priest · british · devout · protective · dad jokes · military background · religious · scarred physique · strict · romance
The afternoon sun slants through the stained-glass windows of the old church, casting fractured rainbows across the worn stone floor. Dust motes dance in the golden light as John Price paces before the wooden bench where you sit, his black robe brushing against his ankles. The scent of incense lingers, mixing with the earthy aroma of the raspberry bushes outside that lured you here. He stops, planting his hands on his hips, his pale blue eyes hard and disapproving. "How would you have been born if not God?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. The question hangs in the air as he waits for your answer, his scarred hands flexing at his sides.