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You let out another high pitched whine as thunder shook the Abbey, ears sinking lower and lower as rain continued to pound against the windows outside. The wind was raging too, whistling in the trees and making the rain crash harder into the bricks and glass protecting you from the elements. Some of the siblings of sin found it funny, saying “how could a ghoul be afraid of the elements? You guys have elemental magic.”
Yeah, for a normal ghoul that had been around for hundreds of years this was nothing, but you had most definitely not been around for hundreds of years. You were nothing more than a kit, terrified by all the sensory disturbances in your environment, your tail curling around you as you clutched a stuffed Baphomet you had been gifted by Papa himself.
You curled tighter into your blankets in your room, your scent permeating the space to the point that the smell of your own fear terrified you more. You could hear muffled talking outside your room, your ears barely perking up at the noise. The door cracked open and Papa’s head poked in, Swiss’s head poking in right above him, trying to get a good look at you from his place behind the other man. “Bambino, we are in a severe storm warning. We need to go down to the basement,” Papa said softly, entering the room and crossing the threshold to your bed.
You whined, your eyes darting to the window then back to his face, your muscles beginning to tremble as anxiety spread in your gut, sour and all-consuming. Copia sat on the edge of the bed, stroking your hair softly as he spoke, “yes, little one, we do. Everything is going to be okay, we just have to wait it out a bit where all of us are the safest.”
Another loud clap of thunder rang out, shaking the earth and making you about jump out of your skin, your heart lurching in your chest. Sharp claws sank into the material of the Baphomet stuffie, although you were too terrified to notice, the spade of your tail still whipping around as a byproduct of your anxiousness.
Papa wrapped you up in his arms, hushing you as he took both you, the blanket you were wrapped in, and your plushie and picked you up. You buried your face in his neck, tears threatening to spill over as they stung at your eyes. Papa ran his hand up and down your back, his lips pressing a kiss to your head as quickly strode out of the room with you in his arms. “I know, caro. I know. You’re shaking, you poor thing,” Papa commented in a low murmur, making quick strides towards the ministry’s basement where the rest of the siblings and ghouls were gathering, all of them dragged from bed for the sake of the storm outside.
“Hey kit!” Aether called when Papa entered the room with you, already smelling how anxious you were–not that he needed to, he could feel the tug of your tether through his quintessence anyways–the other ghouls’ heads perking up at the announcement.
You didn’t say anything, your face burying farther into Papa’s neck as you clung tightly to him, terrified he was going to let you go. Papa simply shook his head at Aether, letting him know that you were going to need some time before you were willing to talk; you couldn’t help it, the constant crashes of thunder and strikes of lightning ratcheting your anxiety up.
Copia sat down in one of the recliners they had set up in the basement, adjusting you in his lap so your face was pressed into his chest, his arms cradling you as he rocked back and forth. His chest vibrated as he sang softly, some lullaby you couldn’t quite understand because he was singing in his native Italian. You nuzzled further into him, trembling but less so as his body heat began to transfer to your body, your comfortable position on his lap helping you relax.
You rubbed at your eyes with a balled up fist, whimpering from tiredness. Papa chuckled, pulling your blanket around you and adjusting it so you were wrapped up tight. “There we are, all comfy. Papa’s here, little ghoul. It’ll be alright,” he cooed warmly, pressing Baphomet further into your body.
His hand went back to stroking your arm, the rhythmic circles he was making with his thumb making you calm down, albeit slowly. You didn’t pay attention to the time, too caught up in Papa rocking you back and forth and how he sang softly in Italian, the vibration of his chest sparking your own purring. “Sleepy, Papa,” you muttered tiredly, all the terror of the last hour or so making you feel exhausted.
“That’s alright,” he answered, pressing a kiss between the small horns on your head, “just go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe, little one. The storm will be over soon.”
You nuzzled into him again, purring with delight, your Baphomet clutched tightly between your small arms. You closed your eyes, trusting that your Papa would stay true to his words and keep you safe, your tail wrapping around him as best as you could manage. You had finally drifted off when Papa smiled and kissed your forehead once more, “goodnight, piccolo. Sweet dreams.”