Chapter Text
Mary Crescentii sat in the pew. She had a shawl covered herself, and she gave a soft sigh, looking up at the dimly lit figure of Christ at the altar. It was a quiet Tuesday night, and the sanctuary had just been finished cleaned. Newly lit incensed cleansed the rooms, mixing with the harsh chemical smell to give a warmer aroma along with the coziness of the smoke. A few candles were lit, it was early evening and still a few devout came and went in the church-usually she snuffed them as the last person out, but for now they gave a warm glow to the room.
“Mary.” a deep, aged voice called out in the dark of the room, but she knew it as her father’s voice. Crossing herself and finishing her prayer, she stood and looked behind at the figure of a man at the door,
“you’re early,” she spoke, her voice quiet, feminine but oddly confident in the statement made, looking at the catholic priest, her father, he nodded,
“Yes.” he shifted his eyes, barley caught in the dim lighting, “I thought we…could spend some time together tonight. There is that new pasta restaurant…if you’d like to try it?” he offered, and she gazed at him curiously. He was a middle-aged man, with grey hair peppering his black, often a tired expression blanketed his face. Mary herself was older, 23, for a catholic in their domination, she would have been married by then, and had been blessed with children, but her father was protective of his only family left. Having married and widowed before his priesthood, it was not often a catholic priest had children. No one was good for her in his eyes, but also a sheltered lamb was ignorant of outside the pasture, choosing a new shepherd was not an easy task.
“Could we stay in? We could have some to-go, and eat at home?” she offered, walking out of the pews and to the average man. He watched her quietly, gazing from her feet to her head, “Are…you alright?” she asked, worry in the tone. Blinking and shaking his head, he gave a confirming soft smile,
“yes. Yes…you just…remind me of your mother.” he coughed, looking away, before nodding, “We can do that.”
They ordered delivery for the pasta, and it was delivered to their modest home when they arrived as well. It was a simple two bed, two bath farmhouse style with a decent yard. Thanking the driver, Mary walked into the home and pulled the pasta out of the container and to plates and split it.
“Did you get your eggplant?” Father spoke from another room, undressing into more comfortable clothes.
“Yes. And your spaghetti with meat balls,” she confirmed, walking to the dining table with plates in hand to set the table,
“Could…we eat outside?” perking up, her father was by the patio door inside of in his bedroom. It had been a while since they've shared a meal outside before, but it was a nice night out she supposed. Giving a shrug, she walked up to him and looked outside,
“If you like,” walking to the door, and outside on the barley used table and chairs. She couldn't recall where the furniture came from, likely a donation or a gift from someone to them. They weren't the best furniture, but it did the job and were kept and cleaned. He settled down and she gave him his plate. Disappearing back into the house, a moment later she came back out with two glasses of iced tea and settled them on the table before settling down as well. They both brought their hands up to pray for the meal,
“Father, thank you for this meal, I ask that you guide us, protect us, and forgive us. I ask that you thank the labor that has gone into this meal and bless this and us. Amen.”
“Amen” picking up her fork and knife she cut into eggplant and dipped it into the tomato sauce and took a bite.
"How is the eggplant parm? Is it as good as Angelos?" he spoke lightly, an odd gentleness to his tone, but she gave a nod,
"its very good. It is thinner so it is a bit crispier, how is your meal?" Though he wasn't a very heavy man and didn't rush to eat, Mary was aware he had yet to touch his food,
“Its…” he trailed off, looking at his plate for a good while, he was thinking and slowly she felt the stress come off him, “Have you thought about…marriage?” he swallowed uncomfortably but she gave a soft hum; it was a topic that was brought up before many times. Odd he was stressed about it now and not really then.
“Not really.” she answered honestly, “maybe that Maddux Duboise, but…you ended that rather quickly,” she chuckled, and he met it, giving a playful chuckle in the memory of that boy,
“Yes. He was nothing but…” he sighed, shaking his head,
“What- what about that…blonde farm boy?”
“Michael? Mike Song?” she asked, and with a confirmed nod, Mary gave a soft shrug, “He was not…smart. He was decent at farming, but…not much else. Poor conversationalist and overall, just...uninteresting.” Mary looked out at the yard, finding it empty. Not much showed a girl having been raised there, or even a family at all really. In the corner by a weeping willow was a small headstone of a hamster she had when she was 4, gifted by someone of the clergy. Pets were not allowed but the small rodent was easy enough to care for but not to replace when it passed. The opposite side was a small herb garden in small raised beds that she tends for but otherwise there was no love to be seen in their yard, both their times were spent devout in prayer and in the service of the church. The statement was true, however, Mary had never thought much about marriage, though she understood as a catholic woman she was to be married. That what she was supposed to do, her duty to God and her father and husband- the most common and understood path for women in the church. However, her mother being gone, Mary always thought she would stay with him, her father. Staying celibate and caring till his death, and upon which she would devout herself to God and enter a convent. No excitement, no thrills, but only duty to God and her father.
“If…if you were to have a husband, what would you think of him?” father asked, catching her off guard,
“My ideal husband?” she asked confirming the question, which he nodded. She thought for a while. As a child many girls dream of their future and their home and husband and children. Recalling as a child, the white picket fence with a gentle smile husband and a son and daughter, but was that wanted as an adult?
“Well…someone…gentle. Strong, protective, but supportive. Intelligent, caring…” she described, running off traits that meant more to her now then as a child rewarding her with a chuckle from her father,
“What about their looks?” she snorted, shaking her head,
“I don’t think I’d mind really how handsome they are as long as they are clean and kept.” The idea of a handsome man was daunted really, but many men were pretty or handsome in different ways. Mary didn't really recall a type she had, other than just personality. Father nodded, leaning back, running his nails across his chin. The stubble gave an odd scratchy noise as he thought,
“Alright…”
“Is there another marriage proposal?” he seemingly tensed, looking at her from the edge of his eye, before blinking, looking away. Mary kept her gaze to him, as he was uncomfortable now,
“You always have marriage proposals.” he chuckled, nervous but it was truthful, “I was curious what you would like- I don't believe I've asked before.” humming, Mary, whipped her mouth with the napkin. Usually, men would ask her father to court her, but he was rather quick to tell them all no. Why now would he ask her preference of men? “Could you join me, tomorrow before Wednesday mass?” he asked, her, but she could almost hear a strain in his voice as he asked a seemingly normal question,
“Sure…of course.”
The next day was seemingly normal with the normal routine. Wake up early, showered, and put on clothes. Mary pinned her hair back and put her mother’s cross necklace on with a simple blue dress with black tights, black flats and a black shawl around her neck and hair. Climbing down the stairs, she saw her father wide eye watching her from the living room, an odd stance and observation he never really did before. As if he was etching her image into him for whatever reason,
“are…you alright?” she asked, coming to the end of the stairs, and quickly he nodded, pulling his eyes away,
“yes. Yes. You look…well today.” father spoke, motioning to follow to the door. He wore simple clothes today, she noticed, all black for some reason though. Faintly she thought perhaps someone died in their congregation, but he would have told her that if that was the case. On the way to church, he stopped by a coffee shop, bought them coffees. It was a special treat to get, since she enjoyed iced sugary coffee over the dripped, they usually had at the church.
"Is something the occasion?" questioning him and sipping her coffee, her father only shook his head 'no'
"Just wanted-wanted to treat you is all." he deflected, and she gave an odd hum, letting the conversation die down. When they arrived at the church she was surprised to find it quiet, usually the secretary or a cleaner was in, but neither was now. Just them, as her father opened the door with a key. As they entered, she dropped her empty drink in a trash can and brushed her hands off,
“Could…Mary,” pausing, looking up at him, he gave a sigh, “Do your prayers…and then meet at the study room after.” she nodded. Somehow his voice strained, and stressed, as it has been but she wasn't aware of anything that would cause that. Perhaps stress, that was as likely an answer as anything else. He reached out and patted her hair suddenly, an affectionate gesture that he rarely gave, “You are very precious to me…my obedient child.” blinking up at him, curiosity but suspicion in her face,
“t-thank you? Are you alright?” she asked, oddly and he nodded, stepping away and she turned, heading to the sanctuary as told.
The sanctuary was the same as it aways was, even if they were there last night and now this early afternoon, but when bowing to pray, it was…suddenly lonely. Gazing up, there the image of Christ, finding suddenly she felt very small and very alone in that room, which didn’t usually happen. It was usually warm, cozy, alive somehow but not now. It was alien to her; shaking her head, she tried to ignore it. It must be her father’s odd behavior giving her a weird feeling, the room doesn't change she does people do. Soon she was standing up and brushing her skirt out from kneeling and leaving the pew, pausing to see the shadows seemingly darker then before, finding the room colder too. It was in her head; it had to be. With a shake, she continued down out of the sanctuary, she went to the study room. It was a long style room, with small windows near the ceiling. A wall covered in books, dvds, and other items, while there were a few worn out couches and tables around the room. It was at one point part of a basement, but turned to help younger teens of the congregation have a hang out area away from adults. When she arrived, no one else was there. So she just read off the books, reminiscing of the stories she grew up on- not just Jonah and the whale, but a weird little chipmunk named Chatter as well. With the sound of the door, she turned to greet her dad but paused, finding strangers at the door. Three men stood there, two wore almost….devilish masks and black religious suits. The men between them was older, with light brown hair brushed back, but black paint under his eyes. That wasn’t the oddest thing, it was his mismatched green grey eye with almost a white one, you could have thought at first that he was blind but quickly she lost the thought.
“A-are you new?” she asked, giving a soft smile through her discomfort, “If you’re new, we have bible study at night. You’re fairly early though I can suggest some books if you need any suggestions.” Mary offered, motioning to the bookshelf. The men looked between her and the books, before back to her. His gloved hands together as he took a step into the room, and she felt her hair stand on end,
“I…am here on behalf of your father.” he spoke, patting his chest, pulling a note out and holding it out to her,
“is-is he well?” she asked confused, reaching for the letter and she stepped to him, taking the note and pulling it apart, stepping away from him. It felt like lead in her hands,
“Dear my precious child. Every life there are a handful of moments where we must show our willingness to sacrifice for the lord. Unfortunately this is one of those moments. You are my Isaac, and I have been called upon as Abraham. I am so sorry for any misgivings or ill-feelings you will have for this exchange. I pray for your happiness, and your suffering to end quickly. You have been given to the men in front of you. Go with them as you would have with me or your husband or brother. I love you, and will see you upon the pearly gates before our holy father. -Dad ”
Mary swallowed, looking away from the paper, before she folded it up and shoved it in her dress pocket. Her eyes moved to the strange man who waited patiently for her, watching her and observing her reaction. Studying him shortly, her eyes glazed over in thought before she shook her head. This was a misunderstanding, perhaps? Her father’s only child, and he-he’s giving her away like that? Mary turned from him, wiping her hands on her skirt, swallowing harshly,
“W-what…are you?” Voice breaking, but she took a steady breath, trying to calm, looking up at the strange looking man. He did not seem of her congregation, or even Christian, but somehow had an air of…importance,
“We…have a trade. I apologize…you are part of that trade.” He did not answer her question, instead apologizing,
“Trade…for what? What are you?” she repeated, her eyes darting back to the masked men,
“I am…a priest. Similarly to what you know, and you are to come with us…rather quickly I was told because you have your congregation arriving soon.” he spoke, offering his hand to her and she thought of Eve and the serpent, and grew frightened at the similarity. Mary took a step back- just like that, no goodbye, no feast, or hugs or kisses, thanks- just…just go?
“Please…we don't wish to frighten you.” He extends his hand again, taking a step to approach but she shook her head,
“I…i can’t just leave. Everything? I’ve…” she sighed, “Just…drop everything and go with you? How could I? Does that normally work for you?” she asked but he scoffed,
“We don’t usually just trade for women. But per your customs, you’ve been handed to me, as your father or husband, or brother. I am your keeper now, and you must come with me.” he spoke, having a bite in his tone, his hand still extended,
“Who are you even?” Mary asked him, “And them?” he sighed, looking back at the masked men before looking to her. Thought in his face but it softened for a moment,
“I am…Papa Emeritus the Fourth, but you can call me Copia, it was my given name.” He spoke,
“As for my…friends…they go by Aether and Fire. Now…Mary, please…” Copia held his hand to her, but she shook her head ‘no’,
“Why do you wear a skull on you face? Why do they wear devil masks?” she asked, both stalling but trying to find answers they were not giving her,
“Mary… we don’t want to frighten you-”
“I’m already frighten.” cutting him off and looking up at him, tears falling down her cheeks, “...please…don’t take me, not from everything I’ve ever known.” she told him. Copia gave a sigh, his face having softening, but he turned and walked to the door and wordlessly, the two masked men entered the room, and she took a few steps back as they went to her,
“Don’t…don’t do this!” she yelled, backing away from the men, but there was only one door, in and out. One lunged at her, impossibly quick, grabbed her wrist and pulling her up, and over his shoulder and she felt his hand grip her thigh, holding here there.
“No! Father!” she yelled, reaching out, grabbing the door frame to the room,
“Father!” she yelled, the man holding her turned his head, but the other who didn't hold her grabbed her wrist and pried her hands off the wood of the frame. One of her nails ripped off and she gave a hiss, punching out at the man- fire perhaps was his name? Before hitting the one that held her- Aether. Violence was not something that was advocated for, but the terror in her chest caused her to lash out in ways she otherwise thought she would not have been able to do.
“Dad!” she screamed, no one was there. Empty was the halls as they marched through, though she grew up there, now they seemed to alien and foreign to her. Throwing her hand out to grab at the pillar she knew was going to be there, stopping the procession only a moment, but Fire grabbed her hand and pulled, causing her to grab his wrist as he held her slightly off Aether. Her knees were on Aether's shoulder, and Fire supporter her arms, the feeling if Fire let her go and she'd drop on her head was eminent, but no matter how much she fought Fire he didn't let go. "please...if you have any good in you, please let me go..." Mary begged Fire, now face to face with him, but his emotionless mask only shook 'no'. She looking up as they left the church, finding her father at the door, his head bowed and hands together, a rosary in his hand in prayer,
“Dad…please….” she cried out to him, but he didn’t respond, not even to look up. She felt Aether dip, and Fire let go as Aether pretty much slung her into the back of a vehicle. Though never having been in one, it was a limo, and her knees scrapped against the carpeted flooring as she landed hard. Launching back at the door, Aether slammed it shut, and she hit it with whole body, attempting to open the locked door, before slamming the glass,
“Dad!” she cried, watching the car start up and started to drive off. He stood still where he was, at the door frame, not looking up from his hands as they drove off. Mary’s chest hurt, it felt like it was collapsing, and she struggled to breath. Her hands went to the floor, and she focused on them, trying to breath in, breath out, terrified. She looked up, behind her, finding Copia sitting there, his legs together with his hands on his knees, watching her carefully.