Praying to be Heard

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The noises of the city were blaring to ears that had grown accustomed to sanctuaries where words were portrayed by hands. It tested one's nerves. The crass poisons seeping out of the maws of the young were spat so carelessly, interwoven through casual language. Adara did not partake in such distasteful language, yet only asks those who wished to converse to avoid profanities if it could be helped. She had trained as a nun, and so the church was a place she went to to feel peace. The silence allowed her to unwind. Yet it was only the third on her list. She wasn't serving in this church, but she prayed there regularly on her way home from her duties as a nurse in the school, on her knees and her palms together, the rosary cradled on her thumbs. She was unmoving, disciplined, and remained stoic through her prayer. The world seemed so distant when she was like this.


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Romi

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Angelo had grown up going to church each and every Sunday. He'd gone to the big church downtown to start, and when his work had prevented him from going out, he'd gone to a little service in the family chapel. He had always been catholic, and he'd never particularly struggled with it. He'd been surrounded by catholics, and even with the dirty work he'd done, he'd never seen any issue.

Even once he'd come to the island, he'd mostly kept up his habits. He'd gone to church when it was possible, missing it for work every so often. He'd gone to confession. He'd been a normal enough person, even surrounded by gods and demons. He hadn't reconciled it in his head so much as he'd pushed the idea away and tried not to think about it.

He didn't really get that option anymore. He'd dated a fallen angel. Several of his children--including Roa--were demons. He couldn't afford to look the other way.

He'd killed again. Not the same way he'd killed when he was a child, but death was death. He'd pushed the poor soul on and comforted their poor hostage, and then he'd been sent home, as was normal. Only he hadn't gone straight home. He'd gone to the church, usually empty, and then found a spot in the pews and prayed. Maybe he'd go to confession on Sunday.

He didn't even immediately notice someone else was there, but it would be hard for her not to notice him with where he'd sat down.

 
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With her prayer done, Adara stood up and turned to leave. On her way, she noticed a uniformed person praying. She recognized that it belonged to the island's police force. It was a rare sight to see an officer in uniform in the church. She had wondered if there was a significance to his presence here looking like that. And why he prayed. Some do it out of habit, others wanted forgiveness for their sins, and some for the well-being of others or themselves. Adara decided to wait and see, taking a seat a few rows behind him. In a place where biblical enemies could walk together and chat, she had always wondered if such prejudices existed here still. Who better to ask than someone who has to deal with these problems?
 
Romi

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Angelo finished on his own time, at his own pace, finally dropping his hands down into his lap as he relaxed. It wasn't confession--that'd have to come later--but it still relaxed him, even with all his doubts. He still believed in god, probably. He just wasn't sure about religion. He wasn't sure about the bible.

That was a lot of things that had been really important in his life that suddenly were in question.

When he got up and turned to go he was surprised to find that he wasn't alone. The woman was still there, although he was fairly sure she'd moved since he first came in.

"Hello," Angelo said, deciding after a moment that she was probably hoping to talk to him. "Do you come here regularly?"
 
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It wasn't a long wait by Adara's measure when the officer was finished. He must have known that she was hoping to speak to him as he immediately went towards her and started the conversation. "Good day to you, officer." Adara answered softly. "Yes I do. After my shift at the academy, I stop by here before heading home." She paused for a moment, taking the time to reconsider if it was alright to pull the officer from his duty for naive questions. "I beg your pardon, sir. If it is acceptable, I would like to know something about this island... its community. I have only been here for a few months, but there is something I've noticed that... makes me question a few things."
 
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It was nice to get to talk with someone who also believed, even if Angelo was in that weird, confusing middle ground of not-quite belief.

"Of course," Angelo said, gesturing for her to sit before settling down himself. "I'm assuming you're pretty new? Feel free to hit me with questions."

A part of him had been hoping for something else, but he also recognized that it was stupid. It wasn't as if his doubts were obvious. It wasn't as if she was some kind of super priest who could sense religious doubts at 15 feet.
 
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Nodding in appreciation for his willingness to listen to her, she gathered her thoughts and strung up her sentence carefully before speaking. "I understand that this island is a refuge for those who do not fit in with normal humans. But given what is taught by most religious organizations, holy and unholy creatures are at constant war, yet here, I see both sides walking alongside each other. I grew up in a society that is composed of humans, and this is what most believe. Is there something in place here on the island that makes that possible? I thought the best person to ask would be someone who deals with those situations."
 
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Oh dear. She'd started with the big question, hadn't she? How could angels and demons walk side by side? How could they behave?

"No, not officially," Angelo said. "I imagine some groups might unofficially consider this place a neutral ground, but I guess a big part of it is just fear. There's always someone bigger and stronger here. You might be the biggest, baddest demon or the strongest, most righteous angel, but on Manta Carlos you're the bug on someone elses windshield. So assuming they don't want to get in trouble, they need to toe the line. There's definitely angels that hate demons, and demons hate angels, but it's more like... an equilibrium that keeps a war from breaking out."

Angelo paused, thinking in particular of Malara.

"If they did, they'd get stepped on really quickly, and likely make things much worse for their side."
 
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Adara pondered the policeman's words. In essence, it sounded like most behaved because someone else was stronger, which didn't seem like a very plausible explanation when it came to biblical demons and angels, until she came to the thought that forces from both sides often didn't directly intervene with human life. "Maybe that's why..." she mumbled to herself. It was rather interesting. It was the first time she had thought of the relative peace between the sides in this manner. Yet, she didn't know if she believed it or not. But it was a good theory. "Thank you for your answer. Is there anything you'd like to ask? I think it would be fair to offer."
 
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She'd asked him a deep question, something very philosophical, but Angelo's question was nothing of the sort. Instead, it was closer to a friendly sort of small talk that one might expect from a normal, casual conversation.

"I'm guessing you're a recent arrival from the wider world?" A safe bet, considering how many people fell away from the church. And an even safer assumption, considering the question she'd chosen to ask. "I'm guessing you're having quite a bit of adjustment."
 
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