If you wouldn't mind, let me know how you found this story! I'd love to know where you discovered it.
It was another day and waking up was still as difficult as ever, your alarm's annoying beeping piercing your dreams. Knowing you had something to look forward to today though, made it a little easier. Clicking the button on the tiny hell machine, you kicked off your sheets and sat up before you could even think about closing your eyes again. The sun had only just peaked above the horizon, and the town's street lamps had yet to shut off. Living in this ancient castle of a church, you had grown accustomed to how dark it always seemed. When you'd catch a glimpse of the winter sun whilst passing one of the many large windows in the building, you were always temporarily blinded by how bright everything was outside. You wished you could get out more and enjoy the fresh air with your friends or eat lunch with Papa on the outdoor benches, but the frigid weather was too much to sit through at the moment. You'd have to suck it up until spring.
With your teeth freshly brushed, your shoes buckled, and your messenger pin fastened to your breast, you headed to your front door to retrieve your jacket and set on your way to the cafeteria. You eyed the markers that you threw haphazardly into your office last night, still not making a move to clean them up. It can be dealt with later. Your fat ring of keys weighed your coat pocket down, the metal jingling with every step. You seriously needed a bag, having returned Beau's satchel to him a while back since you could now rely on your pockets. Winter would only be so long, and having to be stuck carrying your phone and keys with you in hand is not something you want to deal with. Twisting the doorknob open, you were greeted with a surprise.
A small and shiny red gift bag sat in the front of your door, the rope handles tied together in a double-knot. Newspaper stuck out of the top at jagged angles, effectively covering what the contents were. Turning your head to look down the hallway, you did not see the person who may have left it there. Your hand reached down to pick up the bag, the light weight of it throwing you off. Barely peeking out from the newspaper was a small index card folded in half. Your name had been sprawled across the back of it in purple ink, the neat signature making your name look all fancy. You smiled at the familiar handwriting. Rain always used purple pens when he could.
Your fingers held the bag by its handles lazily, your other hand opening the note. Your heart thrummed happily as you read,
'(Y/n), I wasn't sure if you had any festive clothing, so I thought I'd give you something just in case. Excited to see you tonight! -Rain'. Below his name, he added, 'P.S. Prepare to be destroyed at Mario Kart'. Your chest bloomed with butterflies at his kindness, your cheeks warming along with it. You were actually a little saddened that you wouldn't be able to dress up any this year because of your lack of wardrobe, but Rain saved the day as always. You wondered to yourself if he could read your mind. Was that a ghoul thing?
A hearty laugh came out of your throat as you pulled out Rain's gift. A plain red and white Santa hat was just what you needed. You threw it on your head, not bothering to look at a mirror for placement. You were on a timed schedule, after all. Placing the note back into the now empty gift bag, you tucked everything back into your office before locking up and heading downstairs.
Though you had sworn to yourself yesterday that you would never bake a single morsel ever again, you had found yourself back in the kitchen. After saying your good mornings and giving Papa II his routine black coffee with two sugars, you were batted away and left to your own devices. It seemed that his older brother hadn't tattled on you for setting him straight (you grinned at your victory). Your boss had let on that he did not care for anything too sweet, so gifting him a standard bag of your gingerbread would do no good. As you rifled through the food pantry, an idea popped into your head.
When you were little, your grandmother always made a variety of baked goods, whether it be bread, cookies, biscuits, or pies. She was a wonderful baker, not so much a wonderful cook. One recipe she always loved to make were saffron buns, or as she called them, lussekatter. It was always a tradition around Saint Lucy's Day, and your grandmother always busied herself with making everything as perfect as she could. She did not stop at food, sadly, and her obsession of perfection included nearly waterboarding you with a wet washcloth to get every crevice of your face free of dirt, and starching your dress so stiffly that you couldn't sit down in fear of her reprimanding you not to crinkle it. You remembered how cold you always were in those thin white gowns that did absolutely nothing to protect yourself from the freezing temperatures as you served your grandmother's buns to your neighbors. You smiled sadly at the memories. Maybe you'd get to see her next year.
You remembered the recipe word for word, having memorized the numbers and ingredients long ago. You were only a little worried that the kitchen wouldn't have any saffron, an expensive spice that only came in little amounts. A surprised hum came from your throat when you found a jar hidden all the way in the back of the pantry. You'd have to reimburse the kitchen as a thank you for lending you their space and to apologize for using the rest of their spices. You were also incredibly thankful that they had a stand mixer. You wanted to save as much energy as possible for the party tonight. You hoped the ghouls enjoyed lussekatter as much as you did.
Milk, saffron, and sugar were all added to a large pot to heat up. You watched the yellow color leach out of the threads into the whiteness of the milk, slowly turning the liquid into a buttery color. After removing the pot from the stove and letting it cool down, yeast was sprinkled onto the surface of the milk and then was left to sit until it activated. You added your sugar, salt and flour into the stand mixer bowl and gave it all a quick stir to incorporate it together. The yeast mixture was then added and mixed, afterwards cracking eggs on the rim of the bowl and sliding in the butter and sour cream. Flour was added intermittently in between kneading, and you were left with a sticky (but not too sticky) dough that needed to be left to rise in a warm place. Covering with a tea towel, you placed it on an unused counter in the kitchen, the whole room warm enough for it to double in size.
Finally stepping out of the swinging doors of the kitchen, you were able to breathe in the ice cool air of the cafeteria. You straightened your dress and brushed off the flour on your shoes as you meticulously balanced two sandwiches in your hand. After yesterday's debacle with the eldest and youngest Emeritus brothers, you decided to make up for your impatience with them (well, only your Papa, you're still scared of the oldest) and bring lunch as a peace offering. You didn't mean to snap at them, but there's only so much bickering you were willing to sit through, especially with words like 'ferger' and 'dungjack', both of which you still had no idea what meant. Your shoes echoed in the stairwell, the smell of saffron and yeast following behind you. With only one or two 'hello's from convent members passing you in the hallway, you arrived at Papa's door.
Your fist hardly rattled the heavy wooden door as you knocked. Ikea had nothing on the ancient furniture in the church. This door could have probably been hit with a bowling ball and not have a single dent on its surface. Hell, Aether's door had that giant gash in it and it was still fully functional. You pondered about what might have happened to have caused such a mark. Papa's voice came from behind the wood.
"Come in." You twisted the knob and pushed your way through. Papa was uncharacteristically sitting in his chair properly, his left hand scribbling away at some paper of unknown contents. For once, he was actually working. Guilt rose in you, knowing somehow Papa's productivity was in response to your scolding yesterday.
"What a hard worker you are today, Papa. It's... unsettling." You said as you closed the door behind you. The man looked up from his desk, doing a double-take at the sight of you.
"Cara! You, uh, look very festive." He nodded to the hat Rain had gifted you. "I was not expecting you today. I thought you were off of work?" He dropped the pen in his hand and slightly shifted in his seat. You walked towards him and placed a sandwich on the table.
"I have off for the rest of the week, starting tomorrow. Today, though, I am still busy. Seems like you are too." One of the empty chairs facing his desk was dragged by your foot closer to you. The wooden leg scraped harshly against the floor. You sat down, the old leather groaning in protest. Papa looked at the food in front of him, and then back up to you. You squinted your eyes at him. "No need to be so skittish. I bought it for you."
"You didn't poison it or anything?" He asked, a cautious but teasing tone in his voice.
"Why would I want to poison you? Work would be so boring without you here to entertain me." Papa smiled.
"Well, after yesterday, I didn't think you'd want to be around me for a while... I didn't mean to upset you, I just get carried away, you know that." He looked back down at the food in front of him and picked it up, peeling away at the plastic wrap that encompassed it. You tilted your head in pity.
"Papa, I wasn't actually upset with you, I just wanted you two to stop before you started strangling each other. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." You apologized.
"No, no, you were in the right. We shouldn't have been bickering at work, and I should actually finish my papers like I'm supposed to. I mean, that's my job, and I never do it. I needed to be put in my place." He took a bite of his lunch. You rolled your eyes, more guilt filling your chest.
"Oh stop it, Papa. It's weird seeing you actually work, I don't like it. It's unnatural." The youngest Emeritus lightly grinned into his sandwich. "Plus, I didn't sleep very well the night before and I took it out on you. I didn't mean anything I said... well, anything I said to you at least." The oldest could suck it.
"You're not just lying to me to make me feel better?" He met your eyes. You shook your head.
"Of all the lies I have told you, this is not one of them." You held out your pinky finger to him. "I promise I'm not mad." Papa's shoulders eased, and he linked his dark-gloved pinky with yours.
"Thank you cara mea, I don't know who else I could bitch to in confidence." You laughed and released your hold on his finger. "But I suppose I do have one question;" He started, taking another bite of his lunch.
"Oh?"
"What lies have you told me that I don't know about?" You leaned back in your chair with a grimace and waved your hand in dismissal.
"Nothing important, just little white lies."
"Such as...?" You sighed with defeat.
"Remember when you asked me if I had ever accidentally hit a deer before whilst driving?" Papa gasped.
"No... you did?!" You cringed at the memory.
"It was an accident and I didn't want to admit to it because I still feel horrible!" Your hands covered your face in more guilt and embarrassment than before. Papa roared with laughter.
"You naughty, naughty girl. Lying in confessionals? To me? That's at least ten Hail Marys." You giggled with him, your morose feelings lifting with his. You scooted your chair closer to his desk and crossed your legs, your elbow coming to lean on the table top next to your own unopened sandwich.
"I'd rather rip my own teeth out before I say that prayer ever again. Eugh." You shivered. Papa put his sandwich down and dusted the crumbs off of his fingers. His smile never left his lips as he suddenly looked at you with adoration.
"Amica mea, how much you've grown since you've first come here. I hardly recognize you."
Your cheeks flushed and your heart beamed from his compliment. Looking back on the past five months, you realized you did change. You grew from a broken, abandoned, and scared kid to a semi-confident, loved, and happy adult. You've accomplished several things you thought you'd never be able to do again, you've made many new friends, you have a fulfilling job, and you've found someone you really liked to be with (and would totally settle down with even though you haven't even dated before and you haven't known each other for that long but you've got an IMMENSE crush on him (andifheaskedyoutomarryhimtomorrowyoutotallywouldbecausewhythehellnot)). You still had a very long way to go, but you were proud of your achievements so far.
"All thanks to you, Papa. If it weren't for you, who knows what ditch I'd be rotting in." You half- jested, looking at him a bit somberly. You didn't want to think what may have happened had you not followed everyone into the church that day, if you walked in a different direction, or if you even decided to join the convent in the first place. Papa's demeanor softened, the breath from his exhales giving the papers on his desk some short air-time. His gentleness reminded you of the first day you met him.
A vivid memory flashed before your eyes.
..."I won't ask you anything about your current situation unless you want me to," he started, "-but I will tell you this; If you are ever in need, and I mean whatever problem you have, if you ever are in need of help, you can always come and talk to me, or any other clergy members you find. It is our duty to help you. Do you understand?" Papa spoke in a serious tone. Your heart was in your mouth.
"Yes sir." You whispered. He laid his hands on your shoulders gently.
"Now," he breathed, "I expect to see you at tomorrow's ritual. I promise you you'll have a blast. It starts at 8 P.M. and ends when the vodka freezes." You started to laugh a bit. "Ah, there's that smile." He grinned with you. His hand reached up to brush away an eyelash from the eye it was threatening to poke. "I'll let you go for now, (Y/n). But please remember what I said. We'd be happy to take you. Okay?" You looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity. You nodded silently.
"Thank you sir."
He tsked.
"Please, call me Papa. Such formalities are not needed here. I'll see you tomorrow, cara mea. But for now I bid you adieu." He squeezed your shoulders before letting go and trotting inside a door in the back of the church. You watched him as he closed it behind him...
The rim of your eyelids were dampened with small tears, not enough to drip down your face, but enough to make the surface of your eyes shine like cut glass. His kindness still amazed you, and you planned on keeping your promise of doing whatever you could for him to make it up. You owed him your life.
"Thank you for everything you've done for me, Papa. There are no words great enough to express my gratitude to you." The man clicked his tongue.
"My darling, you were a gift sent from the unholy ones themselves. I swear, you were called here by fate. This church was in such disarray before you arrived. Low funds, low spirits, low faith;" Papa took your hands in his. "But since your arrival, this church has had life breathed into it again. Not only have we benefited with your job as the messenger, but your presence alone. These old walls and floors have never felt warmer. This church hasn't been so loved until you came here." He reached up to your face and brushed an eyelash off of your cheek. "It was like it was waiting for you to come." You smiled into his hand as he cupped your jaw.
"It seems the raven has finally made her way home." A tight knot formed in your throat at his kind words. You bowed your head bashfully, your hand coming up to intertwine with the one warming the skin of your face. You refused to cry, as much as you wanted to. You tried to lighten the atmosphere.
"Are you sure it's not just you being happy to have a super cool best friend?" He gave a hearty laugh, letting go of you and leaning back into his old and cracked leather chair. The twinkle in his green eye had returned.
"Well, I suppose that too."
______________________________________________
"So a ferger is someone who is ugly, hairy, and made of trash." You slapped your hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter and to prevent the food you were still chewing from flying out between your teeth.
"Papa! That is so mean!" He cackled, the chair creaking with his weight as he leaned further back, shifting his feet on his desk to re-cross them. "You can't just go around and insult someone like that!"
"Well he called me a dungjack, I think it was completely justifiable."
"You called him a ferger first."
"He said I was a mistake."
"After you called him a ferger."
"Yeah yeah, whatever." He twiddled with the pen in his hand.
"You also said he looks like a rodent." You added. Papa waved his arms wildly.
"Look at him and tell me he doesn't-"
"Papa, please~" You cried, clutching your stomach.
"Have you seen his fucking ears? They look like cauliflower!" He shouted. Your feet stamped on the ground, silent laughter making you double over.
"Stop it, I'm gonna throw up, it hurts~" Papa burst out into hysterics, his hand slapping the desk as he snorted.
"Dad should've named him Master Splinter." You howled in laughter, your voice rising to an unimaginable octave. Papa had a special talent for making you laugh uncontrollably. A snort flew out of your nose, the noises you made unable to be contained. You crossed your legs in a desperate attempt to not wet yourself. Papa dabbed a tear from his eye in hopes to keep his makeup intact.
"You," you tried to start, "-you are so me-e-e-e-e-an!" Papa took in a deep breath and promptly wheezed it out. "Papa, stop making me laugh, I h- I have things to do tonight!" You said as you gasped for air. He sniffled, the laughter making his nose run.
"What could you possibly be doing on Christmas Eve?" He slightly calmed. With a last cough, you were able to regulate yourself and answer his question without breaking.
"I, uh," you panted, "I was invited to that ghoul Christmas party downstairs. I want to at least not be in pain when I get there." Papa suddenly shifted in his seat, his face showing that of discomfort.
"The ghoul party, you say?" The tissue that was balled up in his fist was thrown to the trash bin on his right, missing by about a foot. He brought his feet back down to the floor and stomped them to get rid of the numbness. "Who invited you?" You flushed as he slightly leaned in. You adjusted your position in your chair and uncrossed your legs at the knees, instead crossing them at the ankles.
"Rain did. He said 'something something, tradition for the messenger blah blah blah mario kart'." Papa nodded. The slight tilt of his upper lip made you nervous for what he was about to say next. Either he was going to break some bad news to you, or he was going to tease you relentlessly about your crush on the ghoul.
"I... I'm... how do I say this..." Papa put his chin in his hand as he pondered, "...as your friend and as your Papa, I don't know if it would be safe for you to go." Your shoulders sagged. Well, at least you got out of being bullied by him.
"I know, but Rain and I talked it out and he said that no one would be of danger to me. I don't want to be scared of the ghouls, and I don't want them to be scared of me." You fidgeted with the cuffs of your sleeves.
"Cara, you and I both know there's no guarantee that nothing bad will happen. You know what happened to the last messenger. The ghouls loved her and yet she was dismembered in cold blood." He frowned.
"Yeah, but they were aggressive ghouls in the first place, there isn't one ghoul down there that doesn't hate them for what they did to her."
"(Y/n), ghouls are still ghouls. Their instincts override any rational thought or reason. When those ghouls attacked, their instincts completely took over. They couldn't help themselves." Papa argued. You looked down at your lap. There was one question that had been nagging at the back of your mind since you first heard of the incident.
"Why did they do it?" Papa reclined uncomfortably.
"She was just there at the wrong place and wrong time-"
"But what was the reason they attacked? It couldn't have been purely for fun. They knew what would happen to them if they killed a human. Why did they do it anyway?" You looked at his pale eye for an answer. He sighed and looked at the door behind you, shifting his eyes back to you afterwards. The chair creaked as he leaned in towards you again, this time much closer. He beckoned you towards him. You moved forward until you were only a couple inches from his face.
"Don't tell anyone what I'm going to say to you, it is highly classified and I could get in huge trouble if it gets out, okay? We've had to do a lot of covering up." He whispered. You nodded earnestly. Papa took a deep breath.
"At the time of the incident, all of the ghouls were going through their bi-annual cycle. Hormones and emotions were at an all-time high, and rational thought was rarely regarded. The three ghouls that killed the messenger all had one thing in common with each other; They all wanted her for themselves. During their cycle, the one thing a ghoul has on its mind is to find a mate. They all wanted the same mate." You swallowed tensely.
"Is... is their 'cycle' their... breeding season?" You tentatively asked.
"Yes, like wild dogs. It's their estrous cycle. They're in heat." You blushed violently as your brain immediately thought of Rain. Papa did say it was around that time of year for them during your initiation, which was only a couple of days ago. Was he in heat? You clenched your jaw in embarrassment as you put two and two together. That must've been why he was acting weird this morning. Your heart rate felt like it skyrocketed. This was not the time or place to be thinking of that.
"Anyway, the day that the messenger went down, the three ghouls had already been at each other's throats. The others had to pull them away from each other multiple times so they wouldn't start fighting."
"How do you know this?" You questioned. The air from Papa's breath tickled your hands.
"Aether was able to report the first-hand account of it all. He was one of the main witnesses." Your heart shattered. No wonder he seemed so uncomfortable talking about it. That must have been so traumatizing to see. You felt so upset for your friend. Aether was always immensly kind to you. You wondered if he would want you down there or not. He shouldn't have to witness another friend of his die.
"When the girl came down, they were all able to sniff her out. One thing led to another, and the ghouls started clawing at each other. Aether and some other ghouls heard all of the commotion and came to help, but there was no controlling them. One of them got hold of an axe and started swinging at everyone, causing damage to some of the property downstairs..."
Another vivid memory popped into your head.
...His door was the same as any other. The brass nameplate had his symbol stamped into it. What was surprising was the giant gash mark in the wood under it. It looked like someone took an axe, swung it in the door and got it stuck, only for it later to be pulled out. It was a good thing that all of the doors in the church were solid. If this was any other door, an axe could break right through. You knocked on the wood that wasn't splintered...
"The girl made the stupid mistake of trying to reason with them, even going so far as to attempt to pull them apart, but it was all too much for the ghouls to handle. All three of them pounced on her and ripped her to shreds. If they couldn't have her, no one could. There was no pulling them off. Three large, crazed, hormonal ghouls are no match to anyone." Papa said sullenly and sat back in his chair. You followed. "Just bad timing..." He shook his head back and forth.
"I... I can't believe Aether had to deal with that... I never knew..." You mumbled. Papa placed a warm hand onto yours comfortingly.
"He's okay now, cara, if that's what you're worried about. We all made sure everyone else was okay. We don't despise our ghouls, their thoughts and emotions are just as complicated as ours. I make sure to check up on him every once and a while. I think the art helps him a bit." You swallowed painfully. All of those drawings in his room... it wasn't just a hobby of his. It must've been how he dealt with the messenger's death. You bit the insides of your cheeks.
"I... I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't know... I don't want to make anyone worry, especially not Aether. He doesn't deserve to go through that again." Papa's cloak rustled when he intertwined his fingers with yours. You barely looked at him.
"Cara, I... I don't want to discourage you and I don't want you to be fearful of the ghouls. I just... I'm just projecting my own fear onto you. Rain... Rain is right. They were bad ghouls to begin with, and I know there isn't a single soul down there that didn't feel the impact of her loss. I remember at the funeral, all of the ghouls came up to pay their respects one by one." He squeezed your hand. "But with them all in their cycles, I'm nervous about how they'll behave around you. I don't think any other ghouls but mine have met you before, yes?"
"Correct." You nodded.
"As much as I want to stay weary of them and protect you, it would be even more unfair to treat them as if they were all monsters. They're not. They're all very nice ghouls, sweet, even. I believe the most they will do tonight is be extremely drunk and horny for each other. That's what usually happens, anyway." You both smiled with his humor. "So, if you really want to go, I think you should." He looked at you gently. You still weren't so sure.
"Do you really think it'll be okay? I don't want to make anyone upset..."
"Nonsense, cara, I think you'll be perfectly okay, maybe even make a few new friends as well." Papa squeezed your hand one last time before letting go. You leaned back into your chair, your spine having become sore from your hunched position.
"I think the only think I will warn you about though," he continued, "-is that it might become a fuck-fest down there. It's happened before. Just so you know, if you want to join-" You covered your ears in mortification. "-ghouls and humans are genetically incompatible, so you don't run the risk of pregnancy-"
"Papa, stooooooooooop~" You groaned. He laughed at your embarrassment.
"What? Sex education is important, you know."
"Yeah but I'm an adult, I already know stuff!"
"Not about ghouls, you don't."
_______________________________________________
After your long lunch with Papa, you were able to finish the task of baking an ungodly amount of lussekatter for the party that you decided you would still attend. Your boss had greatly appreciated his gift of the saffron buns, even giving you one of his rare, genuine smiles. There was another great accomplishment you could add to your list. You debated telling him about the party you planned on going to, remembering that you were required to inform him that you'd be going into the basement, but you had a feeling he wouldn't be okay with that. It was only a little white lie, and you've done it before. Hopefully none of the ghouls would tattle.
Reaching the end of your shift, you wrapped the two platters of buns that were stacked at least a foot-high each and brought them up to your room. Rain had told you to meet him at the top of the basement stairwell as soon as your shift ended, which would usually be at nine-thirty, but because of the holiday, Papa let you go early at six. You were eternally grateful for that.
You put your santa hat back onto your head and adjusted it in the bathroom mirror before shutting the light off and walking out. With your keys in your coat pocket, your phone in the other, and the two trays balanced on top of each other, you left your office and started to head to the party. You weren't sure if you were excited or insanely scared. There was only one way to find out. The heavy wooden door locked behind you as you stepped into the cold hallway. Your freshly polished shoes clicked to your next destination.
At least you would have Rain with you.