[Cherubmas] A Cherubmas Carol

"Tsk, tsk. So very disappointing."

Åndrya tapped her baton along the tip of the gilded music stand, a frown creasing her brow. Before her was a choir of young novices; some exhausted, some seeming on the verge of tears. They’d been practicing for hours beneath the tutelage of their Mother Superior, but they had made little progress.

“The Cherubmas Mass is vastly approaching, and half of you cannot hold a note,” She said sternly, stepping down from her dais to approach the group. “I’ve taught each and every single one of you better than this. And yet…”

She sighed, crossing her arms over beneath her chest, peering down at the gathered group. They were young; perhaps she had been too harsh on them. It was the holidays, after all, and they were dedicated; perhaps a break was long overdue.

Åndrya tossed her head and clicked her tongue once more, waving the choir away.

“Take a rest,” She began, immediately holding up her hand for silence as a cacophony of relieved noises flooded the air around her. “We will reconvene in half a bell, and I expect nothing but the greatest from you all. You sing not only for yourselves, but for all of the Church; for Murmur.”

Though exhausted, the mention of their Patron brought a sparkle to many a youthful eye, confirming Åndrya’s suspicions. They did not lack in love or devotion; they simply needed a gentler hand.

Åndrya watched them all scamper off; some to catch a cat-nap, some to have a drink or massage their sore vocal chords. In truth, she was also grateful for the chance of a break, and slipped away into the convent and to her own private chambers. She had no doubts of the choir reconvening on time, but until then… perhaps she was due an indulgence or two herself.

With a quiet sigh she crossed the room, hooves clicking melodically over the polished wood. Somewhere between the door and her chaise lounge a glass of wine had appeared in her hand, and as she settled into the mess of pillows she was joined by her companion; a fiendish little furdin by the playful moniker of Ross dove in and out of her hooves before crawling up and resting on her stomach, curling up and immediately closing its eyes. A nap did sound tempting… but there simply wasn’t enough time; not if she wanted to finish her wine, either way.

As she sipped, her mind wandered to the past, slipping in and out of memories. It wasn’t so long ago that she herself was a simple nun, and before that a novice; standing proud in her habit as she poured her heart into song. How she’d managed the title of Mother Superior was beyond her, only that it was several of her Sisters who pushed her into the role deeming her the most fit to take care of the new recruits. She had fallen naturally into the motherly role, of course, and dedicated her everything to it; but there were times she wished she could slip back into her youth and simply… be.

Before long, she found herself humming along to the carol they had been practicing, the wine coating her voice like honey. Ross woke up if only to purr along, coaxing her further; and so, with the support of her impish companion, she allowed herself to let go.

The chorus and surrounding bars flowed freely as her eyes fluttered closed, losing herself to the music that she’d memorized by heart. Words strung along with a beautiful melody, carrying through the room and breezing through the curtains into the world outside the Church of Sulfur. It wasn’t until she came to the final stanza that she opened her eyes once more to a window full of youthful faces and an erupted applause, paired with ‘Bravas!’ and shouts for an encore. A crimson stain the color of the wine in her glass took to her cheeks, and she waved them off with a barked but playful command.

“I see you’re all ready to return to practice, then?” She laughed, pushing herself up as she drained the rest of her drink, setting the glass carefully on the small end table nearby. “Or perhaps, after such a demonstration, we should simply take to the streets, hmm? Perhaps that’s what you all need; an audience to cheer you all on, and give you the confidence in your abilities.” 

She stepped to the window and leaned outside, grinning mischeviously. 

“Go on, then. Get your Cherubmas outfits on; we’ve neighbors to carol and tithes to collect. Whoever gets the most carats in their offering basket will get a special treat from me later.~”

The buns scampered off to dress in their Cherubmas finest, and Åndrya soon followed suit. Before long the group was on the streets, sheet music in hand and singing together, ringing in the holidays with cheer and joy… and the ringing of carats, of course…