Joan of Arc (saint_joan) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-06-09 15:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | joan of arc, michael |
Who Joan and OPEN
Where St. Bartholomew's Church
When Monday afternoon
Warnings TBD, likely nothing
Few paid any attention to the young woman that entered the cathedral, her clothing boring and far more modest than most her age, and her dark hair tied back into a long braid that hung down her back. She was a quiet presence and almost as soon as others in the church noticed her they were already turning back to whatever it was they had been doing before.
This was much the way people always saw her now. Joan never seemed to draw much attention these days, which was as she liked it. She no longer rode at the head of a French army. She no longer adorned herself in the armor of a knight. In this city she was just another face in the crowd. Yes, she spoke up about injustice around her but she wasn't the only voice and hers carried only as much power as anyone else's.
St. Bartholomew's Church was not near to where she lived - she had a small apartment in Brooklyn and her own church was located there as well - but she had felt drawn to come here, and Joan had never been one to ignore anything that felt as though it may be a calling. She chose an empty pew near the front of the church and sat, her eyes on the crucifix above the altar in front of her for a few minutes, before she bowed her head to pray.
Even though Joan herself was a Saint, she still prayed to the others. She didn't feel like a Saint. After all these years she still felt like a simple girl from Domrémy, obeying the words of Christ. She prayed now to the voices that had always guided her - the Saints Margaret and Catherine, and the Archangel Michael - and, of course, to God, and when she finally felt she was done she raised her head again with a small smile. She was in no hurry to go home yet and she she remained seated, watching the altar thoughtfully.