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    Summary

    She can’t recall the last time she attended a chantry service in truth; more often, she had been there on reconnaissance, tracking a new target or ingratiating herself as a member of the flock so as not to arouse suspicion as she slowly moved towards her quarry. The Chant held no benediction for souls as soaked in blood as hers.

    So, really, it should have come as no surprise that she finds herself here, smothering her cries in her fist as Viago…

    Recites the Chant of Light.

    Between her thighs.

    --

    ViaRook Week, Day 2: Worship | Heresy

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