martha, my dear
It was often a hollow affair on weekdays, or perhaps better said, any day of the week barring the final. It seemed, though the turmoils of oppression and war had dissipated since her time, interest in faith had as well. Of course there were the devout who would visit every Sunday and the occasional sinner looking for reprieve, but not today. It was empty.
Still Saint Martha would not abandon her post nor her chores, patrolling here and there with a washcloth and broom until she’d allow the slightest of breaks for daily thanksgiving. Heading out from the back rooms she steps into the main chapel, expecting only the Trinity’s greetings for company, when a brilliant sight of fiery red catches her eye.
She stops in her tracks, surprised at first but then offering a warm smile as the girl excuses herself.
“Oh? My apologies, I did not mean to bother you…”
“If you wish to pray in solitude I’ll leave you in peace. I was just going to do a bit myself.” Her eyes remained watchful as she slips into the pew, muscles in a state of inertia so that she may swiftly depart if the redhead commanded.
“I’m not the praying kind.”
Short and simple. Kyouko’s scarlet eyes moved from the woman’s face to the pew, to the church, finally resting back on the woman as she sat down. The woman must be curious as to what the young girl was doing in such a place, if not to pray.
“Honestly, I’m just here because it’s quiet,” Kyouko muttered as she munched on the taiyaki in her hand. “Besides, praying ain’t gonna do me any good now.”
Her gaze had fallen off the woman by now, resting somewhere between the end of the pew and the floor beneath. A trickle of embarrassment tainted Kyouko’s apathetic expression, and her eyebrows furrowed. She shoved the last bit of taiyaki in her mouth, still unable to look at the woman and how she was reacting to her lack of faith.
