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toku100challenge's drabble prompt meme!date posted: 2024-05-02
summary: Lachesis has her doubts.
word count: 424 words
notes: fill for toku100challenge's drabble prompt meme!
The doors to the church were long and foreboding, the molding around it ornate and flowery; much too ostentatious for Lachesis' personal taste, but fitting for their group's aesthetic, their base, Atropos would argue, in that monotone, dismissive tone of hers. The light beams through the open doors, illuminating the pathway between the pews. Clotho would find it terribly warm, too friendly, too human.
Lachesis sits upon the church altar, balanced precariously, the stairs before her covered and lined with deep colored, long, winding carpets.
Atropos paces the halls of the church they occupy, quiet, dreadful, her head tilted down as she steps forward listlessly, inattentively, but calculating, at the same time.
Lachesis clears her throat. Atropos stills in place, her head tilting up, but facing forward, her back to Lachesis.
"Atropos," she begins, and her voice is regrettably thin, weak, from under her veil, "when we were summoned," she pauses, briefly, trying to collect her words, "how long were we given to achieve our goal?"
Immediately, she regrets the choice of words, how pathetically existential they sound. She turns her head downward, eyes tracing the lavish patterns of the carpet in front of the altar, the patterned swirls and twists almost hypnotic.
Atropos turns away, but Lachesis doesn't miss the smirk splitting her sister's face.
Clotho scoffed, crossing her arms, her leg bent and foot against the armrest, half-sat on the rest. "Are you serious?"
Lachesis glared at her sideways, her lips pressing together, frustrated. She mirrors Clotho, crossing her arms, and leans against the altar, frustrated.
Atropos stepped forward, her hands crossed behind her back, the light from the doorway casting a long shadow behind her.
"We obey the rules of our master, Lachesis." She turns her head, over her shoulder, and looks Lachesis in the eye. "Do you have doubts, sister?"
Lachesis shakes her head. "No, Atropos," she says, feels her lip start to quiver, but forces herself to smirk.
"Good," Atropos says, turning her head back, facing forward, stepping slowly, languidly, her steps echoing in the deep, virtuous church, defiled by their presence.
"Every day, we grow closer to opening the Door of Darkness," Atropos begins, stopping in place, her head down. Swiftly, she turns her head, her gaze cutting into Lachesis. "Do not lose sight of that goal, Lachesis," she says, her voice deceptively monotone, deceptively childlike.
Lachesis nods her head, closes her eyes briefly. She can hear Clotho's snicker from across the church. Clearer is the sound of Atropos' footsteps, one after the other, closer to the door.