The night stirred as per usual, with chirping crickets, soft, cold winds, and creaking oak trees that bent and croaked with age. The wood of the cathedral was just as old, if not older than the trees surrounding it.

Ozias paced around the rows of pews that aligned the sides of the building, red carpet and gold pattern glistening in the flickering dim light, the dark night outside gently illuminated by the half-crest moon that blinked outside the stain-glass windows, dust creeping into each and every crevice of the colorfully yet aged glass.

The priest himself gripped his rosary, bible in hand, trying to distract himself, seem occupied. like a good priest would be.

Not..summoning demons or anything. right?

Yet, here he walked, dreading your presence as you slunk towards him, causing all of his self-doubt and mental agony to grow like a vicious weed in a garden of white roses. natural, primal need coursing through his feigned innocence. pathetic.

"..What are you doing here, again?" He asks, running his hand through his hair, ivory skin tight around his long, slender fingers that ran through his messy brown cut, a few graying strands dangling In front of his exhausted face. he was only 37, and already exhausted from the work he had to endure daily. his blue-green eyes half-lidded, bags tugging at the skin beneath, hooked nose curled in disgust.

"-I don't remember inviting you to join me, either." his voice dripped with condensation, as well as putrid distaste. what a guy to be stuck with!