D. Gray-man, Allen/Lavi, atheism (1/3)
There was nothing like the silence inside a church.
It was not peace, not exactly, but something close enough that allowed you to rest. Even before Mana, Allen had been fond of churches. They had always made good shelters, as long a she kept his arm hidden. Sometimes he even got lucky and had a nice priest or a compassionate nun giving him unspoiled food.
Some of the warmth he got from that before had been corrupted when he met his master, and that had only increased after he joined the Order, a quiet bitterness that Allen did his best to ignore, whenever he had the chance to sit inside one.
The chapel at the Order could be considered, almost, a small church. While it had no windows and thus there were no stained glass to gleam red and blue and golden with the sun (it would be too dangerous to have such kind of weaknesses in a place that could, perhaps, one day be attacked), the candles lit the place enough, lilies surrounding the cross upon the altar, the wood of the confessional made of warm, reddish oak.
He was sitting there, alone, sitting on the back row although he had more than enough space to choose. Few people in the Order actually followed the Roman Catholic Church, something that had surprised Allen a little, back when he had just met Cross, but after just weeks in the Order, he had understood: Innocence cared not for race or religion, and thus the Order cared little to nothing of the traditions held by the people it brought to it, as long as they were conformers.
Still, he sat on the back, hands linked together, index fingers against his lips, as if he was praying, leaning over his knees, trying to recall the sense of comfort that churches had brought for him when he had been a child, when he had thought that inside it, no-one could hurt him and he didn't have to fight. At least for a few hours, he had been save.
But you know that isn't true, right?
He did his best to ignore the voice inside his head, unsure if it was his voice or someone else's, instead unclasping his hands, moving one to pat Tim's head gently.
Allen didn't know any prayers, and even as he tried to recall the bits and pieces of the ones he had heard, he somehow doubted that his master would have liked having him praying for him.
“It's not as if he'd go to heaven anyway,” Allen muttered, annoyed at himself for the fact that he couldn't even say something true without feeling guilty for badmouthing someone that... “And it's not as if he is dead.”
Tim nuzzled against his hand, and Allen petted him again, sighing a little as he focused on the lighted tapers, taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm himself. He wasn't sure how long he had been inside trying to pray, just distantly aware that he was getting hungry. Still, he had no desire to be with anyone at the moment, and he had answered as many questions as he had been asked. Link was waiting outside for him, and Allen needed, desperately, some time alone.