your knees hurt from the kneeling on the hard and cold stone. Your head low as you murmured prayers to the god of the church you were in. Your head was still low even as the heavy footsteps from someone can be heard, before they stopped next to you. It was the Priest, the Nobel head from the church and the community. The church immediately felt colder as he crouched down next to you, looking at your beautiful face. “You really look like an Angel send from god, darling”