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what can you do when your good isn't good enough
♪ C'mon show 'em what you're worth.
showchoirstar wrote in adstrngndumlog
Characters: Rachel Berry [showchoirstar] and YOU!
When: Wednesday January 11th.
Where: Saint Basil's Cathedral.
Rating: PG. It's Rachel. In a church. Seriously.
Summary: Rachel has decided to turn to the one person that has always been there and never made her cry in order to get through the latest week in Adstringendum -- God. Provided He is listening to her, of course.

She had no idea why she was here, really -- she could easily pray at home and it wasn't as if this specific building was suited for her own religious beliefs anyway -- but she needed a place of solace, a way to get away. And the moment she had stepped inside the massive structure, she had immediately felt as if she was transported back in time, safe and tucked away within a pocket of Adstringendum where nothing could harm her.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the massive corridor toward the central church, her dog's nails clicking quickly after her (as Evita was her constant companion), carefully making note of where she was walking in order to not get lost among the nine smaller chapels within the church. And when Rachel found the main altar, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes immediately went to the ceiling, to view the ornate artwork, the beautiful pieces of glasswork, and most importantly, the intact ceiling. A ceiling that her theatre no longer had thanks to the massive fires that had been going on for three days straight.

"Hello, God," Rachel said suddenly, crossing her arms across her chest as she walked forward, past the pews, to stop in the center, glancing around to make sure that she was alone. She then moved her eyes back to the ceiling, continuing to speak in a quiet tone. "It's Rachel -- in a church. I imagine that would be the fastest way for you to listen to what I have to say, but I'm not entirely sure you're always listening anymore, so -- "

She cleared her throat before she pursed her lips together, stepping forward toward the altar.

" -- I've never been to Russia. Or anywhere outside of Ohio, actually, before I came here, but this place is beautiful... and one of the only real buildings still left after the event. There was constant fire and bloodshed and -- " She rested her hands on the altar before looking back up at the ceiling, frowning slightly to herself. "I don't understand why you don't see fit to just -- fix this place and I'm certain that you have better things to do than fix a hole in space and time, because that isn't a big deal or anything." And Rachel rested her chin in her hands with a huff, her lips pouting out slightly as she stared at the golden ornamental decorations of the altar. "I sound like a selfish brat, but I'm thoroughly tired of having to re-make my life every other week thanks to these psychotic Animus ghosts that have little place in the world that I live in and I'd like to think that I've lived a perfectly good life to request this one little problem to be fixed so that my friends and I can go a week without dying or -- or being tortured -- and I'm going to have to start eating meat now because a fire monster decided to destroy my vegetable garden."

And Rachel heaved a sigh before she rested her head in her arms, leaning on the altar, offering a final muttered:

"Get back to me, I guess."

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"There are usually kitchens in churches as well. And as you stated, water." Holy or not, it'd work the same.

At her question, Castiel gave her a look for a moment. "It is not looting. These items belong to no one in particular."

"What food is here has long since been taken and you are not burning tapestries that are centuries old."

She huffed slightly, crossing her arms to stare up at him with determination.

"It's a church. Just because no one has their name on it doesn't mean that it doesn't belong to someone. Leave what can be left here, here."

"Items are replenished intermittently." Castiel argued, vaguely amused and also perplexed that Rachel was arguing with him. "Taking supplies from the mall is not considered stealing. I fail to see why it is here."

"Because this is a house of God."

She said it so seriously that it was almost funny.

Castiel glanced around again, at the interior of the church, before looking back at Rachel. "It's a church. There is no God here."

"Of course there isn't. If God were here, I'm sure my incessant praying would have annoyed Him into speaking by now."

But she paused before taking the angel's hand, tugging him lightly to one of the pews, so he could sit down next to her. Evita slunk underneath the pew in front of them, to sit near Rachel's feet, as she sat down neatly, hands now in her lap.

"I miss going to temple, I guess," Rachel said finally, looking up at the ceiling again.

"Doubtful." The bitter comment was out before he could restrain it, but he'd prayed over and over and over again, where he knew his Father could hear it. And He'd never showed.

Castiel let Rachel pull him over to a pew, sitting down without protest and glancing over at her as she spoke. "What do you miss about it?" He never quite understood humans' fascination with churches and temples; religion he got, but the services he didn't.

"Bitterness does not suit you," Rachel said mildly, tossing him something of a look, before relaxing to lean against his shoulder, considering his question very seriously.

"There is a terrifying lack of faith in this place, I think," Rachel said quietly, and though she doesn't sound upset, she certainly sounds sad. "Not faith in God so much as faith in anything else -- each other, the city, the people in it... and even though my life in Ohio is certainly not as exciting or thrilling or dangerous as it is here, it always felt that way when I went to temple. It's this huge massive swell of positive energy that will bolster you throughout anything. Even the saddest things. That's all faith is, religious or otherwise -- a stubborn belief to keep going because you have an unwavering faith that it will get better. Even if God doesn't do it for you, then you will. That's the point."

The girl dropped her head against Castiel's shoulder.

"This is a church, but it doesn't feel like one. It feels like an empty sad house where no one has come to make it home."

He gave her a look at that--he was quite good at bitterness, thanks--but let her lean on his shoulder, unbothered. He was silent while she spoke, listening to her words and her points, before finally speaking.

"For some, there is no 'better'. In my world, we fight continuously simply to maintain as we are, and still new horrors arise. It is difficult to have faith in anything when one gives all they can and still finds failure." He'd had faith in his Father, in himself, in his friends... He'd still had it even when he'd come here. But after learning what happens in his world after everything they've done to try to make it better, he can't have faith any more.

And yet, at the same time, maybe that's exactly what he has. It's just been shifted, a different goal with different people, here. That thought is a little frightening, however; why should he believe it won't end the same way everything else did?

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