iris-ren

23 // gemini sun virgo rising//MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT ENTER // she / her

197 posts

The Priest Of Styria

the priest of styria

chapter one

vampire/priest getou x reader

wc: 2k

tags: talks of death and female arousal // not beta read or edited

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you caught news that there was to be a priest in town to take over at the cathedral after father issac’s untimely death. you had yet to see the man, but if he was anything like father issac, you figured his sermons would probably be quite boring and drawn out. apparently the new priest that is taking over the reigns is from a faraway place. a place that no one had heard of.

your ladies maid discussed the matter with you while brushing your hair behind you in the mirror. ophelia smiled while admiring the intricate braid that she was weaving into your hair, listening to your incessant questions.

“oh please! ophelia it’s been ages since something interesting happened around here. you must tell me what you’ve heard! there’s no need to act coy with me. how long have we known each other again?”

ophelia let out a sigh for dramatic effect and met your eyes in the mirror, “since we were in diapers my lady, but you must hear me now, when i say that i know as much as you! the man is a mystery to us all.”

you couldn’t help but pester your old friend, it was true what you said. father issac’s death stirred up all of styria, and with the news of the replacement priest arriving soon after the fact, brought pandemonium to the town.

“it’s unheard of really, how is it possible for not a single soul to know what the man looks like, or where he hailed from?”

ophelia shrugged her shoulders.

you rolled your eyes at her in the mirror, “well let’s hope that his sermon’s are more lively than poor old father issac’s.” you said with a chuckle. ophelia pinched your shoulder and you shrieked in faux pain. “you mustn’t be so crass my lady.” she said, trying to conceal her own laughter.

“you are a nasty little spinster, ophelia!” you yelled while trying to pinch her back. she swiftly swatted your hand away and grabbed onto your shoulders to still your movements and continued to work on your hair. “you’re one to talk my lady, are you not almost a spinster yourself?”

you gasped sarcastically, “how cruel of you ophelia! how could i be blamed for the lack of options offered to me? it is not my fault that no one in this village is worth a damn. besides, they’re all just interested in the fortune mother and father left to me in the will; i’d rather be a wise old spinster than a young wedded idiot.”

“you have such a way with words.” ophelia jutted, while putting the finishing touches on your hair.

it was considered most improper for a lady of your stature to be out running errands with your ladies maid but the judgemental stares from the town’s folk stopped weighing on you not long after your mother and father’s passing. ophelia and yourself strolled comfortably through the cobblestone streets after spending a good portion of the day collecting various meats and breads from street vendors. the two of you needed to stock up on as much as possible to prepare for the cold weather that was surely on its way to styria.

styria experienced year-round melancholy weather, though you wouldn’t describe it as such. the grey sky’s and chilly winds were all you knew. you hadn’t experienced many sunny days, so the lack thereof did not take a toll on your emotional state. the same could not be said for the rare tourists that came to town, they would often experience large bouts of depressive episodes before finally deciding to leave and never come back.

you wondered how the new priest would take to the dismal climate. maybe he would be like the rare tourists and run away as fast as he could to get away from this sad little town. you shrugged the thought off, figuring that it didn’t matter much. you weren’t much on religion anyways, you only attended sunday service to keep a somewhat decent reputation.

“make haste!” ophelia yelled as she picked up her pace on the cobblestone street. your maid pointed to the dark clouds forming above the roofs, “a storm’s rolling in! we need to make it back before all this gets ruined!” she lifted the bags full of food in an upwards motion and began to run as the rain started to come down. you did your best to pull up your skirts to keep from ruining your hem, while also keeping the bags gripped tightly between your palms.

the two of you screamed when the rain began to pour, by the time you arrived back to the estate the two of you were sure to be a pitiful sight. ophelia helped you out of your wet shoes in the foyer, before removing her own and moved to the sitting room to start a fire. you let out a sigh when you saw the weather growing much more volatile outside the window.

the branches on all the trees lurched back and forth angerly in the wind, while lightning and thunder boomed across the sky. you felt wholly grateful to have made it safely indoors when you did. you moved into the sitting room when ophelia had successfully created a large crackling fire inside the hearth.

the two of you sat in silence, letting the warmth of the fire dry your damp clothes. it was important to dry yourselves in the sitting room, to not drag mud and water throughout the whole house.

you perched yourself on a chaise lounge near one of the large windows and removed your shoes. ophelia did the same, except she sat much closer to the fire, you gathered that she was on the verge of catching a chill which would explain her close proximity to the fire but you didn’t want to break the peaceful silence to ask her why she felt the need to practically dip her toes into the red hot flames. instead you turned your head back to the window to watch the erratic weather.

the calming warmth from the hearth, and the sound of rain hitting the window quickly lulled you to sleep. you weren’t sure how long you were out when you were awoken by an unpleasant noise out beyond your window. you heard what sounded like one hundred horses galloping on the road leading into town just past the trees lining your estate.

you would have thought the sound to be thunder, if the rain had not already ceased. your brows furrowed as you leaned closer to the window hoping to get a better look beyond the trees. the moon had risen during your slumber and you found it completely impossible to see beyond the greenery.

“who on earth would be traveling at this hour?” ophelia said from behind you. having not realized she was there, your shoulders jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of her voice. “and what is the hour?” you grumbled rubbing your puffy eyes.

“a quarter past midnight my lady, we best be getting you into bed now. for a proper rest.”

you nodded your head, allowing your friend to guide you by candlelight back to your bedchamber. sleep was hard to come by that night; you weren’t sure if it was due to your late evening nap or if it was the fact that your mind was plagued with wandering thoughts as to who was charging into town at such a late hour.

images of the large black horses stomping angrily through the mud carrying a gothic carriage filled your mind. you weren’t sure why the sight filled you with such terror, but also curiosity. It had to be someone wealthy, a common person could not afford to travel in such style.

could it be the new priest? you wondered. you blinked up at the canopy above your bed, no. you shook away the thought. what messenger of God would travel with such a lack of humility?

you decided it must’ve been a passerby, traveling to the capital perhaps. with your thoughts finally settled, you allowed for your mind to rest.

the stranger inside of the carriage found himself growing weary of the long ride. he sighed, pulling aside the velvet shades covering the window. his pupils dilated at the sight of the bright moon. it was full. many night creatures would be feeling the effects of the full moon. including himself.

he licked his lips, finally taking notice of just how insatiable his hunger truly was—-a hunger that even the finest of meals could not satisfy. the man idly rolled the black rosary through his fingers, remembering the role he would be playing in his new home. it would be much too suspicious if people began to drop dead the same night that the new practitioner of God arrives in town.

the days passed quickly leading up to sunday. you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity as you usually did on sundays, once again allowing ophelia to work her magic on readying you for the day. it was no easy feat on her part, you were sure. she chose to dress you in a simple white dress, conservative enough to attend the service. it covered the important things, while hugging your curves in the right places.

ophelia was busying herself with fixing the lining of your dress when the horseman arrived with the carriage your family passed down to you in tow. the ride to the church was pleasant enough. you found yourself enjoying the silence between you and your maid, and nodding when she commented on how dreary the weather was.

when entering the church the two of you exchanged pleasantries and smiles at the other townsfolk while moving to take your seats. the two of you sat in the front row of the old gothic church and waited for the service to begin.

“i’ll bet you four shillings that this priest, is an old goose just like father issac.” ophelia quipped into your ear. before you could chuckle at her heinous comment, the congregation began to rise at the entrance of the new leader of the church.

the energy in the room grew heavy with each step he took. a sea of darkness followed his tall lean frame. the man rounded the podium and swiftly cracked open his bible, not once looking up to face the crowd. it was as if he couldn’t be bothered with gazing upon the boring faces of the congregation.

you couldn’t blame him much, if you had features such as his you’d probably be just as uninterested as he. his sharp eyes eventually rose from the religious text that he was reading allowed to scan the crowd. your spine straightened anticipating his gaze.

your heart screamed for him to look your way, as a thin stand of raven hair fell across his face. your chest deflated when his eyes moved back down to the text, while pushing the strand away from his eyes. you pressed your thighs together, and determined yourself to pay close attention to the program pamphlet resting in your lap. anything to take your mind off of the man at the altar.

getou could sense your frustration, and was internally amused at how you hadn’t changed a bit—no matter how many lifetimes had passed since the last time he laid eyes on you. you were no immortal being like him. he could not blame you for not remembering him, and the love the two of you shared—but it didn’t stop the knot that formed in his cold dead chest.

the man had spent centuries searching for you, in your past life you promised him that you would meet again. getou spent the first hundred years following your untimely death by burning down and sucking the blood out of a handful of kingdoms. the next few hundred years his anger became a dull blade prodding his chest, and it allowed him to exist in society in whatever way he could to bide his time.

many years had passed. empires rose and fell, all while getou seeked to avenge your death and hoped for your reincarnation. oceans of time had passed and finally, you were all his.

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The Priest Of Styria

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