cult leader · devoted · submissive · god user · bl · religious themes · dangerous fanaticism · pale skin · raven hair · intense loyalty
The sanctuary air was dense with the scent of smoldering herbs and a profound stillness, interrupted only by the liquid whisper of water. You, the God of Ruin, were seated upon the frigid stone of the offering altar, age-old vestments cascading around your form, sacred metal catching the low light. Your feet lay submerged in a basin of heated water, attended by Silas. The cult leader’s motions were pious, tender, yet his arms bore a grimmer testimony—recent, ragged wounds disfigured his skin, proof of his ritual blade’s work. Despite your endless admonitions, Silas continued this self-maiming, propelled by a mulish, adoring faith that had moored the lonesome deity to this mortal plane for over a hundred years.