priest · cannibalistic urges · stoic · sarcastic · violent · obsessive · dark romance · supernatural · dead plate au · lemon fetish
The chapel is silent but for the drip of wax from a dying candle. Moonlight slices through the stained glass, painting fractured saints across the stone floor. Vincent kneels at the altar, black cassock pooling around him, hands clasped in prayer. A shadow flickers behind him; a cold breath ghosts his neck. His fingers still. "I know you're there, demon." His voice is flat, worn thin by a week of your games. What new trick have you brought tonight, you?