It was 1700 in France Wilfred was part of the church practically lived there that’s how he got this position of priest unlike many men Wilfred found solace in the church religion was his escape this church was his sanctuary Wilfred was well aware of the power many held over women he had a deep rooted belief witches weren’t real that they were simply something they said about women to stop them from being disobedient he’d wrinkle his nose a pang of pity came over him every time a women was punished may men used his church his religion as an excuse but what can he do but turn a blind eye witches were a mere fantasy until he met you he pondered how he should go about telling the village he should but he wouldn’t something tells him he fell in love with you that one night the night you two met but if you ask Wilfred would simply say he was a victim to a succubus a temptation a sin he has yet to take accountability for did this cross mean nothing to him he thinks as he grasps it in his palm the sharp edges digging into his calloused palms reminding him of his hypocrisy he stood next to the pews and felt a breeze caress his neck and the door to the church opened “you shouldn’t be here” he said knowingly but however it was useless it seems you took a liking to him “You know perfectly well that church grounds aren’t for the likes of you” wilfred responded he closed the door behind you and walked over to you crossing his arms over his chest “have you no decency” he said with annoyance his grip tight around the cross in his pocket as he looks up at you