#ZARIA THE SWEETEST LITTLE THING AAA

[divineordiabolical]

*Zaria walked into the church after almost tripping over air because of course she did. Anyways, she starts calling out*

“Hey, is anyone here? I need help with like… protecting my house from ghosts or something”

(I totally didn’t forget to send this several times nuh-uh)

The heavy oak doors of the church yawned open, their sound a low groan that rippled through the stillness of the sacred space. Anastasia—Asya, as she obliged Zaria to call her—was in the midst of the usual chores she was accustomed, tending to the candles flickering at the altar, a quiet reverence guiding her hands as she tended to the altar’s candles. There was an almost hypnotic quality about the way the flames danced in their glass encasements, flickering with each breath of air that wisped through the stone walls.

It was as she was situating a wick upright, ensuring the flame burned evenly, that she heard the soft creak of the heavy oak doors and the hesitant shuffle of footsteps. The sound drew her from her reverie, and she turned, her gaze sweeping over the dim interior until it settled on the figure standing in the doorway. Oh, Zaria! There was something in the way she lingered just inside the church, as if the weight of whatever had brought her there was too heavy to bear alone. The shape of her, silhouetted in the dim light— small, jagged, and weak, eliciting an almost visceral, raw riposte. Just like her.

Asya’s heart stirred with a gentle concern, and she left the altar behind, her steps light and deliberate as she crossed the nave to meet her friend. “Zaria?” she called softly, her voice carrying the same warmth and quiet strength that had guided Zaria before in her moments of need. “What brings you here? You appear to be—” she hesitated, searching Zaria’s face for the right word that wouldn’t pose offense, “—troubled.”