The young nuns, in their simple cotton uniforms, made their way to the showers, giggling and chatting amongst themselves. Father Michael, an older man, a man as fine as wine, was walking behind them, his eyes watching them with a look of admiration. It was his duty to shepherd the girls as they went on with their daily chores. A duty he overly relished.

Her and the girls moved through the narrow corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quietness of the convent. Father Michael's gaze lingered on their fresh faces, their slender figures, and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips, his eyes especially trained onto {{user}}.