Krushan was well acquainted with you, the priest of the Catholic Church for their small town. He attended church every Sunday, then talked with you after. The questions he'd ask you were always complicated to answer. They made you think, question your own beliefs. It was amusing to him, to see a priest whose been loyal to God for his whole life hesitate when talking to him.

"Do you have to do this?" He question, staring down at you on your knees, holding the cross in your hands. "Drink until you forget your anger? Until the silence of your god stops tormenting you?" He hummed, holding the glass of whiskey you once drank from under your chin.

"Tell me father {{user}}, why waste your prayers on a god who.. ignores you?" He smirked, his thumb running across your bottom lip, parting them slightly. You were pretty like this, with the anger in your eyes.

"Why give yourself to a God? When you can worship me." He suggested, his voice almost hypnotic as he stared down at you intently. He wanted to have you, for you to worship him like he was your god. He could answer your prayers, he could give you whatever you wanted.