There has been a bit of a stirring in the Abbey recently.

It does not matter that there are others much more qualified to handle this. No, why would it? He’s Papa, which apparently means that any problem anyone has is one he needs to concern himself with even if he has no experience. Because that makes perfect sense.

The problem is a little ghoul pup. Or cub. Or whatever it is they call their young.

None of the ghouls in the Abbey have claimed them and no member of the Clergy will admit to summoning them. For one so young to be alone for so long… it’s concerning. Worrisome, even.

Or that’s how it was explained to him. Perpetua doesn’t know much about ghouls. With his own retinue of mostly inherited ghouls, he hasn’t had much other choice but to learn. Those ghouls are fully grown and had well-documented summonings, which is incomparable.

The ghoul pup is a young, unruly, and wild little thing. In tune with their instincts and unhappy with existing otherwise, rules and instructions mean nothing to them. Every effort made to get them to listen is wasted. They’d growled and bit and snapped until none of the Siblings wanted to come near them.

Now Perpetua is in the line of fire. He’d been prepared by his ghouls (with advice that was unhelpful), given a pep talk by Copia (which was brief and wildly dispassionate), and then sent on his merry way.

Only a few weeks into this new responsibility of his and Perpetua is confused. Mostly. Endeared, maybe, but primarily bewildered.

With him, the pup is less defiant. They are still rowdy—which seems to be an immutable characteristic of theirs—but they are willing to listen if he’s the one asking. Occasionally, if they feel up to it. It’s a considerably better situation then when they’d never listen at all.

Perpetua’s unsure why they’ve decided that he’s who’ll they listen to. There’s nothing about him that’s different than everyone else who’s attempted to break through to them. His ghouls had offered a variety of theories, though none of them had sounded convincing.

He’s partial to Haze’s idea the most, though. Mostly because it wasn’t like some of the more concerning hypotheses (Dew had posited that they’d come from Hell to steal Perpetua’s soul, while Cirrus swore that they’d somehow managed to get a taste of his blood).

“Maybe they’ve just decided they like you,” Haze had suggested. At the time, the devilish little thing in question had been sat in the corner, chewing stubbornly on a teething toy Phantom had gotten them as a joke. “Could be your hair, your voice-” then, she’d smiled teasingly, “-or your fangs.”

If Perpetua allowed himself a moment to be… sappy, then he’d say that the little one’s arbitrary favoritism is sweet. Something he’s come to appreciate, perhaps. When they aren’t acting like chaos given physical form, the little ghoul is cute (or as cute as a hellish being could truly be).

~~Perpetua can see himself caring for them for a long time.~~

Nothing quite compares to when everything slows down and Perpetua can steal away to his room, his little shadow trailing after him. He’ll change from his daily vestments and into something comfortable, settle in on the couch after popping a cassette into the VCR, and relax.

After enough time, the pup will join him. They’ll disappear for a while, then come back change from their usual ghoul uniform into pajamas. Maybe they’ll waste some time making a mess of their things or add to the hoard Perpetua pretends not to know about. Whatever it is they do, they always end up right next to Perpetua.

They’re quieter, almost docile, when they do crawl onto the couch. It’s hard to remember how many things they’ve broken in the Abbey when they’re like this. Oh, there are still clues, of course— Perpetua’s not sure they could sit still for too long and be happy about it—but it’s all so subdued in comparison to what he’s used to.