I'm back again with part 2 of the miscellaneously low-quality filler story, so sit tight and next chapter, I promise, the cliffhanger of where we left our main characters will be resolved. Somewhat. Anyhow, thanks to Karina, as Hn does not seem to have appeared in the last few days.
As everyone here knows, Daisya is practically a non-entity in the manga and is a 3-episode (and like 40 seconds at the end of episode 34) wonder, and the fandom hasn't really been active in years, so to find fanfiction is quite a task, as some of the stuff on this website is too badly written for me to glean even the barest amount of meaning from it. This has led to me spending quite a while trawling about on livejournal like some post-apocalyptic fisherman trying to find species and artifacts from a bygone era. Needless to say, if you've got time and patience (the site is like the unholy offspring of facebook, tumblr, and the online pet game forums I used in grade eight) it can be quite productive for finding fanfic about minor characters.
Had I any real skill with drawing, I would make illustrations for this, as I have a very clear image of what each scene is supposed to look like, and it is generally significant to the scene. Alas, it does not translate well to the writing. If a section appears particularly choppy or dialogue-filled, visualizing the scene from the description may help. I cannot stress enough that this is not a good chapter, but I can't rework it to make it better without destroying and replacing it, so my apologies.
Anyhow, hopefully you enjoy your reading to some degree or another.
The service rambled and rambled, and Marie was more than prepared to slip silently into the sanctuary once it reached its inevitable conclusion.
The few attendees slipped out, until two remained. The sobbing man, and the priest.
Marie tried to make out the conversation. His hearing was naturally good, and the church's acoustics were excellent.
"…I'm sure she would enjoy a second chance here on earth…"
So the priest was the broker. Hopefully Trixie would be back soon.
He started to edge into the sanctuary, careful not to make noise or sudden movement.
"Do you really think so?" the sobber asked, voice choked. From the depth of his tones, he was likely her father or an adult brother.
"Yes. I am a messenger of God."
That was remarkably conceited.
"If you're sure–"
Marie took a deep breath.
"Excuse me!"
The embarrassingly polite interjection echoed off the archways, and Marie chose the moment to walk down the centre aisle. His deep voice would likely grant him some authority, and even better if they didn't guess his age in the half-light of a cloudy day, but he wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. He'd try to use the authority of an exorcist. His entrance would help too — watching the General and the other Generals and taught him the effect of gravitas.
"The child died sinless. Why should we take that from her?"
Marie hoped the the echoes would give the impression of an oracle. Winning the argument was the best bet, but doing so by insistence was also an option. Probably the better choice for this situation, at least. Logic was never useful in the face of human emotion.
"Wha'…" the sobber broke off, looking dazed, then indignant, "How do you know?"
Marie had reached the two of them, and the priest still looked too surprised to speak. He produced the badge of an exorcist.
"I am an exorcist, in the name of God. She will be happy, like this."
"Will…will she?"
Marie felt a tinge of satisfaction at being able to gauge the situation. The mourner was obviously in no fit state to reason.
"Yes."
"Promise?"
Maybe her older brother, then. He seemed childish–
"No."
The priest had decided to speak again.
"You'd listen to this– this child over the priest?" he sputtered, rage imprinted on his face.
For a moment, the priest had given up his even-voiced dignity. That was what Marie needed. He was rather proud of his next line, which he made up on the spot.
"And you would stop the girl from ascending to heaven? Let her have her happiness."
"You–!"
Marie had been bluffing on an empty hand since the beginning. Raising another time was simple.
"I am an exorcist, in the name of God the almighty! Who are you to go against me?"
The priest looked back to the mourner, who seemed to still be in a state of shock.
"Say her name! She's calling for you, say her name…"
The mourner looked for a moment as if he were about to speak, and Marie cut in before the argument could go on for too much longer. The akuma would be coming pretty soon.
"No."
Marie raised a hand, and let the strings unfurl in a blaze of light and music. It filled the church, nearly blinding, and streamed out of the windows, illuminating the pale colour of the stone and the brilliance of the stained glass windows. A little showing-off did more good than harm, and now the mourner was paralyzed in awe, and could not see or hear the movement of the Innocence.
Marie performed the execution switfly. The strings curled around the priest, first gagging him, then wrapping around his neck.
"May you be saved from your sins, as was the girl."
"Marie spoke the words as he would a verse, and tightened the strings around the priest's neck, adding another burst of light and sound to block out the struggling and shouting. He knew that this was the right course of action, but the sobber might be confused.
The chord echoed off of the walls, and the light still blazed out of the windows, attracting the attention of akuma. When Marie let the sensations fade, he knew he had maybe a minute.
"Stay here," he said to the man, who had rushed over to the priest's body, "You're in danger."
"Did you…?"
"Innocence cannot harm humans," Marie said comfortingly, turning to leave. It was the truth.
…
Marie didn't bother to look when he ran out the church doors, instead releasing his strings to tie themselves between the church and the other buildings. One attached itself to the thatched roof of a tailor, one to the chimney of a bakery, and more criss-crossing over top of and through the square. A net of wire would leave him exposed for a moment, but a moment was all he needed.
The net cast a moving shadow for a moment, and the humans started to run in their confusion. How handy.
The strings tautened, and held fast. Three seconds, that was all he needed.
He visualized the chord. A tritone on top of a tritone, and then a minor second on top of that. A chord discomfiting for most humans, and agony for akuma when transmitted through the strings.
...
It rang out at an impossible volume, bouncing off the walls of stone. If Trixie wasn't already on her way, she'd come running. He hoped he wouldn't need the assistance of a barrier but, well, you never know.
The surviving exorcists knew that very, very well.
Some akuma fell to the ground as he played, others merely doubled over, and most immediately transformed. The majority of the crowd was akuma, and the few remaining humans would run away when all hell broke loose.
That was, in fact, a second later, when Marie untied four of his strings and ripped into the akuma like a wolf's teeth into a throat.
…
The mounds of dust covering in the square were blowing away, shifting like sands over the grey paving stones. Marie let himself catch his breath, and doubled over. He'd only just managed to save the last one. A moment longer and he, too, would be dust.
A voice spoke up from behind him.
"I guess the guy was in the church."
Trixie. She was probably somewhat miffed not to have caught any action.
"Yes."
She walked up beside him, facing backwards and holding a barrier-maker in each hand, each spewing light into the sky.
Marie's eyes widened at the sight, and he instinctively whipped around to where two akuma were hovering, trapped behind him.
"You missed a couple," Trixie said dryly, "You owe me a drink."
Marie nodded.
"Thank you. I acquiesce."
Another voice spoke up from behind the two of them, and Marie turned around. Grey sky matched grey stone, and the grey face of the mourner.
"I was watching," he said sheepishly, "Were those things 'akuma'?"
Marie looked at Trixie, then back to the mourner.
"Yes."
"Oh."
It was an odd little tableau. Trixie, facing out of the square, still keeping the akuma trapped. Marie, facing inwards, and smiling the stiff grin of the taciturn confronted with speech. The third piece was the mourner, holding a beaten cap in both hands, facing Marie with an identical grimace.
There was an awkward gap in the conversation, which Marie attempted to fill.
"What's your name?"
"Joseph Hofer."
"What's your profession."
"Innkeeper."
Marie nodded kindly.
Very good. I shall remember that."
Marie produced a notepad and the stub of a pencil from one of his pockets, and wrote down the name. He nodded at Joseph, who nodded back absently.
"I would advise moving to a larger city. You may get more patrons."
Marie turned - to finish off the akuma Trixie was holding - before Joseph spoke for a last time.
"Wait…" he started, hesitantly, "Who are you?"
"Beatrycze Krawczyk…" muttered Trixie, still facing away.
"…and Noise Marie," Marie continued, "We may well see you again."
He turned back, and unfurled a handful of strings.
…
It was eight o' clock, two hours prior to the nationalist's act of arson. Tiedoll and Marie were having a time of finding their way to the bridge across the river.
"That innkeeper seemed awfully glad to see you," Tiedoll mused, "Were you the one who got his name for us?"
The exorcists had lists of trusted innkeepers, coach-drivers, and members of any other profession the exorcists had use of. It wasn't much, but generally it was enough. The names on the list knew enough about akuma never to summon one.
"Yes," Marie replied, "I believe so. I ran into him when I was on my trip home…six years ago, I think."
They turned a corner, weaving through an alley. The light was going fairly quickly, and already the streets were lit with lanterns.
"Mmm. That was a mission with Trixie, right?"
Marie didn't know why the General bothered to memorize the names of the finders, but somehow it seemed right that he should do it.
"Yes. Two years before she died, I believe."
"That was a pity. She was a good finder."
"Yes."
If Marie seems a bit callous in this chapter, particularly when contrasted with his character being exceedingly kind, I just imagine that he'd have been quite shy as a kid, which translates to far more awkward and socially unskilled conversation. It would have taken him quite a while to become as comfortable with everyone as he is in the manga proper. Also, this is pre-20th century Europe, so religion is far more of a guiding force. There would have been no doubt that the priest deserved to die, as he betrayed the church.