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The nature of Penelope’s job had allowed her to witness many instances of vulnerability from many celebrities; tales and secrets that had been discreetly buried away where camera lights couldn't reach, forever remaining behind the curtains of public perception. To mosts’ knowledge, many public figures had opted to adapt a persona surrounding their brands, either as an extension of their art form or as a means to keep their true self tucked away in a corner, or even both.
Penelope understood, and she had never made it something worth contemplating, not when more pressing matters such as whether to order takeout for tonight required her attention in the moment. Life was already complicated enough for her, being a backstage personnel with enough NDAs to essentially put her on eggshells for life, so why the need to stress over conspiracies and personal lives of others? She arrived at her job, got the work done, got paid, and kept her mouth shut when certain situations demanded it, life is good.
But somewhere deep within her heart, there was a craving for the terrifying yet electrifying unknown — a disruption to her monotonous life that would challenge her understanding of what living could actually mean. Unbeknownst to the makeup artist, fate seemed to have heard the pleading of her soul, with a plan ready to be bestowed upon her. Whether or not such was a blessing or a curse, that would be for the future Penelope to decide.
——————————
When the next commission arrived in the form of a sandalwood-scented hand mail instead of email, Penelope could already sense that something was quite amiss. The bright purple seal on the envelope was engraved with a heavily stylized upside-down cross that vaguely resembled the letter G, “The Unholy Clergy of Ghost” written on the sender column in neat, thoughtful cursive. When was the last time Penelope saw a corporate entity writing in cursive, or reach out via a handwritten letter for that matter?
So, just like any normal human being, her first instinct was to instantly discard the letter to the back of her mind. She did not have the time nor the need for spiritual comfort to be involved in what seemed like a shady organization that was totally not a cult. Yeah, right.
…
Oh, who was she kidding?
Her curiosity ended up winning in the end, as expected, and that was when her descent into this obscure, cultish rabbit hole began to take place. Days of research on the internet, blurs of official meetings and contract negotiations, all leading up to this very moment, with her now entering the AO Arena along with a small group of backstage crew members, bundled up in layers of jackets with an existential crisis and far too many questions left unanswered.
The group’s overall casual demeanor only seemed to worsen her simmering anxiety; her colorful, almost cartoon-ish appearance making her sticking out comically like a sore thumb, like she was some sort of anime protagonist wannabe. Despite her anxiety, Penelope was quite enthusiastic to engage in conversations, even when the topic would sometimes steer into the band’s rather rich history or a full-blown unholy sermon on carnal desires and edibles. Yeah, totally not a cult at all.
“So, Penelope,” one of the workers started, his eyes hadn’t once left her ever since they got off the tour bus. “Have you considered being a part of the congregation? Most of us here are, you know?”
“But no pressure at all, darling!” A Sister of Sin chimed in — she was one of the ghouls’ assistants, if Penelope remembered correctly — her razor-sharp stare towards the man contrasting her bubbly tone. “It is simply not our way to coerce anyone into joining. Our ministry is functioning on one hundred percent voluntary faith, and we intend to keep it that way!”
Penelope could only laugh awkwardly in response, fingers messing and fumbling with the hem of her pastel printed tee for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. While it was a relief to learn that her presence would be welcomed here no matter her affiliation, her lack of involvement within the congregation so far had (rightfully) made her a target of suspicion to some, especially since she would be working up close to their flock leader — the frontman of the band and spokesperson of the unholy ministry, Papa V Perpetua.
“I…” Penelope trailed off, a frown forming on her face. She could see how the satanic nun’s hand moved to swat the poor guy’s arm, displeasure written all over her ghastly white face as the rest of the team tried to swallow down a chuckle from the sight.
“If I have to be honest with y’all, only time can tell, since I barely know anything about, err… how any of this works.” Penelope continued after a heavy sigh, hands motioning rhythmically with every word spoken. “I asked questions and was left with even more questions instead of answers. I haven’t even seen my supposedly client face-to-face, isn’t that kinda fucked up?”
Penelope did see the new frontman’s music videos and promotional photographs, sure, but that was nowhere near enough for her to properly grasp his features; and when she tried to approach other congregation members for more information, all she got were either half-hearted head shakes or shrugs.
The weight of everything then finally came crashing on her. How the hell was she going to do this?
Sensing her dejection, a Sibling of Sin quietly made their way towards her, their strong hand gently squeezing her shoulder in an attempt to ground her mind. There was a look of genuine understanding on their face when Penelope turned to them, as if they were once in her shoes themselves — lost, confused, frustrated and eager for answers.
“You will be fine, I promise.” They finally said after a moment of silence, the resolution in their voice almost fully convinced her. “The first ritual is always scary for everybody. If it helps, today is our new Papa’s first day too, you know?”
That… actually did reassure her a little. Penelope could only hope that the “Papa” would have enough patience to grace her some, if he is indeed as understanding as some described.
But as much as their words had provided her some relief, it definitely was not enough to help with her ongoing nervous tremors. Penelope had never once been so nervous during her job , not even when she faced celebrities with a far higher popularity, so what was the difference for this one? Surely the occult aspect of this band was not it, right?
Okay, maybe the occult aspect was one, but the main problem was something far greater. What, exactly?
The truth of the matter is, the answer had always been there, and she was just too much of a coward to face it. The unknown, the uncertainty of it all . Her little safe paradise had been left too far behind for her to come crawling back now, leaving her with no choice but to simply march onwards and pray to whatever gods out there that things would work out. Just the thought of it was already far too unbearable for Penelope’s sheltered self, except it wasn’t just a scary thought— it was her reality.
Shit, she was going to have a breakdown at that rate. Judging from hushed yet frantic voices around her, others seemed to have caught onto the mood drop as well.
“Hey, come back to us, Penne .” A voice called out amidst her downward spiral, the nickname absurd enough to make her cringe and almost forget about her internal struggles. “You look like you’re going to faint, girl. Are you sure you can do it today?”
Great, now her professionalism was put to question. Worst fucking first day ever, and the actual worst part hadn’t even started yet.
“Y-yeah, doin’ okie dokie, no worries!” Penelope scrambled to force a small smile, fingers anxiously fidgeting and scratching onto whatever they could reach, including her own (thankfully protected) arms. Some old habits die hard.
She took in a deep inhale before letting out an equally heavy exhale, almost choking on herself during the process. Fuck, her throat was feeling like sandpaper. “Yeah, sorry. I will be fine, this is just not the environment I typically work with, haha...” Penelope chuckled, still shaky and anxiety-ridden, but she was calm enough to somewhat function now, and that was all that mattered.
The collective relief amongst everyone afterward was apparent. It was comforting to know that at least some people cared, that she wasn’t as hopelessly alone as she thought she was.
Those voices in her head had grown silent for once, at least for now.
Maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be alright .
——————————
The makeup room was relatively quiet, save for the creaking of the old ceiling fan above her head, constantly threatening to fall upon her at any given time. Soundcheck wouldn’t start until a few hours later, and the walls had done quite a great job with blocking outside noises to the minimum, so the silence was starting to get a little overbearing for Penelope. It would leave more space for ugly thoughts to creep in her head, which was the very last thing she wanted to happen.
With a soft grunt, Penelope reached out for her phone, her nails tapping onto the screen at a dizzily rapid pace before stopping at a playlist. “This is Ghost,” something she figured would be logical to play to warm herself up to their discography, especially since hard rock was not within her typical music preferences. Being open-minded would do her much good, she figured. Expand the horizon, discover new limits and explore yourself from within — advice she had heard far too many times in her life to even keep track, yet never once did she have the courage to actually follow them.
And as it turned out, there were consequences for overstaying in her comfort bubble. Oh well, better late than never.
As music quickly filled the small room, Penelope returned to giving her makeup case one final check, her inaudible whisper drowned out by faint guitar riffs, resounding singing, and that same persistent creaking sound from above. The setting spray bottle is lighter than I remembered, she mumbled to herself, already mentally planning for her next restock trip. It would be a pain in the ass to do so while the band was actively touring throughout different countries, but she was sure her coworkers would be more than willing to assist.
All in all, besides from her previous nervous breakdown, everything had been going quite well— better than whatever her mind had convinced her beforehand, at least. Who would have thought that a satanic ministry could have some of the most compassionate, non-judgmental individuals she had ever met? For a group of people that was incredibly frowned upon due to religious hypocrisies, they appeared to have done way more good than those who claimed to be closer to God than anyone else.
Or perhaps, she was falling for their propaganda all along. This has to be some sort of sick ploy to convert her into becoming one of their own, right?
Okay, she was starting to think too much into it, and for the sake of her own sanity, that had to stop. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—
“Ah, excuse me?”
Penelope’s head instantly snapped up from where it was, brown eyes widened in horror as the familiar voice instantly registered in her head, effectively breaking her train — or rather, another spiral — of thoughts. Papa V Perpetua was there, dressed in full black attire, face half-covered with a silver mask and void of his usual face paint, hovering over her with curiosity in his eyes and a shy smile on seemingly quivering lips.
“ Shit— I-I mean hi!” Penelope blurted, her usual business smile slightly lopsided. The air was thick with awkward tension already thanks to her, but judging from the way Perpetua himself was fidgeting with his hand in a manner that she understood far too well, it appeared that she may not be the only anxious one in this room, after all.
Penelope could feel him slowly crouching down beside her as she scrambled to organize everything in their places, his hand reaching out hesitantly before quickly retracting, seemingly not wanting to get in her way despite the evident urge to help. That… was sort of cute .
Wait, why did she even have such thoughts in the first place, anyway?!
“Oh, I got it, no worries! You uh… How about you take a seat, hm? I’ll be with you shortly.”
She noticed from the corner of her eye how he hesitated for another second before finally nodding, his clothes rustling softly as he got up from the ground and moved to his designated chair, his footsteps almost inaudible like he was but a shadow, a fragment of her imagination. A Phantom.
“So…” Not one to remain silent for too long, Penelope eventually spoke up, moving away from her previous position to now sitting right in front of the singer. Right off the bat, she noticed how his shoulders tensed up from the moment their distance narrowed, which prompted her to slightly back off to give him some extra personal space. Despite the hint of guilt that briefly crossed Perpetua’s expression, he offered a small yet visible nod afterward, his appreciation coming through loud and clear despite no words being spoken.
“The higher-ups have probably told you everything about me already, but for the sake of politeness, please allow me to introduce myself one more time!” Even in her most professional tone, there was always a hint of peppiness in the way Penelope carried herself, being a walking bundle of joy that she was born to be. “I’m Penelope, and I will be your makeup artist throughout this tour! It’s a huge pleasure to be working with you , Papa. ”
The woman extended her hand towards Perpetua, already half-expecting the other to not reciprocate the sentiment. No, Perpetua had done nothing wrong so far, it was just her being mentally prepared for the way some celebrities might act — shamefully tactless and arrogant, in her humble opinion, and she could only hope that he would not be amongst those cases.
He wasn’t, after all. She could feel the warmth of Perpetua’s hand slowly encasing hers even through the thick layer of his glove, his bony digits gently cradling her own slender ones closer to his palm before giving it a light shake. Quite a man of few words , Penelope mentally noted, but the politeness somewhat made up for it. Maybe he was just being a little shy for now, the type to slowly open up when one sticks around for long enough, something Penelope could totally work with.
Their hands lingered on each other for just a little longer before gradually loosening their grasp, the a/c’s cold air hitting her skin like a freight train in an instant, a cruel wake-up call to snap her out of whatever kind of daydream that just plagued her mind. Penelope shouldn’t have felt so disappointed and even a little upset, but she could have sworn that Papa was intentionally trying to drag it out and mess with her mind, and her poor self was being utterly bewitched by this satanic pope against her will!
Oh, right, said Papa was still waiting for her to proceed, mismatched eyes wide and fluttering occasionally like a puppy eager for a treat. No more conspiracies, Penelope!
She coughed dryly before continuing, her cheeks dusted with crimson shade.
“Before we begin, is there anything about you that I should know about? Any discomforts or boundaries?” The question, while somewhat interrogative by nature, came off with much genuine grace and consideration when asked by her — someone who cared, even down to the little things that did not matter in hindsight.
For a moment, Perpetua’s lips pursed as he contemplated in silence, his eyes either dropping to the ground or glancing up to that creaky ceiling fan above them — anywhere but directly at her, apparently. Even with the band’s unholy hymns still steadily playing from her phone, the silence between them in itself was deafening, causing Penelope to shift uncomfortably on her seat. Way to go, dumbass, she could hear that familiar voice in her head again, that godawful judgmental tone that had been haunting her head every night, when she thought that it would finally leave her alone for the day. He’s uncomfortable as hell thanks to you.
Much to her inner voice’s dismay, however, Perpetua managed to successfully snap her out of it, this time in a form of him clearing his throat to get her attention. Seriously, was he a damn psychic?
“Can you… perhaps give me a heads-up before touching me?” Perpetua muttered sheepishly, the toothy grin that came with it only added to his surprisingly endearing charm. With a nod, she silently encouraged Perpetua to continue, which seemed to help him relax a tad more. “And maybe let me apply my own facepaint around this…” He paused, hand motioning to the metallic mask on his face. “…area right here, if you don’t mind, and maybe without anyone around, too.”
Even with a thousand questions practically racing past her mind from just how absurd that request was, Penelope knew better than to pry beyond what was given to her, and to simply accept everything as is. Not all questions need an answer, after all.
“ Shit, Papa, I’m basically half-useless then! ” She exclaimed with a lighthearted laugh, his title still felt foreign on the tip of her tongue. The frontman responded with a small laugh of his own, though she could tell that he was already itching to apologize for the inconvenience, for making her feel small despite knowing her undeniable importance. “But yeah, of course. Thanks for letting me know, Papa, I really do appreciate it.”
After yet another beat of silence — one that was far less awkward this time — Perpetua finally rid himself of all the build-up tension in his body as relief washed over him, his mind no longer occupied with the fear of having to justify himself with personal information. They both could tell that something between them had changed that very moment, maybe not yet with much significance, but it was definitely a step towards something better. Perhaps a pleasant companionship?
Something told her that they would have a splendid time working together. Turns out, everything is going to be okay, after all.
——————————
“Penelope.” Perpetua blurted out of the blue, his silver mask gleaming under the room’s fluorescent light as he shifted his face. “Entertain my curiosity, my dear, how did you find us?”
The question was rather sudden, enough to cause the makeup brush against his cheek to instantly stop on its track. The usage of pet name, on the other hand, had been such a frequent occurrence within the last half an hour, she couldn’t even tell if this man before her was the same one as the sheepish, demure Perpetua of just an hour ago.
She found herself not minding the change of behavior at all, sudden as it was. With a soft huff, she resumed blending out the black paint on his right cheek with practiced strokes, careful not to let any of them get onto his brand new half mask. It took Penelope a little while to conjure up an answer, but patience was thankfully what Perpetua had plenty of.
“Long story short, the Clergy found me via word of mouth and reached out to me. Handwritten mail with a fancy wax seal and smelled like expensive perfume, by the way, I thought I was courted for a second.” She said with a light chuckle, still finding the dedication to their old-school ways exceptionally memorable. “Met a bunch of people afterward. Mrs. Psaltarian is a lovely lady, but the boss man is… kinda odd. Nice, but he’s like an old grumpy cat left in an adoption center.”
She could notice the way his eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head right after, lips pouting like a child being refused candy. Sibling rivalry, she was told, many such cases. Thank God she was an only child.
“That guy’s a damn manchild, I’m telling you.” He spat through gritted teeth. The angry undertone told her more than enough how it might have been way more complicated than just typical brotherly conflicts. “But ah, forgive my attitude. Don’t tell anyone I said that, please, my brother already hates me enough as is.”
Penelope couldn’t help but laugh afterward. This man was trusting her a bit too much with not running her mouth to others, and it was very endearing. “Consider my lips zip-tied, Papa, but don’t get used to it.”
Perpetua snorted. “Of course, doll.”
There was a brief moment of stillness between them before a hand quietly loomed near his chin, her brown eyes met his mismatched ones as a hushed “may I?” was mouthed through cherry lips, no annoyance nor begrudging could be found in her tone. Even with multiple direct contacts being made between them so far, the poor guy would still flinch and back off whenever something got too close to him all of a sudden, which never failed to make her chest ache every time it happened.
He nodded, eyes remained wide open as he felt her hand grasping his chin tenderly, his sigh shaky like a dry leaf against the autumn wind. I can’t really help it, Perpetua wished he could verbalize the thought. It’s just difficult, I know you mean no harm, it is just my stupid mind doing stupid things, I just wanted to feel safe.
“Shh, I got you, Papa. Just a bit more, alright? You’re doing great right now.” Penelope cooed softly, guiding his head to slowly fall backwards before her other hand carefully ran the brush against his neck, pausing every so often to avoid overwhelming him in the process. Perpetua’s breathing seemed to have picked up its pace, yet he made no attempt to stop her so far, which she took as a cue to continue. Satan blesses his soul, he was trying not to interrupt her work more than necessary, but it was getting increasingly difficult the more layers of paint were applied to his already sensitive skin.
Minutes felt like hours to Perpetua throughout the entire ordeal, but much like everything else in life, it eventually came to an end. The experience did leave him feeling quite uncomfortable in the end, however, to which the makeup artist instantly noticed after putting her brush away.
“ Oh shit, you’re doing good there, Papa?” Penelope questioned, concern written all over her face as she quickly reached out for the water bottle nearby — a black Yeti bottle with a silver grucifix embedded in the center of it, Papa V engraved neatly near the bottom of the cup — before unceremoniously handed it over to him. Being an anxiety-ridden individual with her own collection of sensory issues, she should have recognized all the signs earlier, like the way his body subtly curled up like he was trying to shrink himself into invisibility, or how his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously when her brush was fast approaching, yet…
Oh God, oh dear, unholy shit, that was a fuck-up of the century. Did I seriously just fuck up that badly—
“—good. Uh, Penelope?”
Like clockwork, Perpetua didn’t let her spiral have a chance . This was starting to get really suspicious, or she was just being really obvious whenever she was about to unravel.
“Ah, yes, I’m here!” She replied almost too quickly, her smile bearing more teeth than usual. Unlike whatever assumption she was making, the singer appeared just fine — well, minus his now apparent concern for his coworker.
Perpetua slowly made his way towards Penelope, each step light as a feather, like he was trying to approach a frightened stray cat, his hands carefully finding her shoulders before giving them a soft squeeze. Penelope’s eyes were glued to the ground for a moment, her shame overriding whatever logical senses were left within her mind, but it did not stop her from eventually looking up at him directly.
“I’m sorry—”
“No, stop. ” Perpetua asserted firmly, adding another squeeze onto her shoulders, inserting a little more force this time. “You’re looking at me, good… now, can you listen to what I have to say as well?”
It was not a question, nor was it a demand — it was a pleading , soft yet desperate all the same. Throughout the night, he noticed quite a lot about her, like the way she would fall into silence and her mind would wander far, far away from reality, doubt and fear flickering within her eyes for a mere second or two before finding its spark again. Perpetua was not usually one to make assumptions, but it did not take much for him to recognize the patterns, especially when he understood far too well the feeling of being in her shoes.
Penelope nodded, and she was instantly greeted with the loveliest smile on his painted lips.
“First things first, please do not be sorry. I’m doing alright, as you can see.” His voice had significantly mellowed, a tone that felt like a warm, fuzzy embrace to her fragile heart. “You have done everything I requested of you and more, without questions nor doubts, and I appreciate that more than I can ever express.”
It’s just a part of my job, she wanted to retaliate, but as she was about to open her mouth, Perpetua’s eyes had already narrowed expectantly, like she really was just being that predictable. Right, he did tell her to hear him out , after all, so Penelope instantly clammed up and was all ears again — a silent encouragement for him to carry on.
For a little while, Perpetua remained quiet, making sure that he was truly having her full, unfiltered attention before continuing, not before letting out another sigh.
“Whatever happened was not the best feeling in the world, I have to admit… But that was not something you and I could control, so please don’t put the blame on yourself, alright? Can you promise me that?”
Dear lord, Penelope was so close to just collapse in tears right then and there.
This entire ordeal had been nothing short but ridiculous to her. She should have been the one Perpetua could confide in during his moments of vulnerability, the shoulder he could rest on whenever the thought of being under the spotlight would make him feel repulsive instead of excited. Yet here he is, making sure that she was doing well while his own nerves were practically jumbled like abandoned wires, being a newcomer to the Clergy himself with his own issues to deal with.
But after facing such genuineness, how could she possibly hold any more doubt in her heart? Penelope knew he was right, that they both were victims of circumstances, and she couldn’t possibly accommodate his every need, but guilt had her on a tight chokehold like always. Turns out, overindulging the urge to please others would backfire tremendously, and she should consider herself lucky that Perpetua was giving her so much grace.
And so she nodded, finally returning his faith in her with her own for the very first time.
“Pinky promise, in fact.” Penelope grinned, her pinky finger moving up to hook itself onto Pepertua’s significantly longer one, tugging onto it lightly. She could hear Perpetua’s chuckle from above, his finger’s grip against hers equally tight.
“ I’ll hold you to that, doll. ”
——————————
“Getting cold feet, Papa?” Penelope playfully questioned, back leaning against the nearest wall as the frontman restlessly shuffled back and forth, his hand nervously fidgeting with the skeletal pin on his cravat instead of leaving it alone per the costume manager’s instructions. They both could feel the arena buzzing with anticipation for his first ever ritual as the newly-appointed Papa, and it certainly wasn’t faring well with his anxiety-induced mind.
Cold feet would be the understatement of the fucking century.
“You’ll do wonderfully, I know just that.” When Perpetua looked up from the floor, Penelope had already stood right beside him, her hand gently rattling his shoulder in an attempt to be encouraging. What a beam of sunshine that she always was, even when thunderstorms would sometimes plague her radiance. “The people have already loved you so much, so I’m sure they would happily eat up whatever you have to offer~”
Perpetua didn’t know whether that was reassuring, actually. “I guess so, but that’s no excuse to be mediocre—”
“Now you know you’re not mediocre, Papa.” Penelope was quick to interject, her tone holding far more vexation than she herself expected. “You practiced, you prepared yourself, you did everything you could, so whatever happened tonight will go exactly as planned! Have more faith in your bandmates and the backstage crew, they will also do their very best for your sake, you know?”
And in the most poetic way possible, the familiar, melodic choir of Peacefield started playing through the speakers right afterward, like fate itself was not allowing him any time to dwell into his thoughts. The poor singer scrambled to stand upright as the mic between his hands trembled noticeably, yet his footsteps towards the stage were resolute, knowing that when the veil of fear had lifted and revealed the extent of the vast majority’s adoration for him, everything Perpetua had been working for thus far would all be so, so worth it.
“Kick their asses, Papa!” She yelled through the blaring sound system as he entered the spotlight, and she swore that she could see the faintest hint of a smile on the projection screen, warm and knowing before the first few notes of his voice was cast, steady and resounding like a true Papa.