She remembered what it was like to meet Perpetua for the first time. The return of that foreign shyness, the kind she only felt in the presence of the high ranking Emeritus men. Even though he was brand new, it was still enough to intimidate her, to have her clasping her hands together at her waist to keep them steady.
The light bounced off of the shiny silver mask he wore, complimenting the brightness of the smile he delivered. V had entered the room swiftly, wasting not a moment in approaching Frater Imperator and his lady at his side. Despite Copia’s negativity, Alena had watched as his brother engulfed him into a hug, one Copia slowly melted into when he returned it. It was a sweet display, Perpetua having just returned from his touring after months of everyone wondering, when exactly would the long lost twins be reunited? How beautiful that the moment had finally come.
And then Papa had turned to her, grinning at Alena with the same enthusiasm he’d shown his brother. She was almost startled, by how stark the contrast between his eyes was— how much it reminded her of her husband. He extended a hand for her to shake, and only when she had did he finally speak to her,
“My brother’s wife, hm?”
“That’s right,” she couldn’t help but laugh. Alena could tell from the smirk, he was about to take a jab at C and she added, “I’m quite lucky.”
“Well now,” V had glanced between the two of them, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well,” How lovely was it? A new member of the family. And someone so closely related to Copia, no less. The more she examined the visible parts of Papa’s face, the more resemblance she seemed to find of her beloved.
The voices of the two men seemed to fade into the background , as she watched. She remembered when the feeling had begun to stir… a strange sense, and longer she looked at Perpetua , the odder she felt. For having never met or even seen him before, something about him almost teetered on… familiar. Enough to make her squint amidst her studying, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was.
But in the end, she’d given up, deciding it to be nothing more than her nervousness and tired mind. A strange occurrence, but not one worth worrying about. Not when there were so many other things worth celebrating.
And not another thought about it would cross her mind.
———
It was a few weeks later when it happened.
At home she was seated, one-year-old Irene at her feet playing quietly with plush animals. On the television, their movie of choice was cued and ready, while chips and dip waited on the side table for consumption. All was prepared for movie night, the only thing left was their guest.
“He’s here!”
Copia’s voice came from the other side of the room, where he switched the popcorn bowl to his other hand to grab the doorknob. Sure enough, V had arrived, waving to his hosts as he followed his brother toward the couch.
“You haven’t started without me?”
“Of course not,” Alena smiled , patting the cushion beside her, “make yourself at home!”
As Perpetua took his seat, a hand crept to the rim of his silver mask and delicately slid it from his eyes. Relaxing back into the couch, he placed it onto the arm rest. It was hard to look away from such a thing— he never took that mask off. It was, in fact, the first time Alena had ever witnessed such a thing.
His head turned when he must’ve sensed her gaze. But when their eyes locked, Alena’s heart stopped. Her soul left her body. It was a blink, a mere millisecond of recognition, and that was all it took.
Papa had a scar. An old, faded scar that carved a V shape around the outside of his left eye.
And Alena remembered it.
———
3rd Street Bar
2013
This wasn’t really her scene. Not on an average day, no— cuddled up by a nice fire with some tea and good book actually sounded wonderful right now, and yet, Alena had grown so tired with her same old habits. Too long had she been known as ‘the secluded religious girl.’ She long wanted that version of her gone , and if that meant stomaching alcohol she didn’t actually care for while bar hopping with her girls, then so be it.
Claire had been the one to convince her to come. Have some fun, get yourself laid! You may like it more than you think, she’d said. And to her credit, the night had started off pretty fun. It was hard to go too wrong when Alena was with the people she loved.
The music was loud, but not unbearable. The drunken chatter of people around them was enough to drown out the voice in Alena’s head, the one telling her she’d rather be home. All too suddenly, Claire grabbed had grabbed her arm, causing her to whip her head around.
“Hey-?”
“Look,” the blonde motioned with her head, to just a few feet away where a man was leaning against the counter. He was quite tall , lean, with short dark curls and surprisingly formal attire despite the fact that they were in a pretty dingy bar. He was definitely a little bit older too, certainly a sore thumb amidst the other patrons. She raised a brow.
“What about him?”
“Look what he’s wearing.”
Alena hadn’t noticed at a glance, but sure enough: upon her second look and a turn of his head, she realized half his face was covered by a white mask, which halted at the line of his nose. Instantly, she grew intrigued.
“Woah.” Her friend pushed her.
“Go talk to him!”
“Are you crazy?”
Claire’s laugh was tipsy, “I dare you.”
“Dare me? What are we, ten?”
“I’ll give you twenty bucks.”
Alena rolled her eyes. As childish as Claire was being, there was a part of her that was very interested in this mysterious stranger. The attire was so specific, somewhat alluring, she had to wonder how there wasn’t a flood of women around him already.
And before she could give it a second thought , she approached.
“—forgive me for being abrupt,” Alena placed her empty glass on the counter beside him, and pulled the stool out to take a seat. For a moment, when he looked at her, she felt a panic surge in her chest. What was she doing? Where was this even supposed to go? She didn’t know, but it was definitely too late to back out. “I wanted to say, I like your outfit.”
His stare was intense. Those sharp green eyes, piercing into her soul… a contrast between the softness in his smile. “Thank you,” he replied, “you look nice as well.”
“You must get asked this a lot,” perhaps she was drunker than she thought, taking such a bold move, “..but.. what’s the mask for?”
The stranger laughed, reaching up to tap the white plastic, “just a bit of a… an injury. I prefer to hide it.”
Alena nodded, “taking.. inspiration from a certain phantom?” And the man grinned from ear to ear.
“I suppose I am. Could I, ah,” he cleared his throat, “-buy you a drink?”
More forward than Alena anticipated. But after all, why not? He was friendly enough, somewhat nervous-seeming, even. She didn’t feel that same cautiousness she usually had around men in these situations. With a nod, she replied,
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
———
With each stroke of his hips, he grunted in her ear.
Alena was pinned to the bed, eyes closed and breathing deeply as she allowed the man above her to do as he pleased . Was she a stranger to this? Not remotely. Had she expected to end up in an unknown apartment at two o’clock in the morning?
Well… yes.
Her heartbeat was loud, fingers spreading up and across his back, pale skin ridged and scarred. She was slowly losing herself in the sinful ecstasy, whoever this man was, he surely knew what he was doing.
She felt teeth trace over her neck and tilted her head back , allowing the stranger to nibble, to bite. A moan was drawn from her lips and when he lifted his head, she found her hand sweeping to cup his cheek.
One finger slid below the mask. And then another. Would he stop her? He certainly wasn’t making the effort to, simply staring downward with watery eyes and lips parted in heavy groans. Why she was even doing this, Alena didn’t know. Her every action was clouded by pleasure, numbed knowing she’d reach her climax very soon. But despite not caring much about the people she fooled with , knowing she’d never see him again— she still wanted to see his face. Just once.
He didn’t flinch when she took the mask off. He didn’t do anything about it, in fact. But he was so far gone at that moment, perhaps he hadn’t even noticed what she’d done.
He wasn’t lying about his ‘injury’. A deep scar decorated that half of his face, surrounding his eye in such a specific shape, she had to wonder what on earth had caused such a thing. But Alena hadn’t a moment to ponder it.
He suddenly bit down on her shoulder, driving his hips as hard against hers as he could, and producing a cry from the lady beneath him. In nothing but the light of the moon casting in from the window, they came together, the mask now long discarded onto the wooden floor.
There was never any mention of it. By his side she’d fall asleep, and when she awoke it was only four. She got up and dressed, passing one final glance back at her one-night-stand still resting, wondering if she might ever know why this particular man was so odd, even though deep down, she knew she never would. She took her leave, then, and never looked back.
———
The Ministry
2023
When Irene began to cry, her papa was quick to scoop her up. He patted her back and rocked her, tutting when nothing seemed to be working.
“I’ll be right back, scusi,” Frater nodded to the two seated on the couch, before carrying the baby out of the room.
The silence was deafening.
Alena stared down at the floor, not daring to look over at Perpetua in this moment. She must’ve been visibly sweating.
It just couldn’t be.
It couldn’t.
What kind of cruel, sick joke was the devil trying to play on her? Over and over in her mind, she tried to tell herself she must be crazy.
This just couldn’t be real.
Not once had she even thought of that night since it occurred. Not once until now. Beside her, Perpetua was anxiously tapping one finger against his knee.
I must be losing it, her mind ran. Utterly at a loss.
And that was when Perpetua spoke. Shallowly, quietly, hardly one level above a whisper.
“…I thought you looked familiar.”
Special thank you to my beloved @sillysillystars for coming up with the original idea for this! As always, thank you for reading <3
the way that there’s people on twt that genuinely believe that if mel was forced to choose between langdon and santos in an argument on that first shift, that she would choose santos. they genuinely think this. like they believe this
Rumi stronger than me because if fine shyt sang with me and harmonized with me about being freed from the tethers of reality just to say to my face "It was all a lie. I just needed you to trust me." I would have given him claw marks to match those patterns. And not in the sexy way.
