The dining hall was also the kitchen in this little Chapel. The tables themselves had been organized in a big T as it was traditional, aligned with its head pointing to the West and the bottom to the East, just like the main hall itself: the adults ate in the horizontal section, while all children got a spot on its longer vertical side, and this was another source of conflict among them. The Head of the table was much closer to the hearth, making it the most comfortable side at all times, so all children wished to get spots nearby—but this implied having the vigilant eyes of the nuns permanently on them, so it was usually the favored ones who sat by the warmth of the fireplace.
And of course, this meant that Gabrielle was pushed to the last spots on the very bottom of the T, right beside the door to the East hallway and the backdoor, both of them old and useless against the blowing, cold winds of a winter storm. It is no exaggeration to say that many children had sickened and even died in the past because of this, and even Gabrielle herself had fallen ill several times—but every year it was less and less frequent.
Sister Tasce threw the girl right to her chair, shooting her one last glare before raising her nose and parading back to her own spot. The children, who only now noticed the redhead’s presence, immediately recoiled and moved to the side, putting some space between themselves and the accursed witch child. Gabrielle sighed, as this was just the usual, but the look on her eyes brightened when remembering that today was still Goodday.
And that meant potato soup!
Potato soup was great not only because it was flavorful and packed with tasty peels, but also because no one ever bothered to steal Gabi’s plate. They didn’t even mess with it, after realizing that the girl would simply eat it no matter what they tried to add to the concoction.
Of course, the real reason behind their lack of attention was the fact that everyone else hated potato soup. The bowls were full of a yellowish, oily mix of water and very thin chicken stock, with the peels of all vegetables used during the other days and the thinnest bones the butcher couldn’t get rid of during the rest of the week. Not even adding cilantro or any other herb managed to improve the soup’s popularity, to the point that even the adults dreaded the Goodday Dinner, but alas. Nothing could be done, it was mandated in the Prologues: this night was supposed to be a meal of austere reflection, a time to appreciate the nice meals in the past and eagerly await the ones to come.
All this sacrifice flew right over “Pig Girl'' Gabrielle's head, who happily ate not only her portion, but sometimes other kids gave her their own servings as “a show of Goodday mercy”. This empty gesture didn’t fool anyone, not even the slower Gabi, but she gladly played along with their charade if it meant getting seconds.
But not that evening. Not with the atmosphere of tension and gossip going all around. Father Enrico had strictly forbidden to talk about Martha and her departure, and yet all the girls found ways to whisper and mumble about it. None of them even suspected the possibility of abduction, they mostly wondered where had this girl been sold to, and if the extra money would even mean better food in the chapel. Those closer to Martha would sniffle and frown, trying to come to terms with the empty spot at the table, while the less sensitive and younger would openly wonder who would be the next to go.
Gabrielle ignored them as usual, her eyes practically glued to the adult table. The nuns rarely talked among themselves when Father Enrico was present at dinner, and lo and behold: he was sitting right there in the center of it all. His figure stood out quite dramatically among the smaller, frail-looking sisters around him: Enrico was a tall and wide man with a powerful frame, often compared to a bear sitting at the table (or a pig, if you felt particularly rebellious and unafraid). His left hand was unusually still on the table, still bandaged from Martha’s bite, while the right left scooped heavy spoonfuls of soup.
She didn’t linger much on him though, or the other nuns: her attention locked on Sister Arianna as soon as she found her. The young lady sat at one of the extremes of the adults’ table, on Enrico’s right. Her hair was a paling black, prematurely growing gray due to stress and sleepless nights. One could usually find her sleeping on tables or chairs, her poofy mane going up and down with her breathing as she recovered from the heavy workload on her back—always protected by the much taller, stronger Sister Alejandra.
Many compared Alejandra’s face to one of a bulldog: expressive and intimidating, with a bit of a pronounced brow. In terms of muscle, she was the one person in the Chapel who could stand up to the Father himself, although she rarely looked for much trouble. A gentle giant, as they call her: one who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly unless it became a nuisance. She had become Arianna’s official guard, always standing near her and keeping the gossiping sisters off and away—even now she sat right beside her sleepy companion, gently nudging her with an elbow to keep Ari from going face first into the bowl.
She’s always sleepy… she must work super hard helping people ascend…
Gabrielle was not supposed to speak about the matter with anyone, and every time she tried to ask for advice she was quickly taken to the Father’s room for a spanking—except for the times she approached Arianna. Differently from the rest, Gabi felt a sort of complicity with the younger nun, the only one who showed a bit more of patience despite never really talking on a personal level; this also meant a bit more of leeway with Sister Alejandra, who honestly was rather pleasant overall, just not exactly knowledgeable. When she asked them about the topic, they simply shushed her away and warned of the presence of Father, trying to avoid trouble.
Certainly, if there was someone there who could help her, it was them.
“I shall return to my study, so I hope all of you behave properly.” Father Enrico’s voice was loud enough to force all the ruckus in the room down. “Tonight I expect you all to sleep early, not a fuss. If I catch anyone sneaking or otherwise trying to cause some mischief, that will be a paddling to you all! Understood!?”
All women in the room answered in unison, the fruits of years of training and routine.
“Yes, Father”.
With a satisfied huff, Father stood from his seat, left his things abandoned on the table and simply walked away. The room kept silent as he went, all eyes staring at the man until the door to the West hallway closed, and his steps grew more and more distant. The echo of a second door closing, the one leading to the basement’s stairway, was the sign for everyone to collectively sigh in relief, and once again start chattering with each other. Even the nuns relaxed, gossiping to their hearts's content.
Once the Father was gone, dinner time became some sort of “recess” for the girls: as long as they didn’t do anything outrageous, the nuns couldn’t care any less for what the children were up to. And of course, this meant that it was the perfect time to get some answers. Gabrielle cleaned up her plate with her tongue, making sure no little droplets were left in there before letting out a sigh, and trying to focus again. What to do, what to ask, she had a list to remember!
First, the whole Genesis thing, whatever that is. Then the fires, what do they mean by fire and burning? The demihumans too, I want to know where they are going, maybe Sister kn–
“Ugh, could you be a bit less icky during dinner, swine witch!? Have some decency!”
Gabi lost her train of thought instantly, distracted by the voice of some kid she didn’t even see. Did she really make that much noise? No no, she was sure to drink her soup carefully these days, not let a drop fall on the table. Whatever could they–
No, no. Focus. Don’t let that distract you, it is not important!
The girl closed her eyes and tried to focus a bit more intently, only to hear some other child jeering.
“Don’t ask impossible things, Kimmy, you know you can’t ask pigs to have manners!”
Cackle. They all cackled. Gabrielle frowned and rubbed her knuckles on her temples, trying her best to not let those words worm their way into her ideas.
T-The Genesis, the fire… ugh, disgusting, did I really make another mess again? Why do I keep–? No, no, no. They’re probably lying. Come on, the Fires, right? The demihumans, the– t-the…let me, let’s just check. Just in case, check if there’s much stuff on the table.
With a huff, the little girl started patting around her table, using her sleeves to scrub and clean any possible drops of soup that could have spilled. She felt nothing, because there was nothing to feel. But then what did the girls talk about? Gabrielle got closer to the table, maybe a potato peel had bounced off her plate?
“Pffft, look at her! Still hungry, piggy?? There’s no more food for you on the table! Try on the floor, come on!”
More jeering, more cackling. Gabrielle looked around herself and tried to explain that no, that was not what she was doing at all. She was trying to clean up her mess! But the words did not come out of her mouth, she merely gasped. Her hands felt colder, her stomach tensing, as she tried to look for the one talking.
But their faces were nasty gray blurs, they all looked the same to Gabrielle. Blurs with wide, incomprehensible grimaces on them. The laughter drilled into her head, making her very skull tremble and shake, to the point where thinking was impossible. All that she could hear in her head were the voices of the girls.
“Awww I think she’s getting a stomachache! Had enough soup, piggy?”
“And here I was going to offer her my plate. Don’t you want it, swine witch? Bet you do, bet you do~!”
“Maybe she’s getting sick after messing around in the mud so much, she’s soaked! Did you trip on your own feet again, s-s-silly filly?”
That name.
That name said in such a mocking way, with a voice exaggerating and parodying Gabrielle’s own inflection—the words themselves were not really anything special, they were words people in town called her when she made a mistake. But the tone, the tone…
Something inside Gabrielle twisted and squeezed right around her heart. Her fists balled and words finally pushed out of her mouth.
"Shut up!”
“S-S-Shut Uuuup! Someone’s up with the fairies again~!”
Again with the tone. Gabi’s knuckles grew whiter.
“Shut up, come on!”
"S-Shut up, cooome ooonn~! Calm down silly filly, use your words~! Do you even know where you are? Did you get lost, silly filly~”
“Leave me alone!”
“Awwwww, are you angry now silly filly? Come oooonnn, don’t get angry! Behave, behave!”
The girl’s breathing grew shaky and hot, her hands trembling as her eyes darted from side to side. She couldn’t even find the one speaking, every time she looked they all just laughed, and this was on purpose: Gabrielle’s hard time distinguishing faces was something all of her “sisters” had picked up by this point, so abusing it was really easy. They just needed to quiet down when she looked, act in groups, and make it harder and harder to pick who owned which voice.
Even a Witch couldn’t hurt them all if they came all at once. They had grown braver with time and numbers.
Yet all of them stopped at once when Gabrielle slammed her fists on the table.
“BE QUIET!”
Sounds grew distant, mere echoes. The girl kept hitting the table, making it shake by force, she couldn’t even see the girls gasping and jumping backward. Had they pushed too hard? Was she actually snapping this time? They didn’t even know what “snapping” would entail for a Witch, but that only made the fear grow even colder on the bottom of their bellies.
Gabrielle kept hitting, moving by inertia, anger escaping her with such violence she couldn’t even hear what she was yelling… until a hand held her by the shoulder. It was cold. Gabi immediately jerked away from that grab, but the impression was enough to shake her awake from her anger and look up. Sister Arianna looked down at the girl, stern and disappointed, while her hand once again grabbed her by the arm and pulled.
“Come here. Out, now. Out!”
Children were frozen in place as the nun pulled a very confused, scared Gabrielle out of the room and right into the East hallways, slamming the door behind her back. Then, they looked at the table. It was not really that damaged, if at all! But red marks remained where the girl had hit, little stains of blood.
They just stood in perfect silence, listening to Gabrielle’s worked-up breathing getting more and more distant until another door was opened, and a fierce slap could be heard from all the way through the hallway.
Only then they returned to their chatter, but no one dared to sit near the bloodstains again, not even after the remaining nuns reluctantly got closer to clean them up.
The dining hall was also the kitchen in this little Chapel. The tables themselves had been organized in a big T as it was traditional, aligned with its head pointing to the West and the bottom to the East, just like the main hall itself: the adults ate in the horizontal section, while all children got a spot on its longer vertical side, and this was another source of conflict among them. The Head of the table was much closer to the hearth, making it the most comfortable side at all times, so all children wished to get spots nearby—but this implied having the vigilant eyes of the nuns permanently on them, so it was usually the favored ones who sat by the warmth of the fireplace.
And of course, this meant that Gabrielle was pushed to the last spots on the very bottom of the T, right beside the door to the East hallway and the backdoor, both of them old and useless against the blowing, cold winds of a winter storm. It is no exaggeration to say that many children had sickened and even died in the past because of this, and even Gabrielle herself had fallen ill several times—but every year it was less and less frequent.
Sister Tasce threw the girl right to her chair, shooting her one last glare before raising her nose and parading back to her own spot. The children, who only now noticed the redhead’s presence, immediately recoiled and moved to the side, putting some space between themselves and the accursed witch child. Gabrielle sighed, as this was just the usual, but the look on her eyes brightened when remembering that today was still Goodday.
And that meant potato soup!
Potato soup was great not only because it was flavorful and packed with tasty peels, but also because no one ever bothered to steal Gabi’s plate. They didn’t even mess with it, after realizing that the girl would simply eat it no matter what they tried to add to the concoction.
Of course, the real reason behind their lack of attention was the fact that everyone else hated potato soup. The bowls were full of a yellowish, oily mix of water and very thin chicken stock, with the peels of all vegetables used during the other days and the thinnest bones the butcher couldn’t get rid of during the rest of the week. Not even adding cilantro or any other herb managed to improve the soup’s popularity, to the point that even the adults dreaded the Goodday Dinner, but alas. Nothing could be done, it was mandated in the Prologues: this night was supposed to be a meal of austere reflection, a time to appreciate the nice meals in the past and eagerly await the ones to come.
All this sacrifice flew right over “Pig Girl'' Gabrielle's head, who happily ate not only her portion, but sometimes other kids gave her their own servings as “a show of Goodday mercy”. This empty gesture didn’t fool anyone, not even the slower Gabi, but she gladly played along with their charade if it meant getting seconds.
But not that evening. Not with the atmosphere of tension and gossip going all around. Father Enrico had strictly forbidden to talk about Martha and her departure, and yet all the girls found ways to whisper and mumble about it. None of them even suspected the possibility of abduction, they mostly wondered where had this girl been sold to, and if the extra money would even mean better food in the chapel. Those closer to Martha would sniffle and frown, trying to come to terms with the empty spot at the table, while the less sensitive and younger would openly wonder who would be the next to go.
Gabrielle ignored them as usual, her eyes practically glued to the adult table. The nuns rarely talked among themselves when Father Enrico was present at dinner, and lo and behold: he was sitting right there in the center of it all. His figure stood out quite dramatically among the smaller, frail-looking sisters around him: Enrico was a tall and wide man with a powerful frame, often compared to a bear sitting at the table (or a pig, if you felt particularly rebellious and unafraid). His left hand was unusually still on the table, still bandaged from Martha’s bite, while the right left scooped heavy spoonfuls of soup.
She didn’t linger much on him though, or the other nuns: her attention locked on Sister Arianna as soon as she found her. The young lady sat at one of the extremes of the adults’ table, on Enrico’s right. Her hair was a paling black, prematurely growing gray due to stress and sleepless nights. One could usually find her sleeping on tables or chairs, her poofy mane going up and down with her breathing as she recovered from the heavy workload on her back—always protected by the much taller, stronger Sister Alejandra.
Many compared Alejandra’s face to one of a bulldog: expressive and intimidating, with a bit of a pronounced brow. In terms of muscle, she was the one person in the Chapel who could stand up to the Father himself, although she rarely looked for much trouble. A gentle giant, as they call her: one who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly unless it became a nuisance. She had become Arianna’s official guard, always standing near her and keeping the gossiping sisters off and away—even now she sat right beside her sleepy companion, gently nudging her with an elbow to keep Ari from going face first into the bowl.
She’s always sleepy… she must work super hard helping people ascend…
Gabrielle was not supposed to speak about the matter with anyone, and every time she tried to ask for advice she was quickly taken to the Father’s room for a spanking—except for the times she approached Arianna. Differently from the rest, Gabi felt a sort of complicity with the younger nun, the only one who showed a bit more of patience despite never really talking on a personal level; this also meant a bit more of leeway with Sister Alejandra, who honestly was rather pleasant overall, just not exactly knowledgeable. When she asked them about the topic, they simply shushed her away and warned of the presence of Father, trying to avoid trouble.
Certainly, if there was someone there who could help her, it was them.
“I shall return to my study, so I hope all of you behave properly.” Father Enrico’s voice was loud enough to force all the ruckus in the room down. “Tonight I expect you all to sleep early, not a fuss. If I catch anyone sneaking or otherwise trying to cause some mischief, that will be a paddling to you all! Understood!?”
All women in the room answered in unison, the fruits of years of training and routine.
“Yes, Father”.
With a satisfied huff, Father stood from his seat, left his things abandoned on the table and simply walked away. The room kept silent as he went, all eyes staring at the man until the door to the West hallway closed, and his steps grew more and more distant. The echo of a second door closing, the one leading to the basement’s stairway, was the sign for everyone to collectively sigh in relief, and once again start chattering with each other. Even the nuns relaxed, gossiping to their hearts's content.
Once the Father was gone, dinner time became some sort of “recess” for the girls: as long as they didn’t do anything outrageous, the nuns couldn’t care any less for what the children were up to. And of course, this meant that it was the perfect time to get some answers. Gabrielle cleaned up her plate with her tongue, making sure no little droplets were left in there before letting out a sigh, and trying to focus again. What to do, what to ask, she had a list to remember!
First, the whole Genesis thing, whatever that is. Then the fires, what do they mean by fire and burning? The demihumans too, I want to know where they are going, maybe Sister kn–
“Ugh, could you be a bit less icky during dinner, swine witch!? Have some decency!”
Gabi lost her train of thought instantly, distracted by the voice of some kid she didn’t even see. Did she really make that much noise? No no, she was sure to drink her soup carefully these days, not let a drop fall on the table. Whatever could they–
No, no. Focus. Don’t let that distract you, it is not important!
The girl closed her eyes and tried to focus a bit more intently, only to hear some other child jeering.
“Don’t ask impossible things, Kimmy, you know you can’t ask pigs to have manners!”
Cackle. They all cackled. Gabrielle frowned and rubbed her knuckles on her temples, trying her best to not let those words worm their way into her ideas.
T-The Genesis, the fire… ugh, disgusting, did I really make another mess again? Why do I keep–? No, no, no. They’re probably lying. Come on, the Fires, right? The demihumans, the– t-the…let me, let’s just check. Just in case, check if there’s much stuff on the table.
With a huff, the little girl started patting around her table, using her sleeves to scrub and clean any possible drops of soup that could have spilled. She felt nothing, because there was nothing to feel. But then what did the girls talk about? Gabrielle got closer to the table, maybe a potato peel had bounced off her plate?
“Pffft, look at her! Still hungry, piggy?? There’s no more food for you on the table! Try on the floor, come on!”
More jeering, more cackling. Gabrielle looked around herself and tried to explain that no, that was not what she was doing at all. She was trying to clean up her mess! But the words did not come out of her mouth, she merely gasped. Her hands felt colder, her stomach tensing, as she tried to look for the one talking.
But their faces were nasty gray blurs, they all looked the same to Gabrielle. Blurs with wide, incomprehensible grimaces on them. The laughter drilled into her head, making her very skull tremble and shake, to the point where thinking was impossible. All that she could hear in her head were the voices of the girls.
“Awww I think she’s getting a stomachache! Had enough soup, piggy?”
“And here I was going to offer her my plate. Don’t you want it, swine witch? Bet you do, bet you do~!”
“Maybe she’s getting sick after messing around in the mud so much, she’s soaked! Did you trip on your own feet again, s-s-silly filly?”
That name.
That name said in such a mocking way, with a voice exaggerating and parodying Gabrielle’s own inflection—the words themselves were not really anything special, they were words people in town called her when she made a mistake. But the tone, the tone…
Something inside Gabrielle twisted and squeezed right around her heart. Her fists balled and words finally pushed out of her mouth.
"Shut up!”
“S-S-Shut Uuuup! Someone’s up with the fairies again~!”
Again with the tone. Gabi’s knuckles grew whiter.
“Shut up, come on!”
"S-Shut up, cooome ooonn~! Calm down silly filly, use your words~! Do you even know where you are? Did you get lost, silly filly~”
“Leave me alone!”
“Awwwww, are you angry now silly filly? Come oooonnn, don’t get angry! Behave, behave!”
The girl’s breathing grew shaky and hot, her hands trembling as her eyes darted from side to side. She couldn’t even find the one speaking, every time she looked they all just laughed, and this was on purpose: Gabrielle’s hard time distinguishing faces was something all of her “sisters” had picked up by this point, so abusing it was really easy. They just needed to quiet down when she looked, act in groups, and make it harder and harder to pick who owned which voice.
Even a Witch couldn’t hurt them all if they came all at once. They had grown braver with time and numbers.
Yet all of them stopped at once when Gabrielle slammed her fists on the table.
“BE QUIET!”
Sounds grew distant, mere echoes. The girl kept hitting the table, making it shake by force, she couldn’t even see the girls gasping and jumping backward. Had they pushed too hard? Was she actually snapping this time? They didn’t even know what “snapping” would entail for a Witch, but that only made the fear grow even colder on the bottom of their bellies.
Gabrielle kept hitting, moving by inertia, anger escaping her with such violence she couldn’t even hear what she was yelling… until a hand held her by the shoulder. It was cold. Gabi immediately jerked away from that grab, but the impression was enough to shake her awake from her anger and look up. Sister Arianna looked down at the girl, stern and disappointed, while her hand once again grabbed her by the arm and pulled.
“Come here. Out, now. Out!”
Children were frozen in place as the nun pulled a very confused, scared Gabrielle out of the room and right into the East hallways, slamming the door behind her back. Then, they looked at the table. It was not really that damaged, if at all! But red marks remained where the girl had hit, little stains of blood.
They just stood in perfect silence, listening to Gabrielle’s worked-up breathing getting more and more distant until another door was opened, and a fierce slap could be heard from all the way through the hallway.
Only then they returned to their chatter, but no one dared to sit near the bloodstains again, not even after the remaining nuns reluctantly got closer to clean them up.
