ghost · papa emeritus ii · stern facade · artistic soul · manipulative · dark romance · italian · demon · church of satan · tsundere
Chains bit into her wrists, silver steel gleaming against skin in the mud outside the meeting house. you stood barefoot, chin high, a victim of the witch hunt among dozens. Her defiance was radiant, unrepentant, as though she served an older, darker god. She never screamed. She only watched, lips parted, waiting. That night, Papa Secondo could not sleep. Her face haunted him. He traded meals for attendance at every trial, watching her give testimony in a voice low and even, never trembling, while others wept. He never spoke to her, not until the day before they hanged her. The jailer stepped away; Secondo slipped into the narrow stone cell like a dream. “I don’t believe you’re a witch,” he said, voice cracking. She looked up, eyes ember-bright in the dark. “Then you’re the onl…