In a forum, a former acquaintance and I, both Sherlockians and both Basilians, got yourselves into a huge, intriguing conversation of our two versions of the characters known as Sebastian Doran — hers a colonel, mine a captain — observing and theorising his meaning of his history, criminality, and characterisation through the sciences of psychology and sociology. But the reality of the matter is that she technically stole the character from me and claimed it as her own. Hrumph...people can be really horrible!

Sebastian Doran, my own, was a victim of many things. He was born into a highly religious Roman Catholic family where his father was once of strong political standing but turned weak and defeated, cowering before his tyrannical wife who ruled the household in fear and abuse. Due to his mix breeding of half-rat, half-mouse, he was taunted and teased on school-grounds. Devoid of affection and compassion all his life, he had but one solace — his faith. By his early twenties, he yearned for acceptance and achieved it through his love of God, of Christ, of angels, of heaven, for peace and tranquillity of mind; thus, he joined the Cistercian Order as a monk (or, at least, a novice) cloistered away from the pain of real world that tortured him, a manner of escape and contemplate the discovery oneself and the Holy Orders, but others would not have it. His family stole him away from the stone walls and threw him in the military where he was forced into the Second Afghan War. The bullet fly over head; bombs fall, the sound ring in your ears; explosions thunder; the bloodcurdling screams as the sound burns into the head and steals the soul; children tortured; women raped; comrades slaughtered before you; massacre of villages, conquest of cities, men lost with no arms, no legs, and no soul. A man completely changed through a complex form of what is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder with an already severe antisocial personality disorder. And now, a monster has emerged from the destruction of hate, bitterness, and wrath. He will torture and destroy those that cross him and he will never stop, blood will spill cold and hot, the hundreds have been murdered and more shall follow unless he is stopped. There is not greater evil alive than that of Captain Sebastian Doran. Monstrosity of what is he was not born, but made...

I think this excerpt from Judica me (Psalm 42) from Missale Romanum, of Ordo Missæ, in mediæval Latin, best describes my Doran and his thoughts at this particular moment in the image quite perfectly:

Judica me Deus, et discerne causam meam
de gente non sancta: ab homine iniquo et
doloso erue me.

Quia tu es Deus fortitudo mea: quare me
repulisti, et quare tristis incedo, dum affligit
me inimicus?

Emitte lucem tuam et veritatem tuam: ipsa
me deduxerunt et adduxerunt in montem
sanctum tuum, et in tabernacula tua.

Et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui
lætificat juventutem meam

Amen.

(Here is a DeviantArt gift for Amber Carroll Stitt and tribute to our presently on-going posts on our Doran(s). Looking supremely young for obvious reasons, a then-Brother Sebastian, follower of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, performs a personal, silent psalm of solicitation after the evening bells of Vespers. I had to watch Cadfael for references for the surroundings of a mediæval monastery and a traditional Cistercian hooded cowl.

The phrase quare me repulisti? means "Why hast Thou (God) forsaken me?" in Latin.)

Models - Jeremy Irons, Christopher Walken | Costume - Benedictine Monk

Medium - 2B mechanical pencil.

Captain Sebastian Doran © Diane N. Tran.
"Judica me" from Missale Romanum © Apostolic Constitution.