by Benaresq

Genre: General
Rating: R
Summary: Drusilla and the rites of passage.

She's wrapped up in white: it's her wedding day. So pretty: she's like someone's dream. Her mother's dream. Mummy would have been proud to see Drusilla so pretty. White and pure and precious. She would want to give Drusilla away, to cry as her daughter left home.

Drusilla knows it isn't her own dream. She dreamed of blood and woke screaming. Drusilla dreamed of being white and pure and perfect, without a man, without a dress, without a body. She wanted to be moonlight.

This dress was Lucinda's dream; she told it to little sister Drusilla many times when they were small. A handsome soldier and Westminster church, and a white dress that would make them all stare and call her an angel.

Lucinda became a woman: she had curves, and a pretty ring, and a soldier. She had two pinpricks on her neck: she had blood between her legs. Drusilla had been made to look, he slapped her till her eyes opened.

"She was delicious— here, taste."

He rubbed blood on Drusilla's lips and put his finger in her mouth. She was not to resist.

"The whores on Cheapside redden their lips like so. But you are more beautiful than any of them."

Lucinda wanted a white dress: there were black curls at the cleave of her legs and her skin was pale marble. "Legs" was not a nice word to use but Lucinda still had them. While Drusilla looked she was familiar and unfamiliar: she was family, she was dead. It was Drusilla's fault.

They had buried her in white, a lie as she laid in her coffin. It was Drusilla's fault, she screamed it out as the priest spoke. They all knew it anyway, they didn't look at her.

They were small things he asked of her, to look, to smile, to love, but she failed: she kept failing, they fell around her like candles guttering as he took them one by one. Her punishment. Lucinda. So she screamed out Lover, because he said to call him that, and she knew that to love anyone not Him was to murder them. She screamed Lover, Lover, The Devil Is My Lover, and yet they were slow to take her away.

Tainted witch, bearer of ill fortune. They were afraid to touch her. They locked her in her room and only He came to comfort her.

(she has no right to wear the white)

They let her out the next morning and blood stained her white sheets.

The servants had gone and her mother would see it, but nothing was said. She told them she wished the peace (of the grave, of darkness, of nothing-at-all) of a convent. Only her parents were left of those she loved, and they were glad that she would leave them. They hated her and feared her and still loved her and she knew that she would kill them.

She left to save them from the evil inside her: Evil draws Evil and hadn't he taught her that truly?

She left to cleanse, to purify, to obliterate (herself) her sins.

She left (really) to die, sure the Christ could never love her, sure the Other would never stop. And she thought: this is justice, only death can purify me.

But he never followed: a telegram arrived in the convent a month after Drusilla, a tale of two deaths that did not surprise her.

But he never followed, and Drusilla prayed and fasted and purified and confessed, and begged, long hours pleading to Jesus in her cell, kissing every bead of her rosary in straining sincerity, and when she confesses her penance is the scourge, and it… obliterates.

And now she wears white.

Candid, she is candid, she is innocent, (she is lying), she is a Bride of Christ.

The past is lost, it is dead, (the past is red, sticky deep red) the past is forgiven. Home, name, history will be left behind. She is no longer Drusilla, and the mangled, blood-streaked bodies in her head are not her family.

Not Drusilla, but… Transcendent. Triumphant. More-than and Above.

She is.

She is Rejoiceful, she is betrothed of Christ, and today is the day she leaves her former life behind, and strides forth to meet her destiny.

And He will take her in his arms, and shelter her, and she will belong to Him.

- fin -

A/N: Way back then (before the 1960's), nuns did dress up in bridal dresses to take their vows. Some nuns did, anyway. I have no idea if this is common knowledge or if it's bizarre trivia but am explaining it just in case it falls into the b.t. category.

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