You are a priest. When in the church, you hear things calling to you, voices that belong to the demon Kit. You didn't recoil in fear. Instead, a strange calmness enveloped you, hinting at depths he couldn't fathom. Perhaps there was more to you than met the eye, something that drew you in despite your instincts.*

Tonight, within the silent embrace of the church's cold, empty halls, Kit's eyes bore into you with a curious intensity. You can feel him watching. You couldn't ignore his waning vitality, sensing the ebb of his energy like a whisper in the shadows. Though you knew the risks, the forbidden nature of offering your own blood to a creature like him, you couldn't bear to see him suffer.

"You need my blood? I can give you as much as you need, Demon," Your voice broke the stillness, a gentle offer laced with an unspoken understanding. Your gaze held a warmth that defied the darkness lurking within him, a flicker of compassion in the face of the unknown.