Chapter Text
The grounds were nearly silent, the night was cold but calm. No harsh winds or pouring rain, just a gentle breeze and crickets chirping from their hiding places. It was always nights like these when he sought out this place. He needed guidance, the world felt too heavy on his shoulders and he needed to hear that gentle voice reassure him once more.
He wasn't one of their unholy priests who felt their faith waning, he wasn’t a cardinal who needed to be told they were doing right by their master. He wasn’t even a sibling of sin who needed to be shown how to let go, to give in to temptation. If he had been a brother of blasphemy the journey he made would be much easier; a walk from the siblings dormitories down to the chapel took but a short time. But, no, he wasn’t even that.
The convent stood on a hill, just at its base was where the town began. The town wasn’t large by any means of the imagination, but decently sized enough to accommodate both the townsfolk and people of the ministry. He lived there, not on the outskirts near the church, but rather more near the middle in one of the few apartment complexes the town had to offer. The commute, by foot, was nearly an hour. He’d make it at least once a month, or more if he felt he needed to. Sometimes he would just sit in the pews. Not really praying, even, just sitting. Hoping for something to happen, a sign perhaps.
He had attended their black mass for the first time nearly two years ago. He had met one of the siblings of sin while he was working, and they had invited him with a kind smile. He hadn’t been to church in nearly a decade at the time, so he decided to give it a try. And what a decision it turned out to be.
When he first made the trip up the hill he was astonished by the size of the satanic church. It was large and dark and beautiful. He felt lost and found all at once as he followed the well dressed siblings into the building. They slowly trickled into the chapel as it neared time to start, he had found an empty row in the back and set himself in the corner there. He had felt too awkward and wanted to remain unseen while he tried this new experience.
He’ll never forget the moment when the lights started to dim and the stage lit up. He saw the ghouls he had heard about, their silver masks gleaming in the stage lights as they started to begin playing their music. Everyone stood, and he realized this must be their worship. He stood too, far in the back as he was, and marveled as another figure joined the ghouls on the stage. The figure was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and when the well dressed frontman began to sing, he felt as if Satan himself must have led him here to this moment. He felt heard and seen and understood as the voice sung its wonderful hymns. It wasn’t like the church music he grew up on, it was heavier and he felt it in his very core, it seemed to move all of the congregants as their voices rang out and filled the room. The energy made him dizzy with delight, and when that one white eye seemed to peer at him from the stage, he thought his soul left his body. He decided then that he would be coming to black mass again.
He attended every week, to the point that many thought him to be a sibling of sin. But he couldn't make that commitment, not while his family still lived so close and saw him so often. The siblings lived in the convent, and if he were to move into this wondrous place his family would surely disown him on the spot. They were on edge enough when he had come out, when he started to change how he presented, he had feared they would leave him. That was hard enough, a battle even a decade later. If they found out he was attending a satanic church, he shuddered to imagine the consequences.
His inner turmoil between his connection with the satanic ministry and the fear of the opinions of his family drove him to attend confessionals for the first time. They weren’t quite what he expected. They only happened at night, to start, and one did not confess sins to the man behind the curtain. Rather, often non-sins or hesitancy to give in to temptation was disclosed and advice received in turn.
Most often he would just sit in the booth in silence. The voice on the other side always seemed to understand what he needed, their presence. The voice would change from time to time. Old and slow and kind, deep and a bit harsh, or if he was lucky he got his favorite: deep and smooth, a bit sultry, and always reassuring.
Each voice belonged to one of the Emeritus line, the Papas. Primo, Secondo, and Terzo. The rare occasion of a cardinal in the booth was never unwelcomed, but he always loved the Papas. They each helped in their own way, offering guidance and listening to him when he needed to voice his troubles. But they would also just sit with him, maybe hum some of their hymns while he breathed in the comforting smell of the wooden booth. Letting him feel comfort and peace for a time.
He craved it again, their presence, the gentle voice telling him it’ll be okay. He didn’t care which one, he just needed to be calmed and seen; even if for only a few moments. He was desperate for it.
His breath was heavy in the air, white puffs escaping his lungs as he made his way up the hill. When he reached the grand doors he felt breathless, leaning against them for a moment before he gained the strength to finally go in. The empty room was jarring, tables in the corners and the halls leading into darkness on either side. But no people. No siblings, no ghouls. It seemed he was alone in the vast space. He stepped inside, the large doors slowly creaking shut behind him, as he made his way to the chapel right ahead.
The doors were open and he could see the empty rows of benches leading to the stage. No one was here either. Empty pew after empty pew. He started to worry at this, normally there would be the stray brother or sister praying, maybe a ghoul cleaning the stained glass, or a sibling waiting to see Papa in the confessional.
But no one was there.
He walked to the left side of the chapel, nearing the booth. It’s dark wood carved, sanded, polished. It shined in the dim lights keeping the space from darkness. His fear grew as he made his way to it, worried that he had missed the person inside, worried he made his trip for nothing. Tears began to form in his eyes and he felt his breath rattle in his chest, but when he got nearer still he saw two polished black shoes beneath the curtain and let out a relieved sigh.
While his fear dwindled, he still felt the unease in the back of his mind. His tears continued even as he tried to wiped them away, but he knew at least there would be a voice to comfort him. He went into the booth and slid the curtain closed.