The brutalist archways towering over them, the pair ark their necks upward. St Michael's sword cleaving the air as his boot stomps a demon underfoot combined with the gothic spires stabbing the grey sky painted a portrait of power. Its judgemental stare echoed throughout every block and brick placed on the holy ground. The clock on the tower's face reflected this emotion, imposing its continous and steady march towards judgement and chiming its warning calls each hour.
To the two below, the immensity of the might of the church was felt. Each step closer to the building they seemed to shrink smaller and smaller. The large ordained doors filled their vision and they pulled strongly on their heavy handles. As the gates swung shut behind them the air calmed. The rush and noise of the crowd outside silenced by the thick and solid oak. A foyer filled with glass encased relics greeted them, along with a double set of iron engraved with words of a tongue neither spoke.
The calm of the church removed the smallness of their approach. Inviting them in and covering each with a warm hush of scented air. The pews lining the floor each filled with comfortable pillows and tomes of hymes. Gleamings of a polished organ's brass caught the eye, and once the turned it followed the length of each pipe to its ending: A massive and awesome organ, perched over the main hall with regal looming. Each pipe dutifully shining from the coloured light streaming from the stained windows onto it.
Soft murmorings of prayers, footsteps, and the melody of a practice room puncture the silence of the hall. A few minutes of studying random artwork along the walls, inspecting the flickering candles on podiums, and whispering appreciations of each to one another passed. A clean sort of serenity on each of face as admirations of beauty for the ancient building spill out. Perhaps lost on them, the religious hymnals meant little, but the sentiment and kindness cloaked them despite. After an exhaustive lap through the building they were pushing through the iron gates again, shaking their collars and buttoning jackets. The last steps bring them back into the noise and bustling flock of humanity outside, their backs turned away from the imposing establishment.