Chapter 5: The Testament of the lovely Sister Marionette, Chapter 2

The pure white walls of alabaster stone, and lush green gardens of the abbey were a sight I had longed for. Three weeks, three weeks I had been away, attending church business in the third circle. I breathed in deep, at ease in my modern utopia. Some would call the wooden walls and unpaved roads of the town of Old Keep, where the new Monastery had just been erected, charming. I, however, would say they felt archaic in comparison. I reveled in the tranquility of the abbey, never wishing to leave again. I confess, the work took its toll on me, it was hardly the kind of business I enjoyed. Perhaps training new nuns to battle against the wretched creatures of the Malice was important, but I often wished it was the responsibility of another nun. There was nothing quite so grand outside the abbey than my beautiful floral garden, perhaps even the grand forests of the inner circles pales in comparison to its beauty. I’d often think to myself, whoever planted these wonderful cacti and blossoming trees truly must be a saint, canonized as patron of flowers. The sweet fragrance of the cacti's blooms were more enchanting than any incense, and more captivating than any sight out in the Outer Rings. Again I breathed deep as I sat there, in my sacred space, my personal utopia, basking in the serenity, in the absolute stillness of it all.. I was alone, separated from all but Rafa, where every sister knew not to disturb me. Every sister except for sister Agast apparently.

“Marionette, oh Sister Marionette,” she practically sang my name, “you must tell me dear sister what it was like.” She was a younger nun, spritely, full of vigor. She had to be no older than eighteen, though still a bit old for a newly ordained nun. She was of Ferael descent, I could tell because of her furry ears, and the excessive six lumps  trailing down her chest that her oddly fitting nuns habit could hardly hide. She jumped around, her bare beast like feat kicking up dust as she approached me.

“Tell you what sister Agast?” I raised a brow, my fist clenched.

“The new Monastery, was it big? Was it beautiful? Were there lots of nuns there? Were they cute?” she bounced around me as she fired off questions, her red bangs bobbing as she hopped, her veil nearly falling off.

“It was small, it was average looking, there were five nuns, and what is that last question even?” I gritted my teeth as I humored her with answers. 

“Oh? What were they all? Any Mestael girls? Or how about Kydael? They’re always soo cute with their wool, of course Ael goldies’ skin contrasts so well with us Ferael’s dark skin,’’ her prattling nonsense would not cease. It reminded me of a child trying to pick out their favorite flavor of mashed fruit. 

“Tell me sister Agast, just what is this obsession with cute women you have?” I asked her, not sure if I really wanted an answer.

“I just love looking at cute girls, don’t you?” she tilted her head, “is that not normal?”

“No, sister Agast, that is not normal,” I exhaled, then breathed in deep, “your insistence on focusing so much energy on beauty may lead you down a dark path, dear sister.” It reminded me much of my encounters with the Knights of Ada. The idea that beauty is something the Goddess gives for us to admire, it is ridiculous when they say it, and it was ridiculous for her to say it.

“Well, what about our familiars? Is it weird to find them cute?” She asked, “I think mine is very adorable. It makes me happy just looking at her face while we talk in our room.”

I leapt up, and forced my hand over the young girl’s mouth, pushing her against a pillar. I looked into her frightened eyes, and as sternly as I could, told her, “never, ever again tell anyone you talk with your familiar. Not even when you are alone. Do you understand me, sister Agast?”

She shook her head, and tried to speak, I could guess she was asking why, to which I sighed, and answered her, “you know it is forbidden.” 

As I pulled my hand away she asked, “I can’t even tell another nun? But do you not speak with your familiar?”

“No, sister, I do not speak with my familiar, I only give commands when needed for the Goddess’ work.” I rubbed my temples. “That is how it must be, so long as you are here within the abbey you can not let anyone know about this. Do you understand?”

She looked at me, her eyes wide and teary, “Okay Sister Marionette, I understand,” without another word, she ran off, leaving me once more to my tranquility.

“You lied,” Rafa spoke to me from within her carta.

“Oh Goddess above, you know I do not lie,” I prayed.

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