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Three years ago, during a particularly long service in the chapel that adjoined St. Marta's Girls' College, Daria stole the marble bust of Saint Marta herself.
A girl had told her to do it; a girl with honey-gold hair and eyes like a forest fire that Daria liked more than she would have cared to admit. So she did it.
And she had almost gotten away with it.
The punishment had been steep-Daria had the scars to prove it-but such was the way of St. Marta's disciplinary code, to which Daria was no stranger to.
Later that night, once the pews were emptied and the painted gods were their only witnesses, the golden-haired girl kissed Daria in the very same church.
The Konservatorium, which was where Daria was now according to Elias, reminded her of that church. Despite how she had hated St. Marta's, the centuries-old chapel had been a place of solace for her, a place that had held on to her secrets tightly and whispered away the doubts that had plagued her mind whenever she paid it a visit.
This chapel was different, Daria thought. Not only it how it looked, but how it felt. The distinct magic of prayer and centuries old religion had worn away and had been replaced with a different kind of magic; art.
The sheer quantity of canvases, sculptures, and books, combined with the suspecting eyes that caught Daria's from people milling around the room brought her back to the present all too quickly. Elias-whom she had almost forgotten was still beside her-began towards the centre of the room, walking backwards with arms spread in an overly-theatrical gesture as if the room's grandeur did not already speak for itself.
"Just a small collection we've been working on," he quipped. "Pretty impressive, wouldn't you say?"
"It is..." Daria marveled, finding herself too enraptured by her surroundings to offer a more sarcastic response.
"I would show you around, but I've been told the Director will be here to talk to you any minute now."
"And who exactly-"
Daria's attention was caught by a pair talking between the pews. One of them, a tall, muscular girl with dark braids and an inscrutable expression, the other a pallid boy with a posture reminiscent of a coat hung out to dry and a cocktail of both awe and fear in his eyes.
"Josef?" Daria called out, her voice ricocheting off the walls of the cavernous room.
The pair turned to face her and Josef's shoulders sagged in relief. The girl seemed to scrutinise Daria for a moment before gesturing for her to join them. Daria made her way over to the two of them, carefully sidestepping between paintings and various nick-nacks. Elias followed after her.
"What are you doing here?" Daria said to Josef in lieu of a greeting. "We were worried you got caught."
"Sorry, I-" Josef began, but before he could continue Daria punched him lightly in the shoulder.
