The Semblance Of

They don't celebrate Christmas often, because it's a holiday of peace, and where has anyone ever seen peace in this world of theirs? Apocalypse, one, two and still counting, and all that's left are shambles and broken homes, orphans and experiments and really fucked up people.

This year, it's different.

This year, Badou and Heine drag a large pine tree into the church, and mumble-grumble some excuses at the Bishop. Nill wanted a Christmas, they say. Bishop just twitters and tells them to put it anywhere they want to, and does not comment on how the tone of their voices speak volumes of their lies.

This year, Naoto comes into the church carrying bags full of food, not food she's cooked, but food she worked two weeks to have the money to buy—all takeout, but it's the thought that counts. Nill wanted a Christmas dinner, she says. Bishop tells her where to make the boys set up a table, and shows her where the kitchen is. He tries not to comment about how the tone of her voice betrays her lies.

This year, Nill takes extra care in sweeping the steps of the church, even though Bishop can't see them. He knows. The young girl spends a long time knitting, and Bishop spends some time listening to her movements, quick and fumbling, like a fledgling barely learning how to fly. They want warmer socks, she would say, if she could, and Bishop understands.

This year, they sit at a table, and it's far from silent. Badou gets on Naoto's nerves, who gets on Heine's nerves, and Nill is there with soft looks and touches to make the latter two calm down just a bit. Someone kicks him under the table, and apologizes after he yelps in surprise with a "Sorry, Bishop, I thought it was the eyepatch"; Badou grins at Naoto defiantly from his spot beside Bishop, and even though he may be blind, he is not stupid. Many sighs and groans of frustration are suppressed, and sooner or later, they're all too warm from the food and the drinks and the atmosphere.

This year, there is a semblance of peace, Bishop says after his prayer. They may not all be saints, may not be saints at all, but in a way, they deserve this evening. We all want a family, they think, even though no-one voices it.

They don't even need to.