Chapter Text
Persuasion
This is not a love story. This is Beatrice rising before the sun to make breakfast for Ava. Because Mother Superion insists that they start at the crack of dawn, and the only thing that might rival Ava’s love of food is sleeping in.
So Sister Beatrice is making French toast in her pyjamas, and she tells herself that this can’t possibly be love. This is far too mundane, far too ordinary, even though her heart pounds when Ava enters the room with a huge smile on her face. “It smells wonderful.”
And Beatrice can’t help smiling right back.
Piety
Even before the OCS, before Beatrice's hands were stained with blood, they were already red with sin. She knew she would never be the Halo-Bearer, because she wasn’t perfect enough, she wasn’t pure enough.
And she thought when she joined the OCS that she would be closer to God, closer to her eternal soul being saved. But in the end, Ava is the one who saved her. Ava is the one who set her free. Ava is the one who restored her faith, not in God, but in love.
Permission
Over the years, Beatrice has seen many join and leave the OCS, or even the Church entirely. She has never cared much.
The ones that matter to her, Mary, Lilith, and now Camila are all fervent and pious. Even Shannon did not leave of her own volition. But Ava is different.
Ava did not join by choice. Ava is well within her rights to walk away from all this, especially now that they've saved the world. Maybe the OCS doesn't need Ava anymore. Maybe it's Beatrice who still needs Ava.
"Don't go," she says, "why can't you be the one who stays?"
Ava is packed, a bag over her shoulder, looking out the window. "There's a whole world to see out there. So much I never got the chance to do. Why can't you come with me?"
"I don't know if I'm allowed."
But Ava closes the distance between them, kisses her with intent. "Of course you're allowed."
Pride
“This is it, this is who I really am.” There. She’s said it, those words she’s never allowed herself to speak out loud, not in the bright of day, and she feels them hanging in the air even though there’s no one around except her own reflection in the mirror.
Ava appears behind her and gives her a hug. Kind, perfect Ava, who has flowers in her hair and rainbows painted on her face. Ava, who really wanted to go to the parade today, smiles at her in the mirror and says “it’s ok if you want to stay in, we don’t have to go.”
And Beatrice knows that this is love, because every time she thinks she can’t possibly deserve this, Ava changes her mind.
So Beatrice looks at the backs of their hands, at the matching temporary flag tattoos, and says, "no, let's go." She is terrified, but just by the smile Ava gives her she knows she made the right choice.
Ava kisses her on the cheek, catches a tear. "I'm so proud of you."
Poetry
Beatrice has never liked haikus, especially writing them. They're too stilted, too forced, too constrained. She craves the freedom to express herself without limitations. She wants to use all of her words, all of her vocabulary and passion and anger. She wants to press her pen into the page so hard her poetry tears through the paper.
And she knows that wrath is a sin, but Ava makes her furious. Beatrice is angry at herself, because she is supposed to be beyond this. She is supposed to be stronger than this. But anger hides other feelings.
Lust also is sin.
Patience
You were seven the year your mother died, nineteen the first time you kissed someone. That's the same year you were murdered, resurrected, and then saved the world, so it was a lot to take in.
And you're twenty-two now, but you don't know what that means. Because Sister Beatrice hasn't changed one bit. She is just as pious, just as devoted, just as beautiful. But you're still here, and you're still waiting.
Prayer
You used to think that all you needed was one good day. But you've had a few good days since; and you've done good things with your days. So now you want something else. Now it's not about jumping, or dancing, or running on the beach. Now, it's about having Beatrice nearby, feeling the pulse in her fingers in your clasped hands, having her head resting against your shoulder and her breath against your neck.
All you want is to hear the sounds she makes when you hold her just right, touch her just so, whisper "you are beautiful" in her ear.
Beatrice obliges, presses herself against you with her eyes closed, holds you even tighter.
And you wish this day would never end.
Perfection
"I know you've probably seen a thousand sunrises, but this is still new to me."
Beatrice smiles at Ava, can't help the excitement she feels herself. There's purity and innocence here, almost child-like. There's sadness too, because Beatrice feels for all the sunrises Ava never got to witness. Daybreak has always been special to Beatrice.
"It's beautiful," Ava whispers, as the sun crests the horizon, the sky awash in orange and gold and the promise of a new day.
"Yes," Beatrice agrees, but her eyes are only on Ava — Ava's ear-to-ear grin, the first rays warming Ava's cheeks, the wonder and joy on her face.
And when Ava gets up to dance in the dawn, spins in the morning light with gleaming rays filtering through her hair, Beatrice echoes the sentiment again. "Yes, it is."
Because it's dawn, because there is beauty in this world, and Sister Beatrice has never felt closer to God.