#matiiya

      His foot nudged something as he stepped out of his door. Glancing down, he saw a package left there with a few very interested rats sniffing at it. Surely, if it was something dangerous, they would be doing their utmost to warn him away from it. Still, he opened it with a little caution, relieved to find wonderful gifts instead of something threatening. Holding the package up, he inhaled the many pleasant scents that emitted from it.

The storm was over, and Strega made her way back out to the graveyard the next day.  Her time was largely her own, outside of rehearsals when the touring Ghouls were in residence; she took shifts in the kitchen out of a sense of duty to the Church that now housed her, but suspected that many of the staff would just as soon she kept to herself. Hopefully, the others would see her worth once she had a ritual or two to her credit. She was more than simply a bedwarmer for the Cardinal, and intended to prove it.

She’d been so closely focused on following Copia and tuning out her own thoughts the night before that she wondered if she would find the right spot again...but sure enough, the stone in her pocket began to hum once more, the marque between her shoulder blades resonating in harmony. She stopped, noting the headstone at her feet. I wonder what it is about this grave in particular, she mused.

      The Cardinal took a little time to wind down following the rehearsal, having been energised by it, pleased with the direction in which the new set was heading. While his ghouls packed up their instruments, he made his way over to the dressing room Strega and Matiiya had vanished into - not bothering to change back into his cassock beforehand, believing that it would no doubt make him appear somewhat more intimidating, so entered in his more casual wear of a black button up shirt and the usual form-fitting trousers. 

      Struck by the human appearance of Matiiya, Copia regarded her with a degree of curiosity a moment, then stepped forth to take Strega’s outstretched hand into his to kiss it in greeting. Attentions turning back to the half-breed, he inclined his head towards her slightly, making a small, elegant gesture of welcoming with his gloved hand. 

Matiiya looked around the space, feeling for any negative energies or things out of place. “I think it would be best if we did this before you moved things in, just to be on the safe side.” She set her basket down on the bed, rummaged around for a bit, and then held out a short, yellow candle to Strega. “Light this and stand in the center of the room.”

As Strega carried out her task, Matiiya brought out bundles of sweet herbs and set about crushing them into the stones in the four corners of the room. She sang a bright tune, aware that the talisman Strega held was probably singing in unison with her, as she went about clearing the room.

As she came back around to the bed, she stood at the foot and motioned for Strega to come stand next to her. She pulled out a long feather from her basket and used the candle to set it alight. She sang a few more lines at the bed and then swished the feather in a halo around Strega’s head.

Song done, she took the feather, crushed the flame out with her hand and… ate it. She then sprinkled the ashes left in her hand around the foot of the bed.

She turned to her friend, bemused by the expression on her face. “All done, Strega. The room is now fully yours.” She gave a little belch and giggled.

Strega took the candle her friend held out to her, then pulled a box of matches from the mantel. She lit the candle, tossing the burnt-out match into the corner of the fireplace, then stood in the center of the room as instructed.

She watched in fascination as Matiiya made her way about the room. The same confidence Strega had seen in her friend on their walk down from the crypt was in full bloom here. Her voice was clear and strong as she sang, the stone in Strega’s pocket providing an ethereal descant. Strega’s marque thrummed between her shoulder blades, making her think once more of the height of ritual, where she felt the music as much as heard it.

Joining Tiiy at the foot of the bed, Strega watched her light the feather, the scent an odd topnote over the freshly-crushed herbs. The smoke curled around her head as her friend finished her spellsong, the final notes softly dying away.

Strega’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline as Matiiya doused the burning feather and promptly pushed the remnants into her mouth. She’d read enough to know that spell components needed to be disposed of properly - she just hadn’t realized that ingestion was considered proper.

Strega was curled up in the Rose Suite with the rats when the keening began.

She had wanted to be with Copia for the Forum rituals, as important as she knew they were to him personally and to the Church as a whole. They had even figured out a way to work her into the ritual, finally adding a female soloist to the set list, but ultimately decided the risk was too high that the Elders would spot her, even as heavily veiled as the costume was, and so she stayed behind. They had regular Doom calls during the tour, mostly on travel days between shows, as well as the occasional night when he came offstage and forgot that time zones were a thing. She never minded being awoken by his ringtone, though he kept those calls shorter as a courtesy - typically just long enough to share whatever ridiculous thing had happened that night to make him want to call in the first place.

The sound that woke her on this particular evening was something that made her blood run cold. The cloister bell when Archbishop Samuels died was eerie, but this was inhuman. With an apology to the rats that she dislodged in the process, Strega flung back the covers and staggered out of bed, crawling back into the clothes she had removed earlier. She reached to pick up the warding stone Matiiya had given her a timeless time before...and dropped it again almost immediately. The stone was ice cold.

Cautiously, the feeling of dread inspired by the sound in the halls beginning to grow, Strega picked it up again. Braced for it this time, the cold was not quite as shocking, and beneath it she could feel the vibrations that she had come to associate with the link she and Copia shared with the half-ghoul, but they were much fainter than they had ever been before.

The Elders are dead. Matiiya's voice was sepulchral in the back of Strega's mind. My ties to this world are severed at last. Remember me...

And with that, she was gone.

Strega was hard pressed to determine which of the two was the greater shock. Sister Imperator had seemed as strong as any other woman of her years when she left on tour with the Project. But while Matiiya had been used by the Elders to prolong their lives, that of Papa Nihil in particular, Strega never would have thought they were keeping her here, in return.

Then she stopped to consider how cold and unfeeling the world had been to Tiiy. She loved her dearly, of course, as did Alessandro, and that love was reciprocated. But they were only two bright lights in a sea of darkness. With her tail returned to her, and the Elders no longer in a position to threaten those she loved, perhaps it was no surprise, after all, that she would want to leave.

Strega hoped she would be with her Maman again.

Strega blinked awake in the early hours of the morning.

Matiiya’s hovel was secluded enough that she needed no curtain over the window; plants on the sill were enough for privacy’s sake. The light filtering through the bare branches outside cast shadows that made Strega think of stained glass windows as they fell across her lover’s sleeping form. One of Tiiy’s hands was resting on the pillow near her face, the other arm outstretched at her side. Combined with the stubby horns upon her forehead, she was an unconscious homage to the window dedicated to Baphomet in the main chapel.