Chapter Text
Your hair whipped around your face in the wind, your cheeks and nose stinging from the onslaught of freezing air. So early in the morning, the sun only just peeking over the horizon, you had no relief from the bitter cold that gripped the air. You quickened your footsteps, hoping to warm up your muscles- or simply get out of the cold faster. Hiking your bag up higher on your shoulder, you sniffed as you rounded the corner, seeing the clouds of mist emerging from your lips. This was an awful morning to walk to work. You had only realized this fact when you were more than halfway there, and decided that it wouldn't be worth turning back for an extra coat or sweater. Not that you had much choice besides walking- you lived within two miles of the abbey, and had decided that buying a car just to drive back and forth two miles was ridiculous. You cursed your own practicality. If you were honest with yourself, the commute was the worst part of your job. Truly, the walk wasn't awful ¾ of the year, but early January mornings like this made you regret being sensible. Everything was dead, and cold, and you often found yourself stopping into the office kitchenette before the office itself for tea. You had decided that it was alright, as long as you brought Copia a cup back with you. He hardly complained when you did- in your years as his assistant, you had learned exactly how he liked his tea- to the point where he asked you to make it for him, even if he was fully available to make his own. If you weren't busy, you’d roll your eyes, tease him about being spoiled and make it. This was just one of the many little routines the two of you had created. In the winters- tea before paperwork, in the spring and fall, coffee in the gardens at lunchtime. The perks of actually liking your boss, you supposed.
You glanced at your watch and felt your stomach drop. You had to be at work in three minutes, and you were at least ten minutes away. You nearly doubled your pace, muttering some rendition of “Shit shit s hit shit SHIT”. You had never been late. Your punctuality was part of the reason you were so good at your job, and suddenly, you were just- running late? How did you even do that? You swore the time on your apartment clock was earlier than the time that you usually left, but obviously not. You could already hear Sister Imperator’s voice.
“The cardinal is a very busy man! We must always be efficient- and on time, Sister” The older woman’s already pinched face had seemed to screw into itself as she scolded you- on your first day of the job. You nodded, smiled politely at her. You had been exactly on time, and had waited in her office, as instructed. You had wondered if she was scolding herself more than you. She was the late one- and after all, you had been hired for your punctuality- she had said so in your interview. You had been a bit surprised that Cardinal Copia himself hadn't interviewed you, considering it was him you would be assisting. Sister imperator had only shaken her head.
“The cardinal has trusted me to handle finding an assistant. He doesn’t have the time or schedule to be conducting interviews-” She gave a short laugh. “One of the reasons he needs an assistant. But really, you’ll be a fantastic addition to the abbey staff.”
Now, years later, You were slamming the front door of the nave shut behind you, trying to outrun another gust of freezing wind. Normally, you would have stopped to admire the stained glass, the pews, inhale the comforting scent of incense, and appreciate the warmth that enveloped you, but you were too occupied ripping your gloves off and hurrying into the administrative hallway. Your coat on your arm, one glove still pinched between your teeth, and hair wild from the wind, you threw open the door to the office- praying to Satan and all his demons that Copia had gone to his early meeting without you and wouldn’t notice your tardiness.
When you opened the door, you came to the conclusion that Satan was a cruel master. Sister Imperator turned from where she sat in front of the desk, across from Copia. The two of them were wearing matching looks of surprise, mirrored versions of one another. Your stomach may as well have been in your shoes. A moment of tense, surprised silence filled the room.
“I am so sorry I’m late- I completely lost track of time on my walk over.” You blurted. Copia glanced down at his watch, then up at Sister Imperator, then back to you.
‘Ah- Sorella , You're actually early.” His brow creased. “Is everything alright?” He asked. Sister Imperator furrowed her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. Even in this moment of scrutiny and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but notice just how similar the two of them looked. Your cheeks burning with ferocity, you looked down at your watch, which read 8:15. You were supposed to have been in the office at 8.
“...What time is it?” You panted, breath still escaping you, looking up at Copia.
“7:50” He replied, folding his hands on his desk. You pressed a hand to your mouth.
“My watch is fast- oh lord below I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to bust in and interrupt-” You began again, placing your things on your small desk. Copia gave a soft laugh and waved his hand.
“ Girasole, it’s alright. Come, it’s probably better that you're here- Sister Imperator has information about the tour.” He gave a kind smile, gesturing to the other chair in front of his desk, to Sister Imperator’s right. You smiled at the nickname. Having been Copia’s assistant since before his ascension, the two of you were far past the point of a first-name basis. He only consistently called you “ Sorella ” in front of Sister Imperator. You still called him “Papa”, more as a term of endearment than anything else- and he most often called you Girasole . That nickname had originated the first day you had begun working for Copia, when he was a cardinal. You took a seat next to Sister Imperator. She pursed her lips as Copia turned back to her. “You were saying?”
“Well, there's been a hiccup. With the tour.” She began. Copia tilted his head. You furrowed your eyebrows. Sister Imperator took a breath. “Your tour manager dropped out. Some family emergency- I’m not sure.” She sighed. Copia raised his eyebrows.
“Dropped out- well are they getting us a replacement?” He asked. You looked at Sister Imperator, eyes wide.
“Unfortunately not. They won't be able to get someone out to us until three weeks from now. I would go, but I can't travel, with my health-” She sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. “We’re going to have to cancel the tour.”
“Cancel? That- it would cause so many issues-” Copia began. He dropped a hand down to the table. “Surely there is something we can do?”
Sister Imperator shook her head, sighing.
“We don’t have anybody who can fill in here- and you can’t be expected to keep track of all of this on your own, in addition to performing.” She said, You looked down at your notebook, then back at the two of them. Canceling the tour would cause the church to lose thousands of dollars-months of careful planning, rehearsals and meetings would have been for nothing. You would have to call and change hundreds of hotel reservations, which had been burned into your brain creating itineraries and binders of information for this tour manager, who you didn’t think was truly even invested. Your eyes widened for a moment. You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you looked- you could feel your hair sticking up in all different directions, your outfit was probably still wrinkled from your frantic dash in. No matter how ridiculous it seemed, it was better than the alternative of no tour at all. You took a breath.
“I could go,” You said. Both Copia and Sister Imperator turned to you. Copia’s eyebrows were still raised, he had almost completely stopped in his tracks. Sister Imperator tilted her head. “I mean-I helped plan almost every part of the tour. I know the schedule like the back of my hand.” Sister Imperator raised her eyebrows. You pressed your shoulders back as the two glanced at each other.
“...I suppose you are correct,” Sister Imperator said, nodding slowly. “You know all the dates and reservations- but, planning a tour, and actually being on one are two totally different animals” She explained. Copia nodded solemnly. He turned fully towards you, extending a hand for emphasis.
“Months away from home, on call basically all the time- We couldn’t ask you to do that, Sorella. ” Copia said. You shrugged.
“Good thing I’m offering, then.” You replied. Copia raised his eyebrows, meeting your eye. You looked back. He had learned not to doubt you in the past few years, and had learned time and time again how stubborn, and committed you were- if you said you were going to do something, you were going to do it. The familiar look of determination came over your features. Copia nodded, sighed gently, but nodded.
“Well, if there is anybody who is capable of solving a crisis, it would be you,” He said. He looked pointedly at Sister Imperator, who’s brow was still creased with concern. “Need I remind anybody of the Yule Incident?” You gave a small smile as Sister Imperator shook her head with a shiver. The “Yule Incident” was one of the most memorable days of your career- involving fire, several shattered baubles, three missing ghouls, loose turtle doves, some baby-mama-drama and an irreparable chasuble, that day had lived in infamy at the abbey. You believed it was the day that you and Copia had become friends.
“No, you do not. I remember quite well.” Sister Imperator chuckled, a small smile spreading across her face. You laughed.
“Don’t we all?” This drew a laugh even from Copia. He leaned back in his chair.
“Then it is settled. Sorella will manage the tour- have you made any cancellations yet?” Copia asked. Sister Imperator shook her head and rose from her chair.
“I have not- but I will get you a plane ticket-” She turned to you, giving one of her rare, genuine smiles. “-And everything you’ll need for the tour. We really do appreciate this, Sister. It saves the church one enormous headache.” She hurried to the door.
“The tour is back on!” With that, she stepped out and shut the door. You listened to the clicking of her heels go down the hallway and into her office. You leaned back in your chair with a huff, running a hand through your hair, attempting to smooth the wind swept strands. Your gaze went from the bookshelves on the opposite side of the office, back to Copia, who had raised an eyebrow in your direction. A teasing grin spread across his face.
“What?” You asked, your own smile rising . Copia leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“You know, Girasole, if you wanted to join us on tour that badly, we would’ve gladly let you come” He joked. “I hope you didn’t do anything too awful to that manager’s family.”
You rolled your eyes and stood, tossing your notebook onto your desk.
“Please, a few months of having the office to myself sounded wonderful. But once again, you have proven that things fall apart when they aren't under my direct supervision.” You stepped over to the door. “Since I seem to be the responsible one here, I’m going to make some tea.”
“Would you get me a mug, per favore?” Copia smiled up at you, picking up a pen to continue filling out the stack of paperwork he had on his desk. You nodded and turned to head to the kitchenette. Before you could walk out fully, Copia spoke again. “ Girasole,”
“Papa?” You replied, turning to him once again. You placed a hand on your hip, raising an eyebrow. Copia gestured toward the left side of your face.
“You have a leaf in your hair.” He said, eyes twinkling with mirth. You felt heat rise to your cheeks again as your hand went toward your hair, pulling the small yellow leaf out. Copia smirked.
“Very professional,” He teased. You rolled your eyes and flicked the leaf in his direction before walking out towards the kitchenette. As you started the kettle, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet, you thought about the next few months, and what was to come. You would be on the road for roughly three months, away from your home, your friends, your family. If something happened, you would most likely be caught in a country where you didn’t know the language. You would have to pack three months worth of clothes, and find somebody to check in on your apartment and plants-all with less than twenty four hours notice. Not to mention you had been a personal assistant for years, but had never managed anything more than a high school play's worth of set changes- and even then, you had broken two set pieces and left a random chair on stage for an entire act. Managing an entire tour’s worth of hotel rooms, buses, flights, instruments, equipment- the thought made you queasy.
The kettle dinged, and you jumped as you were pulled out of your thoughts. You placed the tea bags and poured the water over them, watching for just the right shade before pouring the milk and honey and splash of vanilla into Copia’s mug. You walked down the hallway, your mind creating a list of everything that could possibly go wrong.
You had never traveled for this long and you were 60% sure your passport was expired. You had no time to properly prepare, and would probably have to stay up all night packing. You had no experience managing tours, and you had heard hundreds of stories of how wildly wrong things could go on tour- ghouls going missing, canceled venues and hotel rooms. Your stomach twisted as you pushed the door to the office open with your shoulder. This was a terrible idea. Why on earth had you volunteered yourself?
You looked up from the mugs and saw Copia smiling at you from his desk. You felt the tension in your chest break, letting out a sigh as you handed him his mug, returning his smile.
“Grazi”. You nodded in return, and before you could warn him, he sipped the still scalding hot tea. He fanned his now burned tongue and mouth. You started laughing- this was probably the hundredth time this had happened- Copia could never feel the warmth of the mug through his gloves, and he never waited long enough to hear the warning you always attempted to issue.
Everything could go wrong, yes. You were unprepared, and grossly underqualified, yes. You were going on tour on an impulse, yes. As you sat at your desk for what would be the last time in months, only one thought surfaced above the roiling sea of anxiety.
Bring it on.