Chapter Text
11pm, and owing to the long lunch break she had taken with the other sisters, her chores were not yet complete. Luckily, there was only one last task on her list before she could retire for the night, back to the sisters’ quarters, and maybe even read one more chapter of her book before she gave in to slumber. Unfortunately, that last task was to tidy the band’s practice room.
When she had passed by the practice room earlier in the day, she had heard some of the ghouls arguing, and hissing at each other like feral creatures. She had scurried along as quickly as possible, keen to stay out of sight. She anticipated that they might have made quite a mess of the place, and had heard from one of the other sisters that she could hear their screeches continue in their den later in the afternoon.
In truth, the ghouls frightened her more than she liked to admit. Something about their lingering stares and sneaky grins made her feel uncomfortable, especially when they locked eyes, perfectly still except for a dancing tail. The small one they call Dew, which seemed much too sweet a name, in particular always made a shiver run down her spine.
Turning down the corridor, she was pleased to not hear any sound from the practice room, confirming they had all left. Just to be safe, she pressed her ear to the door, before pushing it open a centimetre. Empty. Also, to her surprise, the room was almost completely tidy, save a small pile of drumsticks on the floor next to the kit. The guitars were neatly placed in their mounts, the table was clear of cups, and the sofa cushions were plumped.
She placed her cleaning supplies on the sideboard by the door, and went over to collect the sticks, checking the floor for anything else that might need more attention. As she did she heard the door behind her swing open. With a gasp, she turned to see a tall ghoul standing behind her. She jumped up, and instinctively stepped backwards.
“Sorry to startle you,” came a low, gentle voice. His politeness surprised her almost as much as his presence. He cocked his head slightly, and she caught her own reflection in his mask. He was dressed in black jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt, both with a loose fit. He wore no shoes, just plain black socks which went up past his ankles.
“I’m sorry,” she squealed, “I thought it was empty, I will leave.” She stepped to leave, until she realised that he was blocking her path. There was something so clearly inhuman about him, including his scent, which instantly transported her to walking through the woods behind her childhood home after a heavy rainfall. It was like being wrapped in a memory, heady and woody and warm and revitalising.
“We made a real mess earlier,” he continued, unmoving. “Dew and Cirrus had a bit of a catfight, so I wanted to come back and clean up. And then I decided to just play a bit more to calm myself down before bed.”
Something about his stoic tone calmed her heart rate down enough to form a coherent reply. “You didn’t need to do that, but thank you.”
“What’s your name, sister?”
“Lilith”, she replied quietly.
“Lilith,” he repeated. Her name sounded different in his mouth. Like a dance on his tongue. She’d never really liked her name before, but hearing him say it gave her a new perspective. “I’m Mountain.” He took a step closer to her, with his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, sister Lilith, I promise.” He smiled meekly.
She blushed, and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I’ve never really met a ghoul before. And when I’ve had… encounters… in the past…”
Mountain laughed. “You’ve probably had a run in with Dew or Swiss,” he admitted, “who do revel in trying to spook out the sisters. We’re not so scary, I swear.”
“You are demons, summoned from the depths of hell…” she countered.
He nodded, “that’s true,” he conceded, “but even hell can be quite charming.”
“Really?”
“Well, no, but anyway.” He relaxed his posture, and moved over towards the sofa. “Have you been here long, sister?” He gestured for her to join him, and despite her previous hesitance, she did.
“Actually I was born here. My mother was also a Sister of Sin, serving Papa Nihil.”
“And yet you’ve avoided the ghouls your entire life!” He laughed. “That’s quite a skill! Was your father in the clergy?”
Lilith shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Mother told me I was a gift from Satan himself, but she never elaborated further.” She shuffled back in her seat, and crossed her legs beneath her. Mountain leaned back too, spreading his long arms across the back of the sofa. His hand almost reached across to her shoulder, and she snuck a look at his fingers. His palm was wide, but proportional to his height, while his fingers were longer. His skin was slightly grey tinted, and darkened towards his fingertips. He had long black nails, which were pointed at the end. Again, she was struck by close to human he looked, but how her brain distinctly knew he was not.
He chucked, seeing her gaze lingering, and turned over his palms for further inspection.
Feeling more confident she reached forward to touch his palm. She expected his skin to be cold, but it felt very normal. There were light callouses across his fingers, presumably roughened from his grip on his drum sticks. Her touch lingered on his smooth palms, until she met his eyes and realised she was simply holding his hand.
“You have lovely eyes,” he said softly. “They’re almost lavender coloured, just a hint of something more than blue.” She frowned slightly, having never really thought of them as anything more than common. Looking back into his eyes, through the small holes in the mask, she could see little but darkness. As he smiled, she glimpsed… fangs? They were certainly longer than human canines, and sharper. Were they longer when we was unglamoured?
“Can I see your face?” she whispered, reaching for his mask.
Mountain tilted his head, and rolled his shoulders. He was visibly uncomfortable.
“I would prefer no… If you don’t mind.” Seeing her disappointment, he reached forward to rest his other hand on her arm comfortingly. “But it’s only because... it’s not my face. My appearance is glamoured you know? I am in a human-like form, but it’s not how I really look. I don’t like this face.” He sounded mournful.
“Why do you play in your glamoured form?” She enquired.
“We have to on stage, so we always play this way, so it’s familiar. And we mostly stay that way unless we are in the den, so we don’t frighten the sisters. Or frighten them less.” He chuckled.
“Can I see you unglamoured then?”
He laughed. It was a genuine, relaxed laugh, and the sound rumbled like thunder. “You were scared to be within five metres of me a while ago, and now you want to see the big scary demon ghoul? No, you’re not ready for that. Maybe next time.”
“Next time?” she smiled, and he nodded.
“I’m sure you’ll see me again, sister.”
She smiled, and whispered, “I hope so.”
There was a moment of easy silence between them, in which she became aware of the still quick pace of her heartbeat. Was she flirting with him? Was he flirting with her? Before she could ponder this further, he moved to stand.
“You should go to bed sister, it’s after midnight.” He leant forward, and offered his hand. She took it, and he raised her to her feet.
“Yes, you’re right. I should.” She had not yet let go of his hand.
Another moment of silent passed, before she reluctantly took her hand back, and walked to the door.
“Good night, Mountain. Sleep well.”
***
Later, lying in bed, she held her own hand under the duvet, imagining his touch.
“Mountain,” she whispered, rolling the letters around her mouth, quietly so as not to wake the other sisters. She smiled to herself.
***
At the same time, Mountain returned to the den. Some of the ghouls had gone to sleep, but several remained in the common area, lounging about on the sofas and munching on snacks. Cirrus and Dew were amongst them, bodies wrapped around each other, and quarrel clearly behind them.
“What kept you so long?” Phantom chirped from the floor, where he was receiving a back massage from Aurora.
Mountain smiled to himself. “Nothing terrible.” He waved goodnight and slipped off to his nest.
Inside, he hung up his mask on the hook, and peeled off his clothes, folding them neatly onto the ottoman. Finally, he released his glamour. He cracked his back, ruffled his silky ears, and snuggled into his bed. Breathing in the comforting smell of petrichor that drifted about his room, filled as it was with plants on every surface, he wriggled his long limbs into a comfortable ball, and rubbed his hands together soothingly.
“Lilith,” he whispered under his breath, smiling.