InsaneJournal

Mary had forced herself into a bath earlier, willing the exhausting sad energy of Easter to be washed off her skin and out of her hair.

Outside the bathroom, the open plan space of the apartment was strewn with dirty plates sent from downstairs as well as half empty vodka bottles and the bright tin foil of destroyed chocolate eggs. Mary hadn't felt much like eating them, but she'd certainly laid on her back on the floor and held aloft a large red one and laughed bitterly.

After the death of Jesus, it had been Mary who brought cooked eggs to feed the few other women who had gathered outside of His tomb. (Not Apostles, not a one of them. His most loyal, His most holy, where were they when their Lord was cold and dead? Nowhere to be found, fled like unfaithful cowards.) That day the sudden appearance of Jesus, seemingly alive and well, glowing with divinity, turned those eggs in Mary's basket a brilliant red.

After Christ had gone to the house of His father, after it was all over and He was truly lost to her, Mary had travelled to Rome with another egg in her hands, travelled to tell the Emperor who had hated Jesus that He was risen again, that He would live forever above and that the emperor would die and become dust. She had held that egg aloft and before the emperor's eyes it had turned blood red to prove her words.

Red eggs. A thousand books of Eastern Christianity putting the whole Easter eggs thing on Mary's shoulders and now she'd never escape the symbolism. It was enough to make a woman wish she could enjoy the whole event.

But Easter was rough, and made rougher this year by Lucifer. She couldn't quite wash him off her skin either, but that would come with time (it had to) and eventually Mary would stop thinking so heavily on those burning hands destroying her.

After talking to Much, Mary put on clean clothes for the first time in days, grabbing faded jeans and a light grey sweater. After what had happened with Much on the trip home and the things he'd confessed about Lust to her, Mary wanted to appear as far from being that creature as possible. No 'mother of lust' bullshit from Mary tonight, just some easy company.

On the way out of Fusion Blues, Mary remembered her promise to bring something neither alcoholic nor energy drink and stole from the kitchen a bottle of pineapple and mango juice.

On the train over, Mary hunched down in her seat and picked up an abandoned newspaper to see what she'd missed while being out of the world. But the world felt too big and Mary felt too delicate to care for anything but herself tonight (and maybe Much) so she put the paper aside and stared out the window. At least this wasn't riding a train all night while waiting to come home, and soon enough she was knocking at Much's door.