The Deacons daughter

Chapter 8

God help the outcasts

The three Gypsies mouths drop in shock, looking panicked. Mira holds onto Esmeraldo's loose shirt tightly, hoping to God that what Frollo said was a lie. But that dream was destroyed when Damica rushed over to the church door and yanked it open to reveal multiple guards standing post.
"Frollo's orders. Post a guard at every door."

In frustration Damica shuts the door harshly before sliding to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them. Mira and Esmeraldo look at her sadly, slowly starting to walk over to her still in each other's arms.
Djali trots over to Damica and rubs his head against her leg causing her to look over at him and smile, bringing her hand up to pet him at his attempt to comfort her.

"Don't worry. If Frollo thinks he can keep us here, he's wrong." Mira tells them, a determined look coming across her face.
"Don't act rashly, my child. You three created quite a stir at the festival." Mira's father told them, an obvious proudness clear to his tone, as he lit the candlesticks.
He then turns towards them with a worried expression. "It would be unwise to arouse Frollo's anger further." He then walks over to Mira, holding her small hands in his. "I do not wish to lose you like I lost your mother." He tells her softly, causing Mira to look at him sadly.

"You saw what he did out there, letting the crowd torture that poor boy." Damica pointed out, getting back up and pacing angrily.
Esmeraldo nodded in agreement, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the Deacon and Mira, who had turned their attention to him and Damica. "We thought if just one person could stand up to him, then-" Esmeraldo ranted, pausing as he couldn't word his sentence right. He sighed harshly, walking over to the Deacon and Mira, who had let go of Each other's hands.

"What do they have against people who are different, anyway?" Esmeraldo asked, frustration clear in his voice. Mira, sensing his frustration, grabbed his hand in a firm grip. The Deacon brought his arm around Esmeraldo's back, bringing him forward as he walked, Mira right next to them.
Damica noticed them going further into the church and quickly followed after them.
"You can't right all the wrongs of this world, my child. At least, not just the three of you." He smiled knowingly.

"Well no one out there is going to help, that's for sure." The Deacon chuckled at his child's sassiness, reminding him so much of his dead wife.
"Well, perhaps there's someone in here who can't." He says, gesturing to the church before walking away.
Mira raises a brow at her father, wondering who he's referring to.
Damica sighs in exhaustion, looking over at Esmeraldo and Mira "I'm gonna go sit down, I've done a lot more leg movement than usual." She tells them.

They nod at her, sending a wave before watching as she sat on one of the chairs next to the prayer station.
Esmeraldo and Mira look at the people praying before looking back at a statue of the virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

(Top is Esmeraldo's voice, bottom is Mira's voice.)

"I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there. I don't know if you would listen to a Gypsy's prayer."
Esmeraldo walks closer to the statue, Mira looking at him sadly before joining in.