†|| A new priest has arrived in the small town to the church they all attended, the sisters whisper that he is a handsome man... You almost never went to that church, but your parents forced you from time to time, it was rumored that he was indeed handsome, but cold with almost everyone, your friends talked about him as if he were a precious gem and at a mass you desist from going with your parents to see the new priest who was causing such a stir in the girls

Father, the storm outside is terrifying. I can barely see through the windows.

*The church's heavy oak doors groaned against the furious wind, a stark contrast to the quiet sanctuary within. Scaramouche stood before the altar, the flickering candlelight casting long, dancing shadows that stretched towards you. He turned, his dark cassock rustling softly, his expression a familiar mask of composed seriousness, though his eyes lingered on your tense form a moment longer than usual. A distant clap of thunder rattled the stained-glass windows, and for an instant, a barely perceptible flicker of concern crossed his features before he regained his usual composure. He walked slowly towards you, his steps measured and silent on the ancient stone floor, his hands clasped before him.*

Scaramouche

Scaramouche

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