Of Monsters and Men ₰ The Originals

Chapter Thirty One | Chaos Is A Ladder

     He continues his sermon, and his voice soon drowns out into the background as I notice Marcel's face freeze into an emotion that was rarely on his face. "What?" I whisper. I follow his line of vision and frown at a woman with bright red hair and bright blue eyes. A thick layer of cherry red lipstick was painted across her lips and she was staring devoutly at the Father, as though she was drinking in all his words.

     "You know her?" I ask curiously. Marcel blinks rapidly, and shakes his head as though there was water in his ears. "No, I don't." I raise an eyebrow at him, not believing him for a second. Nevertheless, I accept his lie, and return to pay attention to the mass. "Pay attention, Marcel." Nik whispers beside me, his voice definitely carrying over to his former protégé." We're meant to seem like devoted parishioners."

     I jump slightly as his leg brushes gently against mine when he shifts himself in his seat. I let out an impatient huff, my hands shaking ever so mildly: it was beyond bizarre how hyper aware I am when in Nik's presence.

     The whole congregation begins to say 'Amen,' and I hastily say it as well. However, it comes out about five seconds late behind everyone else. As a few of the church members turn to stare briefly at me, I bow my head, my cheeks blazing.

     I hear Nik chuckle quietly. Sending him a fake glare, I raise my eyebrow. "What are you laughing at?"

     "Oh, I think it's fairly obvious." He responds nodding his head to the parishioners, the corner of his lips creasing with the remnants of his laugh. "Unfortunately that's what you and the church think." I grumble morosely. But soon, after glimpsing the way he was still grinning, I cannot help but start laughing quietly. I elbow him lightly, shaking my head. "Fuck off."

     "Bloody hell, Melissa. Be a little more devout; we're in a church!" He gasps. "Oh please," I scoff, rolling my eyes, "look who's talking." Nik opens his mouth to retort, but an elderly woman who is sitting in front of us, turns around in her seat to glare at us. "Shh!" She hisses.

     The situation is not even that hilarious, but for some reason we begin struggling to hold in our laughter. Perhaps it was the cynical hilarity in which all of us had been placed in, like a morbid circle. Perhaps it was the people close to me who had died, which only stood for the beginning of our vicious time in New Orleans. Regardless, I vacuum my lips in, attempting to seal any orifice that sound might glide out of. At the corner of my eye, I see Nik place the pads of his fingers in front of his eyes in an attempt to stop taking merriment from the situation.

     Beside me, Marcel shoots us a weird look, but I simply roll my eyes, and in the pretence of brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I send him the middle finger.

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     As I walk out of the church, a sweet looking elderly woman walks up to me, shaking my hand. "God bless you, child." I chortle. "I'd honestly be surprised if He did." I shake her hand more frivolously, before spotting Aaron talking to a familiar beach bottle blonde.

     Cami. Un-freaking-believable. Was she seriously 'friends' with all my friends? Did she not have her own circle?

     "Excuse me," I mutter, walking over to them. "Hey, Mel!" Aaron greets brightly. "Hi!" I say back, before dampening my smile when I turned over to Cami. "Hello, Melissa." She smiled awkwardly. A few tense seconds pass by, and I turn towards my friend.

     "I have to say, I'm surprised to find you here. Never pegged you for a religious type."

     "I'm not," he explains, "but I came anyway because St. Anne's was reopening. And after that . . . horrible tragedy, St. Anne needs all the support it can get. I mean, it was the centre of the city. If it helps people, I'm up for it."