general need to walk along a random floor that he hadn't been aware of choosing. The music and his memories were tied together in holding an unknown dominion over his thoughts- even driving away the ever present feeling of cold that seeped into his bones. In actuality it might have been this self-same feeling that encouraged his path along the window-lined hall that bathed his bleached hair in an unnatural halo of light and warmth. This time of silent and unfettered thoughts came to a sudden halt as the music streaming through the completely black headphones that had set him back what most would consider a large amount came to a rather abrupt stop. With the end of the music the boy's body came to a sudden halt as well. Aaron came to himself with a start and found that he was standing beneath a large window frame bathed in warm bright sunlight. As he shaded his eyes he followed the chord that had been providing him with music to the small electronic device deep in the pocket of his heavy plaid jacket. Taking care not to scratch the screen of the iPod that was customized to match the headphones it was currently connected to, he clicked repeatedly at the wheel. A heavy sigh and an irritated mutter of, " Kuso..." accompanied the appearance of a dead battery on the black screen. Just as he was about to shove the equipment back into the pocket it had emerged from at the same time that he ripped the sound-proof Beats from his ears a loud burst of what could only be organ music emitted from a nearby set of doors. The boy jumped a little in surprise before his pale features settled into a look of equal parts curiosity and annoyance. The sound was so loud and over powering that it completely shattered the silence he had been enjoying, and at the same time started a small urge in the back of his mind. It was like a small itch that he just had to scratch. So with little compunction from himself, Aaron found that his black and white sneakers were leading him in a straight line toward the oaken doors. With little hesitation the boy reached a cloth covered palm out to grasp the ornate golden handle of the door and flung it open. The brightness of the room blinded him for a moment before his dark eyes adjusted. When he could finally make out the lay of the room his eyes instantly focused on the source of the overbearing music. Irritation flowed through his veins and he could his hand that remained on the door handle had clenched into a tight fist. Sitting in front of a large organ was the man that he had met on the lawns the other day- the crazy, mentally-unstable fellow that had a propensity to belt nonsense at the top of his lungs. A snort escaped the boy's nose as he stayed rooted to the spot- dark gaze glaring daggers at the inane idiot before him.
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Post by konstantin levin buskirk on Mar 14, 2011 21:03:28 GMT -5
The final strains of “Suite Gothique” flowed over the auditorium, every sweet note dancing across Konstantin’s body. Konstantin felt like the music was one of God’s angels wrapping its soft, ethereal wings around him. He opened his eyes sleepily, letting a satiated smile stretch across his face. The lingering strains of music winding through Konstantin’s mind leaked out of his body and colored the auditorium with God’s message. The music made every ray of light streaming through the auditoriums’ clear, stain glass windows became another link to God’s kingdom, which He had sent down to remind his followers that he was always watching them. Konstantin turned around on the bench to stare down at the small portion of God’s world he was currently occupying. It was strange how music always reminded him how God was always smiling down upon him and guiding him to lead a life free of sin.
Music had always helped him release his emotions and channel his thoughts to God in a precise message. Without music Konstantin was just a ball of energetic, dramatic life that bounded through life without restraint. Every opportunity he found to rest became another occasion for him to ruminate over the influence God had on his life. He was like a runner that picked up steam toward the end of a sprint because he saw his goal in sight and remembered how he had sworn to complete his race prior to the sprint. Music was his pulpit and that was the reason he had chosen to teach, so he could have a classroom in which he could preach his message. God had created music to give people a venue through which they could share their thoughts with the world. Each delicate, pure note of any song that Konstantin sang dripped with the thoughts he wished to express to the world. Konstantin knew that if he was in a vulnerable state of mind where he was contemplating life and bursting with fervent devotion toward God, his songs had more of an impact on the people around him. During those moments the music Konstantin sang pushed his raw soul and his thoughts, which were unhindered by any restrictions he was placing on the types of thoughts he wished to entertain, out in to the world. Konstantin always felt better when he let his thoughts flow forth in note after note of a passionate, delicate song. Then he didn’t need the frenzy of a sermon or the sudden appearance of God within his life to remind him of his purpose in life, which was to teach students to appreciate their voice and sing to God. He only needed to sing so that he would never forget how even the meek had voices they could use to show their devotion to God; God would not scorn any singer who dedicated a song to Him, and Konstantin was determined to help all his students lose the judgmental air hugging their shoulders that prevented them from unabashedly singing to God.
Konstantin sang to set an example for his students. He needed to live life the way he wanted his students to live, and he wanted his students to live life always mindful of God’s presence. While some people might think Konstantin’s way of life was extreme, and a few students certainly had responded to his impassioned sermons with puzzled glares, Konstantin would never shed his ties to God. Without God Konstantin was simply an old man afraid to detach himself from his childhood. He had thought himself to be most capable of expressing his devotion to God as an innocent child who was unafraid to voice his thoughts; now that he was an adult he found himself constantly checking his thoughts and having to sing a song to take his mind off the inappropriateness of a comment or a sermon he was about to spontaneously give. Even then Konstantin didn’t always catch himself in time to prevent himself from stifling his love to God because it might upset someone he was with. The adult in Konstantin was constantly battling his inner child and yelling at it to stop running around spouting sermons like a crazed fanatic. Adult Konstantin was afraid that young Konstantin would eventually say something that might alienate him from his colleagues or his students. Child Konstantin merely wanted to roll around school as a glowing vision of Christian propriety and manners. Konstantin’s inner child was always speaking and leaking his love toward God in wild bursts of colorful language. Whenever young Konstantin borrowed old Konstantin’s excellent oratorical skills to craft his love for God through words Konstantin couldn’t help but smile. Moments where both of his halves worked together to praise God were rare and he cherished all of them greatly. These were times when he didn’t have to fight his age or hide the signs of his adult hood that peeked out in his mannerisms and in his appearance.
This was also why Konstantin was so fond of children or cherubs, as he liked to call them. Cherubs could still receive God’s messages without encoding them in adult language and analyzing them until they lost their true meaning. To children a message was simply a message and nothing more. Adults always thought messages had a special metaphorical meaning or they ignored them all together. Some adults even shunned God’s messages because He couldn’t possibly exist and be speaking to them from above. Konstantin didn’t wish to be an adult if it meant he would be in the same age group as people who didn’t believe in God. At least children could still be convinced of God’s existence because they hadn’t spent enough time speaking to people who could negatively influence their opinions. The children at Mille – Feuille Academy were of just the right age to be forming opinions on delicate subjects like religion, and who better to guide them toward God than Konstantin?
While thinking about music and turning around on the bench in front of the organ Konstantin managed to glimpse a small figure standing near the main entrance of the auditorium. The figure was slight and had a pale, angelic face. He, for Konstantin had determined that this child was a boy, was wearing a cloak of light around him. The light made Konstantin think that the boy had cascaded down from heaven to speak to Konstantin on God’s behalf. Konstantin could almost hear a stream of gentle harp music start inside his head at the sight of the boy’s holy appearance. The harp music was sounding inside Konstantin to express the calm joy he felt at the sight of the cherub standing before him like a glorious beacon from above. Konstantin instantly thought the boy was an older version of the Madonna’s child who had floated away from her mother to explore God’s Kingdom. He suddenly felt very lucky to be witnessing such a miracle.
Konstantin rose, compelled forward by the boy’s energy. He wanted to touch the boy and unite himself with one of God’s chosen cherubs. Just picturing the smile that would break out on his face once he touched the boy caused Konstantin to hum the harp music he was singing inside his head out loud. He even allowed himself to skip up the narrow path between two clusters of chairs toward the holy cherub. Few people had been near someone who lived in heaven, so Konstantin was eager to see how the cherub looked up close. Konstantin figured that the cherub would at least have a benevolent, all knowing smile on his face, which would put him at ease in front of this messenger of God. Unfortunately for Konstantin, when he approached the glowing figure the sunlight clothing the child became highly ironic in nature, because the child was scowling at him so determinedly he was surprised the light hadn’t scattered. Konstantin was shocked that God was still paying this child any attention given how angry the child looked. It seemed impossible for one of God’s chosen representatives to radiate the negative energy and light that this child was projecting. The aura around the brown haired child was steeped in annoyance and rage, almost as if the child was seething from his contact with God. Could God and this particular child follower of His have just gotten in to a fight? Was the child hiding out on earth to escape God’s wrath for having said something offensive to God?
Just thinking these thoughts made Konstantin sad. Here Konstantin was minding his own business when he thought God had heard his beautiful music and sent a cherub down to reward him for his diligent loyalty to His doctrine. Now it seemed like God was playing a practical joke on him by sending His most petulant, rowdy cherub down to talk to Konstantin. At this moment Konstantin felt that God had grown sad when Konstantin had stopped playing and had decided to make him deal with His most angry cherub as a punishment for having stopped his music. This was just great! All Konstantin had wanted to do when he saw the boy was to converse with God through one of his cheerful followers. The child who was before him didn’t seem capable of saying a single kind thing about God!
“Cherub!” Konstantin called out tentatively. He briefly stopped humming the harp music that this child had inspired him to murmur. “What makes you grace my humble self with your awesome presence?” Konstantin shivered, almost afraid of what this cherub, who appeared to be uncharacteristically angry compared to how he had always pictured the cherubs in Gods kingdoms to be, would say.
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Post by alaric nicolas keznov on Mar 15, 2011 22:28:27 GMT -5
There were not many times in Alaric's history that he was actually shocked speechless. This just happened to be one of those times. The crazed man at the organ continued to play, successfully ignoring the russian man, and then calling a boy at the door a "cherub". What a truly odd man. He couldn't really decide if he liked the man or not, but being honest with himself, he would say that he was intrigued. The strange man dressed in even stranger clothing looked adoringly at the boy, though the boy looked at him with rage.
What a strange relationship.
Through minor effort Alaric regained the use of his tongue and his body. He could try and sneak away, but the 'cherub' boy was blocking the exit, thus making escape impossible without being noticed. He wasn't going to try and escape, he wanted to talk to the strange man. The man must be a teacher here, which subject he taught, Alaric didn't know. He coughed loudly, only to announce his presence, and walked calmly down the ramp towards the man. Once again, he was somewhat stunned by the man's taste in clothing. It was certainly eccentric, not that he was much better.
The boy just stood there, if he wanted to, he could leave.
He stopped a couple rows away from the man and leaned against the edge of the outer chair. Frowning slightly in discomfort he adjusted himself before turning to speak to the man. "Hello. You are very good at piano. Vhat vere you playing? I did not recognize it." The sun had set slightly and was no longer painfully blinding his eyes. "Ah! Forgive me sir, I forgot to tell you my name. My name is Alaric Keznov. I teach Psychology. Are you teacher here also?" He tilted his head curiously and crossed his arms waiting for an answer.
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Post by aaron wright on Mar 20, 2011 20:50:41 GMT -5
Tilted lids lowered themselves even further, perpetuating the look of utter contempt and anger playing itself across the boy's pale features as the dark eyes watched the man's approach. When the bumbling buffoon presented himself before the student, the latter nearly took a step back in an attempt to get away from the fawning look of adoration plastered on the crazy man's face. Instead of taking a complete step away, however, he found himself shrinking into the comforting warmth of his jacket despite the aura of heat that pervaded the sun-drenched auditorium. Although he would normally reveal in the unexpected pleasure of a warm day, the presence of the man before him was causing him to withdraw from it.
As he fought down the somewhat belligerent response that wanted to leap forth from his lips he was saved by the appearance of yet another older man. Aaron clenched his teeth against the angry words that wanted to spill forth like the tide of a broken dam, using all of his self control not to insult this man that had an apparent dearth of common sense and propriety. He forcefully shoved these angry thoughts about how such a silly man that thought it alright to call students "cherubs" and run crazily with one in his arms to the back of his mind as listened to the third person speak.
His dark eyes blinked once and then twice as he went through the quick catalogue of all the accents he had ever heard in his life- which was actually quite a few- as he listened to the man that was apparently a teacher speak. After a moment of indecision he decided that this man must be Russian or from some other nation that previously allied with the Soviet Union. Aaron forced himself to remain quiet as the two older men exchanged dialogue- preferring to leave his presence as minimal as possible at this juncture.
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Post by konstantin levin buskirk on Mar 28, 2011 20:45:03 GMT -5
A smile flowed on to Konstantin’s face as he approached the boy whom he had nicknamed “the cherub.” The boy’s choice to remain quiet was reminding him of God’s tendency to speak through metaphors. Konstantin was now sure that God was cloaking the silent cherub in light to make a point to him, and it would be just like God to leave it up to Konstantin to puzzle out his message. But why had God chosen to embed his thoughts in a pale, baby-faced boy who was scowling like he had just gotten into a fist fight with the Devil? It made no sense! Konstantin had always thought that if he was lucky enough to receive a message from God that God would send one to him in the same vein in which He had sent His messages to his prophets; all of God’s messages to his prophets had been flashy symbols and similes like burning bushes and droughts. God never beat around the bush. If He wanted to make it painfully obvious that you were doing something wrong or that you were one of His chosen advisors, He wouldn’t hesitate to set something on fire or to send you a prophetic dream. For God to have sent Konstantin a boy who was unwilling to speak was beyond puzzling. God’s metaphors, although they were complex, always had a very simple, heartfelt message behind them. Konstantin knew that God would have given the cherub a voice if He had thought it necessary for the cherub to speak to drive home His point. This meant that there had to be a reason the cherub wasn’t currently speaking.
Konstantin froze after his last thought and looked about him in confusion. His face pulled into a series of harsh lines as he began ruminating over God’s message and its possible interpretations. It definitely was not a coincidence that this metaphor had appeared in front of Konstantin directly after his first day of teaching. This though made Konstantin think that God had been sitting on his shoulder watching his train wreck of a class like one of those angels that pops up to convince people in family shows to do the right thing. Now God was materializing on one of his shoulders to whisper words of advice in his ear about how he should correct something that he had done wrong. And if there was one thing that Konstantin knew about God it was that He could be as clear as day when He wanted to be. This seemed like one of those moments where God was smacking Konstantin over the head with His message; His message was a mallet that would strike Konstantin every time he made a bad mistake. And who better to convey His thoughts through than this cherub, whom Konstantin had run into at school more often than anyone else that he knew at Mille – Feuille Academy? It also helped that this cherub was a student at Mille – Feuille Academy. After thinking this thought Konstantin was almost sure that God was remarking on his teaching style and how he had failed to reach his students with his energetic method of teaching. In fact, the cherub’s scowl could represent the anger and disgust that he felt some of his students were struggling to keep from pouring out of them during class. If that was what God was showing Konstantin he would forgive the boy for appearing in front of him looking like he had been to hell and back again. Now that Konstantin had an inkling of an idea why the boy was scowling it didn’t matter that black anger was oozing like tar toward him from the cherub. Konstantin could write that off as another one of God’s mysterious ways of keeping in touch with His flock.
He bowed in the cherub’s direction, after which he straightened and rubbed his chin vigorously with his index finger and his thumb. What should he say to one of God’s followers? It seemed only right that Konstantin should respond to the cherub, but how? Did the cherub’s silence mean that Konstantin should refrain from talking to the cherub? Why, it would be absurd not to talk to one of God’s followers! Konstantin didn’t know when he would get another opportunity like this. As the saying goes, Konstantin could stand to live a little on the wild side.
“What has brought you here, God? Why have you chosen to appear before one of your followers, a man so meek and humble that he doesn’t feel worthy enough to be graced by your presence? Why should someone who doesn’t even feel comfortable stepping in your shadow have the fortune to receive one of your precious messages? Have you sent me this angel, this cherubic boy, to tell me that you are finally claiming those who have done right by you their entire life and damning everyone else to a cold, lonely grave devoid of your love? Whatever the case, oh mighty Lord, I am honored to be in your presence.”
Konstantin would have knelt down to express his subservience to the Lord at that moment, for it seemed like the appropriate thing to do after he had given an impassioned speech. Unfortunately, another man stepped forward and called out to Konstantin. A loud, raspy cough broke through the peaceful mist of God’s love that was hovering over Konstantin’s head. Konstantin had been mere seconds away from stuffing his pores with the unexpectedly strong connection he was feeling with God. He almost tossed a scowl that was harsher than the one that by now had burned itself on to the cherub’s face, given how long the cherub had been glaring at him. It was very rare for God to reach out to His followers like this and someone had to come and unhinge his link to God! If Konstantin had not recognized the man’s accent as being the same Russian accent as that with which some of his relatives spoke English, Konstantin would have grimaced determinedly at the man.
“You are lucky you speak English with the same accent that some of my grandparents and my uncles do.” Konstantin’s bond with the man over the common language which he thought they shared stroked the anger pulsing beneath his skin into a calm stupor. He would be the better man and he would turn one of his cheeks toward the other man to absorb the blow he was feeling from having been prevented from completely accessing God’s message. It would be wrong to throw fighting words out in the open when a fellow human being was reaching out to him for friendship. God would hate Konstantin if he shunned another person to selfishly maximize his contact with the Lord. The least he could do was to make a new friend and to introduce him to the Lord’s beauty.
“My name is Konstantin Levin Buskirk and I am the music teacher here at Mille – Feuille Academy. I was playing “Suite Gothique” for the organ. The organ is my instrument of choice.”
He repeated the last sentence he had spoken in Russian, because he wanted to see if the man in front of him spoke the same native language that he did. That would be a most interesting development indeed. It would also give the cherub’s silence a very literal meaning, because the cherub would have to remain silent; he wouldn’t understand a single thing the two men were saying to each other. This new interpretation of the glowing cherub metaphor, as Konstantin suddenly decided to call the image before him, complicated God’s possible intentions for sending him the message in the first place. Konstantin almost groaned out loud at the deceptively simple nature of God’s message. It was just like God to add a new dimension to His message when one of His followers was about to gain insight from it. Konstantin was no exception to that rule, and he was glad God was treating him like all of His other followers who had been blessed to receive one of His messages. That didn’t mean that the message wasn’t becoming slightly frustrating. Maybe the newcomer, with his strong, prominent jaw and a very determined, stubborn look about him, would use some of his stubborn energy to help Konstantin decipher God’s metaphor?
“It is good to meet another professor here, especially the psychology professor.” He said this sentence twice, once in Russian for Alaric’s benefit and a second time so that the student could hear him. “Just between you and me, I’m not sure what is wrong with that cherub behind me. He has been scowling at me this entire time. I don’t think that is healthy.” Konstantin said this last part in a low, baritone whisper. It was also spoken entirely in Russian. If the cherub wanted to he would have no trouble hearing Konstantin speak. Konstantin wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was speaking from the cherub; he just didn’t want the boy to know what he was saying. Konstantin said something in English to include the cherub in the conversation as well. “It is nice to see you again cherub. Are you feeling better after your romp in the snow? You are one lucky cherub to have God on your side so often. That must be why you are out and about with such vigor after your run.”
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