Sinister Six

Liturgy

The faint footsteps of Manon and Alistair echoed off of the limestone church walls- sending a cold shiver down Manon's spine. Hesitant to observe who was in their presence, Manon kept her gaze fixated on the altar that was enveloped in grandiose arrangments of lilac columbine and white asphodel flowers. Her breathing becoming increasingly heavier with each step. The overwhelming aroma of flowers didn't make it any easier for her to breathe. She could hear the reverberation of her heartbeat pulsating inside her ears. Drawing closer to the altar, her throat began to tighten up at the sight of it... Placed on a tarnished silver easel, staring back at her. The picture of Mama and Papa that Manon had picked out earlier for the dismal occasion. 

Manon was absentmindedly gazing at the photograph. 'What would Mama think of us now? Does she pity us, immortals?' Manon wasn't aware of how long she was lost in her train of thought until she was startled by a gentle tug on her sleeve. 

"Manon," Alistair murmured. Manon turned to face Alistair who was now guiding them to their seats in the front pew. 

Manon took her seat next to Papa. His gentle honey eyes looked up at her as she placed a gentle kiss on his cold stout cheek. 

"Max..." Papa's voice quavered with tears in his eyes. He hadn't called her by that name since she was a child. When Manon was two years old, she had a difficult time pronouncing her name. Every time she would attempt to say her name, the words Max came out instead of Manon. Papa found it amusing, therefore he began calling her Max as a nickname. Manon didn't allow any of her family members to call her by that nickname, not even Mama. It was a special bond shared only between her and Papa.  

"I'm here, Papa. I'm here." Manon half-smiled as she held his hand tight with reassurance. 

Manon headed fast-moving footsteps making their way towards the front pew. Underwhelmed to catch sight of Oliver and Etienne seated next to Alistair. Manon narrowed her eyes at them in a pitying glance. With his meticulous dark brows furrowed, Etienne's disconcertingly gray eyes anchored to her gaze. It was like staring into a mirror, if you didn't know the Maxwell's you would presume Etienne and Manon were twins, despite the five-year age difference. Their mannerisms were more or less the same. There was something rare and transcendent about their peculiar appearance. They had Mama's porcelain olive skin, straight noses that slightly pointed up at the end, and prominent hollowed cheekbones, it's like they were carved from the same stone. The only feature setting them apart was their eye color. Manon had her Papa's brilliant and deep-set hazel eyes that glimmered with specs of sweet and fiery honey, luminescent greens, and limpid golden orbs. 

Etienne's medium-length ravenous black disheveled hair now fell alongside his beseeching eyes. Manon shook her head in disapproval, she wanted to sympathize with him, regardless of how many times he's put himself in this position. Etienne's heart was too pure to turn his back on his big brother, his best friend, but it was time for him to comprehend his own limits. Manon wasn't cleaning up his chaos this time.

Appearing from a heavy wooden vestal concealed on the side of the altar, Father Aldrich emerged. Papa rose to his feet, and the congregation followed. Still holding tightly onto Papa's hand, Manon lay her head on his poised square shoulder, midnight black strands of her tousled hair lay draped over Papa's shoulder. Intermittent unsteady patters of raindrops were heard inside as the angelic church choir voices harmonized with the earthly elements outside.

Being inquisitive, Manon discreetly turned her head to see if she recognized anyone. She caught sight of a few peers from Yale and a childhood friend. Manon wasn't the easiest person to become acquainted with, she was reserved, callous and rarely trusted anyone who crossed her path, except for Bowman Cooper.