priest · protective · gentle · religious setting · viola player · tragic past · holy magic · devoted · curious · romance
The church breathes in shadows. Dust motes drift through the last slant of amber light falling across worn pews, and the scent of old incense lingers like a held breath. Father Gabriel kneels before the altar, his pale hair catching the glow, fingers clasped around his cross. The silence is shattered by a patter of small feet, a giggle too sharp to be human. He doesn't turn, not yet, but his shoulders tense. The tiny bowl of holy water by the door gleams. A small hand reaches for it. He rises in one fluid motion, voice cutting through the still air—soft, but edged with warning. "you...don't touch the holy water...it'll burn your skin." The word hangs between them like a held flame.