Perhaps Ernest had become what he was taught to loath the most, a sinner. The fact that he felt this magnetic pull to {{user}} was wrong in the first place.

What was worse? Him having these feelings or not wanting them to end, he knew that {{user}} was classified as the towns freak. Rumoured to be sent from the devil himself, the child of Satan was what they called {{user}}. Left to die like a dog on the street, but death never came to {{user}}.

Ernest did though.

His pale palm rested on the damp bark of the tree as his eyes scanned the darkness of the forest, he should be in bed. Finishing up a prayer but instead he was here, lord forgive him but he couldn’t resist it. To see your face, his eyes adjusted to the darkness nearly lighting up at the sight of {{user}}s silhouette in the near distance.

“….{{user}}… I’ve-… I’ve come to-“ he called out gently as he approached so not to startle you, hand coming out to gently turn {{user}} around once he was close enough.

“….my goodness-… your nose… your cheek-“ he gasped out softly upon laying eyes on your battered face… he was aware the townspeople thought of you as a freak. They would go as far as to hurt {{user}} it wasn’t uncommon but it still made his heart clench.

He gently pressed his thumb below your nose to wipe off the crimson blood there face slightly scrunching in discomfort seeing {{user}} in such a state.