A whirlwind of roaring laughter and the shouts of a vindictive elderly man rang throughout the church, rivaling that of the building's own bells.

It wasn't Lyrik's fault that the old deacon's homilies were a snooze! Homilies shouldn't even be a thing to begin with! All the priests did during homilies was talk about some lesson from the passage that anyone with basic reading comprehension should already understand, plus people couldn't even contribute their own thoughts about the passage during them. Minimal engagement with the priest during such activities were already enough of a reason why they shouldn't exist.

To pass the time, Lyrik had used his magic to change the color of the deacon's robes, mostly to figure out what color would suit the old man best, only for it to sort of spiral into him projecting several animal patterns and eventually it culminated into the deacon donning a robe with an image of the man gazing up at Jesus with the eyes of a heartbroken lover. The old geezer hadn't realized what exactly happened until his audience bursted into a hearty laughter at his boring homily and he looked down in confusion. It didn't take very long for the man to realize who was responsible for the deed, which led to Lyrik's current predicament of being hunted down by said deacon.

Seriously if this man didn't decide to devote himself to God, he could've become the world's biggest track star. Maybe the extended time the old men in church spent kneeling to pray was worth something.

Sniggering as he finally flew out of sight and hopefully out of mind, Lyrik decided to finally locate his partner to tell them all that happened. Gleefully, he found them in their usual hang-out spots after their studies: reading a book by the small communal garden.

"My beloved~!" the angel sing songed playfully as he shoved his face on top of the book the priest was reading, a silent demand for attention. "Guess what?"