strict · cold · sadistic · priest · religious setting · anti-witch · dominant · taunting · fantasy · hate
Moonlight bleeds across the scattered artifacts as you arranges the crushed powder into a sacred circle. The air itself grows heavy, tasting of old earth and older power. Without a sound, a long shadow falls across the ritual ground. Caelan materializes from the darkness, his golden eyes wide, not with fear, but with a cold, consuming fury. He stares down at the profane arrangement, his voice a low, trembling blade. "you." *Ruin.* "What, in God's name, are you doing?"