Yvette came to watch as a man descended down the pool clad in a priest's black and white cassock, her eyes could barely identify but he looked stale although never fragile. She could etch on her memory the furrowing, thick brows which harbored his sharp expression as he slowly bent down the murky waters, gradually as she took steps further away from its view.
All the while curious, Yvette did not have it in her to question Sister McKinney another time since the nun was so fixated on dragging her out of the mere's view. If she would keep Yvette there any longer, the quiddity of the senseless fool would have grown taller than any tree. The celibate woman otherwise would be compelled to answer her inquiries which could probably water her simple-minded brain to be aware of the new environment.
Not that Sister McKinney wished she wouldn't, but it would be difficult for outsiders to fully comprehend the situations inside the convent. Especially that Yvette was not even enlightened with the immaculate being they worship.
Sister McKinney brought Yvette to an escalated building, having a cross at the middle top of the roof. It had the surrounding feeling like anything in likeness from a horror movie Yvette watched a few times, even the bell hanging from the tower by the left of the imposing edifice pushed her down on the soles of her feet with the same load of weight. The oak wood doors looked heavy in sight that amidst opening them, Yvette could not only hear the sound of its motion but can also feel it.
The heaviness of the entire air from the ground beneath and the sacred domicile roofing above her head felt abrasive for Yvette, surrounded by the likeness of undeniable guilt and shame before the cross pendulous on the very focal of the chapel. Loud echoes of the nun's simple slipper resounded across the chapel with gawking eyes staring directly toward Yvette with no hint of letting her get away. She felt as if she was chased by numerous eyes — it was supposed to be a holy place, but Yvette could have only wondered why it felt like it was a house for the eyes of devils.
Not that she knew about devils, but she was told that Mary had a loving vision which she believed nuns ought to have. On the contrary, she felt the threatening air inescapable.
It was a long hour, Yvette could feel her legs cry with sweat travelling down her thighs. Her hands fidgeted unevenly and a scent she picked from wherever was almost similar to a decaying corpse — it reminded her the same feeling she felt when seeing the corpse of her suicidal aunt, alas.
The bells were ringing nonstop and crows were soaring beneath the grey clouds, Yvette could only feel that she was in a tight spot of devil predators or whichever felt the Creator was for her. It was hard for an atheist to feel divinity upon something they don't believe in, after all. Well, not that Yvette had a tough reconciliation with the beliefs of science, as well, but religion was most likely to juice her this same reaction.
"Finally, I could breathe!" Yvette exhaled grabbing the cornette from the coif, ruining it's grasp on the hooded scarf of the habit.
"I thought only cults do that." She looked over to Sister McKinney picking after the ruins of her supposed costume.
"Do what?" Sister McKinney looked over with a brow raised upward.
"Whatever the murmuring was for."
The nun scoffed. Yvette was totally feeling new to the surroundings she was in, she had no idea that her twin could have possibly loved this atmosphere. "Well, in any way, Lorelai had promised to be around before whatever the witchcraft ceremony that was, was held, but perhaps she had failed at it. Or I was fooled so you both could take me in the nunnery."
The other woman could only nod herself in disagreement, keeping a smile on her chin. "I'm telling this for your sake, Yvette. You're not that special."
"Oh, yeah?" She raised a brow.
"Yeah," Sister McKinney responded with all the fabric wrapped around her slim arms. Before Yvette could have hurled another tantrum, the nun had already sauntered out the room to the halls, making sure that the atheist could never cut her time short.
The young woman puffed down, plopping herself down on the wooden seat knowing not exactly what to do now. She had a monastery fooled and it wasn't even that fun for her, what now?
Yvette blew on her hair which had fallen from her forehead, complete boredom had took over her as she let her fitted thrasher jeans get crumpled by the way she was sitting so uninhibited. She had done everything for the past minutes amidst her impatience; she had stared at the ceiling for too long and it was no different than counting a hundred sheep. She had just felt dizzy and heavy on the eyelids.
All those could have possibly contribute to her giving into the temptation of slumber but it seemed like everything did not go according to plan. Well, for one, only the walls were concrete and marble but the posts, ceilings, and floors were wooden. Voices could still be heard apparent from outside the room or even outside the dorm as long as it was in the distance capable to invade the building.
Perhaps even with her eyes closed, she was still able to hear the nuisance from down below the second storey, it was a given.
"Father Patricia dove into the pool? Isn't it too early to have done that? He had just gotten out of such risks."
Yvette scratched her head, although acting annoyed but truly curious as to where the conversation was headed. Could be typically about demons or the other holy grail topics these kind of people share interest for. She pushed her arm down building up just enough strength to bring her torso up to standing. Her feet tiptoed across the creaking floor of the room toward the tiny window facing east of the horizon. She peered through the window with her arms crossed together. "So they do speak..."
"Well, I heard Sister Teresa speaking about a certain entity trying to leave Hell."
Yvette's eyes followed both nuns as they made an exit still distinctly muttering about what seemed to be heavy news for them. She scoffed, "An entity? Leaving hell?"
She slicked her hair back with a grin slowly coming up from her lips. "Shall we see what this is about?"
Sneakily, Yvette had tailed the nuns from behind, this time, willingly dressed as the nun she never were.
"Well, I heard that it was not something that simple. Being possessed by it would be probably dire, and Father Patricia is our best shot."
"That's petrifying! Father Patricia or any priests would have to fend it off before it does."
"I do hope so."
Yvette kept her pace slowly. She had heard insightful and intriguing news about a matter almost as if it was a lore, it couldn't have possibly sufficed but it somewhat fed her curiosity. Although the trailing behind was exhausting, Yvette never stopped quite enough not until the nuns did stop talking.
"Ouch!" she groaned, her head bumping on a hard material. She was certain to have not crossed paths with any wall but how could something hurt her as if it was brick hard?
Her gaze followed up, expectant for walls or wood before her but it wasn't any of those as she expected and it was a tough sigh that went out from her throat.
"Are you not looking to where you're going?" A contorted look made her irritation profound.
"What could you be possibly doing here?" A tall man, most probably in his middle ages stood with a cassock wrapping around his body.
A flush collected up on Yvette's cheeks as she found him rather extraordinary. Sure, she couldn't possibly love the ideas with nuns and priests or everything marked as holy, but he was different.
Yvette usually saw priests almost in the same light as they wore the same hair as if they were their cassocks, but she indulged differently with this man's appearance.
He had beautiful rosy cheeks, his cheekbones high, and a small face. His lips were surmounting as if they were dipped to a fountain of blood, ever so red, and his eyes were the shape of the sharpness of a cat, and a tiny nose bridging high from the middle of his face. His soft long hair tied into a neat bun with strands falling before his eyes had looked as beautiful as the scenery of the sinking sun. He's not cut to be a priest, Yvette had thought of that — he could've been someone who would extort his lovely face and magnificent stature for money. It suddenly dawned on her how and why this man could have possibly chosen to spend serving in a monastery with nothing but tales of demons and lores of God.
"Yvette!" It was a familiar call, although, a high-pitched surprise tone came about. Sister McKinney stood grasping tightly on the bottom part of her habit with eyes shaken with guilt of being found out.
"Was it you who brought this civilian, Sister McKinney?"