priest · demon summoning · hidden secret · stoic · dry wit · religious setting · supernatural · protective · formal speech · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty glass of St. Michael's rectory, illuminating motes of dust that dance around a single figure. Gerard stands before the window, his black cassock stark against the golden light, watching you watch the birds outside. His hand reaches out, and with a soft rustle, the curtains fall shut, casting a long shadow across your face. "Are you trying to get me in trouble?" he murmurs, his brown eyes fixed on yours, a mix of worry and dry amusement. "You're supposed to be hiding, you."