Mercy on Us (Maria)

The Church was indeed dark and it was heavy with atmosphere from the sheer weight of its solemn silence. Mass was not in session at this time, which was obvious enough when the chapel lacked any activity nor any kind of lighting save for the rays passing through the colored stained glass windows. Even then, there were some candles with tiny embers flitting in place in honor of the holy Mother and her Beloved Son. Of course, there were others for Queen Isla's image as well. It seemed as if no one was present, save for--


The voice came from behind her, at least a good distance away. It belonged to a young man relatively taller than Brittany in what looked to be casual wear while holding onto a leather-bound book. Unlike the chapel's uninviting atmosphere, this person appeared friendlier than his environment. The very moment he was close enough to meet face-to-face in normal conversation, he introduced himself. "Welcome to the Sunlake Palms Church. We don't get a lot of visitors, probably because it's all spooky and Gothic here. Ha. So what do you need?"

"Color, huh? I guess that could be a good idea, but I thought about getting the priests to make their sermons fun and invest in padded pews. Maybe people might want to come... But, yeah, I work here as a sort of apprentice. Sorta, kinda. I still go to school, so that's why I'm not being priestly and all with that white plastic collar. Sorry to disappoint." The young man replied nonchalantly. He didn't seem to really care all that much about formal customs by his relaxed posture. After blinking once about Brittany's inquiry, the would-be priest cracked an even deeper smile. "Oh, Jorge. Yeah, we like to call him Jorge. Giorgio is his Italian name. So you want to see the crusty old guy? Yeah, I can bring him in. Wait one moment."

He smoothly strove towards the chapel's exit and disappeared into the meandering hallways inside the cathedral. Even his resounding footsteps against the tiled floor vanished. Brittany would be alone on her own for a moment. Soon footsteps began to return, with one more to the mix.  She could hear a familiar voice in the hallway. "I can take it from here, Greg. Sister Garin wants a word with you."

An exasperated groan would follow, but there was no protest. The two footsteps separated from here on. The one that was drawing closer towards Brittany got louder with each step until it finally hit against the chapel's carpet.

He raised an eyebrow at the direction of where this conversation was going to start. But the moment she quickly apologized, the priest immediately chuckled and shook in amused mirth. Such was the flippancy of youth, intentional or unintentional. "Well, well. I didn't think you were the cheeky one after all! Ha! No sweat, you're fine. We aren't so up-tight that we wouldn't allow some roasts."

He knew very well Brittany didn't mean it. She seemed too nice and have too much well-intention to mean any harm. But then again, she wasn't quite wrong. Aye, there was that sting. So many old geriatrics coming into the order and a good number of them were waved away for obvious reasons within the group. He continued while gesturing back towards the exit. "Well, even guys like Greg here have their own reasons for working here. I'm sure you're here for Maria, but she's off at a Cadet meeting. She should be back soon, actually. But until then, do you want any tea from the kitchen and have a talk as we wait? We have lemon, green, and jasmine. I've been meaning to get to know you. Maria never said anything about friends to me."

"Jasmine? Not a bad choice. I was beginning to think our larders were too full of it. Good to know you're giving the effort to help us empty out the excess. Come, I'll show you the way there. We can talk over there." Jorge would exit the chapel with her and lead her through the hallways. It was quiet, but less somber than the solemn atmosphere in that area of worship. What Brittany could see were actual offices and even meeting rooms inside the Church. None of them seemed to be of much interest as they were dark inside from inactivity. This was the weekday, after all. Not many bothered to visit aside from the weekly Holy Mass. It was a painful truth all clergy had to accept.  

The kitchen was spacious and lead to what looked like a sizable cafeteria-break room. He pulled up a chair for Brittany and for himself at a near by table inside the kitchen. And even while his visitor sat, the priest was quick to produce a tea kettle filled with water to be set onto the stove. It would take a while for the water to boil and the kettle to hiss. Even with his eyes on the kettle, he asked the girl. "So tell me, Britanny. Are you alright right now? After what happened yesterday?"

Jorge didn't exactly pull any punches here. It was obvious why Brittany was here right now. Or at least, what his gut was telling him at this time. It was better to get to the meat of the matter while they still had this moment.

The room would screech from the chair moving as Jorge pulled up a seat for himself near Brittany. It was remarkably empty with just the two of them, but it's what he needed. Yet, he was going to need more than just a moment to be alone. He paused for a second when she asked about Maria. His lips pursed together in thought as he pensively diverted his eyes to the floor. It wasn't an easy thing to begin with. There were a lot of secrets not meant to leave these walls. Technically, they were within them, but an outsider wasn't supposed to know.


"It is a very complicated matter as you can tell, Miss Brittany. But Maria has what we could call a 'contract' with the higher establishment in the Church in return for her power to fight against demons and Psyche-Terrorists. According to the Contract, she must follow orders from our higher-ups even at the cost of her life." His voice was slow and deliberate, as if making sure Brittany was listening and understanding each and every word he said. Between these words, there was a tinge of regret staining the sentences from his lips. There was a look on his face that seemed to be grimacing a very old and hated memory. He continued. "I've protested against this arrangement, but you can only do so much when your bosses have more power despite your seniority and when the person you want to save is zealously willing to make the sacrifice for power... Such absolute foolishness, that girl."

Jorge accepted her condemnation silently. She wasn't wrong in the slightest. It was the bare truth, but not a complete one. It was enough to give her a good idea. People commonly thought a religious hegemony like the Church was a place for morals and piety. But it was much more deeper and much more incorrigible than that as the young girl was beginning to notice.


The light from the kitchen and from the windows flashed across his glasses, hiding the expression in his eyes for the moment. He somberly explained to her. "Because she was the only one of the rare few people who could use that weapon you saw. What she uses is a demon's power inside it, not one of a Persona like the Cadets or the Psyche-Terrorists. Out of thousands who tried and failed, Maria was the only one who can harness it... at great cost. She chose to use this weapon, but at the same time she didn't have a choice for other reasons that I will allow Maria to explain herself. It was by unfortunate circumstance of her own goals intertwining with the Church's."

"Very much so, more or less. At the same time, it was something necessary to keep her alive at the time or she would have died. As I said before, her circumstances were unfortunately in-line with what the Church needed." Jorge admitted, but not before raising an eyebrow at her. Man, it would be a good time for smoke just right about now. His fingers were feeling all twitchy from all of this. He wanted to feel more mellow of it all, but he figured Brittany wouldn't appreciate the reeking smell of burning tobacco. Instead, he opted to stand from his seat and walk back towards the stove when the tea kettle began to scream. It wouldn't be long until he returned with cups presumably with the tea he promised. "I once wondered about that for a very... very long time. I asked this question on many occasions. I even meditated and prayed on it. Perhaps, He deems it as a trial for them to overcome through their own will. Ever since my induction within the Church's ranks, I believed it is all the fault of Man's innate disgusting nature. Yet, we sought him out as our own custodian for our own failings and at our own struggles... Ridiculous. I can't say, really. For all of my efforts to enlighten myself, I don't know."

He blew gingerly on his steaming tea cup before taking a small sip from it. It was a sobering moment for the priest. What the Church stood for, but what it actually pursued, was more or less a sham to anyone who really knew what was happening behind the scenes. It eked out a question of what exactly was the point of it all? A question that posed itself in front of Jorge again and again. But there was a reason why he stayed even to this day. In the distance, there was a beeping sound. It was the tell-tale sign the gate was being opened for entry. "She's back. I'll bring her here."