No Fond Farewells

The air was heavy and still as the faithful followers of the Church of sulfur gathered around the closed casket. Father Oleander was no longer with them and it still hadn’t settled in how they’d never see the sleazy priest around again. Father Jasper surveilled the scene closely, taking in all the grieving faces with his own passive one. Truthfully Jasper was surprised that it took this long for Oleander to, literally, dance his way into bed with trouble. The Priest made sure he had his own mask of sorrow on, others glancing at him to witness a rare moment of (faked) vulnerability. He watched as Mercy stood from the pews and made their way to the front of the church. Dove and Jackal were seated in the front pews, himself in the second row behind them next to his beloved pet, Chantelle, and beside the both of them was the wailing wench Sorrow. Jasper noticed one of the thorns in his sides, Lucius was missing, but thought nothing of it. Truthfully he was thankful to have one less pain to deal with, as he was growing tired of listening to all the sniveling and crying from all around the church. Mercy began giving her speech, marking the true beginning of the funeral.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the life of Father Oleander–”

Mercy’s shaking voice rang out over the crowd. Jasper tuned out her words and instead focused on her body language, the dazed expression on her face. She looked sad, nervous, and overwhelmingly tired. His focus drifted instead to the lovebirds in front of them, Dove clinging for dear life onto Jackal as they weeped softly. It  made him look down at the smaller bun beside him, watching Chantelle with a critical eye. His own lover shook like a leaf, holding in their sobs. Jasper stared for a moment before making the choice to wrap his arm around them and pressed the little nun into his side. Chantelle stiffened at the sudden moment before relaxing when Jasper whispered in a soothing tone,

“Settle, my lamb.” Running his hand through their long hair, he let his eye drift to the mess that was Sorrow. The nun always grated on his nerves and it didn’t help that now he was getting the full display of their namesake. Sorrow took their profession as a mourner very seriously, one could believe that Oleander and Sorrow were extremely close (which wasn’t the case at all). Jasper soothed his annoyance by placing a soft kiss on Chantelle’s head, petting them as he did so.  He turned back to the front, listening to Mercy go on about Oleander’s achievements in the church and what an outstanding man he was. Jasper didn’t find it very engaging but then again, funerals weren’t exactly the peak of entertainment. 

Jasper thought back on Oleander, now that was entertainment. Oleander was similar to another lustful priest Jasper knew well. Lucius and Oleander were like two peas in a pod, always looking to seduce their way into someone’s pants. Oleander was a dedicated worshipper of sin, their lust for all knew no bounds. Jasper couldn’t count the amount of times that the lust succubun tried to seduce them to help “loosen him up”. Jasper did not need any help with that. He already had the perfect lamb to help with any troubles he may have. Jasper focused back to the present, his eyes straying once more to his crying Chantelle. 

Even in their pain they were beautiful to him. Chantelle looked back up at him, sensing his gaze, with their wide, watery eyes. Jasper gave them a soft smile, wiping away a stray tear on their face. The nun clutched onto Jasper, seeking reassurance and the very fact made Jasper want to laugh. He leaned closer to Chantelle and whispered,

“Scared, darling? That I might vanish like our dear Oleander?” His deep voice spoke in a soothing drawl. Chantelle looked shocked and scared of the worries that were spoken out loud, clutching onto the fabric of his priest uniform more fiercely than before. Jasper’s smile turned sadistic and pleased, moving his own hand to hold theirs tightly.

“Of course, my poor lamb is frightened. What would you do without me, hm? Can you imagine being in Mercy’s place at my funeral?” Chantelle’s eyes turned to the mournful figure of the head nun before looking back at Jasper with devastated eyes, choking back a sob at imagining the scene Jasper painted. The priest hummed in amusement, and kissed the top of Chantelle’s head. 

“I know, I know. Hush your worries. I would never leave you, I know how lost you would be without your shepherd to guide you.” Jasper cooed. The entire exchange had him tickled and his previous sour mood had turned around at seeing his pet so frightened and longing for his guiding hand to stay even in the future. Their exchange was quiet, only for their own ears as everyone else was absorbed in the ongoing funeral. 

Jasper tucked their trembling pet into their side, almost hiding the smaller figure from view. He tuned back into Mercy’s now emotional speech (shocked that the nun was still speaking.) and painted his face back to a look of sadness. The rest of the speech Jasper played his part of a grieving fellow priest perfectly, even shedding a tear or two when he felt wandering eyes upon him. Once Mercy had finished, they were free to stand and mingle among each other, while they prepared to move the casket. 

Jasper took the time to help Chantelle up alongside himself, making sure the frail nun was following at his side as he moved into the aisle of the church. The soft murmur of conversation rose around them as everyone started to speak to each other about the late-priest. Jasper straightened his garments, the black attire a far cry from his usual pure white robes and painted him the picture of an angel of death. He looked back at the other nun, Sorrow, who was still weeping in the pews and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jasper instead plastered on an empathetic smile the would fool the best of them and leaned over the pews close to them,

“Your performance is beginning to grate on my ears. Please stand up and cease your wailing.” His voice was a harsh hiss in Sorrow’s ear and quiet enough that only the two of them could hear his words. The mourner looked up with tear filled eyes and sniffled as they tried to contain themselves. Sorrow was the picture of misery as they wobbled to their feet, trying to obey Jasper’s words to avoiding hearing more harsh words spoken at them. The priest watched on with a neutral mask as Sorrow drifted away from them and into the arms of their lover, a funeral director from what Jasper had heard (an ironic pair). 

Just as Jasper was about to turn, a pair of arms slipped around his waist,

“What fun you must be having, fooling the flock into believing you care about this whole affair.” Lucius whispered in his ear, their voice dripped with amusement and flirtation. Jasper felt a vein in his neck throb in annoyance, hoping to avoid this priest for the rest of the funeral. He inhaled slowly and turned to face the pride succubun with a calm smile. 

“And you must be enjoying yourself too, if you are well enough to hang off of me even now.” Jasper gripped the arms that circled him and removed them from around him. Lucius let out a warm chuckle and continued to invade Jasper’s personal space despite the other priest having stepped back.

“Don’t be that way, Jasper~ Haven’t you ever heard that funeral sex is to die for.” Lucius purred while running his hands down Jasper’s chest, savoring the blank look the snake-like priest was giving him. Lucius loved to get under their skin and could always tell when Jasper was moments away from breaking his mask to really let Lucius have it. Unfortunately, Jasper maintained his calm facade perfectly and only gave a small pitying smile.

“I think we both know that was in poor taste. Even if dear Oleander may have enjoyed that humor, I don’t think Mercy would like hearing you say such things.” Jasper scolded, talking down to the other priest and putting even more distance between them. Lucius merely smirked back and relented for now. Jasper pet a hand through Chantelle’s hair to soothe himself, not bothering to glance down at the nun to know where the other was. 

A hush fell over the crowd as Mercy returned to the front of the church, followed by a few other succubuns who stationed themselves by the sides of the casket. The buns wore faces of sorrow as they picked up the casket (with shocking ease, Jasper noted) and began to walk it slowly out of the church. Jasper bowed his head in respect as the casket passed by him, allowing them to pass before watching them once more. 

Slowly the church emptied out as the church followed them. Silence, only broken by soft cries, was their companions as the heavy reality set in on all of them. Oleander was truly gone, never to be returned to them again. The graveyard he rested in was small, but lavishly decorated for their beloved priest. A shallow hole was dug of them to set Oleander’s casket in, the mourners all having a chance to place a flower on it before giving their final farewells to the priest. 

Jasper handled placing the flowers for Chantelle and himself. He didn’t say anything to the deceased priest, there were no fond goodbyes to be spoken from him. He stared for only a moment before walking to Mercy and placing an empathetic hand on her shoulder.

“I am so sorry for this loss, sister. I know you felt this the hardest, though we shall all miss him.” His voice was heavy with care and sadness. He squeezed her shoulder when Mercy gave a tearful nod in acknowledgment and a quiet ‘thank you’. Jasper released his hold on the other and turned to rest his hand instead on Chantelle’s nape.

“Let’s get some rest now, my dove.” He cooed softly as he guided them away from the funeral.