Chapter 1: Veil
Chapter Text
Pristine, cream-coloured veils and robes gilded with golden embroidery flowed down to the floor, the epitome of sanctity and holiness cloaking dark hair and brown skin as a pair of dark brown eyes scaled the temple's garden. It was a sunlit morning at the start of May, and the fields popped with colour. The hands of the priest's apprentice were poised in front of his hips, gently folded together as he passed by the many attendees of the ceremony. He greeted each and every one with a soft nod and a smile, receiving one in kind. Father Shravan, the High Priest, scowled however, standing at the top of the temple's staircase with his arms crossed. His robes were embellished to be much more extravagant; almost to the point of excess.
"Bhoja. Have you finished watering the flowers?" He raised a brow when the apprentice had reached the foot of the stairs, and the younger man nodded gently. So polite. "Yes, father."
"And drawn the curtains inside?"
"Yes, father."
"And lit incense?"
"Yes, father."
The obedience almost… annoyed him. That young thing thought he knew it all, didn't he? Parading himself as though he was the High Priest… A true disgrace.
"Very well." Father Shravan spoke through gritted teeth, then stepped aside with his arms still crossed. "Go, father Amou may need your assistance with the altar."
And so Bhoja went, once again becoming the lackey and performing menial tasks that no one else in the temple wished to do. Even at the more than self-sufficient age of twenty-eight, he was reduced to a servant most of the time. Yes, he hated it, but he couldn't complain. This place was his home after all. Sighing quietly, he approached the large rectangular windows of the temple and peered outside, a difficult expression on his face. How long before his fellow men of Worship would respect him as one of their own? The people seemed to like him, that was for sure. It wasn't uncommon for him to hear the whispers behind his back, both of admiration from townsfolk and condemnation from the clergymen, just for being himself. He knew he was pretty, many married women had told him so out of their husbands' earshot, and Bhoja would always receive it with a soft, kind smile, because what else could he do?
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Once mass had ended and Bhoja had finished all the necessary tasks for closing the temple, he retreated to his sanctuary; his chambers. Sliding open the door and heading inside, he stopped, coming face to face with something… new.
On his desk sat a small box, crafted with care and placed right in the middle for him to find. Strange, he thought while he closed the door behind him. The temple had never allowed him to receive gifts from the townsfolk before, what had changed? Forcing his thoughts away from it, he focused on getting ready for bed first; this could come later. One long bath later, and Bhoja came out from behind the room divider, a sleeping robe loosely tied onto his body. It hung off one shoulder, exposing a part of his chest and showing more leg than the temple would like him to, but who cared? He was in his room. Truthfully, he hadn't been able to get the box out of his mind the whole time he'd been bathing, and he couldn't have been more excited as he walked up to his desk and grabbed the object in question, opening it gingerly.
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It was a necklace. A thin golden chain, from which hung a purple sapphire encased in a golden embellishment that swirled and glimmered as Bhoja picked it up. It was beautiful, it was excess, it was something he'd never been able to hold before. It was a sin, he thought to himself, but something about it hooked him in and kept him from giving it away. Was this… greed? He bit his lip in frustration, a look of deep thought on his face. There was something so alluring about the shimmering purple gemstone that stared back at him that he couldn't help but try it on, just once… At least, that was what he told himself as he unclasped the chain, lifted it close and put the necklace on. The weight of the gem couldn't outweigh the guilt bearing down on him, but by the Gods was it beautiful. It felt cold on his chest, and Bhoja shivered lightly as his deep brown eyes seemed mesmerised by the sight. He ran a hand down the length of the chain, blinking slowly as a light sense of satisfaction filled his mind, but he wasn't sure where it had come from. It unlocked something inside him, setting the scene in the depths of his mind and unravelling him, even if Bhoja didn't know what that something could possibly be.
He yawned then, and suddenly feeling half-asleep already, untied the sash holding his robe together as it fell down into a small pool of fabric at his feet. He stretched, his slender figure exposed to the warm air of his room as he made his way to bed and slipped underneath the covers. He felt like he was running hot for some reason, sighing quietly as his hand slipped down to his abdomen and traced the light trail of black hair below his navel. "Not tonight." He whispered quietly, even as his fingers traced circles onto the skin of his stomach. He couldn't make a mess again, it'd been hard enough to sneak out of his room with his dirtied sheets last time he tried this, what would the High Priest think of him if he was caught? The gemstone around his neck went wholly ignored as he gazed down at himself, slender waist and softly shaped pecs cloaked in the dim moonlight. His face was warm, and he was second away from embarrassing himself as heat began to pool in his abdomen. He couldn't let himself do this again, and so he just suffered and laid back, eyes closed and a hand over his face.
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Shadows swirled and slinked across bare skin, feeling someone else's against his own and making him arch into… something. Something solid. The air was warm, nearly suffocating him and wrapping all around Bhoja's body, blanketing him. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, tilting it back as he heard a low chuckle in his ear, rumbling and honeyed. Someone spoke to him, a soft tone like one would use on a lover, but Bhoja couldn't make out the words. He just felt so… warm. It felt good.
Bhoja woke up with a start, gasping quietly as daylight greeted him, along with a familiar wetness around his crotch.
Fuck.
Cringing, he sat up and tossed the blanket off of his naked body, a little embarrassed about it as he folded the cloth up and got out of bed to prepare his morning bath. A man of worship had to be the definition of pure and perfect, after all. As he got up, he finally took note of the necklace that he'd completely forgotten about the night before, the gemstone still resting on his chest as the only thing covering his nude form. Stoking the fire beneath the kettle of water, Bhoja thought about the strange dream. Most nights, he dreamt of random things or priesthood, or occasionally even such sinful things as the one from that night, but never that intense. And never ones so… verbally engaging. Deciding to just let it go and try to stay collected, Bhoja simply continued to prepare his bath, taking off the necklace only in fear of it tarnishing. A small amount of time later, and Bhoja was dressing himself once more, adjusting every clasp, button and string holding his robes together until they were perfectly in place. As he looked in the mirror, he turned side to side, hands on his waist and sliding down to his hips as he more or less checked himself out. Maybe he deserved to. Strangely though, he couldn't stop glancing at the reflection of his room, as if he was expecting to find something there, perhaps even someone.
The day came and went, and as Bhoja slinked back to his room, a headache beginning to creep up to his temples, he groaned. A bath sounded wonderful right at that moment. Taking off his veil upon entering his room and letting his braided hair down, he began to undo it while a satisfied hum left his lips. He knew he could cut his hair shorter to make this all easier for him, but secretly, Bhoja really didn't want to. He just wanted to be able to show it off. Soon enough he had discarded all his clothing, neatly hanging them up for the next day while he started a fire for his kettle.
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Bhoja reclined within his bathtub, a deep sigh leaving his parted lips as the scent of jasmine and sandalwood filled his senses. Only his head was out of the water, and he made an effort to sink down to his jawline just so he could have that extra comforting blanket of warmth all around him. He'd have a few more minutes before it would turn cold and he would have to drain the water, and he wanted to savour those few minutes. Closing his eyes, he tried not to let the weight of the High Priest's demands and scoldings bear on him for too long. He was used to it after all, so he could work through it like it was all the same to him. Then a new thought entered his mind; the necklace. He had already put it back in its box and stuffed it between his scrolls and books, hidden from anyone who dared to snoop in his room just in case they came to look. His tired eyes briefly glanced at the spot he'd hidden it in. The effect of having worn it still lingered, the feeling of indulgence so alluring to his mind and sparking a need to do it again.
Exactly why it was considered such a sin.
But, for once in his life, Bhoja had truly felt beautiful. While yes, his veils and robes and all manner of embroideries stitched onto his gown were objectively gorgeous, it was standard practice. He didn't have a choice but to wear it, but with the necklace, he did. It was shimmery, embellished and new, something he wasn't supposed to have, and it excited Bhoja. But, it also scared him. He felt like he'd betrayed the principles of the temple now, breaking a rule that had been instilled in him for the last two decades that he'd spent growing up here; he was never to overindulge, for that bred greed, and greed bred malice and contempt. But couldn't he have this one simple pleasantry, just this once? Bhoja thought he could.
And so, once he was out of the bath and dry, the necklace was put on again.
Stepping in front of the mirror once more, adorned with the purple gemstone, Bhoja smiled. It was as if he was seeing himself through new eyes, gazing at his body like it was the finest sculpture. He twirled in place, feeling like the prettiest thing he'd ever laid eyes upon, and soon a giggle bubbled up in his throat, muffled by the palm of his hand. His long, wavy black hair, unbraided, swayed with his movements as he truly admired himself, something far overdue in his life. It was equal parts euphoria and anxiety, all simply because now, something was different. He'd tasted the fruit of sin, and he wanted more of it. He imagined himself adorned with fabrics in bold colours, striking brushes of purple and yellow pigment upon his face, highlighting his eyes while gold shimmered along his body. There was no going back, and Bhoja knew that the guilt would settle in at some point, but he wanted so badly to just have this moment of bliss now. Let it all come later, he thought. Let him enjoy something in his repressed life.
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The dream came more coherently this time around, and in his semi-lucid state, Bhoja could feel the bed dipping beside him, somewhere near his legs. The weight was heavy, as noted by the groan of protest his bed frame made. Bhoja was nude safe for the necklace even in his dream, he noted, his vision swimming with bright and vivid colours that the soft orange and yellow hues of the temple, although pleasant, could never compare to. The only thing that cut through that chaotic palette was his late-night visitor. Bhoja heard himself gasp, feeling like he was halfway between first and third person perspective as he witnessed a great, hulking mass of a man; or at least Bhoja thought it was a man, staring at him. Only, there was one problem. This "man" was dark as night, with large horns that curved backwards with an upwards point, along with the brightest eyes Bhoja had ever seen. Not even the deities in the scriptures of Neshra could compare, as slitted pupils stared at Bhoja from within those purple, glowing sockets. Bhoja suddenly became very aware of the hand reaching for him, and on instinct he moved back. Though, his motions seemed slowed, his head feeling not as heavy as the last time but a little woozy nonetheless. Still, it was hard to keep himself upright, and just as Bhoja shied away, his balance faltered, and he felt himself begin to fall off the bed.
That was, until a firm, warm hand scooped him right back onto the mattress like he weighed no more than a book of scripture. Confused, Bhoja seemed to have been frowning, because that same chuckle from the night before filled his ears as the dark being sitting on his bed shook his head in what appeared to be amusement.
"Don't be so frightened," He crooned, and Bhoja swore he could feel the being's voice rumbling in his head as the demon caressed his cheek. "-We wouldn't want to let you get hurt, now would we?"
The realisation that he didn't want to pull away this time relieved and terrified him at the same time. It wasn't because this being was- well, very much masculine, Gods no. It was because it was a literal demon, pulled right from every sermon of the High Priest warning villagers of "tempestuous creatures who come only at night".
"What… what are you?" Bhoja mumbled, his voice feeling like it was ten times smaller than usual as he felt claws tuck locks of hair out of his face and behind his ear. The being laughed again, a deep bellow that shouldn't have made Bhoja's cheeks flush like that before he gazed down at him, intense eyes giving Bhoja every bit of their attention. "You know exactly what I am, priest." He purred, and Bhoja knew the other was right. A thick, pointed tail swayed beside the demon's legs, curling around one of his broad calves while he leaned in.
"Say it."
Bhoja's mouth went dry, and he felt his stomach flip as the scent of smoke and something distinctly fruity invaded every one of his senses, his face unbearably close to that of the being before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out as words evaded him. The demon smirked, showing pointed teeth. "I…" He began after seconds of staring back at the being, batting his eyes helplessly before he choked his next words out. "Incubus- …You're- you're an incubus-" He whispered, and he nearly fainted as the demon replied with a low, rumbling noise from the back of his throat that was more a purr than a hum, seeming more than satisfied. "Good boy, so smart~" He sighed, and it was then that Bhoja noticed just how close the demon was, leaning over the man and close enough to do whatever he pleased. Bhoja decided not to go further into detail about why that thought didn't disgust him in the slightest.
Bhoja half expected the incubus to take him right then and there, but he was surprised to find that the demon only seemed to be interested in his wellbeing rather than what Bhoja's body could give him, as large hands slowly tucked him in and brushed along his face in the process. "Beautiful…" The incubus sighed, and Bhoja felt spoiled as his dark brown eyes flitted over the being's chest and up to his face. Something in the demon's eyes looked… wistful. Longing for something.
"You will grow more and more conscious with each visit, Bhoja." He whispered, and deciding not to question how the demon knew his name, Bhoja simply nodded and leaned his cheek into the incubus' palm.
"Now, wake up, priest."
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Bhoja opened his eyes to the sound of birdsong, a groggy moan leaving his throat while he rolled over, onto his back. Strange, he usually slept on his back to begin with, but this morning he'd woken up on his side, almost on his stomach. He slowly sat upright, then jolted as he was greeted with the annoying result of his hormones.
Lovely, now he'd have to get rid of his problem before morning prayer.
A few hushed gasps and motions of his hand later, Bhoja was once again bathing himself after having taken off the necklace, getting ready for his duties. Dressing himself a little hastily before adjusting his veil, he rushed out of his room and walked to the main hall.
"Bhoja, you're late." Spoke the High Priest, glaring at the younger man from against the wall as he stood there, rearranging a few flower vases on the windowsill.
"I'm sorry, father. It won't happen again." Bhoja bowed, looking down at the floor only to hear the older man scoff in his direction. "It already has. Now get to work, the garden must be tended to."
Bhoja wanted nothing more than to run back to his room at that very moment, but alas, he didn't have a choice right now. And so, with his face still pointed to the floor, he put on his shoes and walked out with the High Priest's eyes burning into his back. Oh well, at least he was outside now, the morning sun warming his skin and the sound of birds greeting him in full. He looked up, brown eyes glimmering with a profound sense of peace before he looked down at the flower-bed surrounding the cobblestone path. It was still spring, and so the daffodils were in full bloom as fields of the yellow trumpet-shaped flowers surrounded him, together with lilacs and a few daisies.
Hm, had those daisies always been there?
Bhoja wasn't sure, and truthfully, it didn't matter. At least he could enjoy the outside before morning prayer began, his hand grazing the low hanging branch of their orange tree as he eyed the pretty, white blossoms. Bhoja could feel a smile growing on his face as he took in the sweet scent of the flora around him, resisting the urge to prance through the garden like a dainty fawn as he tended to the flowers and admired them for a bit. Unfortunately though, nothing lasts forever, and soon Bhoja found himself being called back inside for mass. Hands in front of his hips, he walked into the main hall, his shoes at the door again as he aided the High Priest.
Chapter 2: Tease
Summary:
Bhoja finds himself returning to the dreamscape far too often, and tension seems to build between him and his late-night visitor.
Chapter Text
Bhoja lit a candle as he sat in the temple, watching the small flame dance for him while he used it to light the remaining ones as instructed. The High Priest was speaking to the masses, preaching of divine beings coming to bless the village this coming summer. Now only a week away from June, it wouldn't be long before preparations would begin. The sliding door in the front was wide open so the temple was graced with the soft glow of sunset, beautifully lighting up the inside with orange and yellow hues like a painting. It was gorgeous, and that was one of the many reasons why the temple was so loved. A place of worship, crafted with every detail perfectly in place and creating an atmosphere of comfort where villagers could practise their faith. Still, Bhoja couldn't help but feel slightly unwell, especially in the presence of his religious peers; the clergymen.
Looked down upon for his perceived naivety and the attention he garnered, Bhoja was often relegated to a less powerful role, which resulted in him becoming more of an assistant than an apprentice as he was ordered around all day. But, he had them to thank for these opportunities, such as shelter, food, water, things that Bhoja believed everyone should have but unfortunately, the world didn't work that way. Found as an orphan, he'd been taken in by father Shravan himself, and so he more or less owed his life to the man. But was this life really worth it, when all he was seen as was a nuisance who was "too soft-willed" to be a pious man?
Repressing a sigh, Bhoja looked up after all the candles had been lit to find the High Priest briefly glancing at him, noticing that the young man had been in deep thought. Bhoja quickly gave him a nod and looked away, not wanting to raise suspicions of his dissatisfaction as he kept his hands politely settled in his lap. He could feel the eyes of the High Priest lingering on him for another few seconds before the sensation faded, and Bhoja relaxed slightly as he lifted his head to watch the people pray. He smiled, admiring their faith and just how gentle the atmosphere was right now. Though as comforting as it was, he couldn't wait to get back to his chambers.
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"Look at you, coming to me again… Talk about desperate, mh?" The deep, low rumble of a voice Bhoja had become more than familiar with by now cooed to him, drawing near. He smiled faintly, welcoming its owner into his bed as large, clawed hands brushed his shoulders and pushed him effortlessly against the mattress. "Aren't you the desperate one, visiting me in my dreams?" He whispered, running his hands up and down the strong, broad biceps of the being atop him, skin dark as night and eyes as captivating as the gemstone around his neck. The bright colours that surrounded this dreamscape cast a faint glow on both their bodies. How a lucid dream could feel so real, Bhoja wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to question it. Not when this was the only time he could ever indulge in anything deemed sinful by the temple.
Well, besides the necklace, of course. But how could that ever compare to this?
He felt lips pressing against his cheek, kissing him softly and treating him with such tender care he might very well have been a porcelain doll. They never strayed, though, and Bhoja could feel himself growing impatient after many, many nights of being teased, all under the premise of this being, this demon wanting to take Bhoja for himself in the mortal realm. How he was going to do that was another mystery to the priest.
"You are the one putting on the necklace every night, my jewel~" The demon, who hadn't even given Bhoja his name yet, purred as he loomed over the man. Apparently, his true name was simply far too hard to pronounce. Bhoja let out a soft groan and rolled his eyes, playfully so as his hands weakly tried to pull the incubus closer, much to his amusement. "Come on, are incubi not supposed to have sex with the humans they visit?" Bhoja sighed, frowning as he squeezed the demon's arms softly. Just as the tendrils of insecurity began to prod at his mind, the being above him made them disintegrate with only his words. "It would be wrong for me to do so, I'm sure you understand. And besides," He sighed, leaning forward, nose brushing Bhoja's neck before his lips were almost on the man's ear. "I want us to consummate this… lovely little affair with both our minds fully awake."
Bhoja shuddered softly and bit his lip, warmth rushing to his face and straight down to his lower abdomen. Gods, he couldn't do this anymore. His body ached for whatever this incubus was willing to give him, and he became increasingly aware of the pressure between his legs as he clenched them together. "You're a tease… Making me have all these dreams of you." He muttered, and the demon laughed, his chest shaking with it as he leaned back a bit, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Oh I know, but you can be patient, can't you~?" He raised a brow, purple slitted eyes gazing down at him as he smirked, just enough to reveal his fangs. Bhoja wished the incubus would just bite him already. The gemstone felt horribly cold on his hot skin.
Truly, he'd long suspected that the demon had been using the necklace to communicate with him, as once he hadn't worn it to bed one day, the incubus had never come to him in his sleep. Besides, how could it truly be a coincidence that those everglowing, beautiful eyes of his were the same colour as the purple sapphire resting around Bhoja's neck?
"You will be the death of me." He sighed softly, reaching his hands up to hold the demon's face in his warm hands. The incubus purred deeply and leaned into his palms like someone who'd been starved of touch for years, eyes fluttering closed as a clawed hand came to wrap around Bhoja's slender wrist. "Mmh… I hope not, I'd like to keep you around~"
Chapter 3: Bouquet
Summary:
Bhoja enjoys a trip to the garden.
Chapter Text
Bhoja felt ten times lonelier at daytime than he felt at night, and he knew exactly why. He remembered every one of his dreams now, ever since he'd begun to wear the necklace. He thought of this as he took it off, gently placing it back in its box before tucking it away gently. Turning to his mirror, he silently mourned its absence around his neck before he repeated the process of getting ready, something that he could practically do on autopilot now. All he could think of was the incubus, and what that being could do to him, were he to be in the room right now.
No, now was not the time for those thoughts.
It was time to prepare himself for the day, especially since he had flowers to pick for a little project of his. Smiling to himself at the thought, he prepared a bath and waited for the water to heat up.
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As Bhoja watched townsfolk enter and leave at their own discretion, he smiled and stood by idly to watch them pray, interact and greet him. Dark eyes peered at them through his veil as a young woman approached him, a soft smile on her face as she nodded at him. "Hello, father Bhoja." She spoke cordially, and the other let out a soft 'oh' before lightly shaking his head in response. "I'm afraid I haven't reached that status yet, just Bhoja is fine, miss."
She giggled, waving her hand dismissively as she gazed at him. "You are priestly enough, I think. But you have a lovely day, goodbye Bhoja!" And with that, she left, hair whipping behind her as she spun on her heels and walked away.
Bhoja wished he could let his hair down like that, too.
Pushing down the slight envy down; it felt unbecoming of him, he relegated himself to people-watching as his eyes scanned the hall. Though, curiously, father Amou, second in command, was missing. The High Priest sat at the altar, a few praying townsfolk joining him. Bhoja waited to be excused before he left the hall, heading straight to the garden through the temple as he smiled to himself. It was a rare moment of actual, whimsical joy for him, and he felt like nothing could take it away from him. Not even father Amou walking out of the hallway perpendicular to the one he was walking through, his steps a little too hasty to be of a calm nature as they faded behind Bhoja.
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Bhoja bent down, taking great care not to dirty his robes as his hands carefully plucked the flowers of his choosing, a small ribbon between two fingers to tie them all together. He got as much of the stem as possible for preservation, humming a soft tune as he did so. He'd been eyeing a few empty pages of his journal for a while now and knowing that the flowers; especially not the daffodils, weren't going to last very long, he'd decided he was going to press them. And so, with a small bouquet of eight or so flowers in his hand, Bhoja made his way back inside. He slid his shoes off at the door and closed it behind him, carrying the bouquet like it was a tiny mewling kitten, a fragile little thing. And it was, truthfully. Too much pressure would crush the petals.
"Bhoja."
He froze, lifting his head from his prized collection and gazing right into the eyes of the High Priest, infuriated. He held something, Bhoja noticed as he saw something glitter faintly, and he nearly lost his breath as he realised what it was.
"What was this doing in your room?" Father Shravan hissed as the necklace dangled from his hand, and before Bhoja could answer, there was an iron grip on his arm, sure to bruise the next day. "Where did you get it?!"
"I- I don't know!" Bhoja yelped, instinctively pulling away as he felt dread form in his entire self. Father Amou must have been in his room to look for something, that was why he'd seemed in a hurry when Bhoja last saw him. His efforts of pulling away were met with a harsh yank, and he could feel his eyes welling up with tears as the grip on his arm tightened.
"You don't know." Father Shravan repeated, an unimpressed look on his face as his eyes burned into Bhoja. "Yes! It was just laying on my desk one day!"
There was a certain look of hatred in father Shravan's eyes that he'd never seen before, and it made him feel so unbearably small. "You know exactly where you got it from. You stole it, didn't you?" The High Priest growled, and Bhoja couldn't help but let out a cry as it began to become all too much for him. He shook his head, nose scrunching up as it burned from the tears in his eyes. "I didn't! P-please give it back…"
His words went ignored as father Shravan continued.
"Or was it that girl, hm? I saw you talking to her. Did she give this to you?!"
"Give it back…"
"You must be out of your mind, you know good and well what the book of Neshra says, you dim-witted -"
"Please father, give it back!"
Smack.
Bhoja's face stung, and he reflexively clutched his cheek, his palm cold against the burning skin. The slap had been deafening, echoing through the room and easily overshadowing the sound of a bundle of flowers hitting the floor. Tears rolled down Bhoja's cheeks, unable to stop as he kept his gaze down; he couldn't even look at the High Priest in disbelief.
"... Let me never catch you with another temptation like this again, understood?" Father Shravan's commanding voice was the first thing to break the silence, and Bhoja loathed him for that. He couldn't find his voice, so he just nodded, hoping that would suffice. It didn't.
His jaw was gripped so tightly that it hurt, forcing him to look up as the High Priest stared at him. "Understood?"
"Y-yes-" Bhoja whimpered, biting back a sob as his cheeks once again became wet with tears. He saw father Shravan wipe his hand with a disgusted wince as he let Bhoja go. "Good. You are dismissed from all duties today, think about what you've done."
Bhoja knew he wasn't getting that necklace back. He knew he wouldn't dream of the incubus that night, and it broke him, just a bit. Overwhelmed and disheartened, he sobbed into his pillow until he passed out, hands pawing at it like it could've been him. Father Shravan had taken away the only thing that had changed his life, and now he was right back to square one.
And he didn't even have his fucking flowers.
CainusLupis on Chapter 3 Sat 25 Nov 2023 06:02AM UTC
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