Chapter Text
The halls of the Victorian-era building were quiet, still, and serene. The only sound that could be remotely deciphered from the hushed space was the echo of dripping water and distant tinkling of calming music most likely coming from one of the many rooms that filled the spacious mansion. Large stained glass windows depicting decades-old artwork of Satanic sigils lined the left side of the walls, allowing papery moonlight to fill the darkened hall and act as a white torch lighting the way. The brick flooring of the building shimmered in the light in the slightest, looking freshly mopped and free of any foreign prints. Neat, clean, perfect. Just how His Unholy Greatness wished of it to be. And of what He wished, His children and ever-so devoted congregation obliged with, of course.
The wall adjacent to the windows was peppered with tapestries and picture frames of all shapes and sizes. Once again, showing important figures regarding to delightfully sinful Satanic imagery. Some depicting more devious acts than others. Yet, they were quite beautiful in a way. There was a certain flow to the artwork and hanging quotes that made the halls look all the more medieval, as if it resided centuries ago rather than present day. A comfortable space nonetheless in a way.
But soon, the calm and stillness of the vast halls were broken momentarily, shadows began to flicker along the walls, accompanied by the muffled sound of rustling fabric and the tapping of boots and dress shoes on the stone floors. A large crowd of black hooded figures trudged into view, speaking or even thinking to look up or at each other strictly prohibited as they made their way towards their intended destination. Words need not be exchanged when the most important matters lay in the room beyond them. A large-cut man with broad shoulders led the crowd, the black candle he held in his hand casting a vast yellow glow that splashed upon the walls and floor as they moved.
She stood amongst the crowd, twenty, thirty, maybe even forty of the black-clad individuals surrounding her every side. Her head tilted downwards as she averted her eyes from anyone whom dared tried to look upon her hidden face, and kept herself from gazing at anyone in turn. She watched as her freshly polished black dress shoes appeared and disappeared beneath the shadowy cloak she wore, making as little noise as possible as to not disturb anyone. A timid creature, she was, although the others were making quite the noise as they sauntered along the dimly lit path. Walking with this particularly large group made her feel small and vulnerable, as the other figures seemingly towered over her small stature. She felt at any moment she could dissappear amongst the sea of soft black and never be found again. Not that anyone would come look anyways; members of the humble congregation had no tight bonds with any other being. Sure, they talked among themselves, but no ‘true’ friendship really came of it. Companions such as pets, we're kept, maybe. But who's cat or dog would come looking for them if they were to not return?
She shook the thought from her mind and stuffed her small, cold hands in the pockets of the cloak. She never realized how cold it was until now; outside their respective rooms, the mansion was deathly chilly. She took note of this when a wisps of white ‘mist’ escaped her nose everytime she exhaled. She never understood why the rest of the building was kept at such a low temperature outside of the congregation’s individual living quarters. Word amongst the group was that the infamous Ghouls enjoyed it that way, and that their generous Papa Emeritus only wanted His subordinates to be comfortable, as well as His wondrous clergy. She shivered.
She'd only seen this Papa in the flesh once, and thay was when he was first initiated. He was a very mysterious, spooky man that kept to Himself. Being the third, and the younger brother of the last, He was also bubbly and made jokes, some qualities the previous leaders did not possess.
The first, the Old One, was happy quite alot though. Smiling, often having a good time speaking with His children and still maintaining His rule. The second was a very cold and seemingly uncaring devil in His wake. He was even rumoured to have never been seen showing true emotion or smiling, being upset, etc. That may have been true, but He still kept His strict hierarchy in perfect order. A good leader, in simple terms.
She knew all of this, yet had never met the previous successors. She only knew of the third Emeritus: the lenient one. She was glad to have not been present under the second’s rule though after hearing rumors of His trademark sinister demeanor.
Her mind seized it's wondering thoughts once again as the crowd stopped in front of a doorway, the lead-man with the candle opening it and moving aside to allow the rest to enter. He peered at the others with eerie eyes as they walked past, his judging face obscured by the shadows under his hood. She kept her head down as she passed him, feeling his dark eyes bore into her. The man could have been impossibly shorter than her and she would still feel intimidated by his burning stare.
Her tense shoulders calmed after walking through the doorway and she finally dared to look up, observing the room she'd only been in one other time. The roof was high, every wall studded with stained glass windows. Both sides of the room had sets of pew-like bleachers mostly for the congregation to be seated during ritual. Between the bleachers lay a long strip of velvet black carpet leading to a dimly lit altar. The long, wooden craft was decorated with unholy rosary beads and other such jewelry, burning blue and black candles of different sizes, chimes and bells, and parchment paper with sigils sloppily painted on.
She inhaled deeply, her smokey-blue eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she breathed in the sweet scent of the incense burning all around the room. Even in such low light, the tendrils of gray could be seen swirling and twisting lazily around her. Weaving between the pews and slowly drifting tapestries, hanging suspended in the air. She couldn't quite put her finger on the name of the smell as different scents tended to be used at times such as this. She guessed Dragon’s Blood, as that was one she commonly used in her own living quarters and was one she was most used to. She jumped as she felt a soft hand lay on her shoulder, jolting her from the trance-like state. She turned, peering at the shadowy figure that stood close behind her. The drawn up hood moved slightly in a nodding motion and she began walking back to the pews where she was originally supposed to go, whispering a quick apology to the taller figure as she did.
Soon, every space of both pairs of bleachers were filled with the dark robed figures. She stood in one of the front lower rows between two other identical members. She intertwined her hands in front of her, looking down to admire the quick paint job she'd given her nails before leaving her room to join the crowd for the night. She'd applied a fair amount of bright pink polish, a colour that certainly did not match and stood out quite a bit from the dark that surrounded her.
The faint mumbling that had risen amongst members while they chatted to each other soon came to an abrupt halt as the sound of a concert gong was heard. All heads tilted to the left towards the altar as a black shadow came to stand in front of the decorated furniture. The edges of his chausible could be seen shimmering gold in the candle light, the silky violet fabric underneath standing out immensely as he lifted his arms to silence the crowd further. The metallic nails attached to his black gloves twinkled and clicked as they came into contact with each other when he lowered his arms and clasped them in front of him, his head turning to glance around the room at his children. The double grucifix on his mitre could faintly be seen as he moved. Though she was down in the front of the pews and had a fairly good view of the entire scene, she craned her neck to get a better look at the man whom they'd all listen to the word of their god through.
She watched as his mismatched eyes scanned the room before him slowly, landing on her. For a split second, she felt her heart seize as she stared back, unsure if she should look back down or hold his gaze. After what felt like forever, when it only lasted a second or two, his eyes moved to gaze upon the rest of the congregation. She realized in that moment, she'd be holding her breath and shakily exhaled.
Papa Emeritus the third had come to speak with them, and she awaited to hear exactly why.