From Eden

Chapter III

An icy chill hung low in the air, sinking deeper and deeper in their bones as the sun dipped further beyond the horizon. There was a soft blue glow painting the sky and the trees around them, the courtyard only illuminated by the light from the candle lit lanterns hanging around the Warrior Nun's statue. Soft prayers filled the air as the vigil came to a close. The sisters who had gathered in the courtyard had slowly started to trickle back into Cat's Cradle. Beatrice stared down at her hands, fingers now pink from the cold air, which is where they had stayed throughout the vigil, not daring to look up at the Warrior Nun's face captured so perfectly in the stone, afraid of feeling the steady stream of tears she had fought so desperately to choke back, rolling down her cheeks. She softly twisted the metal band that lived on the middle finger of her left hand. It was divinium. Camilla had snagged a few of the precious metal bullets and had them melted down and casted into the small piece of jewelry before she left the OCS. A memento of the Warrior Nun, something subtle that she could keep with her always.

"Beatrice." Camilla's soft voice pulled her from the comfort of her mind. The younger woman wore a small smile next to Yasmin's familiar figure, dressed head to toe in their blue habits. Yasmin stepped forward into a small hug.

"It's good to see you again, Beatrice." She smiled gently at the young woman. It felt like only yesterday that Yasmin was the scared little journalist she found covered in Cardinal Foster's blood. "And you." She replied, "It looks like you've grown into quite the sister warrior in my absence." A bashful expression turned the tips of her cheeks red.

"Well I've had quite the teacher." Yasmin and Camilla shared a subtle knowing look with each other that had an underlying meaning Beatrice couldn't quite pick out. "But don't worry, my driving skills have gotten much better so I won't kill you on your first day back."

"Have you thought about when you're going to be ready to go back into the field?" Camilla asked. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. It's been a little under a year since she had been on assignment and she didn't even know how rusty she was. She had trained in the order for 6 years so it wasn't her physical abilities she was doubting but rather her mental preparedness. "I haven't but I'm sure I'll get back into the rhythm of it all quickly."

"Yasmin! Camilla!" Someone shouted out. They looked over their shoulders to see a slender dark haired woman walking towards them. Her bright blue eyes stood out against her wavy dark brown hair. Freckles mighty dusted her nose and cheeks which were pink from the cold air.

"Oh Beatrice, this is Sister Anastasia. She's the new you." Beatrice's eyebrow cocked at her statement and she received a sharp look from Camilla . "Um...I mean not that you're replaceable or that we think she's-" Yasmin was cut off by Camilla jabbing her in the side with a wide smile as Anastasia joined the group.

"Anastasia!" Camilla greeted the woman with a hug, she was taller than Camilla so her chin rested at the side of Camilla's head as they hugged. When they broke the hug Beatrice could see the small delicate details of her face. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting." Anastasia smiled out with an almost annoyingly perfect smile.

"Beatrice." She said, extending out her hand which Anastasia took with enthusiasm. Her hand was warm to the touch in contrast to her freezing fingers, if she wasn't a complete stranger she would have let the touch linger a moment longer to help soothe the icy pain. "Anastasia, though most people call me Ana. I've heard much about you."

"I wish I could say the same. How long have you been with us?" Beatrice asked. "Oh a little under a year, I was originally assigned to the sect in the Vatican." Oh. The Vatican chapter of the OCS was the most world renowned amongst the order for being the most arrogant pompous sect of sisters. Their source of self righteousness came from working directly with the Pope, a holy honor that only the most prestigious sisters took part in. From her own personal experience, the only time she would ever hear Mother Superion curse was in reference to the sisters of the Vatican order which was saying a lot. Anastasia could tell what she was thinking from the abrasive look on her face. "I see you've heard about us."

"Heard would be an understatement." Anastasia laughed almost gracefully, "While I cannot speak on behalf of my fellow sisters, I can safely say I do not hold the views that many of them share."

"We were just talking about when Beatrice is going to get back into the field." Camilla interjected clearly trying to ease the mild tension between the two of them. "Oh! I've been training some of the new recruits, I'd love to have you come show them some techniques, maybe we could even squeeze in a sparring session." Anastasia said excitedly. Beatrice looked to Camilla unsure of what to say. She didn't usually like to train with other people, let alone make a spectacle of it, and a small part of her felt intimidated by Anastasia. Camilla gave her a gentle shrug of her shoulders nudging Beatrice towards Anastasia's offer.

"I suppose it would be good for me to get some practice in." Beatrice's word stretched the other woman's already large smile, even wider. "That's great to hear. I should start heading back, but I will see you at nine tomorrow morning." With her last parting words Anastasia left the three of them in the courtyard, walking back to Cat's Cradle.

"Is it chilly out here or is that just me." Beatrice threw her eyes towards Camilla and her accusing face. "What are you talking about?"

"You were as cold as Antarctica. I know you've been gone for a while but I didn't know you grew to be so... jealous." Beatrice laughed audibly.

"Jealous? That's absurd." Camilla and Yasmin looked at her unconvinced. She had missed them both but she didn't think she was going to like this new dynamic between the three of them. "Fine. I'll play nice. But I'm not jealous. That's so, juvenile."

"Mmh." Camilla hummed, pulling Yasmin out of the courtyard. "We'll see you in the morning." With their exit Beatrice was left alone in the soft white glow of the lantern light. There was a wooden bench bolted down into the stone floor, a large tree hanging over it, the gentle wind tickling its leaves. After a few moments by herself she felt, oddly at ease, which was surprising considering the courtyard she now sat in was in memoriam of the woman she had once been so fond of. The cool breeze of the night air chilled her cheeks with a soft comforting kiss. It reminded her of her late night patrols, the chill air and quiet sounds of traffic. Most of the time it was her chance to escape, walking on top of rooftops, watching the city below her.

Beatrice tucked her hands into the pockets of her habit, leaning back against the bench, looking up at the statue. The longer she looked at it the more she wanted it to come to life and jump down off its pedestal. How she wished her stone face would contort into the warm smile that could light up every room. But no matter how hard she wished, or how long she waited, it wouldn't. It wasn't her. Ava was gone. It had taken her so long to be able to force those words past her lips. What was even harder than saying it was actually accepting it, not letting herself get consumed by her grief and anger.

"I'm sorry, Ava..." The words slipped out of her mouth at a sound just below a whisper. Her eyes looked at the statue almost expecting it to respond. The tears she had been holding back the entire night slowly started to make their way to the surface. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. Soft droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, several of them falling on the face of the Warrior Nun's statue, making it look like it was shedding tears of its own. As the rain began to pick up and small droplets of water became large beads, Beatrice abandoned her spot on the bench and moved to leave the courtyard, but not without one last lingering look at the statue before leaving it in the now wet, dimly lit courtyard, alone.