#sadglo

Okay, very important disclaimer. I know I said philias as in referring to paraphilias, which to my best understanding, are interests that are atypical ("unnatural" or even "abominable"), but the way paraphilias work is that they're merely interests in the atypical. Paraphilic disorders however require actual acting upon them or the desire to with an unwilling person. So a majority of these are more paraphilic disorders than paraphilias, but i didn't come up with the words and definitions. I'm just some fan who's a freak for old Satanic men.

Dacryphilia (Copia): Pleasure from crying. He drinks tears is what i can say...

Ecdysiophilia (Copia): Undressing (in this case he likes to undress others.)

Gymnophilia (Copia (?)): Interest in bodies. Idk about this one since this is kind of a general thing, but I guess because the other party didn't want it, it counts.

Masochism (Mouse): self explanatory.

Sadism (Copia): Also self explanatory. But oh my god this man is cruel. CRUEL I TELL YOU.

Dacnophilia or Odaxelania (Copia): Biting. Yep.

Raptophilia (Copia and Mouse): Assault ... oh this poor woman...

Hemactolagnia (Copia): Vamp stuff.

Bondage (Copia): Do I really need to explain?

Mazophilia (Copia): Boobs.

Degradation (Mouse): She didn't want it.

Shoes (Mouse): Copia you asshole.

Hierophilia (Copia): Religious items. Well, kinda, cuz an altar isn't really a traditional religious item, but because altars are usually used for spiritual purposes, it can kind of fit. But everything religious is used incorrectly in this universe.

Gokkun (Mouse): Look it up. I don't care anymore.

Necrophilia (Copia): ... man, I don't wanna do this anymore. Why did I decide to do this???

Narratophilia (Copia and Mouse): Dirty talking. The violent kind. Goodness.

Free use (Copia): My god this is horrid.

Somnophilia (Mouse): Idk about this, since she only did this, like, once, and didn't do anything.

Homilophilia (Mouse): Church sermons.

[Verse 1] You best be bashed around the bush once or twice Before you get to taste the finer life My mother taught me, "Gotta just survive" Put on a smile, just find a vice

[Pre-Chorus] Don't hate the girl Just hate the crime

[Chorus] Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! I'm a good girl I'd never hurt a fly But I've got walls to climb Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! A minor chord You put me in this house I had to claw right out

[Post-Chorus] Run, rabbit, run, rabid (Run, run, run, run, run, run, run) Gift granted, you've gone rancid (Rancid, rancid, rancid) Run, rabbit, run, rabid (Run, run, run, run, run, run, run) Walls padded, drinking acid

[Verse 2] I never knew another way of life My baby brain collected all the strife My father told me, "Gotta just survive" You drink the poison, gotta pay the price

[Chorus] Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! I'm a good girl I'd never hurt a fly But I've got walls to climb Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! A minor chord You put me in this house I had to claw right out

[Post-Chorus] Run, rabbit, run, rabid (Run, run, run, run, run, run, run) Gift granted, you've gone rancid (Rancid, rancid, rancid) Run, rabbit, run rabid (Run, run, run, run, run, run, run) Walls padded, drinking acid

[Bridge] What does not kill you Never repairs What does not kill you Gives you never-ending nightmares...

[Chorus] Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! I'm a good girl I'd never hurt a fly But I've got walls to climb Oh! Forgive me, Lord Oh! A minor chord You put me in this house I had to claw right out

Bocce balls, specifically, were my burden. I had been enjoying the outdoors with the others, the fresh air and sunshine a welcome change from the confining service I was so well used to; what I admittedly could find such comfort in. The Cardinal was currently trapped underneath the burden of paperwork, but he had insisted I go and join Terzo and his gaggle of girls outside, however briefly; said I had been looking far too peaky lately. I supposed he was right, and not just because of the concern he’d hidden behind his stern kiss for me, his pen methodically laying out his signature unseeing; the winter had been long. 

But when our cheerful little group had tired of rambling, cavorting aimlessly around the greening grounds, spouting gossip and cheek to rival the very birds in the trees above our silly little heads, someone had suggested a lawn game, and I had volunteered to go and fetch whatever might be needed. I liked to be useful, and I thought my dear Cardinal might find an extra surprise kiss from me useful as well. I really had been enjoying myself outside, and I’d like it if he could sample some sunshine from my lips. He needed some nourishment too.

Leaving Papa Terzo bestowing his own kisses upon his charges, I had first run straight to the Third’s office to get the foretold bocce bag from deep within his cluttered closet. That now done, I made my way down a different route, to pass by the Cardinal’s tidy place of toil and hidden pleasures. My heart skipped in spite of my weary feet, as I planned both to give my kiss and to perhaps report on the most likely purloined bottle of wine I’d just happened to find illicitly stashed behind the bag. I’d simply left it. It felt too cumbersome to carry both out, and besides, perhaps I’d elect on the way to keep Terzo’s thievery a secret. Honestly, I thought to myself as I walked quietly down the long and lonely hallway, it was rather expected of our most liberating Papa, and I was still in a fairly good mood. 

But soon I was dragging the bocce bag more often than not, and shuffling along slower than I would have liked. In addition to this, I was becoming lost in my own soft thoughts, wrapped so in the solitary hallways of the abbey, cool and quiet as a crypt. Decayed and tattered dreams crept along to nip at my feet, surely forgotten by their incorporeal makers, until a sudden shift of the weight jolted me back into a bodily fear for my toes. An awful alertness, amplified by a loud bangto make me jump right out of my skin… The bag!

The stupid old thing had ripped open in a worn corner, and I’d lost a ball, I’m sure with enough force to make a dent deep in the antique floor. Damn it! Setting down the broken bag, I turned to go and retrieve the cursed thing, pausing only for a second to simply observe the ball’s motion. It rolled heavily away from me. 

This was becoming quite annoying, and I let out a sigh as if Terzo could hear it. Following the ball a bit listlessly, I couldn’t help but notice that it was very odd how easily it rolled in its escape, and soon I registered that the floor itself was a bit sloped here in this section. Giving up the chase for only a moment, I stopped and watched in a little wonderment. As I flinched, the weighted ball bounced itself right off the ancient passageway’s crumbling baseboard, and only then did I run forward and stoop down to trap it underneath my fingertips. Our poor abbey demanded mercy, not a wrecking ball, and if Sister Imperator saw!

But down from this angle I could see that this wasn’t a mere baseboard I was saving… in fact there was an older crack right along the edge of the floor that caught my eye, however slight in its asymmetry. This wasn’t a scarf joint. This close now I could see that I was kneeling in front of some kind of a hatch in the wall… no… a door, a… a concealed door…

Instinctively I glanced up at where a handle should be, and there I could see a deeper indent in the worn-out wainscoting. Oh, Lucifer save me, but this was rapidly becoming too interesting… 

Standing right back up, I reached out to finger the wall carefully, in a greater curiosity every second. Easily, the hidden panel came out slightly, as though concealed hinges had been kept well greased to remain quiet. I could not stop myself from peeking around the edge as I gently pried it open, my fetching quest for Papa now all but forgotten.

Candlelight. And stairs. I peered down. Dim flames licked into the shadows cast within descending wall sconces, wooden framing gradually giving way to shadowed stone near the bottom. In this hidden tunnel of pre-electric days, the dripping wax ran smooth, lights flickering in a stairway obviously known to some kind of a regular use, judging from the lack of dust. It smelled not stale in here, just a little flat. A rested air leading down into an inviting darkness. How could I not step inside? 

Making sure to prop the hidden door carefully open behind me with the bag strap, I let myself within the narrow passageway, and slowly and gingerly followed each timeworn step down, very very careful not to fall. A creak here and there surely betrayed me, but I wasn’t doing anything outright wrong, I supposed? The Abbey was my home, and no one had ever warned me from this place, had they?

No one had ever even told me that this place had existed.

Down, down, and down, before finally flattening out to a corridor I imagined was much further underground than I’d quite like to think about in this moment. What on earth could be down here? I should have been more frightened, but the air was warmer than expected, the corridor clean. I noticed fine artwork upon the walls, mostly of peaceful scenes featuring greenery and sunlight, pleasing to the eye. Carefully arranged vases of freshly-plucked flowers lined little alcoves as I crept along, and I recognized wilting lilac among them, scenting the space in a way to convey a sweet comfort. Although I imagined their lives were brief what with the lack of natural light way down in here, someone with sharper senses was clearly enjoying this meticulous refuge…

Who on earth could be down here?

Quiet, warm notes of a melancholy music greeted me as I rounded a worn corner, into what must have once been a hidden chapel, I was almost sure of it. Even in this little of light, I could faintly gather the intimate layout, could still smell a whisper of resinous incense, but this underground, clandestine chapel of a most likely incredible age, was honestly almost unrecognizable now… 

I stood there and stared. Scattered pews made comfortable with cushions and blankets, pulpits pushed aside to serve as shelving. I noticed a shaky looking gramophone over in the corner, the source of the soft notes, and I marvelled at all the books and papers, and little knick-knacks galore which peppered the place, from floor to ceiling. More bouquets were in here, casting low shadows in the candlelight, and there were also hanging sachets of herbs, all combining to scent the space oddly in an aroma both musty and crisp. The room felt lived-in, and the inverted crosses and blasphemous icons which must have remained from its days of dark worship, only warmed my curious heart further to this mysterious abode. This was so puzzling, yet strangely delightful!

Stopping myself from wandering about in a daze, I called out for what surely must be an occupant. I didn’t want to alarm, or intrude… “Hello? I…” 

“My dear…” 

As charmed as I was by the cozy scene, I still jumped a bit at the sudden voice from right behind me, soft and gravelly with age, and completely unfamiliar. I whirled around, my fingertips knocking something down which promptly shattered.

“Don’t be frightened! Don’t be frightened!” An old man stood lightly before me, gloved hands up in a soothing manner as if to calm down an animal. “It’s alright, little lamb…” He reached down as if to take my hands in his, but he didn’t; merely stooping a little, over a hooked nose, to look closer. I looked down at them too, just on instinct.

I could feel my face colouring a bit, not at his kindly tone but at perceiving myself as a very rude interloper, a little beast in this china shop. “I am… so sorry!” I burst out, fingers trembling, looking further down now at what I’d just done, “I… I found some kind of a door… and I came down… down the stairs, and I heard music…” There was a broken teacup down by our feet. “I can… I can replace it… I’m so very sorry…”

As I trailed off in horror, I heard him inhale slowly, his frail head bent down still over my hands, unmoving. I barely breathed. “Don’t fret about it, child…” he finally said, though very kindly, “Come, come…” He seemed to shiver as he straightened back up, eyes closed, his thin eyelids trembling just as my fingers were.

I’d been about to kneel down to pick up the shards, but the man quickly guided me now, gentle and smooth with his fingers hovering just at the nape of my neck, in such a windy way through the cluttered chapel, and over to the cozily gated sanctuary at the far end, that I could barely hear him through the adrenaline pumping through my bewildered head. He was apparently murmuring pleasantly as we went, and I did catch his concluding words. “I did think I’d been overdue for a visitor, but I didn’t dare expect someone so sweet! So sweet…”

I could feel my cheeks burning now in my awkwardness, and I didn’t know what to say for a few careful steps. “Over… overdue for a visitor, Sir?” 

“Well yes, there’s always the faithful maintenance, but it’s rather a Virgilian journey to come all the way down here, is it not?” With a polite flourish, he opened the little gate and ushered me inside before him. He stood just there, below the step up to the entrance, and I looked around at my not unpleasant surroundings, however formerly sanctified. The old altar had been covered in a quaint floral teacloth, and bore many more such teacups as the one I had broken, along with saucers and other tools of tea service. Beside the display was a darling conversation table, clothed as well, with a little space for two chairs, worn cushions tied on for more comfort. The man gestured for me to sit in the one already pulled out. “You must have felt some curiosity for what you might find. A craving, even. What a blessing…”

“Yes, I suppose, but…” I answered, still flustered, and I went and sat on the chair quickly so I could turn and look at him a little better, careful not to upset the small collection of stacked teacups on the table. I forced myself to smile. “I am very pleased to meet you…” 

He said nothing, which was odd for one so wordy. 

“…Sir…” I continued to venture, “I must ask, why are you way down here?” And who are you?

The kindly old man stood there just at the entrance to the sanctuary, gloved hands clasped before him as he looked over at me with a solemn expression, skin stretched over high cheekbones. He was wearing a chasuble, frayed and patched, but he didn’t bear any papal paint upon his face, which was pale and smoother than I’d have thought from the age in his voice. His hair was pale too, straight and long and white blond down his back. One eye was bright and whitened, and the other looked almost violet in the candlelight.

He continued to say nothing, nearly for a heartbeat, and then his head tilted. “Where are my manners; would you like a cup of tea, my dear?”

“Oh… please don’t put yourself out for—”

“Nonsense, I’m craving a cup myself,” he cut me off with a placid expression, “absolutely parched for something warm, actually…”

He did look rather parched, and frail even at this distance. “Oh, well, okay then,” I answered, “Yes please… I’d love a cup.” He smiled, looking a bit relieved. 

“Warm and sweet,” he continued, “I believe I have just the blend, if you’ll excuse me.” Turning, he continued to talk, as if enjoying conversation with one as faltering as I. “I’ll just go put on the water.”

“May I help?” I called out to him, as he left me.

“You are helping, lamb.” I watched him putter about in the chapel, surefooted in the dim light. “I’ve been left without proper company for ages, and your presence is quite the rare gift to one such as I.”

To who exactly? I thought to myself, bewildered. Who was this poor neglected soul?

He moved about so smoothly as I watched him, as if following a preordained track along the worn rugs scattered underfoot. It felt mesmerizing, in a way, like observing one utterly resigned in his purpose. For me, time seemed to slow, and I noticed I had looked away, and had been contemplating my own hands folded neatly down in my lap for I knew not how long. The sound of his steps seemed to slow to my ears, as if under the great strain of age, although he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever bearing a jolly brown teapot on his way back to me, wiry arms bent, his smile now quite welcoming.

“May I come in, my dear?” He stood there just outside the threshold of the sanctuary, and I scrambled up from my seat to open the little gate, embarrassed that I had to be so prompted. He had his hands full, of course, and with all the strangeness of this afternoon I was afraid I was losing all sense. I determined to become a better guest, right away.

He didn’t move a step. “May I come in, my lovely little lamb?” he repeated.

“Um… yes, of course!” I stammered out, holding the gate open wider, “Come in, Sir. Please do…”

He entered quickly, and placed the steaming teapot upon an iron trivet waiting there on the table, beside another nubby candle. A cup for each of us was quickly fetched, and he must have thought the eagerness in my face was for the tea, though in reality I was simply becoming wild with questions. “We’ll let it steep, child,” he said to me, settling into the chair opposite the one I’d returned to. I nodded, watching steam rise up from the spout like a thurible. This hidden place of forgotten worship seemed to swallow all sound and feeling, except for my own heartbeat which I could still feel dully beating against my ribcage.

After an agonizing pause, he spoke again. “Primo.”

I raised my eyes up to his, startled. “I… I beg your pardon?”

He placed his hand, still gloved, upon his own heart. “Papa Primo… Emeritus I.” His voice dwindled down to nearly a whisper at the regnal number.

My mouth opened with queries, but he held one finger up, and then gestured his palm out so softly towards me. “At your service… my little lovely…” A thin arm reached across the table towards me, but I felt frozen. “Please don’t be frightened, child. Why, you’re almost as pale as I am!” He let out a whiff of a chuckle.

“But the first? I never…” I trailed off, finally placing my bare hand in his outstretched leather. It felt oddly cold as ice in the tepid room. His face was so pale, the skin almost translucent above the little candle. I noticed the flame falter.

“And you must be the dolce.” He gave me one solemn nod, squeezing my fingertips with care before releasing me. I felt myself flushing a little at my dearest endearment.

“Um, yes.” I stared down at my teacup, and reached out to adjust it upon the saucer.

“I can see your little smile, child. I am pleased for such sweetness, and to finally have met you.”

I let my smile flourish for a moment. “I’m very pleased to meet you too… Your Excellency…”

I saw him grin at the title. “You are a proper one, aren’t you? He said you were as clever as you are pretty.”

“Oh, the Cardinal flatters me…”

“Nonsense.” 

I could smell something floral and fruity curling out from the teapot, and Primo began to pour out a hot cup for me. “I don’t often get to receive my own title these days,” he said, sadly, explaining nothing. After my cup was full of a steaming garnet liquid, he saw to his own cup. “Especially from such sweet and bashful lips. So young. So yet full of life.”

Not knowing what else to do, I stared down into my tea. It looked rich and hopefully deep in flavour, a luscious sheen swirling atop the brew. I did feel rather bashful.

Another pause followed this. Papa Primo had settled back in his creaking chair, and now seemed a little more content and comfortable, wrapping the edges of his chasuble around himself like a blanket. He regarded me, inquisitively, from across the table.

“And so, what are your thoughts upon the nature of evil?” he asked me.

“Excuse me… evil?” I repeated, a little dumbfounded, “I…” Dropping my gaze again, I contemplated my cup as though I’d find suitable answers within. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ahhhh… but this is not so true, is it? Every soul comes to know of evil.” He said this in such an idle way.

“Maybe,” was all that I could say, reaching out for the handle of my teacup.

“It’s too hot yet, my dear,” cautioned Primo, before I’d even touched it. I rested my forearm on the table, careful to keep my elbow off, and I waited for him to continue our strange and scant conversion. Only silence followed. He seemed unbothered.

“Do you and His Eminence speak often?” I offered. How come he’s never told me of you?

“Not often,” he replied, with a quick and wry smile.

“Oh.” I said. He said nothing more, only looking across at me, his eyes seemingly fixed, yet strangely blank. Instead of feeling unnerved, I felt only a kind of pity for the old man. He seemed to exist beyond loneliness down here, an actual ghost of our great abbey. Gathering some courage, I leant forward a bit, over my steaming cup. “When is the last time that you’ve spoken… with anyone?” I asked him, softly.

Primo’s sunken eyelids closed in a long, slow blink. He looked exhausted, the whites of his eyes when they opened sallow and dry. “It has been a long time, child,” he said with a nod, “A great long time I have remained. Descended here in my earned and honourable solitude.” Suddenly, Primo shifted a bit restlessly upon his chair, as if roused by the pleasant aromas curling up from the tea. He looked positively famished.

I watched him sniff deeply of the air between us as he continued. “It has been many many years since this shrouded chapel was in a broader service, my lovely one; oh yes! The laughter and the slaughter…” Primo had straightened his spine right up, and looked the most excited I’d yet seen him. “The most glorious wickedness we used to revel in, I almost fear to describe it now… to one such as you…”

“Go on…” I prompted, with a little grin.

His thinning lips echoed mine, albeit a bit more toothily. “Hmm… well, such blasphemies as one could barely articulate were brought forth, and not just in the way of the word, of course you must understand.”

“Mmm hmm…” My fingers curled around the handle of my cooling cup.

"Undertaken in the flesh.” Primo’s pale flesh seemed to peel back from his teeth, and they glinted in the candlelight as he spoke further. “Heresies most unholy, profanities of pleasure, total depravity…” His words were spilling out now underneath their sharpness. “I can remember how I reigned over it, and revelled in it myself.” He breathed deeply, and closed his eyes for one wistful moment as he continued. “How I used to bathe in the blood, child; many a time I bore witness to Satan’s irresistible grace…” 

“Who’s blood?” I breathed out, wide-eyed, before I dropped my gaze down to avoid his, “Who’s, Your Excellency?” I went to take a sip of my tea.

“Whoever cannot resist,” he said blithely. I could hear the chasuble crinkle as he shrugged just across from me, and I looked back up at him, my cup just raised. “And why resist, child?” He leaned over the table, as if to impart to me a cheery secret. "Every soul comes to know of evil. Comes to sit across from it.”

Something clattered from around the corner, and suddenly Papa Terzo came rushing in, wildly scanning the chapel all in a panic. I stood up to greet him. “Papa! What’s wrong?”

“Sorellina!” Papa burst out, “What in Lucifer’s shit are you doing down here?” His jaw was tense in anger, and an oddly wild relief as he spotted me standing there, across the pews. 

Primo had stood up too. “Emeritus III. What a pleasure.”

“Primo,” Terzo snapped out, and then, “Your Excellency…” He was making his way towards us, in a way I thought rather careless. 

“I was just…” I began, soon losing my thoughts in a strange wave of tranquility, “I don’t know, I was just visiting…” I must have stood up too quickly. “We’re having tea,” I explained, shaking my head a little to clear it as I glanced down at my cup I’d placed back upon the table.

“Come and join us,” offered Primo, gesturing warmly, “I’ve no shortage of cups…” My shoulders slumped as I remembered the tea cup I had broken.

“She cannot possibly stay down here,” stated Terzo firmly, and looking only at me as he opened the sanctuary gate, “This levelled air isn’t good for her, and she is missed upstairs.” 

“I feel fine, Papa,” I said, swallowing thickly, “I… I broke a cup.” Primo had frozen in place. I turned to finally take a sip of my tea, but Terzo had reached my side now and he snatched it up before I could, sniffing the surface with a strange suspicion, and turning my hand over to his gaze.

“Did you cut yourself?” he whispered harshly to me. I shook my head no.

“Hmm,” was all he said into the tea, with a frown, before putting it down to take my arm. “We are leaving.”

“We could all go upstairs,” I heard myself ramble, “Let’s go outside, we can play a game in the sunshine…”

Terzo bluntly laughed out loud. “Come along, Sorellina.” He pushed me in front of him. “Off you go.”

“But Papa Primo…”

“Go.”

He fairly dragged me out of the chapel, and I stumbled like one drunk through the passageway, unable to get my bearings until we reached the foot of the stairs. I hadn’t even said goodbye properly to Primo! “What is happening, Papa?” I whined to Terzo, “Why are you being like this?”

Not stopping to explain anything, Terzo simply marched me up the stairs before him, his white gloves steady on my waist. “Su, su, su, su! Up, Sorellina!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” I complained, through gritted teeth as I went. I felt more myself with every step, more leaden in a way. It was like dragging yourself up onto the shore from a deep and numbing sea. 

We both burst out into the hallway, and Terzo slammed the hidden door shut. When he turned back to me he looked terrified, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face, and pushing me back with a jab to my chest. “You are going to be the death of me, my dear and foolish Sorellina; the literal death!”

“What are you talking about?” I almost shouted, going crazy with questions, “Why do we keep an old man down there? Why the secret?”

“Some things are not for you to meddle in, piccolina!” 

“Why?”

Terzo began to rub his temples, eyes closed. “Papa Primo is from… an earlier, different time in our legacy. He has taken our dark faith more seriously than anyone, and he is well content in that darkness.”

“What do you mean?”

“This was all before my time here, Sorellina, but from what I have been told, the abbey’s corrupted origins were… celebrated… in ways we do not so very often observe today.”

“In what ways?” I pressed.

“Such questions!” Terzo exclaimed. He paused a moment, and I breathed deeply of the passageway’s shadowed air as I waited, my eyes drawn down to the discarded bocce implements. “Sins, Sorellina… terrible sins, were freely, and not so freely, partaken of.” He paused again for a moment, apparently in deep thought. He shook his head. “I shan’t explain more.”

“But Papa…”

“No.”

Terzo grabbed my hand, and began to walk briskly down the hall, apparently leaving all thoughts of bocce behind him. Giving in, I struggled to match his pace in the strained silence above our steps. I finally broke it only in asking him where we were going.

“Outside,” he snapped, “You need sunshine. You’re ice cold.”

“Does Papa Primo ever go outside?” I asked him.

“You may meet him on a moonlit night,” admitted Terzo, “gathering roughage and such from the gardens, or so they say… I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

“Why is that?”

“Have you heard nothing that I’ve told you?”

Nothing more was said; Terzo seemed so frustrated that I didn’t want to press him any further. When we finally returned out to the bright light of day, I was momentarily blinded by it. 

“Here we are,” soothed Papa, guiding me back over to the loosely gathered group of girls, all rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes for him, “back among the living…” 

Someone yawned. “No games today,” announced Terzo, eliciting some complaints, “Let us rest, eh? I have become a little lethargic in this heat, I fear…”

A cuddle with Papa was a treat, and Terzo was soon swept away across the grounds to find a shady spot with the others. Shuffling a little ways away, I I found my own refuge underneath an ash tree, the furrowed wood hard against my spine as I shivered against it. I sat there in a brooding silence, noticing that Papa had kept me well within his sights. He still looked a bit worried. 

I felt unwell. Looking back at the abbey, I noticed all the windows, glass shining in the afternoon sun. Many belonging to rooms I’d never been in, rooms I couldn’t be quite sure of the purpose of. I thought of the windowless chapel far beneath the abbey’s halls, and of who resided there. The fear behind Papa Terzo’s irreverent eyes, and the lack of even a whisper of Primo from the Cardinal’s lips.

The Cardinal. I wondered what he spoke so little with Papa Primo about. I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to know. I had the rest of the afternoon to decide if I even wanted to tell him about my little unexpected adventure; perhaps Terzo would beat me to it. Perhaps he wouldn’t. 

It was a couple of uneventful days later, when a sister smelling of lilac stopped me silently in the hall, pressing a folded paper into my hand with only a solemn smile. At my first chance to be alone I opened the small missive, stained as it was with what I earnestly hoped was simply a bit of spilled tea.

Written in a shaky hand, it read as follows, and I mulled over the weltering words for weeks:

To my dear little lamb,

I did so greatly enjoy your company, however surprising and brief. It was truly an honour to finally meet the dolce, and it is with the most bitter regret that I realize I did not bid you farewell in a way fitting to your clearly cherished station. Also, I do regret with much sorrow that I must use my far lonelier and yet enduring authority, to insist that you take some precocious care to not descend so to me ever again. For your sweet welfare, I am sure to prefer you do not entirely understand, if only presently. Walk so in Lucifer’s light.

Yours nevertheless,