Chapter Text
"Duo, come back here right now! Unruly child, I'm going to cane you!"
Sister Marisol's voice echoed through the halls of Maxwell Church, her strong Spaniard accent vibrating against her throat. She'd been trying to days to get Duo to cut his hair, but he continued to run. Miscreant, she thought bitterly, a mutt that would never amount to much. She could not believe he'd bitten a potential set of parents that merely tried to touch his hair! Deemed unadoptable, it meant Duo would continue to be a weight against the parish, an expense the Church wouldn't want on them for much longer. She had to get rid of that child. But god forgive her for the thought of wishing he'd died along with his so called brother, Solo.
"No!" - The misfit in question shouted back, hiding behind Sister Helen's skirts. Nobody knew why the boy was so enamored with his hair, but it was always tangled, matted and ratty. All Marisol wanted was to chop the blasted thing off and make him look presentable. Maybe then she could get rid of him.
Sister Helen, noting the vicious look in the elder Marisol's eyes, continued to shield Duo with her body. - "Mother Marisol, perhaps I can reason with young Duo..." Marisol became furious at the younger nun. No one, not even Father Maxwell questioned her authority! But their young charge, she noticed, was crying and shivering against Helen's leg. Her expression softened, finding herself incapable of taking action against the child. - " You mustn't be so spiteful, Mother Marisol." Helen spoke again, a hand reaching to pet Duo's head of hair.
"For the word says, that the kingdom of Heaven belongs to the children. We must be more like children if we aspire to join Him at His Side." - She paraphrased the Word, forcing Marisol to scoff in her direction. " Fine, just hope that feral boy doesn't bite you too..."
*~*~* Father Maxwell had been preparing the night mass' homily when Sister Helen walked through the door, a smile on her face. Father Maxwell glanced up, noting the satisfied look. - "Tell me you found a solution to Marisol's incessant screaming about Duo?"
" I sure have, Father." - Sister Helen sat at the pew, a soft glance around their humble parish. - "He refuses to cut his hair and it is practically the only thing he has that he can sure say is his in the world. So...I braided his hair."
" You braided his hair?"
"I absolutely did, Father. S'long as it is kept in it's braid, Marisol will have nothing to complain about."
" She'll find something or another."
"I hope she goes back to Earth soon..."