The second installment (the sequel) to Ace of Spades is now out.
Read 'The Hanged Man' once you've finished this one.
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A rascal with a penchant for making friends with the wrong people, you were often regarded as a troublemaker by...
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LOLA -- THEN
Angelic cherubs, gold inlaid walls, confession stands, and glass windows domed over the pews, you blinked, sluggishly slow, following the endless lines of honey-hued rays and marbled pillars. It was breathlessly beautiful; a place that mirrored the image of heaven on earth, all white and shiny and quite possibly, the only thing you considered a true masterpiece on this forsaken world.
Under the stark glare of the Roman sun, you stood, dirtied feet scuffing against the polished tiles of the church floor before you ran back to Lola, fingers twining into the torn hood she wore, afraid of the masses passing by you without a second glance.
"Look, Y/n." The pink-haired girl murmured, hand pointing to the stained glass overhead, the shimmering, rainbow rays falling upon you like a warm blanket. "È bellissimo, non è vero?" Which roughly translated to, 'It's beautiful, isn't it?'
You wordlessly nodded, fingers knotting tighter into her tattered jacket when a man bumped into you, quietly apologizing before going on his merry way. The absolute beauty of this place allowed you to momentarily forget the thoughts that plagued your days. And with dark eyes, Lola smiled, gladdened for your moment of reprieve.
Quietly, she patted your head, a small smile on your face as she watched you marvel at the sheer size of the place. Anxiety flipping in your stomach, you turned, eyes sparkling in child-like wonder at the inherent beauty of the church; the pale garbed children singing in melodic tones, choir voices echoing throughout the vast halls, mysteriously beautiful and wondrous.
Basilica Papale di San Pietro in Vaticano, also known as Saint Peter's Basilica in Vatican City, Rome was but one of the many majestic cathedrals littered over the landscape of Italy, with many spectacular works of art inside.
In the epicenter was a grand pillar woven with bronze and copper and metals of all kinds; all shiny and polished. Out of everything there, that particular statue struck your interest. Pulling Lola along, you stared at the large baroque sculpture, eyes falling onto the baldachin marks on the tomb of what appeared to be Saint Peter's, breaking on a gasp at the intricate details lining the entirety of it.
"Do you know what that says, Y/n?" Lola bent down and asked, her cotton-candied hair falling into her eyes in a whimsical manner, the rays of the tinted window carving her as the image of an angel as she nodded towards the inscription at the top of the golden dome.
You shook your head.
What use did you have with a dead language?
This place -- no, the entirety of Rome was replete with Latin inscriptions, many of which you couldn't read, but some you understood parts of.
