The old, gothic style church was something to behold early in the morning- the rising sun casting colored light in biblical depictions onto the floor. The altar, and consequently the man kneeling at it cast starkly dark shadows as the man kneeled down to pray.
"Just kids- his kids; her kids. Does it even matter their lineage? I don't think it does. Just because of their father-" the man clenched his fists around the silver cross and grit his teeth, "lineage doesn't define who you are- they don't have to be demons. But the others don't see that,"
The white haired man said bitterly, looking up at the grand glass depiction and altar, "so please- just send a sign. Anything, anything at all to show them this. Show the Vatican that killing them isn't the only way."
There was the sound of an all too familiar heel clicking behind him, but Shiro ignored the other, willing his message to be heard. He gripped his cross in both hands and pressed his forehead to his wrists.
Praying for a sign that he wouldn't have to do the unthinkable.
"Its pointless," the demon said, from the shadow of a great column, his white outfit contrasting greatly with the priest's black, "It's not like he cares what happens on this world anyway."
Shiro didn't tense up or show any response, only focusing on his prayer.
Mephisto stepped out of the shadows, the light playing like a projection across his white outfit as he walked up to the altar, his heels clicking on the floor in the empty church. He paused beside Shiro.
It was two hours before Shiro gave up on his prayer.
Another half before he said anything.
"They're just kids," Shiro whispered.
Mephisto lowered his chin, closing his eyes and balling his hands into fists, "I know."