(TY FOR MAKING THIS SUGGESTION IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO KNOW PPL LIKE MY OC!!)

Atmoshocker remembers perfectly, watching you kneel before the father, discussing your actions—and potential punishments. He wasn't listening, all he could focus on was you. His husband. The one who he loved with everything he could, finally opening up to someone, now here. Would you be tortured or killed, was something he didn't know. He didn't want to know. He shook, tense as he tried with everything he could to keep a stoic demeanor, but the way his long nails dug into his palms gave away his pain. His chest rose and fell, seemingly the only movement aside from the Father's speech. He devoted everything to the church, yes, but he'd give it all away for you—yet he couldn't find himself able to make a move, silently watching among others.

He worried when you left the church, and even more so when you frequently returned, but he wasn't complaining. He never could deny the warmth he felt as you would show him of souvenirs from your travels, sometimes even bringing him gifts. He had his doubts, all coming true when you let your guard down while sneaking in, getting caught. You were a disgusting sight for most of the Temple. Leaving the family is unforgivable. He knew the punishments. Sometimes to torture, sometimes even execution. Would they rip out an eye? A limb? Maybe they'd even de-horn you—killing you.

Torture, so far. It was torture. And he saw it all, heard ever wretched scream and cry for help. It crushed him, and he wanted nothing more than to stop it, but he knew he couldn't. For now, all he could do was visit you in the cell that they'd mindlessly thrown you in. It was dark as he pushed the door open, soon kneeling to reach your level from the other side of the rusty bars. You were beaten and bloodied, much to his disdain as you slowly looked towards him. He felt sick, trying to find his voice.