Her first time at this kind of event and it wasn't going exactly as she'd hoped, but then, she hadn't actually been at the event, she'd only been at the final gathering to collect the notes of support for the lucky recipient.
She'd even written one herself. "So sorry for your troubles. It'll all work out in the end. You'll see. Have faith. That's why we're here. That's why Prayer exists." And she'd signed her name. Just a scrap of paper, the words stark as tattoos on a virgin's backside.
Then she saw it.
Gathering the notes which had been laid out across the whole room, each individual prayer on ledger paper, business card, torn margins from shopping lists, covering the floor of this converted chapel, the single and double masked forms joined in one last hymn. They collected the prayers carefully, which would be passed on to whomever it was that had requested Prayer's assistance. She looked down and saw that familiar handwriting, the ultra-fine Rapidograph ink harsh against the lined notebook paper.
"I understand. I've been there, too. This will help you achieve in your own multiverse whatever you are meant to achieve, and then you can transport it over to this version of time/space. If you didn't endure what you did then, you wouldn't be learning what you are now." Ekaterina.
Ekaterina. That wasn't his name. There was no way she could be wrong about that handwriting, but that wasn't his name. She had to read it again, sneak the prayer out of the chapel and reread it, be absolutely sure. Closing her eyes, slipping the prayer into her sleeve where it burned her arm, she took a deep breath and blinked. Ekaterina.
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