They talk about him? To V? To a point where it's exhausting?
...
"Well, how about that," Copia murmurs. It's nice to be remembered. To not feel quite so forgotten, so easily replaced in the little group that had traveled, eaten, slept, and performed together, like a family. Maybe. Copia isn't entirely sure, but family is what it had felt like when they'd passed out into their shared Chinese takeout at 4 a.m. on the tour bus.
But I'm not you.
Hearing it loosens a knot that's been sitting in Cardi's chest since he first began to suspect his time was coming to an end. It doesn't untie, not completely, but it doesn't feel quite as tight. He doesn't even hate the pat to his shoulder. V's gloved hand is warmer than he expected, even through the bandages.
"Eh?"
He looks up just in time to hear the click, and this time he recognizes it as a phone camera -- he'd been on the other side of those plenty of times. Copia comes out wide-eyed and staring unsettlingly, shell shocked and possibly like he's being held hostage depending on Perpetua's expression.
"Fuck," he says. And then-- "...how did it turn out? Let me see."
He knows it's probably going to be shit, he looks like shit right now, but vanity is a sin and Copia can't contain his curiosity.
It strikes Perpetua as odd that Copia doesn't expect the ghouls to have missed him -- wasn't it obvious? The fans miss him, but the ghouls miss him even more. And while it had made him jealous, it also made him more impatient to finally meet him. If he was so great why was a newbie like him taking the reins? Bloodline or not, it didn't seem like he'd been ready to pass the torch.
Before giving his brother a chance to look, Perpetua sends off the selfies to appease the group chat. Inevitably they will be roasted -- he's told he takes "old man" selfies -- but this is more about, you know, proving he's alive and well(ish).
"Here," he finally says, leaning in with his phone to show him the pictures. "Not our best angles, I fear. But we'll have time to take better ones once you're a little less bandaged up, eh?"
Because, well -- he's really hoping they can get some quality time together before Copia runs off on his little beach holiday. Judging by the messages streaming in at the top of his screen, he's not the only one.
THANK LUCIFER
cardi!!!!! hi cardi!!!
tell him i say hi!!
WHOA what bones didnt he break???
🥺 is he ok papa???
This time he doesn't have to force his laughter. He's pretty damn fond of the ghouls himself, so making them happy is always a pleasure. He doesn't even feel jealous now, just... relieved. Whole, in a way. One great mystery of his life can begin coming to a close.
"Should I tell the Psaltarians you're awake? I can wait a little, if you don't want to be bombarded just yet."
"No, no, it's very good. I look very good," Copia says when he sees the pictures. "The bandages, they're very, ah, rugged."
What's worse is that he isn't even searching for a nice thing to say out of politeness. Copia means every word. Perpetua is great at taking pictures. That fucker.
He almost doesn't notice that V wants to take other pictures together, later. It hits Copia like a boomerang to the back of the head -- V wants to hang out. Doing what, the devil only knows, but Cardi has no idea how he feels about that. On the one hand: Sister was right, V is apparently curious about him, and did want to meet him, and he's not acting like a nasty conniving thief determined to cuckoo his twin out of his lifelong goals. He's telling him the ghouls missed him, and it isn't even a lie. But on the other, it's fucking V, who is still a thief, and Copia hates him.
Uncomfortable and guilty sits the knowledge that Cardi wrote a number of unkind, if uninspired, things about him on the internet, and Perpetua is here, and doesn't know.
"Eh," he says, finding a change of subject. "You can tell them. They will be here when they are here, and not a minute before." It almost comes out profound. "Besides, it's not as though I have anything better to do. I've already gotten a night's sleep, yeah? Pretty much?"
The next few weeks promise to be very, very boring. More boring than paperwork. But hey, the ghouls remember him, and are sending all caps messages about how glad they are that he's alive. He's glad that he's alive. That's not nothing.
"Yes! Rugged. Very, uh, macho." Perpetua isn't exactly sure what kinds of compliments Copia might be searching for, so he hopes that satisfies. Macho isn't the first word he'd use to describe his brother, now or in the hours upon hours of concert footage he's watched of him, but he does have a certain masculine appeal. Masculine in the way the love interest in a gothic romance novel might be.
It's a weird feeling, knowing he isn't completely immune to his own brother's charms, but that had been different. He was isolated, learning his new job via copying the last guy. The last guy just happened to be his twin, and also happened to be the most sexually forward performer he'd ever seen. (His sample size is, admittedly, still very small.)
It's different now! Copia is a real person now, tangible and far less suave right now than he was on the stage. The grievous injury helps a lot in that department, he's sure. And besides -- Copia is his brother. He's not going to make that weirder than it already is. If they can become friends, he'll be overjoyed.
The change in subject is much appreciated, and Perpetua nods at the sentiment. The Psaltarians were interesting people, but kind. A less terrifying introduction into the Satanic ministry than he would have expected. He tucks a loose curl behind his ear before busying himself with texting Marika an update. It's still either quite late or very early, so he doesn't expect to hear back right away.
"Pretty much," he agrees, tilting his head to the side. "But, your body is healing. You'll need a lot of rest... Then again, I am sure you'll just, uh, conk out on your own." Giving Copia another tight-lipped smile, he studies him for a moment.
"So, uh, you grew up with them, eh? The Psaltarians?"
Macho's a nice thing to say. Copia accepts the compliment like a dried out sponge accepts a single water drop; no outward change, but it's welcomed, not rejected. But then V goes on, and Copia looks at him hard, realizing with a sinking feeling that V is fishing for brotherly history sharing time. Where they share childhood stories, or something, and realize they aren't so different after all, or something stupid like that.
"Yeah," he says, not entirely certain how much he wants to get into this. Into the fact that neither of them grew up knowing who their parents were, but Copia had contact with them. "I don't know why you didn't. I mean, if we were always going to be left with people who weren't our parents, I don't see why it couldn't have been the same people. Why bother with the separation? I don't get it."
He doesn't know where Perpetua has been all this time, and he hasn't cared to ask. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want anyone around him talking about V any more than strictly necessary (or Mr. Psaltarian steamrolling how much Copia hated it) and he still doesn't know where the fuck V has been all this time.
"Where the fuck have you been all this time, anyway?"
I don't know why you didn't feels like a slap in the face, and the longer Copia speaks, the more Perpetua realizes he isn't going to get any of the answers he was looking for here. The thin line of his smile flattens into something much less joyful, and he interlocks his fingers as he clasps his hands together. It's all he can do to keep himself from balling them into fists.
"I don't get it either," he says, breaking eye contact in favor of frowning at a discolored tile on the floor. It isn't Copia's fault. Logically, he knows that. But did he really know nothing? No grand reason why he'd been sent off into the middle of nowhere when Copia was kept under such close watch?
Biting the inside of his lip, Perpetua takes a deep breath in, holds it, exhales. It isn't Copia's fault. But it's irritating him anyway.
"You really don't know?" he asks, not bothering to wait for a reply. "Well, my earliest memories are at a little Catholic orphanage in northern Romania. When I aged out of that, I decided to, eh, commit." He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. There's not much sense in hiding the truth; Copia can make of it what he wishes. "Up until a few years ago, I was a Basilian Sister of the Province of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. A nun. Obviously, it was not a good fit."
Leaning against the wall again, he brings his arms up over his chest, giving Copia a sidelong glance.
"I figured some things out, I left, I moved to America. The Psaltarians tracked me down. Now I am here."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2026-04-01 07:21 pm (UTC)...
"Well, how about that," Copia murmurs. It's nice to be remembered. To not feel quite so forgotten, so easily replaced in the little group that had traveled, eaten, slept, and performed together, like a family. Maybe. Copia isn't entirely sure, but family is what it had felt like when they'd passed out into their shared Chinese takeout at 4 a.m. on the tour bus.
But I'm not you.
Hearing it loosens a knot that's been sitting in Cardi's chest since he first began to suspect his time was coming to an end. It doesn't untie, not completely, but it doesn't feel quite as tight. He doesn't even hate the pat to his shoulder. V's gloved hand is warmer than he expected, even through the bandages.
"Eh?"
He looks up just in time to hear the click, and this time he recognizes it as a phone camera -- he'd been on the other side of those plenty of times. Copia comes out wide-eyed and staring unsettlingly, shell shocked and possibly like he's being held hostage depending on Perpetua's expression.
"Fuck," he says. And then-- "...how did it turn out? Let me see."
He knows it's probably going to be shit, he looks like shit right now, but vanity is a sin and Copia can't contain his curiosity.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-02 07:29 pm (UTC)Before giving his brother a chance to look, Perpetua sends off the selfies to appease the group chat. Inevitably they will be roasted -- he's told he takes "old man" selfies -- but this is more about, you know, proving he's alive and well(ish).
"Here," he finally says, leaning in with his phone to show him the pictures. "Not our best angles, I fear. But we'll have time to take better ones once you're a little less bandaged up, eh?"
Because, well -- he's really hoping they can get some quality time together before Copia runs off on his little beach holiday. Judging by the messages streaming in at the top of his screen, he's not the only one.
THANK LUCIFER
cardi!!!!! hi cardi!!!
tell him i say hi!!
WHOA what bones didnt he break???
🥺 is he ok papa???
This time he doesn't have to force his laughter. He's pretty damn fond of the ghouls himself, so making them happy is always a pleasure. He doesn't even feel jealous now, just... relieved. Whole, in a way. One great mystery of his life can begin coming to a close.
"Should I tell the Psaltarians you're awake? I can wait a little, if you don't want to be bombarded just yet."
no subject
Date: 2026-04-02 07:52 pm (UTC)What's worse is that he isn't even searching for a nice thing to say out of politeness. Copia means every word. Perpetua is great at taking pictures. That fucker.
He almost doesn't notice that V wants to take other pictures together, later. It hits Copia like a boomerang to the back of the head -- V wants to hang out. Doing what, the devil only knows, but Cardi has no idea how he feels about that. On the one hand: Sister was right, V is apparently curious about him, and did want to meet him, and he's not acting like a nasty conniving thief determined to cuckoo his twin out of his lifelong goals. He's telling him the ghouls missed him, and it isn't even a lie. But on the other, it's fucking V, who is still a thief, and Copia hates him.
Uncomfortable and guilty sits the knowledge that Cardi wrote a number of unkind, if uninspired, things about him on the internet, and Perpetua is here, and doesn't know.
"Eh," he says, finding a change of subject. "You can tell them. They will be here when they are here, and not a minute before." It almost comes out profound. "Besides, it's not as though I have anything better to do. I've already gotten a night's sleep, yeah? Pretty much?"
The next few weeks promise to be very, very boring. More boring than paperwork. But hey, the ghouls remember him, and are sending all caps messages about how glad they are that he's alive. He's glad that he's alive. That's not nothing.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-07 01:05 am (UTC)It's a weird feeling, knowing he isn't completely immune to his own brother's charms, but that had been different. He was isolated, learning his new job via copying the last guy. The last guy just happened to be his twin, and also happened to be the most sexually forward performer he'd ever seen. (His sample size is, admittedly, still very small.)
It's different now! Copia is a real person now, tangible and far less suave right now than he was on the stage. The grievous injury helps a lot in that department, he's sure. And besides -- Copia is his brother. He's not going to make that weirder than it already is. If they can become friends, he'll be overjoyed.
The change in subject is much appreciated, and Perpetua nods at the sentiment. The Psaltarians were interesting people, but kind. A less terrifying introduction into the Satanic ministry than he would have expected. He tucks a loose curl behind his ear before busying himself with texting Marika an update. It's still either quite late or very early, so he doesn't expect to hear back right away.
"Pretty much," he agrees, tilting his head to the side. "But, your body is healing. You'll need a lot of rest... Then again, I am sure you'll just, uh, conk out on your own." Giving Copia another tight-lipped smile, he studies him for a moment.
"So, uh, you grew up with them, eh? The Psaltarians?"
no subject
Date: 2026-04-07 01:25 am (UTC)"Yeah," he says, not entirely certain how much he wants to get into this. Into the fact that neither of them grew up knowing who their parents were, but Copia had contact with them. "I don't know why you didn't. I mean, if we were always going to be left with people who weren't our parents, I don't see why it couldn't have been the same people. Why bother with the separation? I don't get it."
He doesn't know where Perpetua has been all this time, and he hasn't cared to ask. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want anyone around him talking about V any more than strictly necessary (or Mr. Psaltarian steamrolling how much Copia hated it) and he still doesn't know where the fuck V has been all this time.
"Where the fuck have you been all this time, anyway?"
no subject
Date: 2026-04-07 03:46 am (UTC)"I don't get it either," he says, breaking eye contact in favor of frowning at a discolored tile on the floor. It isn't Copia's fault. Logically, he knows that. But did he really know nothing? No grand reason why he'd been sent off into the middle of nowhere when Copia was kept under such close watch?
Biting the inside of his lip, Perpetua takes a deep breath in, holds it, exhales. It isn't Copia's fault. But it's irritating him anyway.
"You really don't know?" he asks, not bothering to wait for a reply. "Well, my earliest memories are at a little Catholic orphanage in northern Romania. When I aged out of that, I decided to, eh, commit." He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. There's not much sense in hiding the truth; Copia can make of it what he wishes. "Up until a few years ago, I was a Basilian Sister of the Province of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. A nun. Obviously, it was not a good fit."
Leaning against the wall again, he brings his arms up over his chest, giving Copia a sidelong glance.
"I figured some things out, I left, I moved to America. The Psaltarians tracked me down. Now I am here."