There was something to be said about the quiet that one found in places like these. In the way that a room could be so open and large and overwhelming while, all in the same breath, carrying the aura of it living completely for you. There was something to be said about this place, her haven. The way that it perpetually wore two faces. Day and night. Loud and quiet. Crowded and empty.
Church.
And home.
It was strange to consider. And perhaps he had been right to think it was, the dichotomy of her mind and her world something that - in retrospect - was entirely at odds. Perhaps it had never made sense to her, either. Perhaps that was why she had always lived one step off the rest of the march, always confused. Always unsure. Perhaps that was why she had found herself in the situation she was now, the anxiety that had dotted her every hour over the last several months something that had bordered on overwhelming.ย
It ached. Everything hurt now. From her head down to her bones. And she had hated the feeling, the sensation of not knowing, of floating in some horrible ether and realizing, all in the same breath, that things had gone so terribly wrong. Perhaps he had been right to leave. Perhaps he had known before she ever had, sensed it somehow within her. Was that why he had left? Had he seen it, betrayed, in some way through her....? There had always been something about him, after all. Vergil. There had always been this strange sense of him looking so far into the distant horizon, beyond what she could ever see. This feeling that he occupied a world so completely apart from her own....like some strange fiery god. Something utterly alien and entirely otherworldly to her understanding.....
....He tricked me. Tricked me and then left.ย
It had been a mistake.
She hadn't meant for this to happen....not in this way.ย
Loud and quiet. Crowded and empty.ย
Just like her mind.ย
It was as though a thousand voices were screaming all at once, leaving her at the center of it all....clutching at her ears as she tried to push it all away. It was no wonder that she had taken to making her visits to this place at night. For her, it had quickly provided the respite from a world that had so easily begun to fall apart. There had been something about this place, after all. Something about the way that the environment seemingly shifted from sunset to sunrise that left her entirely shielded from the world at large. And that was what she had been seeking, her gaze briefly taking in the endless empty pews as her nose picked up the aromatic scent of incense that still hung in the air.ย
Not a soul milled about when she had quietly entered the building. Mostly everyone had already found their way home instead, leaving the place all but deserted for her. In the end, a quiet sigh of relief escaped Roslin at the realization, her gaze only briefly taking in the silent sentinel in room, the immensely proportioned statue of Lord Sparda, as he stared blankly back. Though there had been no discerning and assessing stare from him, it had not taken long for her to shield her own gaze from his, turning away almost as quickly to take in the rest of the room.
....She was still not feeling well. And she not been herself for some time. Anyone could see it if they were looking for it. The bile still burned the base of her throat from this morning. The color drained from her skin. The tiredness in her eyes. And the discomfort from it all growing with every passing week, the small swell of her belly nearly impossible to ignore despite her best attempts to hide it.ย Why had she let this happen...? And how long before she couldn't escape this reality anymore....?
Crossing the length of the large room instead, it had not taken long for her to quietly set about her duties, making her way smoothly towards an adjacent table set at the far end of the room. It was there that a large collection of candles burned. And there that she had set to lighting one for herself in greeting, melting the lower end of the object to allow it to stand freely amongst the others. A brief word or two of silent prayer, and off she went, setting herself to her work. Rubbing the sleeplessness from her eyes.
Every movement had been robotic for her now, mechanical in every sense of the word. From the wiping down of the surfaces to the organizing of the altar beyond, carefully decorated and organized with two small wooden bowls and a large round glass jar. She tried her best to ignore the familiar shape of the Savior near her, the eyes she had first seen the moment she had walked in the room, but it was awkward thing at best, because the longer that she lingered, the quicker she soon came to the realization that - perhaps - quiet and peace would not find her here tonight.ย
It was as though a realization had slowly dawned in the room.ย
As though the statue followed her throughout.ย
Curious. Questioning. Looking.
....Wondering.
As disconcerting as it was, in the end Roslin could not help but finish whatever work she was doing in the church proper to hurry into the back instead, descending the stairs much more quickly than she otherwise would have in her rush to leave those eyes. By then, the girl had gathered up the altar cloth and the little trinkets that decorated it, her grip focused and decisive. And once downstairs? Well.....
Once downstairs she plugged on.
She pushed the thoughts away from the room she had left. And from the pain that drifted up and down and along her spine as she placed the sullied cloth into the wash and tucked away the bowls that she carried. It was busy work, though not at all unwelcome. In the end, it was distracting enough that it took her longer than expected to finish, night having completely fallen by the time that she did, the air soon laced with the sound of crickets and whistling wind instead.
....If only you could help, too.
If only you weren't so little.
If only you didn't bring these crazy dreams and these horrid feelings and this...torrential downpour in my life.ย
Will you always be this....difficult?
The thought had invaded her involuntarily in the last few moments of her work, her mind inevitably drifting, as it always did, to....
She swallowed, a little breath escaping her.
I'm always thinking of you, you know. And I wish you wouldn't make things so...confusing for me.
....How am I supposed to tell people about you?
I can't hide you forever.ย
Up the stairs she went, carrying a clean cloth and washed tableware. Through the door and into the room beyond, her mind swimming, though her gaze did not search out the the Savior's in turn. Meticulously obscuring the rest of her with what she carried, it took a few more moments of approaching the altar itself before Roslin inevitably noticed the other visitor in the end.ย
Of course she stopped short, her mind deadening.
It didn't take more than a second to notice the woman standing not too far off as she gazed upwards at the statue Sparda. A moment longer, and she inevitably noted the the raven dark hair framing her face, her skin pale. Almost porcelain. Roslin's brow furrowing, needless to say that the sight of her threw the girl off, the stranger not at all someone that she recognized.ย
....Where had she come from? And so suddenly?
"Stare too long and you'll find he'll inevitably start looking back."
The greeting was out before she could stop it, a slow blink escaping the girl as she spoke her first few words in some time. No, she hadn't expected to see a stranger, but the sight hadn't been all that unwelcome given the turn her thoughts had taken.
"He has a penetrating stare, you know," she continued. "But it's not all that surprising given his creator. Alessio Bellini. One of our best. He has a thing for eyes, or so I've heard."
Absentmindedly, of course, her fingers toyed with the cloth in her hands. A brief look at the woman however, and Roslin began her walk again, breaking her attention on the stranger to arrange the altar instead. First went the cloth, woven in golden thread and crimson stitching. Then the rest of it. One by one. Little ornament after little ornament.ย
"....A lot of people come to see him. But...sometimes I think our Lord sometimes likes to pick his own favorites." ย
