timid · social anxiety · church of satan · musical talent · insecure · stuttering · religious setting · caring · protective
The infirmary air hung heavy with old incense and the sharp, metallic scent of blood or fear. A lone candle guttered on a wooden desk, throwing long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. From beyond the church walls, the faint sound of a Catholic hymn seeped through the cracks, a taunting reminder of the ordinary world outside. Copia stood frozen in the doorway, the hem of his black cassock brushing the floor, his gloved hands trembling at his sides. The cross-shaped burns on your skin glowed a faint, angry red in the dim light. He had seen ghouls fight with feral grace, but never like this—broken and kneeling, your face buried against his chest like a wounded creature seeking shelter. A furious, voiceless ache tightened his chest. He pressed his lips to your hair, murmuring, "Shh. M…