Chapter Text
Phil stands on the edge of the Emeritus Estate, watching. He can feel a familiar presence nearing.
Ernest. He walks up the entrance slowly, as if taking it all in. Phil stays out of sight.
Ernest has scarcely made it to the elaborate front steps when the huge doors spring open and Anita rushes out. She tackles Ernest in a rough embrace and kisses his face over and over. She seems to be laughing and crying simultaneously but Phil keeps his eyes on Ernest’s face as long as he can.
His wet eyes look happy.
His eyes belonged to him once, in a way. Phil had seen that face in a mirror so many times it was hard to think of it otherwise.
He sighs and turns away from the scene. His retraining would already take decades as it was, so he couldn’t delay it any longer.
Ghouls did not get funerals. Mostly because they didn’t die in the traditional sense. If anything the other ghouls threw them a retirement party. Or in the rare case of a banishment, it wasn’t something to celebrate.
It was decided that they would hold a funeral for Ernest and Ernest only. Phil wasn’t to be mentioned. Primo thought it best then that it would be a small ceremony with immediate family but the others had pushed back. What about the ghouls who’d want to say goodbye? An exception was made to allow ghouls to attend but Primo would be the only one to speak to keep the ceremony on track.
The pews in the nave are full, every row past the first containing ghouls from different branches across the country and overseas, minus the air ghoul up at the organ. Ghouls had flooded into the ministry that morning, all dressed in their state mourning uniforms, inky shadows appearing from every dark corner.
Zephyr handled the musical arrangements, practically insisting on it by rejecting all of the music Primo kept suggesting. It was something he was willing to look past, too busy arranging everything else, from the flowers to spaces for all of the visiting ghouls.
He has to fight the urge to turn and scan over all of the ghouls, silently willing them to all remain behaved while he waits to stand and face them again.
The organ’s notes start to slow, growing lighter as the song starts to approach the end. He lets out a slow breath as Eliza squeezes his hand and lets him stand.
Primo’s steps echo on the marble. The silence is only occasionally broken by a sniffle or child’s whisper.
“We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of a dear family member and friend. My great uncle, Ernest.” He stalls, his attention drawn to the section for immediate family where Olivia is leaning over to whisper to Mary. His niece seems to be in a bad mood, and he is momentarily glad the ceremony will be kept short.
He glances back at his notes and continues. “Tragically, I did not get the privilege of knowing Ernest for very long. None of us did, due to his unique circumstance. But I so profoundly appreciated his wisdom, his–”
“No!” Mary talks back to Olivia, pulling away from her in red-faced anger. “Phil was my friend!”
Olivia gives Primo a mortified glance before her and Copia kneel next to the child trying to shush her.
“That’s Phil!” her voice cracks as she points at the body in the casket. Tears start welling in her eyes. “Phil saved me! He! He–”
“Alright,” Copia soothes and picks her up, swiftly making his way out of the nave.
Mary sobs into his neck as she is carried out. Olivia mouths an apology to Primo and rushes after the pair as they exit. The door closes loudly behind them, echoing through the grand space.
The silence that follows feels heavy, pressing down on Primo’s shoulders like bricks. His eyes are stuck on the door, but in his peripheral he can see all of the turned black hoods of the ghouls looking as well.
Heads slowly start returning to look at him as he tightens his grip on his notes. The eyes glowing behind every mask turning back to Primo feel sharper than ever. He clears his throat and looks back down at his notes, taking a moment to collect himself.
His notes speak of Ernest’s sacrifice. Ernest’s sacrifice to save his sister that was wasted by the ghouls and yet… Phil had saved Mary. Phil had protected his beloved Eliza. Didn’t that mean something?
Primo pinches the bridge of his nose carefully to not disturb his paints.
“Here lies a man…” he continues, scanning over the congregation now abandoning his notes. “So ready to forgive the wrongs done to him. Patient and kind. Selflessly devoted to those he loved, even when it meant committing life’s greatest sacrifice. May you hear the chimes, for they toll now for the end. The bells call out their doom to call you come. Can you see the cross? The carrier of the light? May the morning star shine upon you. Siamo con il nostrum dio scuro.”
Eliza tosses her heels and pours her and her husband two large glasses of red after the funeral. With heavy sighs they settle on the sofa. Primo wraps his arm around her shoulders as she settles into his side, eyes lingering on the mountain of books on the coffee table.
”Light reading?” he teases.
”Research,” she says, rolling her eyes as she pulls her feet up onto the sofa underneath her. “I had to get a clear picture of procedure and all angles the clergy could use to prevent the transfer of the imperator position.”
He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his wine, scanning over the spines of some of the books he could see. “And you needed books on ghoul summoning and the hierarchy of hell?”
She gives a small shrug, laying her head back against his shoulder as she closes her eyes. The day was emotional enough without an argument and she doesn’t want to lie to him about the exact nature of her research.
A few tense moments pass where she expects him to start ranting about ghouls again, but his voice is gentle and contemplative as he asks, “Anything on banished ghouls?”
Eliza shifts her head to look up into her husband’s eyes with a soft smile. ”Not much. There are some old legends that could be helpful but…” she sighs and settles back against his chest to look at the dusty tomes. “They’re Medieval Latin. You were always better at interpreting it than me.”
“I’ll look into it first thing tomorrow, amore mio,” he whispers with a kiss to her forehead.
Terzo scans over the mess of boxes laid out around their coffee table, a few towers stacked two or three boxes high, eyes eventually landing on his wife sat across from him on the floor.
It was hard for him to believe that the mother he thought had abandoned him had cared enough to send letters and packages that were able to fill almost all of these boxes.
“Phil organized them well,” Sophie whispers, looking over one of the lists on the front of a box. “Where do you want to start?” She looks over at him with a small smile.
He hums softly, turning to look at the box sat next to him, it contained the newest of the letters. “The most recent I suppose…”
After pulling the lid off, he discovers that Phil had carefully organized each letter by month and year in their own file folders completely unopened.
He carefully pulls the newest folder out and selects the envelope with the newest post mark date. The return address has been stamped over, something that seemed common between all of the envelopes in the folder, but it's the flowing cursive spelling out his name that makes his eyes water.
He turns it over to open it, a smile forming at the heart drawn on the flap, and slips his finger in to break the seal.
“Gio, ” he starts to read, pausing to clear his throat as he takes the length of the letter in his hands. “I heard the news about Imperator and Gemini departing for Rome. I’d say to tell the old bastard my condolences but it seems like they’ll finally be able to rot together exactly how they wanted.”
He can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, glancing up at his wife who was smiling over at him as he shifts the paper in his hands.
“In happier news, this summer has already been pleasantly warm…”