All others continue*

Lucy scrubbed at the floorboards diligently, searching out any trace or residue of the rooms previous use. There was surprisingly little actually… considering the number of gasping voices she had heard within while waiting for them to finish up. But then, wasn’t that the point… ‘Every drop is sacred’ seemed to be the most common mantra around here. Though not every one ended up in the orifice you might most expect…

She had woken up alone in her angel’s bed, the owner having presumably slipped away at dawn to start performing some sordid duty or other. The newly-arrived urchin had felt a fresh and crushing wave of nervousness, waking up in someone else’s underground cot without even a scrap of clothing to her name. Yet, then the memory of the night before came creeping back: How, just as the older woman’s fingers had brought on another gushing orgasm, Sister Diane had spoke of arriving in this place under very similar circumstances. Cold and naked and soul-broken. Thrown out of the last chance at living a next-to-normal life she’d get. Drenched in the shame of having corrupted and torn apart a household that had only sought to help her…

Lucy shivered with how real it had all felt, listening to that story in the dark embrace of the woman who had lived it. Feeling her hands and skin tell the tale in ways that words just couldn’t… Of how parts of the journey that shouldn’t... had excited her… and places where their paths might have crossed or diverged, should it have been Lucy who had been born into such blessings. It gave the orphan so much to think on. Made her feel so much closer to that ethereal being that she had thought was so far detached from her. Hunger had drawn her out to search for the cloister’s canteen once more. But she was so lost in thought by then that she hardly noticed her own unclothedness, nor that of almost every figure she passed.

They offered only warm and passing smiles to her, hurrying off down the dimly lit corridors to their unknown tasks of the day. Lucy was granted a steaming bowl of porridge with just a smile and a wink, the easiest meal she’d won in months. Yet she almost forgot to eat it, stirring her spoon through the thick, creamy substance in endless circles.

It was at this point that Mother Renais had appeared beside her... with eerie and silent grace, but her own, humanising, bowl of breakfast. She simply set about eating quite casually, making no grand gestures or attempts at portentous spiritual guidance. Lucy caught herself once again admiring the half-veiled curves of the woman’s well-matured form. If not for the wrinkles on her face, you really wouldn’t believe that body was more than forty. Her voice retained its crackling power though, as it offhandedly offered:

“I find… having something incredibly dull to do… often helps me sort out my thoughts on things. It’s also a great way to scope out a new collection of places and people. As soon as someone’s got a mop in their hands, they just become a part of the background… even in secret underground labyrinths… Want to know where you might find one?”

Which is how Lucy found herself wandering the corridors with such a tool indeed, learning the ins and outs of what went on within these strange, stone walls. She soon spotted other new arrivals of her type, shuffling around corners with their own concerns weighing upon anxious brows. Some of them were yet to even forego their clothing as she had done… giving the girl a surprising bump of confidence. She soon learned by watching. That such people, old and young, would wait patiently by doors that led to rooms which seemed… close to fruition… Or would be guided to a room that needed refreshing by a red-faced and sweating acolyte of this strange church. Every room was slightly different. Some of them still contained the semi-conscious forms of crucifix-wearing men and women when Lucy entered and began her tasks. But Mother Renais was right… While she was carrying a mop and bucket, they seemed to hardly notice she was there.