#materinferorum

What really happened after the birthing of God, was something different than what Claudia had envisioned. Samael was weak. . . but she was merciful enough to bring her Vessel back to life, Claudia figures that God has plans new plans for Heather, and the Priestess will not interfere with the Almighty's Divine plan. God had stationed herself in the Church, as a stone statute near the altar, fools humans beautifully -- she needs to regain her strength, regain followers. Claudia knows just who to speak -- a certain Priest of The Order whose enthusiastic sermons were well known across the town, but that meeting would have to wait.

For now, Claudia has more pressing matters to attend to. Samael's Vessel and her healing. At first the Priestess would care less about trying to cure Heather's injuries but she was swayed by God Herself to put more effort into it. It started out by merely applying bandages to the bloody wounds but soon it escalated to gauze dressings soaked with antiseptics, the application of ampoules and careful cleaning of injuries, she took supplies from Brookhaven Hospital, carefully tended to her charge, prayed, and wept from time to time. Heather had become more and more like Alessa.

As time passed, Heather's hair grew longer, the hair dye all but fading away, she looked tired, peaceful and a terrible beauty all at once and Claudia. . . hated it -- at least part of her did. The other part hated Heather for having the privilege of being the Holy Mother of God, hated her for having a larger role than Claudia could ever have. The Priestess closed her eyes, inhales deeply. Keeps tending to the injuries like a certain nurse.

She knew time was running out for her.

He would come for her.

Her predictions weren't wrong.

She knew he would arrive soon but not soon enough. It was only matter of time before that damned companion and alleged protector of Heather's would arrive to save her. Claudia would have to kill him if she had to. The High Priestess prepares herself with prayer, with patience, and help from God. Her pious and devoted nature granted her more power than she had. She thanked God for the new power. At times where all is silent, she doesn't pray, doesn't think about God nor Alessa (who is gone gone gone) nor Walter (who misses Alessa and the child they had), instead. . . She reflects.

Reflects on her behavior and how she's becoming more and more like her father, how she's going over the edge and she may never come back. How somehow, somewhere she knows this is wrong. . . that this isn't going to be the Paradise the bible talked about, this isn't going to be the Paradise Dahlia preached about either.

In silence, she eats, prays, and continuously takes care of her moribund charge, heals her with the antiseptics, ampoules and gauze, heals with prayer as well. Part of her is sure that this man, James -- will never find Heather, the Church is a sanctuary and it's underground. But she knows he way have help from another source. Someone guiding him that isn't Heather, someone who defied God and abandoned Her teachings.

She would dispose of this traitor soon. She would deliver swift retribution to them.

It is one day that her moribund charge's wounds have healed the sufficient enough that she wakes up from this almost comatose state. Steel blue eyes dart across the room to the cot, bony fingers clutch onto her dagger hidden among her skirts.

"Ah.... You are..... awake... finally."

It's the first words Claudia has spoken in a while, first real words and it almost sounds so foreign when she speaks.

"Before you try to kill me.... I have been curing you for the longest.... You need more rest, you are fragile and have not eaten in a while..... I suggest you save your strength.... Heather...."

It's the most gentle words she has ever used around Heather, her bony fingers loosen their grip on the dagger, hands gently push her back onto the cot. Right then and there Claudia's heart sank further than it ever did. Heather... looked like Alessa's spitting image, the blonde in her hair had faded away until there were nothing but just a few strands left, her and it had grown to such a length that if styled properly it would have been Alessa's hair. . . but no. Heather wasn't Alessa, she knew better.

But then. . . why did her heart ache so so so much? Her hand clutched onto the the breast of her jacket as she rises up from the chair, places down the prayer book on the seat. Eyes shift back to Alessa -- no -- Heather she corrects, speaks again.

"I may not have much to offer... but I shall go get you some food if you like.... There is not enough supplies... seeing as I have not yet anticipated for your recovery, I have only gathered food for myself... but there is bread and cold soup.... But anything will do... Save your strength, my sister."

It sounds almost blasphemous when Claudia calls her charge 'sister', but Heather doesn't respond in the moment, she takes it as approval for food, and how can she talk? She has been comatose for several months, her vocal chords haven't been used in a while and more importantly she barely has the strength to move and speak. Steel blue eyes narrow when she pivots away from the cot, was the woman becoming attached to her sister's reincarnate? Was she even doing the right thing now? Should Heather rebel.... she could kill the girl if necessary. But that would be a last resort.... she knows that she is destined to kill someone soon.

There's the soft clicking noise of the door closing, Claudia carefully withdraws a key from a pocket of her jacket and shuts the door, locks it just in case. Heather is a prisoner, Heather is safe. And this is right and wrong all at once, for the first time since Alessa's death.... Claudia cries. She cries softly into her hands. It's the first time there is doubt in her heart. 'Please... God.... it is the right thing, is it not? Paradise will come, please, please let it come soon.' she pleads into the quietness and she knows Samael hears her weep and beg, knows that there is doubt in her heart.

Claudia presses her back to a wall, she almost falls down inside, she feels her heart shattered and her soul wilt away, her features drag down themselves down into a soggy mess of sobs, puddling over the nagging feelings of fear and doubt she has. Bites down on the insides of her cheeks and sucks in her breath and chokes on her sobs. After a moment to herself, when she ceases her sobbing and hiccuping, dries her tears and prays to God for direction and not to have doubt in her heart.

There is a gentle reassurance from God Herself that there shouldn't be any doubt when her eyes flicker up to the stone statute, Claudia has her answer and there's new found conviction in her resolve. The ugly feeling lessens and she sighs when pushes herself off the wall she had sunken into and dries her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.

The Priestess flitters around the Chapel, searches for the kitchen (she doesn't quite remember where it is at the moment, there's a million and one thoughts in her head) and when she finally reaches the kitchen she rifles through the cupboards and opens a soup can, pours it onto plain china plates and breaks a loaf of bread. It really isn't some extravagant feast. . . but it'll do. The woman picks up the plate with both hands and carries it back to the room, unlocking the door.