Sigil | Ghost The Band

The Witching Hour

Calliope didn't know how they ended up in the common room, but there they were, lounging on the large, sectional sofa. Terzo had shed his papal robes and was now idling in a white dress shirt, lazily twirling his hair as they talked.

She observed him from her end of the sofa and was ashamed to admit that she was, indeed, admiring him. How old he was? She had no idea. Did she care? Not in the slight- Woah, let's end that thought right there.

"So, why were you knocking at my door in the dead of night?" She asked, tracing the backrest of the sofa with her finger.

"I did not knock." He dodged, eyes still closed as his golden fingernails combed through his air.

"You were about to."

He sighed, before inhaling deeply. "I was worried."

Cal's brows shot up. "Oh?"

"Hm," he hummed in the affirmative. "I saw you, you were all but running from the bathing chambers."

"Communal showers," she corrected, clearing her throat. Terzo shot her a look but didn't comment on her statement.

"What happened?"

"Just me being paranoid. I thought I heard someone following me but... no one there." She replied, her sentence cut off by a yawn. He didn't reply immediately, and she sank deeper into the couch, her limbs heavy from exhaustion.

"How certain are you?" He murmured, the question slicing through the silence. The ominous question made her blood run cold.

"Don't scare me more than I already am."

"It was a simple question." He grumbled in defence, the leather couch creasing and crinkling loudly as he repositioned himself. Calliope sighed out an exasperated "yeah, yeah" and lowered herself onto her stomach, holding one of the many decorative couch pillows.

She dozed for a while until Terzo spoke once more. "Have they been bothering you, otherwise?"

It took a while for the question to register. She finally mumbled a reply, sighing through her nose."No, not really. They're just... odd. And quiet. Insanely quiet."

"Have you tried speaking first?"

She scoffed, burying her face in the pillow. Why is this thing so hard?

"It's like you barely know me at all."

The silence that followed told her that she struck a chord, be that chord annoyance or something else entirely.

He wanted to say something, she just knew it. But he didn't, or at least, he didn't say what he wanted. "You're right, you are an antisocial fuck."

She laughed, the abrupt change in mood was comical. She didn't know what made it worse, the fact that he said it so seriously or the fact that he was right. "I am, I am."

He snorted, cracking the, albeit faintest, first sincere smile she'd seen all day. She stared at him for a while, wondering what was up with her.

"So, I'm going to ask this again, and you have no obligation to be honest with me, but... what's up with you? You seem... stressed."

"Well, that is because I am stressed, tesoro."

"Does it have anything to do with your... Papal duties?"

"Something along those lines." He murmured, finally dropping his arm, and letting his hand rest on his chest.

"I see... I'm afraid I don't have any advice in the pope category..."

"Anti-pope, if you must be so outright about it." He scoffed, staring up at the ceiling, where the no-doubt detailed paintings of unearthly beings were, obscured by darkness.

"You told me to not call you 'Papa' and I don't exactly know what your role is. Pope? Reverend? Priest? Pastor? Is there a difference?"

"Pastors, priests, etcetera, usually follow the word of the Pope, if we're speaking in catholic terms."

"Wow, aren't you educated," Calliope muttered, somewhat sarcastic.

"I have to be. My father made us study most religions since we were very young. Safe to say, it was not a pleasant time."

"Why? Does the word of the catholic God burn you or something?"

"What?" He asked incredulously, sitting up to look at her in shock. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just boring as fuck."

Cal laughed. "Don't I know it. Bible study was a pain in my ass."

"Who forced you?" The question unnerved her, simply because she didn't want to recall the information, but she had already.

"Nuns, mostly. Sister Magdalena. Sister Evangelica. Sister Miriam. Mother Superior." Their names felt forbidden to say, her throat closing up as she spoke.

"Mother... I keep forgetting that rank exists." Terzi sighed, tucking his arm under his head. She was thankful that he chose not to ask about them, those were stories for another day.

"Me too, honestly." She chuckled, the sound nothing but forced.

"You were catholic growing up?"

"Not exactly. Just the school." It was only a half-truth.

Terzo made a sound of acknowledgement, nodding. He wanted to pry, she knew it, but he didn't. Be that out of exhaustion or respect... she didn't know, but she was grateful.

***

Calliope didn't know how much time had passed, nor did she remember closing her eyes, but she was awoken by Terzo, nudging her arm with half-lidded eyes. He looked exhausted.

"What?" She grumbled, trying to close her eyes again.

"I have to get you to bed. Come on."

When she didn't move, he took the liberty of tugging her off the couch, dragging her by her arm. Reluctantly, she stood so she wouldn't fall on her face. "Why can't I just sleep here? I was comfortable."

"'S not safe, you know this." He all but whined, sounding annoyed. He had every right to be annoyed, in all fairness.

The walk back to her room was short since she was half-asleep on the way there. Her door was open when they arrived, and she could've sworn she locked, or at least closed it.

"What the..." She trailed off, trying to peek inside, but she was blocked by Terzo's arm. He stormed in first, throwing open the bathroom door before looking in her closets.

Her entire room was in disarray, her clothes strewn everywhere, and drawers emptied onto the floor. Terzo sighed as he flicked on the bedside lamp... which was apparently dead.

He cursed under his breath. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Don't ask me."

"Satanas." He groaned.

"It's fine, I'll deal with it tomorrow." Calliope sighed, climbing into her bed, which seemed undisturbed.

"Yes, okay. I'll find out what the fuck caused this tomorrow." His accent became more evident the angrier he got. It was... something, alright.

"I suspect Alyssa. That bitch heard me talking about her behind her back, I swear." She slurred tiredly, trying to ease the mood.

"Shut up," he snorted, her task of lightening the mood somewhat successful.

"Get some sleep." He told her as he closed the door behind him.

"You too." She mumbled back, uncertain of whether he'd heard her or not.

He was going through something, whatever that may be. She'd never seen him this serious, this often before. She thought of how she felt earlier. Maybe he was having an existential crisis himself.