✦ cathedral

[ open starter : this can be a first encounter or a second encounter that can lead to curiosity between both characters. open to winging this or we can discuss if you wish to reply! ]


She was not religious, nor was she a saint.

Violet was dressed in black, and the silk dress clung to her frame like a glove. She stood at the front of the aisle, the hall empty without another soul in attendance. In the distance, to the eye, perhaps someone would have thought she was only a shadow, a mourning widow, or a forlorn daughter of a fallen empire. But upon closer inspection, her eyes remain dry and unwavering. She gazed upon the marble statue of a goddess bathed in an incandescent glow of sunlight that peeked through painted glass that danced over her pale, stone skin.

The statue remained silent like the hall where not a single soul but Violet’s lingered. It held its breath like a bride hesitant before pleading her vows. She was like the holy Mary incarnate, a soul that has not been touched by the ruinous hands of mankind. The stone maiden was beautiful, yet so fragile.

The heels of Violet’s stilettos echoed through the aisle as she strode closer towards the statue. Then, she reached forward, the tip of her fingers brushing over the intricate details of the stone maiden’s feet. There was no warmth or sacredness in the art of worship, and as Violet lingered within the presence of the goddess, she felt nothing but the hollowness that throbbed in the void of her empty heart. The gods have meant nothing to her for many years now. There was no prayer to be said, no remorse—they were all lies, as cold and empty as the statue itself.

At last, Violet let out a breath, albeit shaky as it slipped from her lips as if she had been holding onto the air in her lungs. Her gentle exhale was a disturbance to the stillness as she closed her eyes, imagining the stone crumbling beneath her fingers, and the dust embedding into the cuticles of her nail beds.

Her lips curled upwards into a wry smile, as if pleased as her hand slid along the smooth curve of the goddess's stone leg. The world around her felt like it had turned to ash long ago, and now she was merely walking through the chaos it has left behind. What use was there in pleading for salvation when damnation felt so inevitable?

Violet knew all too well—all gods abandon their creations—and all humans destroy themselves in the end.