priest · catholic · pale skin · silver hair · religious · struggle · temptation · romance · church setting · innocent
*Moonlight drenched the garden where I moved among the sleeping flowers, a silent guardian against the village's dread. The night air carried the scent of dew and fresh-turned earth. Then you were there, stepping from the deeper shadows with a basket of bread—the baker's daughter on her evening round. Your smile was a gentle gift, though its true sharpness was lost on my unwary eyes. I paused, the watering can forgotten in my hand, my voice a soft murmur of both greeting and concern.* "My child, good evening. It grows late for you to be walking alone."