“What are you suggesting?”

Pierre raised his chalice to take a sip, thinking over his response before answering the question. The distinct bitterness of plum brandy coated the palate of his mouth.

“You said it yourself, Marcus. Those wolves keep tearing through the fencing of the monastery, and only wreak havoc. They are clearly rabid. The sensible action to take from here would be to shoot them.”

There was a soft and sure _clang_ when the chalice was placed back down onto the table, silence hollowing the refractory as the other three men deliberated.

The oldest of the four, Jacob, began with a resolute tone.

“The sisters from the monastery will feel safer without the threat of wolves. Brother Pierre makes a good point.”

Marcus, ever the sanguine, quickly sat up in slight panic.

“Father-“

The pastor next to him placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Enough, Marcus. Who knows what those animals could be infected with? The forest has enough of them, and we really can’t risk losing any sisters.”

After a few still moments, Marcus finally gave in with a nod.

Satisfied with the agreement, Pierre excused himself before standing to make his way, conveniently remembering that he had to collect the funds from yesterdays offertory.

On the way out, in his peripheral, Pierre noticed a figure by the side of the doors. At first he simply ignored it, but immeditaly jumped when he registered that there were no plant pots by this particular entrance.

There, looking up through her sun hat, was the all-too familiar face of the woman Pierre had been running into a little too often recently.

“What are you doing here?”

Eliza, standing up from her squatting position, looked at Pierre with a bothered frown.

“Sitting. Is that not permitted?”

Pierre had turned to face her properly now, his expression growing more impatient by the second.

“Your presence here is a privilege, not a right. I have the power to revoke it.”

Indeed, Eliza knew very well of his advantage over her. It was only correct for her to lower her tone and speak calmly when talking to anyone above her status. That was exactly what infuriated her- to witness a wrongdoing and to, what? Remain meek?

An outburst would still not change Pierre’s mind. Eliza shook her head and changed to what she’d actually wanted to discuss.

“Apologies, but I overheard yours and the other pastors conversation just now.”

Pierre turned and began to walk away, uninterested in engaging her any longer.

“What happens at this monastery should be none of your concern.”

Ah, this wasn’t what Eliza was aiming for. If Pierre walked away now, surely nothing would be done.

She dared to raise her voice, feeling a sudden surge of encouragement from his careless dismissal-

“But I know now, so it may as well be!”

Pierre paused in his step, the back of his head turning slightly as if unsure about whether to ignore her or to shout back louder. His silence only spurred Eliza on.

“Wolves are not prone to biting unless-“

“God bless, have a good day.”

The sudden interruption momentarily stunned Eliza. _Could a man really be so stubborn?_

“I assure you that they will not-“

Yet again, Pierre was insistent on not listening to a word.

“God bless, have a good day!”

Hearing his response struck a particular chord somewhere within her which would have disheartened anyone else, but which served as firewood in Eliza’s particularly hungry fireplace.

Irritated beyond belief, she rushed forward and grabbed Pierre’s wrist, finding strange satisfaction in him finally turning around, despite the sour look of disgust that creased his brows and flared his nostrils.

He tore his wrist from Eliza’s grasp, fixing his sleeve.

“Do not touch me. It is vile.”

Eliza tried to pretend she didn’t hear that, despite the slight cower in her step. It always did hurt when he returned back to his learned mindset after they’d been getting somewhere.

“Pierre-“

“Did you not hear me before? I am needed elsewhere-“

“_Pierre!_”

The sudden change in tone made both of them still.

For the first time since Pierre stepped out into the garden, something other than disapproval painted his features. Eliza wasn’t sure if it was good either, but his attentiveness was all she needed.

“‘_The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel_’, are they not? Are you really acting out of defence if the wolves have not harmed anyone yet?”

Pierre’s expression betrayed the well-hidden, carnal sin of anger that curdled beneath his skin upon hearing that Eliza had learned a verse of the bible, and had used it against him.

In the end, the Holy Spirit fills the body, not the trueness that is the soul.

The peony bushes which obediently lined the stone path seemed to push against eachother in amusement, giggling at Pierre; man of god, faced with god, and rendered useless.

In that same way, his heart had yearned in ways it shouldn’t have, and in turn stripped him of all his right to call himself a sinless man of god.

Pierre’s voice was slightly unsteady when he finally spoke, as if the foundations of his beliefs were beginning to rot; to _this_ woman’s hand, no less.

“Must it take one of our sisters lives to realise that they are a danger?”

Eliza inhaled sharply.

“No. But must it take a wolve’s life to realise that they are not?”

Her definite stance on the matter remained, not matter how much Pierre rejected it. He internally lamented; _like a maddened bull._

Pierre noticed the bitterness of earlier’s drink settle again.

“It would be better for you to go to the chancel and pray than continue to waste your time dabbling.”

To that, a question sounded in Eliza’s mind- whether it was a good or bad one, she didn’t know, but what she did know was that pondering endlessly in doubt instead of posing it would only add bricks to the already towering wall between her and Pierre. God knew how badly she wanted to tear it down.

“What if the lord disagrees with you?”

Raising his chin slightly to hide the resurfacing ire, Pierre tried to think of a worthy response, only to be clouded with a crackling judgement. Was it the fact that Eliza was asking this question and not his fellow brothers? Was it the fact that he actually didn’t have a response this time?

The same, shameful feeling of helpless conflict simmered in Pierre’s heart like the first time he’d felt it as a little boy; a singular violin in the entire church with no singing voice and a sin that had not yet been confessed.

He made a vow that he’d never let it happen again.

“Then that would be a shame.”

Eliza watched Pierre turn away and decided not to stop him this time, seeing the complicated look in his eyes.

For a few moments, however, she couldn’t move from her place; only watching Pierre’s back, and the wall building itself so high that the sun didn’t quite reach over anymore.

[these characters are not mine, they belong to my friend- muuviee on tik tok]