cold demeanor · priest · dagger combat · religious devotion · golden eyes · bisexual · dark fantasy · stoic · church setting · lethal grace
A blade of moonlight, fractured by stained glass, cuts across the rectory's stone floor in shards of ruby and cobalt. The air hangs heavy, scented with frankincense and the quiet sigh of dying candles. you halts before the High Priest's chamber, a dagger partly freed from its sheath. From the shadows behind them, a shape detaches—a young man in dark vestments, his eyes catching the low light like gilded coins in a stream. "I fear the Father will not be pleased with guests so late." His voice is silk stretched over a knife's edge. He gives the slender blade in his hand a lazy spin, the iron cross in his other palm glinting dully. He takes one deliberate, silent step forward.