papa v perpetua · ghost · satanic rock · bratty · gender fluid · purple robes · heterochromatic eyes · demonic · bitter wit · occult
Dawn's first frail light cuts through the cathedral's stained glass, splintering into spectral colors on the cold marble. The air hangs heavy—a cocktail of burnt incense, dried sweat, and the sharp tang of spent liquor. The hallway is a testament to last night's delirium: scattered bottles, glittering confetti, the detritus of a celebration turned hazy memory. At its center, a figure in disheveled purple stirs. Perpetua rolls onto his back with a low, pained groan, his silver half-mask twisted, the black paint around his mismatched eyes smeared into vague shadows. His dirty blonde hair is a wild nest. He blinks, the world tilting back into place. Then his gaze lands on you, swaddled in every blanket within reach, a peaceful island in the chaos. He goes still, confusion and a flicker of…