sisterdivinium

She should probably have expected and prepared herself for the fact of Jillian Salvius being so mischievous — the woman had openly defied and mocked the Church in those very public, very viral stunts of hers after all — but Mother Superion found that her usual willpower failed her even while her perspicacity did not. Yes, she was being relentlessly teased by a hand daring to tug at one of her own during prayer, or when a kiss was swiftly stolen from her otherwise stiff lips somewhere they could both be seen; no, she could not pretend like she didn’t enjoy those instants of juvenile provocation, even as they contradicted every teaching and every vow she had made to Heaven.

Still, while entangled in one another behind an imposing column, Superion at last managed to pronounce a few disapproving words between a kiss — or ten.

“We shouldn’t… Not… Here,” she said, though her hands remained firmly stationed at Jillian’s hips.

Her companion scoffed and kissed her again.

“I’ve heard your ‘house of worship’ spiel and that’s fair,” Jillian whispered against her mouth, planting additional kisses on it to better punctuate her sentences. “But this is me worshipping you. For an incorrigible heretic, it isn’t all that far-off.”

Suzanne should scold her; she only melted further into her hands instead.

It was the most egregious, bare-faced, abominable sort of self-serving blasphemy the likes of which would not last long on another nun’s tongue, wiped away by extenuating routines of martial exercises Mother Superion’s soldierly discipline was always so ready to enforce… But it was also the rawest expression of affection towards herself that she had ever received. In its offence lay also its sincerity.

She never fully forgave Jillian for such liberties with her faith, yet she was impotent in punishing her for it or even wanting to do so. A woman — this woman — worshipped her…

The combative doctor Salvius she had first met or the tender mother she had later witnessed before her both contrasted sharply with the playful partner who offered her her whole devotion now. Jillian was devil and human and angel all at once, redefining the world around her just by being.

It was a relief, really, to see her, feel her overcome the despondency that threatened to erase Jillian and all those facets at once following the death of her son; it was a secret ecstasy to pick up the pieces of their former lives side by side, sharing the burden of living to hold and honour the memory of those who had fallen. Their unexpected love had blossomed from that charred, sterile soil and it breathed new life into both of them — Mother Superion had often felt so old, the heir to so many sisters who now lived solely through her recollection and in the prayers she said in their name, the bearer of an ancient wound that called back to Christ or beyond as it bled out that pagan crime of hers, committed as though she refused His sacrifice for them all… And yet Jillian’s love and desire healed her as much as Ava’s halo had, stitching up all these threads that made up her past. Jillian’s challenging of limits took Mother Superion through another sort of portal, back to the simple joys of when she had not sinned so out of pride — back to a secluded Eden in her heart, where she so gladly sinned out of lust instead.

And Jillian, too, was transported to a time before chagrin, before loss, to when an almost childish hope was always mightier than the cruel conformity that commonly came with age.

They were happy and brave and ridiculous as once they had been long ago, albeit they carried all the knowledge and experience, the secrets and the scars that shaped their present. Their lungs were still soaked in fear and blood and failure, yet their breath was made light. They were the faithful guardians of one another’s laughter.

Its flavour mixed perfectly with that of roguish kisses freely given in the sombre shadow of a Catholic shrine.

“The girls might catch us…”

“Didn’t you say they’re prone to much worse than this?” Jillian wondered in amusement, pulling Suzanne closer, kissing her again and again. “That you were?”

Sometimes Mother Superion only wished that youthful cheekiness of hers were not even more disarming as Ava’s because — God forgive her — she loved every bit of it and could never resist.

“In their own rooms. With the goal of not getting caught,” Suzanne told her, trying to sound serious and respectable despite the glow and the smirk Jillian’s taunting had brought out in her.

“Well… Invite me over, then.”

They stood close, regaining their breath, staring one another down in a battle of will.

All this provocation had come with time, with comfort, once the two of them had grown used to finding shelter in one another’s arms and stopped dreading their covert encounters were merely a temporary balm to the hearts of two women broken by circumstance.

Mother Superion looked up at nearby images painted on the walls. Christ, Areala, warrior nuns who came after her — eyes wide, mouth open in agony or glory as their unsheathed swords missed or pierced the Devil’s emissaries… The cause did not vanish simply because she did not contemplate it at all times. Albeit duty was sweeter for the rewards reaped outside of it, there was duty to do still.

“Is that necessary? I think you know your way by now — and I should attend to the girls’ training.”

Jillian straightened her back and assumed a professional attitude at once, seeming very severe, as if she hadn’t been making out with an actual nun in the middle of an actual church up until then.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

She took a couple of steps away from Superion, but a sigh and then a touch retained her — as she knew they would. Jillian looked back at Suzanne expectantly, raising her eyebrows as if ignorant of her triumph.

“… Later,” Suzanne said, her voice so low that it was impossible to tell whether the tone was begging or commanding.

Either way, there was the invitation.

Jillian could not contain a devilish smile, which gained a similar smirk in response.

“If you insist, Mother, how could I refuse?”

She gave her one last peck on the lips to seal that final blow of heresy before walking away with the promise of her prize.

Suzanne watched her go. As soon as Jillian was out of sight, Mother Superion attempted to stride out as serenely as she could muster in the direction of the other nuns, hoping they would not be able to tell what she had been doing.

Crossing sister Camila on her way, she turned beet red as her younger colleague bit her lip and signalled to Superion just how askew her veil really was. The nun pulled at the black fabric on her head as best she could without the aid of a mirror, but Camila did not allow her to move onwards until she herself fixed the item’s position, assuring her senior looked proper, asking no questions in the process. A wordless thanks acknowledged the wordless kindness and she finally set out to dispense her lessons to the other girls.

If Mother Superion were to face an army of hell spawn, she would never falter. But no, it was plain enough indeed, her resolve had no defence against Jillian Salvius.

It made the matter of her salvation rather more complicated than it needed to be, but so was everything else more complicated ever since Ava had received the halo — surely the Lord could allow His servant some indulgence in this blessing He had bestowed upon her still in this life…

Even if that blessing had a terrible habit of disturbing her own every so often.