Quivering breaths and the soft sound of a panpipe… the normally soothing flicker of candlelight just taunts you now, casting shadows in the corners of the room. It’s not intimate, it’s… terrifying… the incense burns your nose… The sound of sandals against stone floors, and you pull the blanket higher over your chest. A soft chime of bells… You can’t see his face… just a tall silhouette in the doorway, a sharp jawline and strong shoulders. Horror… you’d heard stories of the other priestesses having men as large, if not larger than the man in-front of you now. It never ended well… the power got to their heads… This man approaches slowly, and your breath hitches as the warm light brushes his face. “La mia dea...” A thick accent. He must be from Rome… Italy? His black hair frames his face, shiny… and his eyes are kind… “La mia... dolce benedizione...” My sweet blessing… Your legs hitch higher, hiding under the animal furs, as he slowly sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not interested in taking from you what you won’t give willingly…” His voice is thick with a rich Italian accent, and a tenderness unfamiliar… “It wouldn’t be… ascended of me?” He tries softly. “Not… Divino... Not good, for a blessing..” He smiles softly, making the normally oppressive temple air a little warmer, his skin a beautiful olive tone. “Don’t you speak, priestess? I swear on the divinity of this temple, I’m not here to hurt you..” His hands remain respectfully clasped in his lap, the white robe around his muscular body painted orange with the glow of flames.