Faith

She despised the place. They were everywhere—the stained glass angels, the frozen visage of saints—and all of them were looking down on her. Judging her as she made her way across the nave.

Yet, Jean Bart kept her head up and looked back in defiance. If Richelieu chose that meeting place for the purpose of breaking her, she would deny her the satisfaction.

Richelieu, as always, was punctual. She was kneeling in front of the altar, bathed in light coming from the holes in the ceiling, so lost in her prayers that she didn't even notice Jean Bart arriving.

May the Lord have mercy upon His sinful children...and Lord, may we learn.

Jean Bart scoffed upon hearing the prayer. If there's someone who needs to ask for forgiveness, it should be God—for the war and the misery that it brought.

While Jean Bart cursed God, Richelieu muttered an amen, made the sign of the cross, and rose.

"So I'm here. This better is important," Jean Bart barked, without waiting for Richelieu to turn around or allowing her the first word. She was pretty pleased when she noticed Richelieu flinching slightly.

Despite that, when she spun around and faced her sister, Richelieu's visage was infuriatingly pleasant.

"Welcome," she said, though Jean Bart didn't feel welcome at all.

"...What do you want, calling me here? Have you not mocked me enough?"

"Mock you? Such transgression is never my intention. I simply want to speak to my sister, whom I would like to reconcile with," Richelieu answered, unfazed by the finger of accusation. Jean Bart smashing her fist against the pew after that didn't draw much reaction from her either; all she gave was simply a raised brow.

"You should have just left me to die," Jean Bart snarled; it got increasingly taxing to keep glaring at Richelieu, but there was no way she would show even a hint of weakness.

"And why is that?"

"So I wouldn't have to hear your holier-than-thou lecture, that's why."

Instead of answering, Richelieu's gaze lingered upon the ceiling for quite some time as though she was asking for divine guidance.

"I simply wanted to bring you and everyone back," she finally said. Again, Jean Bart scoffed at that.

"Heh. Look at you. Trying to ease your guilt?"

"The Lord will never abandon His flock, even when they've abandoned Him. I'm following His example. It's as simple as that."

"Enough with the religious nonsense. If that were true, do you think all this would happen?"

Jean Bart's scowl turned into a smirk when she noticed Richelieu's drastic change in expression; she was visibly disturbed. 

"Figures. You wouldn't be able to answer that. I'm leaving. You are free to pray to whatever phony deity you believe in, but don't involve me."

And with that, Jean Bart turned her back on her sister once again.

"Likewise, you are free to not believe in the Lord's love. But wouldn't you believe in my love for you? Would you not consider it?" Richelieu's words—not raised nor wavering—stopped Jean Bart from walking away. 

Jean Bart scrutinized Richelieu with gritted teeth, looking for even a speck of falsehood. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find any, and at that point, she realized Richelieu had always been honest.

It was she who was too blind to see it all these times.

While Jean Bart struggled with her conflicting emotions, Richelieu, seeing that her sister didn't leave, walked toward her.

"Even for a day, can we be sisters once again?" She said when they were already facing each other, closer than they had ever been. Jean Bart looked at the open arms, and with a sigh, she nodded, allowing Richelieu to embrace her.

It took a while, but she eventually returned the embrace. The two stayed silent throughout; what they did was enough to convey everything.

Looking up at the holes in the ceiling and the light coming through it, Jean Bart felt something she never thought she would ever have again.

It was hope.