Nameless Ghoul

Standing on the Precipice

It was late afternoon by the time Itzal and Sunshine woke from their nap, and the sun had already set. Itzal showered and got ready in preparation for his evening of hell. He smirked, realising he'd almost prefer to be locked in a room with Santos for the evening.

At least then he'd know what to expect.

Sunshine could tell he was worried, and he let her fuss around him as she got ready for her evening out, too.

Papa and his ghouls and ghulehs were having a festive dinner in one of the nicer dining halls at the Abbey. Once Yule was underway properly, Papaa wouldn’t get much of a chance to socialise only with them. The whole pack seemed excited, getting dressed up in their finest for the night.

Sunshine wore tight black jeans and a pewter coloured, sequinned halter top. It swooshed around like quicksilver when she moved. She took Itzal's breath away, as always.

Itzal just wore his default uniform of jeans, a long-sleeved top and a hoodie, as that would cover up most of his scars.

The marks on his skin never used to bother him so much, but now he was interacting with more people and ghouls, he had noticed the way their eyes subconsciously flicked to any scars that were visible. Itzal found the attention unwelcome, even though he knew it was more curiosity than malice.

It was worse with the ghouls, though. Ghouls generally didn't scar. Only the most severe, life-threatening injuries would usually leave one, and even then they were usually faint when they healed.

Shadow ghouls, unlike other ghouls, did most of their healing in their shadow form. If they couldn’t change into black smoke and back again, they would heal almost as slowly as a human. Changing before the injury fully healed would prevent scars from forming.

But Itzal had twenty years’ worth of abuse mapped out on his skin. The worst areas were his back, his neck where the collar had been, and his wrists from the bloodletting at Santos' rituals. His torso also bore evidence of many injuries from the fight club, and various other ritual cuts the witches had made.

Itzal could cover his body easily enough with clothes, but people noticed his wrists, neck and hands. The few scars on his face, thankfully, were not too severe.

He kissed Sunshine goodbye, apprehensive about the evening ahead of him. She gave him a reassuring hug, picking up how nervous he was.

"It'll be fine, Itzal," she said, cupping his cheek gently. "Just be yourself. You've got nothing to worry about." 

Itzal sighed, wanting so badly to believe her. He nodded and left.

Sunshine's pack had already started drinking, and were joking around in the lounge as they waited for the ghulehs to finish getting ready. Itzal wished them a good night as he made his way to Secondo’s ghouls’ lair.

It wasn't too far away. Just around the corner, in fact.

He let himself in, feeling their protective wards buzzing against his skin as he entered.

The lair had the same layout as the others. The lounge intersected a hallway on one side, and the kitchen on the other. The bedrooms and communal bathrooms sat at intervals around them.

Itzal hadn't been sure what to expect, but as he walked down the hall, he felt more of a sombre atmosphere from the place than the lair where Papa’s ghouls lived.

Music drifted out from the kitchen, and Itzal recognized Black Sabbath playing at a volume where conversation could still be heard.

It was definitely quieter here than the lair where he was staying. Because there were no ghulehs bonded to Secondo, the place had a bit of a bachelor pad vibe to it, without any of the cosy feminine touches of the other lairs he’d been in.