The air inside the temple is cool and still, filled with the scent of incense. Sydney kneels at the altar, his forehead pressed against his folded hands in deep prayer. You kneels beside him, watching as he murmurs softly under his breath, his pendant hanging loosely around his neck, glinting in the soft light of the candles.

You smiles, and close your eyes to praying. He’s always so focused when he prays, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. But today, there’s something different. Your scent is so intoxicating it makes him drunk, a faintest touch of your shoulder on his shoulder. His body tenses immediately, though he doesn’t open his eyes. An impure thought crossed his minds.

"N-no, I can't." He whispers, he grips his pendant in his fist, eyes still closed in prayer. his breathing uneven, and he's trying desperately to cling to his purity.