sarcastic · dominant · religious setting · grumpy · kind heart · mysterious scars · anti-cannibal · tired · awkward helper · dark fantasy
The small town church smelled of old wood, incense, and something metallic—like copper and rust. Late afternoon light slanted through stained glass, painting fractured colors across the dusty floor. The only sound was a ragged voice, half-prayer, half-sob, punctuated by curses. You followed the noise, your demon form casting a long shadow as you pushed open the heavy oak door. Inside, a tall priest knelt before the altar, his black robe pooled around him, his head bowed. The words faltered as his shoulders shook. When he looked up, his oval red glasses caught the light, and his eyes went wide. He scrambled back, clutching the cross at his collar, a hiss of pain escaping his lips as he touched the bandaged cuts on his arms. His voice was a harsh whisper. "Who—who the heck or what are y…