#tfw your necromancer gf brings you to meet her family for the holidays

[breathofmyown]

“You’re still sure?” Sara asked, her face pinched and nervous as we stood before the door to her family manor. People say it’s impossible to tell what a Union nun is feeling under their skull paint, but I don’t understand how anyone could miss the way Sara glows. The way her black and white paint shifted with her every expression.

“Of course,” I said, lacing my fingers through hers. Sara's dark skin contrasting against my own paleness.

“I just… I never thought I’d be able to ever bring someone home for this. That anyone would want to.”

“Well, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” I said, leaning down as Sara tilted her head up. Our lips met, and I pulled her closer by her hips. Sara always tasted faintly of her astringent face-paint, but there was also the warmth that was purely her I couldn’t get enough of. There’s definitely something special about making out with your necromancer girlfriend on the steps of her family manor.

The more scandalous gossip magazines back in the republic would have you believe these celebrations were horrific convents of blood magic and orgies, but the party that greeted us was remarkably more mundane. It was just a family gathering like any other, really. It just so happened that everyone wore black robes and had painted their faces in skulls, which might have been more off-putting had I not long since grown used to Sara’s bone nun aesthetic.

Sara’s mom hugged us both, talking joyously about how excited she was to finally meet me. How she’d been waiting so long for Sara to bring someone home. Her father seemed more taciturn, merely greeting us with a nod, but Sara seemed happy with it. Smiling brightly in the way that makes me feel all warm. So who was I to complain?

There was food and music. Various members of Sara’s family were scattered through the large home, chatting in groups of twos and threes. Really, the only thing that was truly unusual was all the skeletons. The Union was rather infamous for its widespread use of necromancy. A practice deeply illegal elsewhere in the world. I knew what my girlfriend was involved with, but it was strange being confronted with that reality.

Sara had explained to me that for them this wasn’t a desecration. It was a way to remember those who’ve moved on, and to support those you care about when you’re gone. How they could spend their life however they liked. Freed from the burden of needing to perform menial labor simply to support themselves. And in return they would pass that privilege onto the next generation by giving their bodies to the support of their family when they passed on. It all was such a far cry from the way I’d grown up needing to work dead-end job after dead-end job the moment I became an adult. It was hard to wrap my head around.

Even if the animated dead weren’t truly aware, though, they were still given such respect here. Today was a holiday in The Union. The reason that I’d come with Sara to her home. Today they would bring the skeletons in from their work to spend time with them and remember their lives. It was strangely touching seeing people of all ages crowded around skeletons, talking about the person’s life. Each skeleton had various gifts given to them. Flowers, candles, some were even clad in clearly hand-knit sweaters. Having grown up without a family really, it was hard to wrap my head around the way they seemed to love one another so. So much for being a bunch of spooky cultists (well, I guess they were still a little spooky, but I think I just loved them more for it.)

Sara held my hand as we made our way down the driveway. Night had well and truly fallen as the party wound down, and after a lengthy goodbye with seemingly every single member of Sara’s extended family wanting to give me a hug, we’d made our escape. We slowed, each turning to face the other. Seeming to decide on it at the same time. Sara’s eyes almost seemed to shine in the glimmering magelight that illuminated the street, her golden eyes tinted with the pale blue of the light, and the white of her face-paint seemed to glow. The automated cab we’d ordered pulled up to the curb next to us with a hum of electric engines, its door swinging open for us.

“Ready to head home my love?” Sara said, her voice soft in the gathering dark.