Chapter Text
It was the spring of 2018, April to be exact. One of the higher clergymen is sitting in his office with an old vinyl of Opus Eponymous playing quietly to cancel any background noise. But, it doesn’t do well to block out a shout of his name.
“Cardinal Necrosi! Cardinal Necrosi!”
Vincenzo looked up from his paperwork, seeing the young(yet well-aged) Cardinal Copia burst through his door. Excitement beamed on his face before collecting himself quickly to tell his superior the news, panting quietly. He looked at Copia expectantly, awaiting whatever would come from him.
“What is it, Copia?” Necrosi asked, setting his pen down to intertwine his gloved fingers on his desk, “What has you nearly breaking my door off its hinges–”
“I’m going to be the frontman for Ghost!”
Silence flooded the room, Vincenzo’s breath getting caught in his throat. He was stunned, shocked, and… Genuinely quite offended. This was obviously Sister Imperator’s doing. He went through the ritual of summoning his Ghouls, the vulnerable ceremony he had worked so hard to prepare for. The position that he was offered and accepted was given to the younger Cardinal.
“Cardinal Necrosi?” Getting addressed interrupted his thoughts, and he blinked.
“Ah, yes,” Vincenzo stands, walking around his desk to look at the younger Cardinal, “New blood, hm? I assume you’re supposed to be getting fit for your new suits?” The Italian man just nodded happily, though not smiling, there was that particular shine in his eyes that showed any emotion the man would try to contain.
“Well, off you get then,” The older Cardinal gave a slight smile with a nod, patting Copia on the shoulder and allowing him to hurry off. The smile fell once the other Cardinal was out of the room, walking to his door and shutting it silently before locking it.
Why did his stomach churn the way it did? To go through the process of preparation as someone from outside of the bloodline and yet be rejected after decades of dedication and loyalty? Vincenzo felt like he could pass out, he felt so ill. Was it his background that was the settling factor?
The man turned to rest his back against the oak, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his salt and pepper hair with a deep breath.
He thought the higher Clergy was over his former work as a Catholic. The Emeritus Brothers had thought him to be a worthy candidate. Papa Nihil even said that he’d do well to represent The Clergy. Sister Imperator had to have made heads turn somehow.
Vincenzo stared at the floor, trying to push himself away from the thought of the despisal he had gotten when he first joined the Church. He shook his head, walked back to his desk, and sat down to continue his work. His office hours would have to close early today, he just wanted to get these texts translated and get back to his room.
As his pen met paper, he thought about his first meeting with his first Papa to serve, Primo.
~~
It was raining, Father Vincenzo had fallen victim to poor taxi cab hours and now he was seeking shelter at an Abbey he wasn’t knowledgeable of after walking for what seemed like forever.
A bare hand knocked at the large doors before retreating into the pockets of his cassock. He looked around the darkness that surrounded him, and looking up he saw the stained glass. How peculiar, it almost seemed like it was portraying—
The door opened and his eyes moved back down to be met with someone in skull paint and mismatched eyes, he jumped back a bit from fear. He hadn’t expected to see… someone with such descriptives.
“Buonasera… What are you doing out here?” The man spoke with a thick Italian accent, concern, and confusion lacing his words, “It is thundering out here..”
The priest gave a small chuckle, “Ah, sì.. I misread the hours for the cabs during the weekend, mi dispiace*, I don’t mean to cause a disruption. I need a place to stay for the evening if that is no trouble?”
The man at the door reached a leather-clad hand out to Vincenzo, his other hand pushing the door further open to allow the priest in.
Vincenzo was hesitant, his hand grasping the gloved one as he stepped close and into the Abbey. He could feel those eyes on him as he went inside, swallowing the lump in his throat. The walls looked to be marble or quartz, with Latin carved into a golden band on the wall near the ceiling.
“Io sono Primo Emeritus*,” The man says, letting go of the shorter male’s hand, “Papa Emeritus Primo.”
The priest’s thoughts are interrupted and he turns to meet the taller man’s eyes, a hand positioning itself on his chest as he bows slightly.
“My greatest apologies, Papa,” His eyes shut briefly to show respect before he opens them again, “I do not mean to intrude so late into the evening—“
“Hush, it is alright, Father. I will order the Ghouls to get a room ready for you,” Papa Emeritus hummed, “Our late-night Mass has just ended, you are lucky to have me open the door for you.” Large hands shut the door with a deep click.
Vincenzo blinks at the word, ‘ghouls’, is that what this Clergy calls the Siblings? Also, late-night Mass? He’d never heard of such a thing. Not to mention, on the miter of the Papa was a cross that he wasn’t familiar with, it looked to be an upside-down cross with a G in the center.
“Your Church is beautiful, Papa,” Vincenzo replied quietly, glancing to see the Pope looking at him expectantly, “O-Oh, yes. I am Father Vincenzo Necrosi of the Catholic Church.”
Papa Emeritus seemed to raise a brow at the words, Vincenzo didn’t know what words in particular but his hands fidgeted with each other.
“Necrosi? Of the Catholic Church, how humorous is that?” The elder chuckled lowly, “You are aware of the meaning of your name, yes?” He began to walk down the hall, and Vincenzo followed closely.
“I do know the meaning—“
“Death. Necrosis,” Papa Emeritus’ tone almost sounds like he’s smiling, but, when the priest looks, the makeup obscures any expression he attempts to make out.
“My peers are not fans of my name,” Vincenzo confesses, eyes falling back down to the speckled tile, “So they call me Father Vincenzo.”
“Well, here I can assure you that your name will be honored, Father Necrosi. We are not ones to scorn the meanings of names, we are given these names for a reason. You are welcome to join the Church, if you’d like, of course,” Papa nodded, eyes forward and yet noticing the small pause the priest has.
“Grazie mille*, Papa. I greatly appreciate your words, but how could I leave my Church so suddenly? I’m greatly loyal to my Church,” Vincenzo asked, part of him wondering why he was talking about leaving his Church with the Papa of this one, “I don’t even know if you’re Catholic, Papa—“
“Your feet are walking the halls of a Satanic Church, Father Necrosi.”
The priest stops, and a wave of dizziness hits him hard from the words. His hand reaches towards Papa Emeritus instinctively, who turns to grasp his hand and keep him up with a quick pull towards himself.
“I-… Papa. What do you—“ Vincenzo’s other hand grabs hold of the arm that’s connected with his own, and he sucks in a breath. The blasphemy of being so close to the Pope makes his neck burn and his priest collar feels too tight.
“The Old One brought you to me for a reason, Father Necrosi. A part of me has known someone would come to the Abbey seeking shelter,” Papa Emeritus spoke quietly, his heterochromatic gaze meeting the forest-green eyes of the priest, “Your loyalty and devotion are misplaced and I’m here to guide you to our Dio Scuro* if you’ll allow me. I will not force you to join us, but your path brought you here, to me.”
Vincenzo couldn’t bring himself to break eye contact. The hypnotic stare he was given comforted him more than anything he’d seen at his Church. Not even his superiors have ever given him such an authentic look.
“All you need to tell me is ‘yes’ or ‘no’, Father Necrosi.”
“Could I get a room, please? I need to think,” The priest still doesn’t look away, he finds it difficult to before he tears his gaze away to the black glove that’s holding his hand, “I-I’m wet.. And cold. I’d like to clear my head to think.” Why hadn’t he bolted to the door? Why had he stayed, arms and hands linked with the Satanic Pope?
“Of course, Father Necrosi,” Papa turned away, leading the priest down the hall, “Ghoul!”
Vincenzo is startled by a hooded figure that comes from the darkness of the corridor, and he flinches.
“Get a room ready for Father Necrosi, and a priest’s cassock. He will be sheltering in the Abbey for the evening,” The skull-painted Papa orders, the hooded ‘Ghoul’ nods before wisping its way back into the darkness.
“I’ll lead you to our communal showers, a Ghoul will bring you a towel to dry off and leave a cassock for you,” The man says before Vincenzo suddenly collapses to the tile. Whether it’s from shock or hypothermia, he doesn’t know.
~~
With a page full of translated Latin, Vincenzo chuckled at the memory. The First refuses to say what happened afterward, but they still laugh about it. He woke up cleaned up and in a bed that wasn’t his own.
Primo was right. His loyalty was misplaced. The Old One brought him here for a reason, to his Papa. With the guidance he was given, he became one of the higher ranks of the Clergy, a Cardinal. The First never scorned him for his Catholic background from the moment he stepped foot into the Abbey.
He set the paper aside, flipping the page in the old book to translate some more.
Vincenzo wouldn’t admit it to anyone but his Ghouls, but… He was in love, deeply in love with the oldest Emeritus brother. The Old One does such things for a reason and brings people together for a reason. But, this? Them? It was a curse and impossible. Vincenzo was disposable, and he knew that, Sister Imperator has told him time and time again that his role could be filled with a snap of her fingers. Primo would probably tell any lost Catholic the same thing he was told, but a small part of him screamed that there were no other situations similar to what happened that stormy night.
The Cardinal sighed. He’d never be able to hold the hand of the former Papa with passion, not in the way he’d want to at least. Maybe he was asking for too much of the Emeritus. They already spend a good amount of time together, but was it wrong to want to be held in the First’s arms or to feel those hands on his waist gently caressing him? In a place like the gardens, not just in between satin bedsheets and soft pillows.
Those evenings were secrets where it was rumored the former Papa was messing around with a Sibling. A Sibling, not a Cardinal. Not Cardinal Vincenzo Necrosi. Not one of the high-ranked Clergymen. But, a Sibling.
The first time it happened was unexpected, it seemed like Primo hadn’t gotten the order to perform a Ritual within the Abbey. Vincenzo didn’t even attend the Ritual, too blocked up with work to put anything aside.
~~
“Bishop Necrosi,” The First walked through the doorway, letting the door shut behind him.
Vincenzo looked up from his work with a slight smile, “Papa Emeritus Primo, to what do I owe my favorite Papa the pleasure?”
The words earned him a chuckle from his Papa, Vincenzo’s smile grew and his chest warmed.
“Just company. I’m not conducting the Ritual for this evening,” Papa says, and Vincenzo is briefly distracted by Primo not wearing his chasuble, “Secondo is, and Sister says I should prepare my sermon for tomorrow’s Mass.”
Necrosi is stuck for a moment, taking in the sight of his Papa wearing a black turtleneck and slacks, before he raises an eyebrow, giving a haphazard scoff, “That’s the second time she’s said that. You don’t think that’s peculiar?”
Primo hummed, hands clasped behind his back as he walked his way toward Vincenzo’s record player. “My time as Papa is almost up. Therefore I need to prepare, it’s not a surprise to me, Bishop Necrosi,” He says, pointing to the record player and looking to the Bishop, whose smile fell, “This works?”
Vincenzo nods, standing from his seat to make his way toward his Papa. “Yes, it works— What do you mean ‘your time is almost up’?” The thought of Primo no longer being Papa made his chest ache, but he knew the time was to come. But, this soon? So quickly? It wasn’t… fair in his eyes.
“Yes, Bishop, I have one tour left, one special show, and then it is Secondo’s time,” Papa nods, clawed gloves carefully setting the needle of the record player onto the vinyl of Opus Eponymous that Vincenzo owned, “I look forward to passing the torch to my younger brother.”
Vincenzo doesn’t speak, only nodding as he hears the vinyl begin to play quietly. He looks away to sigh, “I was hoping to be anointed to Cardinal by you.” In his peripheral, Vincenzo can see the slight turn of Papa’s head.
“Is that so? Why is that?” Primo’s hand gently takes Vincenzo’s chin to turn his head, their eyes meeting again, the Bishop’s eyes struggling to hold the gaze.
“You… You don’t have Cardinals, Papa.” Necrosi can feel himself get hot under his collar, Papa had done this before, holding his chin. But, the situation was tiptoeing into a mood he hadn’t anticipated, not with the previous conversation.
“Ah… I was expecting something similar to... you just want to be a Cardinal, as it is the highest rank in the Clergy,” Primo scoffed, the hint of a smile lifting the painted cheekbones of his skull paint, “But, that reasoning… You don’t want to just be a Cardinal. You want… Vuoi essere il mio Cardinale*.”
Vincenzo shivered at the words, eyelids lowering slightly as he nodded. The tone of the First’s voice sent electricity down his spine, his hand grabbing onto Primo’s arm. His heart quavers when their eyes meet again.
“Mio Cardinale*?”
The Bishop doesn’t speak, afraid of his voice giving up on him. It’s not his title to answer to either. He partly regrets it when the gloved claw swiftly moved to hold his neck just under his jaw.
“Answer.”
Vincenzo’s knees are close to letting him fall to the floor, but he tries to muster up the strength to stay standing. “Y-Yes, Papa?”
“You are still familiar with the Holy Bible, be with your past?” Papa Emeritus brings him closer, their faces just inches away from each other. Vincenzo is just a bit shorter and the strain from looking up burns so good.
“Yes, Papa, I-I am.”
The smirk that graces the skull paint makes Vincenzo’s chest tighten and his legs close tightly under his cassock.
“I will cast abominable filth upon you, make you vile, and make you a spectacle.”
When the words leave Primo’s mouth, Vincenzo can’t help the choked moan that falls from his lips. The holy words to be used in a context such as this have him reeling, blasphemy at its finest, and Vincenzo can’t find the offense that his younger self would’ve taken. To be honored with the touch of Papa Emeritus Primo makes him feel like the Old One meant for this to happen.
“Papa, please.”
“As you wish, Mio Cardinale*.”
~~
Necrosi has a gloved hand to his lips when he chooses to stop remembering their first evening together. His face burns when he remembers the vigor the both of them had at a young age, be it that they’re a little less than 10 years apart, they were both still reasonably young when it had happened.
He groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The way Primo addresses him as “Cardinale” still gets butterflies fluttering, making him feel young again. But, of course, it wasn’t more than breaking tension from the moment. Just like every evening they’ve had after that, Vincenzo became Primo's stress reliever. At least, that’s what he believed.
The Cardinal sets his pen down and leans back in his seat, hands resting on his desk. He remembers when Primo would pull him into the Chapel in between Masses, the former Papa wouldn’t do that anymore, not without talking him up at least. Those kinds of evenings would end with Vincenzo excusing himself to his room after being led to the First’s room for the debauchery.
It began settling in, how long he’d been at the Church. He was there when Primo was Papa, when Secondo was Papa, and when Terzo was Papa. He remembers how proud Primo was of his brothers when they were anointed, proudly displaying their vinyl albums in his room. Vincenzo even has their records, though Opus Eponymous was a biased favorite.
The last time he’d talked to Primo was a week or so ago, they couldn’t get together as much in the past couple of months. Primo said it was Sister and the Clergy, meanwhile, Sister piled more work onto Vincenzo’s desk while she worked with Copia. That explains a lot now, she was preparing Copia for the position of frontman. Even though Vincenzo had gone through the summoning and such for the position prior.
He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm before getting a knock at his door. Blinking, he called out, “Come in!”
A Ghoul peeked its head in, ceramic mask looking at Necrosi, it was Mist. “Cardinal Vincenzo?” He whispered, receiving a nod from his master, “The Clergy asked me to get you, a meeting, signore*.”
Vincenzo furrowed his brows, confused. Peculiar. He stood up, walking towards his Ghoul, “I see. Well, lead the way, as I’ve news for you to tell the rest as well.”
Nile nodded as he led the Cardinal toward the meeting room. He listened intently, waiting for Vincenzo to begin speaking.
“Cardinal Copia is going to be the frontman, Nile, he came in earlier to tell me,” Necrosi sighed, hands sliding into the pockets of his cassock, “You need to tell the others, I don’t want Ember to snap at anyone or anything of the sort.”
Nile nodded slowly, looking down at the floor, “So, we’re not going to… We aren’t gonna perform, Vincenzo?”
“Lo siento*, mi dispiace*, Nile, I know how excited you were,” Vincenzo replied, shaking his head, “Sister imperator turned heads, I know she did. It is out of my hands. But, it is fine. You all are not going back to the Pit, I’ll make sure of it.”
——
Being sat in the dark meeting room, Vincenzo interlocked his fingers on top of the table, glancing around subtly at the other members of the Clergy. Some of these other Cardinals were anointed under Secondo’s or Terzo’s Papacy, but he… Vincenzo … Vincenzo was given the honor of being anointed under Primo’s Papacy. He straightened his posture proudly, this pride wasn’t mistaken.
His attention was brought when he heard heels step to the altar, his head turning to see Sister Imperator. He could see her eyes look over the Clergy and Elder Ghouls, silently judging them as she always did. Though, when their eyes met, Vincenzo didn’t let any sort of telling emotion show and it seemed like she was feeling… her own kind of pride. It could be about Cardinal Copia’s new position.
“Hello, Brothers and Sisters. I’ve called you all here for the saddening news that I’ve just received. The Emeritus brothers had unfortunately met their end as of this afternoon, Special Ghoul has not figured out the how and works to find out the cause, but he confirms that their deaths were not painful,” Sister Imperator says, not a shred of sadness gracing her voice or her face. It’s like she was reading off of a script and Vincenzo feels sick to his stomach once again, “Terzo Emeritus, Secondo Emeritus, and Primo Emeritus have died .”
Cardinal Necrosi clenches his jaw as a gloved hand moves to hold his abdomen, his head is spinning from the words alone and he wants to retreat to his room, his office. Just somewhere. He swallows the lump in his throat as his leg bounces underneath the table, he wants to get out of the room, the air inside feels suffocating and suddenly he feels claustrophobic.
Vincenzo can’t even focus on whatever else Sister is saying, he hears ‘Copia’ a couple of times, so he can assume. But, he can’t bring himself to think about anything other than the deaths. He sits in silence and his breathing is nearly shallow. This can’t be real. There’s no way. All three of them, are dead. How could this be?
He wants to vomit. He wants to run to Primo’s room and bang on his door, wants to beg for him to open up, and show him that what he’s heard isn’t true. The three of them can’t be dead. Primo can’t be dead.
“Their bodies are being-”
“May I excuse myself?” Cardinal Necrosi asks suddenly, eyes forward, he hopes his demeanor doesn’t look like it's changed. He sees Sister pause, and look him up and down at his seat before she nods. Without hesitation, Vincenzo gets up and leaves the room. His hands are balled into fists and he’s biting his tongue, fighting back the urge to just drop and start sobbing.
“Hello, Cardinal Necrosi.”
When greeted by the Sister of Sin he passes, he doesn’t react and decides he’ll head to his office. He’s addressed and greeted a few more times by Siblings and Nameless Ghouls, he doesn’t say a word. Quickly opening his door and hurrying inside his office, he shuts it before collapsing to his knees. Tears have already welled up in his eyes as he kneeled on the cold floor, his heart was pounding and he could hear it in his ears.
His hands cover his face as he leans down to press his head against the tile, sobs wrack through him as he’s biting into the leather of his gloves. He wants to scream, shriek and cry at the top of his lungs. His body is trembling from his weeping, he drops his hands to the floor as he stares forward into the room. His eyesight is blurry from tears, he can’t think. He only sees Primo in his mind and it’s the only thing he focuses on, it’s the only thing that he can focus on.
Everything he’s wanted to say will be left unspoken, and everything he’s wanted to do will be left undone.
Vincenzo is hyperventilating now. He feels his head grow weary and his sobs are becoming less erratic. A wave of chills goes through his body and he feels cold to the core before his vision turns black.
~~
“How is that flower I gave you, Vincenzo?” The First asked him, clawed leather grazing across the petals of white roses as they stood before one of the bushes in the Ministry’s garden.
Vincenzo’s eyes got caught up in watching how gentle the former Papa’s hands are with the flora before he realizes he’s been addressed. He blinks, giving a small chuckle as he puts his hands behind his back, “It is doing well, Papa. I’m taking care of it, just as you’ve instructed.”
The smile that graces the skull paint has Necrosi melting on the inside, he tries not to slouch in his posture from the small action. He’s seen that smile so many times, yet it makes his heart skip a beat every time. Primo looks back to the flowers, humming, “I am glad.”
Something feels the slightest bit off, but Vincenzo shrugs it off, hoping it was just the usual butterflies.
“You aren’t speaking much today, Papa,” The Cardinal says, giving the former Papa a small nudge, “Is something on your mind?”
Primo shakes his head, turning around to make his way to the stone bench as Vincenzo follows. The two sit beside each other and Vincenzo notices how Primo’s sweater isn’t ironed, and knowing the other man for 30 years, it alarms him. He wants to comment, ask, and pry, but he doesn’t. He’s afraid.
“Just the usual thinking of the future of the Ministry. The future of the Ghost project, you understand,” The former Papa sighs, eyes glancing away as he places his hands into his lap, “I trust you will bring the Ghost project further than you can imagine. Your Ghouls are summoned, Terzo’s Ghouls can take the break they need, and you can begin a new Era for the Ministry.”
Vincenzo knows that’s not the only thing on his Papa’s mind, he’s known this man for too long to not know this. But, he doesn’t pry, doesn’t want to lose these moments because of his own curiosity and worrisome nature.
“Sister is working you to the bone, isn’t she?” Necrosi asks. It’s a simple question, doesn’t do much prying, but it’s still pretty much asking of Papa.
Primo laughs, it’s halfheartedly, but he laughs nonetheless. “No, no. I am very used to the work, I just have things to prepare. As do my brothers, you know how they are.”
The silence between them isn’t unwelcome. It’s something they’ve both grown accustomed to, finding solace in just each other’s presence. Well, Vincenzo could say that, he couldn’t say the same for Primo, that much was a bit unknown. Primo never made it apparent that he was uncomfortable.
“Unfortunately I do not think I’ll be around the Ministry so much in the following months, Vincenzo,” Papa I says, not much could be read from the words alone, which worries the Cardinal again.
“Ah… Is it a Clergy thing, Papa?” Necrosi queries, turning to look at Primo, who doesn’t look back but gives a small nod in response.
—
Vincenzo wakes up in his seat, a cold towel pressed to his forehead. His face is stained with tears and his makeup has made streaks on his face. He blinks, blurry vision clearing up to see his ghouls standing before him in worry.
“What… What happened?” The Cardinal asks, turning to see who the ghoul at his side was. It was Vapor, his air ghoul, who was pressing the cold towel to his head.
“Papa Nihil told us to get you, you didn’t show up to Mass,” Ember sighed, arms crossed on his chest, “It’s 10 at night.”
“So, I was in here the whole time?” Vincenzo pushes the towel away and stands abruptly, “Where’s Papa?” He starts to walk towards his door with hope before his legs almost give out from the hours of no use, Void and Cliff catch him before he falls to the tile again.
“Cardinal, the brothers are gone,” Cliff answers solemnly, exhaling softly when he feels the Cardinal’s body begin to go limp again, “If you think that it was a dream or a nightmare of sorts, you are sadly mistaken.”
Tears prick Vincenzo’s eyes again, his arms try to pry the Ghouls’ arms from his body but it’s no use. His body slacks, back slouching as quiet sobs move through him like before. “No, no… It can’t be true. This can’t be real,” Necrosi whimpers quietly, turning to press his face into his Earth Ghoul’s shoulder, “How could this happen? It feels like a nightmare, Cliff, no puedo tomar esto*. I just– I can’t.”
The crack in Vincenzo's voice pains the Ghouls in the room.
“I know, Cardinal, I know. But, they’re gone, I’m not sure what else to tell you,” Cliff glances at Void, who seems to be holding no expression in his eyes behind the mask, “We are here for you in your time of need, Cardinal Necrosi, trust that.”
His breathing is ragged, unable to even out as the truth settles in. The Emeritus brothers were really gone. Vincenzo shut his eyes. He was so tired.
“I’ll take him to his room,” Cliff says, picking up the slack body of the Cardinal in his arms, “Void, report to Nihil that we found Vincenzo. The rest of you report to the dormitories, understood?” The rest of the Ghouls nodded in unison, departing to do as told.
Just as Cliff turned to follow the small group, he noticed Void had lingered behind.
“Hey, I need you to report to Nihil about Cardinal Necrosi–”
“Something doesn’t feel right, Cliff. What are the chances?”
Cliff looks down at the other Ghoul, shaking his head, “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Void.”
A quiet huff can be heard from behind the mask, Void’s tail flicks in irritation, “Their deaths. It’s so–... Whatever. I’ll just go report to Nihil.”
With that, the Quintessence Ghoul was gone, leaving the Earth Ghoul to sigh quietly. Cliff felt the same suspicion but didn’t want to alarm nor cause distress amongst their troupe and their Cardinal.
The night ended with Cliff putting his Cardinal to bed after delivering him to his room, cleaning his face as best as he could without waking him, and covering him with a nearby blanket before leaving him to rest. The day seemed to have really taken a terrible toll on him.