❝ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ?❞
For generations, the Blood Moon Pack and Grave Shadow Pack have been at war, the werewolves from each side bearing high tensions and malicious in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It's only natural to assume that Priest Lee dwells in Grave Shadow's infirmary, just as any priest of Luna would. Regardless, Grace has missed out on too many chances to sneak in previously. She's done a whole lot of staring at his doorway from a safe distance, but no actual call to action. Not even a knock.
It's pathetic. She certainly feels pathetic. And if she can't do this now, then she won't be able to ever again.
On this last day, her compulsions wail at her to just go already, so finally, finally, she does. Procrastination at its finest. Not her proudest moment.
With her fingers knotting together, she has to triple check the coast being clear, her head of red hair frantically whipping back and forth down the steel corridor, right before stumbling inside like a pup with two left paws. Upon her abrupt arrival, leftover smoke from freshly burnt incense fills her nostrils. It's an instant balm of calm, a familiar constant in her life.
He still prays to Her.
Thank God. That's definitely better than nothing at all, for priests like them are meant to believe in Her will. A flicker of hope sparks, prompting Grace further inside his chilling domain. Even with her pale pink sweater pressed snug against her torso, shivers slither past the ribbed sleeves and race across her arms, an onset of goosebumps threatening to arise once more. It's so cold here...
Grace knows she would be praying right now too, had this been her own warmer and brighter infirmary back in Blood Moon. A sense of longing curdles in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being home again. Once Cyrus and Jax were done concluding their business with Zeke, they'd officially return. All would be better. Or at least, as better as they can be, given the current circumstances... and the bats that secretly lurked in the shadows of their basement...
Truly, out of everything, Grace misses the comforts of her room the most. The nightly fireplaces that would blaze a trail of warmth all the way from the common room... the books that awaited her from their place on her mahogany nightstand... the satin sheets, infused with the scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms...
However, while she's still here, she must speak with Lee. Just him and her—two priests of Luna minding their own religious business.
This would perfectly be fine had Cyrus and Jax not already decided to plot for the impossible death of the almighty deity responsible for their lycanthrope livelihoods. Alphas and their prides... there's nothing else Grace can do to protest their mutually destructive cause.
Speaking of Lee, where is he–
"Priest Grace?" Lee exclaims, a squeaky yelp following after her name. "Why are you here?"
All this time, the other omega had been right behind her. For Luna's sake!
"P-Priest Lee," she stutters out not-so-eloquently, her hands flopping around in a fit of flustered surprise. "I, um, wanted to pray with you before I left with Alpha Jax and Cyrus on our journey to Blood Moon."
