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linasofia · 1 year

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Love Never Dies

Part 4

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x OC Palmira

Summary: After returning to his hometown, Father Quart comes face to face with his past. His life, as well as the choices he made as a young man, are turned upside down and he is once again forced to make life-changing decisions. But at what cost?

Words: 2,8K

Warnings: 18+ ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you.

A/N: This is the fourth part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

Special thanks to @legolasbadass & @lathalea 💙

Palmira haunts him every night, her wild red locks dance around her face with every move she makes and like a siren she calls for him. In his dreams, she offers him to explore all his darkest fantasies, some of them lurking in the back of his brain ever since he was a teenager. Unable to control his mind when the moon slowly wanders over the midnight sky, Father Quart experiences more vivid dreams during a couple of months than most people do in a lifetime. Something was unleashed in him that night he opened the folder containing his mother’s research, and his mind processes it in the most brutal way during the dark hours. The first week he was frightened by his own dreams, but soon enough the fear developed into curiosity and from there it grew to fascination.

During the day, he is a loyal servant of God, but when night falls, sweat soaks his nightshirt as he fights his urges. And Palmira is no longer an innocent fantasy; she has become an obsession. She is not aware of his change of course, for he is too careful to open the door to his heart, and the dreams that follow after each of their meetings in church is something he could never reveal for her. But he is not a blind man. He sees how her gaze lingers on him, slowly turning warm, just as when they were in their youth. As the months pass, their old bond emerges from the shadows in their hearts and Father Quart finds it harder to keep a distance between them. Palmira sometimes places her hand on his forearm as they sit together and it is during one of those moments he wishes things were different. The thought is not a complete shock but it must have shown in his eyes for she looks at him with concern.

”Are you ok?” she asks, unaware of the blood boiling in his veins. He nods in silence and finds himself staring at her lips. She runs the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, and everything suddenly feels very loaded between them. The expectant look in her eyes is something he has not seen since that day after school when she hurt her feet and had to lean on him when they walked home. He was very close to kissing her back then and he still remembers the smell of her shampoo as she whisked away her hair. Now, when the air fills with her perfume as she leans forward, he cannot remember why he did not.

”Lorenzo,” she breathes and the way she speaks his name makes him reach for the back of the pew to discreetly steady himself. He swallows hard as she slowly comes closer. Palmira gives him all the time he needs to stop her. To stand up and walk away. But he cannot move. He cannot think. And he does not want to.

Her lips are soft as silk and her hand feels warm when she gently caresses his cheek. Father Quart does not dare to move, too afraid to break the moment. Their kiss is shy, brief and tender, but when Palmira pulls back, it is with a horrified expression in her eyes.

”I am sorry, I should not have done that.”

Father Quart shakes his head. ”Maybe not, but I do not regret it.”

She smiles at him in a way no woman has ever smiled at him before and it causes him to lose his raging inner battle against his own body. He sneaks his hand under her amber locks and pulls her face closer to his again. This time the shyness between them is gone and the kiss ignites his body like a torch thrown on a pile of dry grass. Emotions suppressed during a lifetime of celibacy explode in his chest, but then he forces himself to break the kiss, using one last sensible thought. He reaches for her hand. ”We cannot continue this here, not now, the risk is too high.” He looks anxiously around the empty church,then back at her. ”I do not want to see you go, but it might be better if you do.” A shadow of confusion falls over her face and he quickly adds; “maybe we can meet later, if you want to return tonight, before I lock the main entrance?” Palmira instantly nods in agreement and her eyes speak of promises that make him shudder with delight.

”See you later,” she whispers as she releases her hand and leaves him breathless on the pew.

During the afternoon, visitors come and go. Some only nod at him but others stay to have deep conversations. The hours appear longer than usual, and Father Quart feels strangely distant. He knows he will not be able to focus on the confessions with the taste of her still on his lips, so he tries to wash the traces away with coffee. When he steps into the confessional, he forces the thought of Palmira’s soft lips out of his mind.

***

The doors between the nave and the vestibule are open and he sees her as soon as he approaches the main entrance. She is standing in front of the mirror with her back against him. Her clothes are different. The tight grey trousers she wore earlier together with a cobalt blue blouse are replaced by a way too thin dress for the season, and the fabric hugs her body in all the right places. It makes her even more irresistible than usual, and Father Quart runs his hand over his jaw. Her coat hangs over the back of one of the chairs placed in the vestibule and her delicate shoulders are only partly covered by a white scarf. That is definitely not a combination suited for a visit to church, but as he takes in the sight of her skin, he realizes that she could not have picked a more sensual outfit. With one hand she tries to get her cascades of hair to fall the way she likes it and he can tell by the way she pulls at her locks that she is nervous. He smiles, she is not the only one. Without a word he glides up beside her and when he says her name in a hushed voice, she jumps and turns around to face him.

”Lorenzo, you scared me. I did not see you in the mirror.”

”Perhaps you were not looking.”

She smiles at him. ”It does not matter. I see you now.”

“Give me a minute to lock this place. It is time.”

She smiles at him and the urge to kiss her is overwhelming, but he resists and turns his attention to the heavy oak door and the key in his hand. When the task is done, he slowly walks towards her.

”I have to admit, I was not sure you were coming back,” he mumbles when he stops, careful to not overstep her personal space. Her smile makes his heart skip several beats and when she closes the distance between them, he welcomes her in his arms.

”You are not being serious now, are you?” She wraps her arms around his neck and with a soft moan she presses her lips against his. He is about to answer her, but she slips her tongue between his lips and the thought is lost in the sensation of her exploration of his mouth. She runs her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck and he tightens his grip around her. Her tongue caresses his and invites him to kiss her deeper, more hungrily. The scarf falls down on the floor, exposing more of her skin to him and when the intensity of their kiss has them both gasping for air, he takes the opportunity to move on to kiss the skin on her shoulder.

Her breathing guides him and when she lets out a soft moan and shivers under his lips, he knows he has found a sensitive spot at the crook of her neck. Spurred by her noises, he peppers the freckled skin with kisses and she tilts her head to the side in an approving gesture. Using only the tip of his tongue, he teases her and Palmira moans longingly. She tastes wonderful, sweet and salty at the same time, but something dark stirs in his chest when he senses her pulse through the thin skin on her neck. He ignores it, too aroused by her scent and smell, and continues to let his tongue dance over her neck. The throbbing in his lower body grows impatiently and when Palmira suddenly slips a daring hand between their bodies and gently strokes him through his trousers, he truly understands the word lust. It builds rapidly in him and when he meets her burning gaze, it explodes under his skin.

Unable to stop himself he forces her against the wall and she whimpers when he presses his body against hers. He wants her, no, he needs her, as he has never needed anything or anybody else before. The unspeakable thoughts he used to spend so much time controlling now thunder in his ears. He can hear the frenetic beating of her heart, and when he licks the side of her neck, he feels a sharp sting in his mouth. The dark voice in his head no longer whispers only about the sweet forbidden place between Palmira’s thighs, it also speaks of the immense pleasure that can be found under her skin. If he takes both, nothing will be the same.

Tentatively, he pulls his teeth along her neck and she gasps. In what seems to be pure pleasure, she pleads his name and tries to grind against his thigh. Her revealing dress hinders her and she lets out a frustrated sigh before reaching for the hem. With a radiant smile she pulls it up, allowing him to push his knee between her legs. The warmth he feels through the layers of fabric makes him feral. No wonder he was taught it was the work of the devil when he was young, her incredible heat is more irresistible than he could ever imagine. With a steady grip on her waist, he pulls her harshly against his thigh and once again he is rewarded with her desperate pleading for more.

She fumbles with his belt while she lets her head fall against his shoulder.

”Palmira,” he groans as he rests his hand on the rough wall above her. She lifts her head and meets his hazy gaze and then slowly slides her hand under the fabric of his boxers. When her fingers gently wrap around his throbbing hardness the last of his coherent thoughts are lost. She strokes him teasingly, and in her eyes, he reads a satisfaction so grand he almost does not believe it. Her sensual lips find their way back to his and while her fingers caress him in a way that makes him see stars, her tongue plays a naughty game. Suddenly she pulls her hand away but his protest is silenced by her seductive smile.

”I want to taste you.”

Father Quart swallows hard. He has dreamt about what she now offers more times than he can count, and when she drops to her knees in front of him, he closes his eyes. He can feel her pulling his boxers further down and revealing his state to her. The darkness inside him waits patiently for her next move and suddenly he is afraid to disappoint her.

”Palmira, I—” She interrupts him by closing her lips around the top of his hard shaft and, totally unprepared for the feeling, he pulls in air between his teeth. Briefly, he recalls the first time he fantasized about looking down at her as he does now. He was in his late teenage years, and she was too innocent to be practicing what she now seems to fully enjoy doing.

She takes her time with him, pulls him closer, builds his burning desperation and teases him beyond the border of sanity. He buries his fingers in her fiery locks, and when she moans softly over him, sending vibrations down his shaft, he lets out a rare curse. He is so close, all he needs is for her to go a little deeper, a little harder. As if she can hear his thoughts, she intensifies her divine treatment. His voice feels raspy when he speaks.

“I will not last if you continue doing that.” His grip on her locks tightens when she grabs his thighs and urges him to rock his hips against her. “Palmira, I mean it.”

He groans loudly as he feels his groin tense. She makes no attempt to stop the inevitable and, torn between the need to finish and the desire to keep going, he eventually succumbs to the pleasure between her red lips. With a steady grip on her hair, he lets his feral side lead him to his climax.

Father Quart has to steady himself against the wall as Palmira rises to her feet with a mischievous smile on her angelic lips. Unable to find the right words, he lets his fingertips do it for him. Gently, he caresses her cheek and sneaks his hand around her neck to pull her closer. Palmira wraps her slender arms around him and their embrace feels more intimate than ever before. He breathes in her wonderful unique scent, her fresh, slightly flowery perfume, the alluring sweet smell of her arousal and the faint trace of him left on her. A less sensitive nose would easily have missed all the different smells, but Father Quart maps them in his memory.

Suddenly the moment is disturbed by the vibrations from the phone in his pocket. Tempted to ignore it, he let his tongue dance around hers again but then he remembers the time and that nobody except two people call him at this hour. Neither of them can be ignored. He pulls out his phone with an apologetic smile. The display announces a call from Dr Moretti. With a frown on his face he turns his gaze to Palmira. “I have to take this. I am sorry.”

“I should go. We can talk tomorrow, perhaps?”

He nods. It might be best since he has no idea what the good doctor wants.

“Let me out.” She nods at the door while he answers and the friendly voice of his mother’s doctor seeps from the speaker. He hurries to the door and unlocks it. While she puts on her coat and slips out in the dark he tries to focus on his call and not on what is left of her taste in his mouth, the evidence of their sinful encounter.

***

The color has returned to his mother’s cheeks; he notices the positive change as soon as he steps up to her bed. Her eyes seem brighter than the previous days and her smile lighter, as if a weight has been lifted from her chest. He smiles at her and she reaches for his hand as soon as he sits down in the old, creaky armchair. Her doctor had called him to ask if he knew what could have made such a sudden change in her health condition. Without revealing too much, Father Quart had told him that they had cleared the air regarding things from his childhood and he suspected that it made his mother feel more at ease.

“You look different… more relaxed.” His mother’s loving eyes rest on him. The memory of Palmira on her knees comes to his mind but he refuses to let her magnificent skills distract him now.

“It is because you look less troubled today, mother. Have you slept well?”

She nods and it fills his heart with love. He holds up a small paper bag with the city’s well known bakery’s logo on it.

“Lorenzo,” she chuckles softly, “you are spoiling me.”

He beams at her. “Nonsense. Coffee or just some still water?”

“I think I will try coffee today. My body is filled with more energy than it has been for a long time. But I prefer to sit on the sofa. Let us enjoy whatever sweets you brought there, it feels more civilized.”

Hours later, alone in his apartment, Father Quart gets ready for bed. The evening at his mother went by fast, as it does when you are having a pleasant time, and his mother even challenged him to a game of cards. He managed to keep the thoughts of Palmira at bay for most of the evening and it is not until now, when he lies in bed, that he welcomes the thoughts again. Only this time, he has a real memory to build his fantasy around, far better than anything his own brain could come up with.

Her name is the only word he lets out when his ragged breathing peaks and the work of his hand helps his tense body to relax.

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#richard armitage #fanfiction #father quart #father quart x oc #father quart fic #father quart fanfic #the man from rome #the seville communion #la piel del tambor #fanfic

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legolasbadass · 2 years

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My first commission! My darling @linasofia and her beloved Father Quart 💙

#Also Lina wants everyone to admire her butt #her words not mine #richard armitage #father quart #the man from rome #the seville communion #richard armitage fanart #father quart fanart #art

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cadmusfly · 28 days

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Non Comprehensive List of the Nice Spanish Paintings That Mysteriously Ended Up in Marshal Soult's Collection

Sourced from the essay Seville's Artistic Heritage during the French Occupation in the book Manet/Velázquez: The French Taste for Spanish Painting, which can be downloaded for free on the Met's website which is frankly awesome but i wish someone OCRed their book

In 1852 at the sale of his collection, there were 109 paintings up for sale - 78 from the Seville School, including 15 Murillos and 15 Zurbaráns.

It's interesting that Soult wanted to legitimize his ownership of these paintings via receipts and official documentation - the biography of him I was machine translating talks about the king questioning his collection and him pulling out receipts for each painting. But, well, the essay puts it like this: "The existence of an official letter can be explained by Soult's desire to dress up in legal or formal terms what was in reality theft or extortion."

I might put excerpts from the essay in a different post, but for now, let's look at the list! Modern locations of the paintings are in parentheses, and I must say, for an essay critical of historical reappropriation of artwork, a lot of these artworks are still extant. Not a dig or anything, just an observation.

I do not condone extorting or stealing priceless Spanish artworks anyway

On with the show!

Murillo The Immaculate Conception (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) Virgin and Child (Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool) Saint Elizabeth of Hungary Nursing the Sick (Church of the Hospital de la Caridad, Seville) Christ Healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (National Gallery, London) The Return of the Prodigal Son (National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.) Abraham and the Three Angels (National Gallery Of Canada, Ottawa) The Liberation of Saint Peter (State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg) Saint Junipero and the Pauper (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Salvador de Horta and the Inquisitor Of Aragon (Musée Bonnat, Bayonne) Brother Julián de Alcalá and the Soul of Philip II (Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Mass.) The Angels' Kitchen (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Dream Of the Patrician (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Patrician John and His Wife (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Triumph of the Eucharist (Lord Farringdon Collection, Buscot Park, Farringdon, England) Saint Augustine in Ecstasy [Not sourced from the above book, from a Christies auction actually]

Herrera the Elder The Israelites Receiving Manna (unknown/destroyed?) Moses Striking the Rock (unknown/destroyed?) The Marriage at Cana (unknown/destroyed?) The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes (Musée d'Amiens, destroyed in 1918) Last Communion of Saint Bonaventure (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Basil Dictating His Doctrine (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

Zurbarán Saint Apollonia (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Lucy Musée des Beaux-Arts, Chartres Saint Anthony Abbot (private collection, Madrid) Saint Lawrence (State Hermitage, St. Petersburg) Saint Bonaventure at the Council of Lyon (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Bonaventure on His Bier (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Apotheosis of Saint Thomas Aquinas (Museo de Bellas Artes, Seville) Saints Romanus and Barulas (Art Institute of Chicago) paintings of the archangel Gabriel and Saint Agatha (both Musée de Montpellier)

Cano Saint John with the Poisoned Chalice and Saint James the Apostle (both Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint John Giving Communion to the Virgin (Palazzo Bianco, Genoa) Saint John's Vision Of God (John and Mable Ringling Museum Of Art, Sarasota) Charity and Faith (present location unknown; 1852 Soult sale) Saint Agnes (destroyed in fire in the Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

Uncertain source, thought to be Murillo at the time A Resting Virgin (usually identified as The Holy Family with the Infant Saint John the Baptist, Wallace Collection London) The Death Of Abel Saint Peter Saint Paul

Other artists in his collection whose specific works weren't named Sebastiån de Llanos Valdés Pedro de Camprobin José Antolinez Sebastiån Gomez

#jean-de-dieu soult #jean de dieu soult #napoleon's marshals #napoleonic wars #napoleonic era #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main #cadmus rambles

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sebastianshaw · 11 months

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Ok, I’ll get to asks today but first: Ever wonder where the whole "unicorns come to virgins" thing comes from? And why? And when that came about? While it is an old and established part of their mythos now, it's actually not been a part of it forever, and was added by Christians. The first imagery of unicorns (or what could be called unicorns, they're more bull-like at this stage) dates back to the Bronze Age, about 2000 BC in the Indus Valley. But the earliest written description is from Ctesias who writes of "wild asses" in India with a single horn, written in the 5th century BCWe don't get to the "can be tamed by a virgin girl" thing til the writing of Isidore of Seville, who was a Christian and in fact was sainted. Since then, it REALLY took off, and the unicorn was also largely used as being an allegory for Chris at the time. So the story of how a unicorn will go to a virgin, put his head in her lap, and then be ambushed by hunters and his horn used to purify food and drink, is thought to represent how Jesus went into body of the Virgin Mary to be incarnated, and was then killed by crucifixion by mankind. The unicorn's body then being used for medicine supposedly represents how Catholic worshippers consume the body and the blood of Christ at Holy Communion. This is why Medieval and Renaissance painters depicted unicorns nestled in the Virgin Mary's lap. After a while though, the Church decided that representing Jesus as a real animal (which unicorns were thought to be at the time, just rare) was bad, so they said no more of that, and the idea of unicorns as representing anything else went away, but the imagery of the unicorn and virgin remained. Which today has become just more "unicorns and girls" in general, which I like best!

#out of shirt #I love unicorns so much you have no idea

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felipeandletizia · 2 years

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Felipe and Letizia retrospective: May 20th

2004: Final rehearsal for the wedding (1, 2, 3)

2006: Gala dinner for the Laureus Prizes in Barcelona

2008: Foundation NociaSalcedo Awards

2009: Exercise of the Joint Force of Rapid Reaction “San Lorenzo 09/02”

2010: Inaugural Conference of the 3rd edition of the “European Maritime Day” & Visited “Infanta Leonor” school in Castrillon, Asturias. (1, 2)

2014: Dinner organized by the Chamber of Commerce of Seville in Seville.

2015: Princess Leonor’s First Communion (1, 2, 3).

2017: Opening session of the World Economic Forum on the Middle East and North Africa held in the Dead Sea resort of Shuneh, west of Amman, Jordan

2018: Arrival to “Las Américas” International Airport of Santo Domingo ahead of her cooperation trip to Dominican Republic and Haiti

2019: Military audiences & 11th Banco Santander Social Projects awards (1, 2, 3)

2020: Videoconferences: Open meeting with representatives of the new creative generation of the Spanish cultural scene & Prominent representatives of the music of Spain

2021: Graduation of the 72th class of diplomats

F&L Through the Years: 762/??

#King Felipe #Queen Letizia #King Felipe of Spain #Queen Letizia of Spain #King Felipe VI #King Felipe VI of Spain #F&L Through the Years #May20

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illmetbymoonlight · 3 months

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The Man From Rome / La Piel Del Tambor / The Seville Communion

Like this page if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic series / ship

#ship: take me to church #tag list

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riepu10 · 3 years

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Richard Armitage as Father Quart filming The Man From Rome/The Seville Communion on Plaza de San Francisco in Seville. Photo: Antonio Pizarro

#Richard Armitage #The Man From Rome #The Seville Communion #Diario de Sevilla #riepu10

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meandrichard · 3 years

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That looks like a soutane

Oooh. Roman-style cassock? I wouldn’t mind seeing him in the cape, either.Although I guess Father Quart wears a suit.

View On WordPress

#Lorenzo Quart #Richard Armitage #The Seville Communion #Twitter

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richardarmitagefanpage · 7 months

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One year ago today, Richard attended the "La Piel del Tambor" photocall at the Villarreal Hotel in Madrid, Spain.

#richard armitage #father quart #the man from rome #the seville communion #la piel del tambor #photocall #villareal hotel #madrid #spain #october 2022 #one year ago today #news

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astrovian · 2 years

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there is so much to digest in this image of RA as Padre Quart, I don't even know where to begin, I-

the lighting??? the eyelashes??? the fucking rumpled-I-just-took-my-white-collar-off shirt???

the MAn-SpREaD-THiGh-pORN???

THe HaND pORn???

#this is a GORGEOUS IMAGE #you best believe I want to attempt to paint this motherfucking beauty #richard armitage #the man from rome #la piel del tambor #the seville communion #padre quart #father quart #quart

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linasofia · 1 year

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Love Never Dies

Part 5

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x OC Palmira

Words: 2K

Warnings: 18+ ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Angst.

A/N: This is the final part of this fic. You can read all the previous parts here.

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass for all your support and feedback. 💙💙

His mind is a treacherous ally and during the dark hours it takes full advantage of his inability to steer his thoughts. As the full moon gazes down on the sleeping city from a cloudless sky, the night active part of Father Quart’s brain craves Palmira. Alone in his bed, with eyelids fluttering and the bedsheet in a tight grip, his mind returns to the vestibule.

This time she is naked. And so is he. He stands behind her and lets his hands glide over her upper body. Her soft skin feels warm under his palms and when he bends down to kiss her freckled shoulder, he feels her scent enchant him once again. She lets out the most delicate whimper as he tightens his hold of her waist and pulls her even closer to him. Teasingly, she arches her back at him, allowing him to press his throbbing hardness against her and he lets out a grunt. Her long amber locks fall over her back and he pushes her hair to the side, exposing her neck.

Palmira is eager, impatient even, and he loves her even more for it. There is no insecurity or doubt between them and when she guides him in between her slick folds, he holds his breath. Her pleased moan as he stretches her fills him with desire and he takes her, slowly first, but then more violently. Her satisfied cries echoe in the vestibule and in that moment he does not care if it can be heard by people passing by outside. All that matters is him and her, joined by passion, lust and love.

Then darkness comes crawling over him. Lost in the feeling of her tightness, he does not notice it at first. Another type of lust spreads rapidly in his body and when he lifts his hand to wrap it around her neck, he realizes that there is one thing he craves just as much as sexual relief. He grins as she clenches hard over his length.

The dream shifts scenery.

He gazes down on his white shirt. It is stained with clear red blood all over his chest and the warm, metallic taste in his mouth makes his heart race. At his feet lies a brown haired woman. She holds one of her hands over her neck and she is sobbing quietly. Life is slipping from her, he can smell it seeping from her like smoke finds its way out of the smallest crack. He hears her heart beating slower and her skin is colder when he reaches down to touch her. Satisfied, he licks his lips and marvels at the sensational change in his body. He feels renewed, reborn even. Stronger, sharper, and faster in his reactions. Without givingher another thought, he takes a step over the dying woman and walks out of the dark alley. The nameless brunette was only the beginning. He needs his red-haired siren to fully satisfy his needs. The hunter in him is awake.

Father Quart wakes up bathing in sweat. His heart is racing and at first he cannot locate where he is. Nothing feels as it should and his brain refuses to separate the dream from reality. He has only been drunk a few times in his life and the last time was on Palmira’s wedding night when he tried to close the open wound in his chest. Now, he feels the same dizziness in his head. His mouth is sticky and he desperately needs water.

Slowly, the logical part of his brain wins over the vivid pictures in his memory and the distinct taste of blood disappears from his mouth as he empties a glass of water. He shivers in his wet nightshirt and on his way to the bathroom, he pulls it over his head. He needs a long, cold shower if he wants to reclaim control over his brain.

The shockingly cold water eventually clears his thoughts, just as he predicted, and as he scrubs every part of his body with meticulous accuracy, the chaos he feels inside slowly turns to resolve. When he steps out of the shower with a white towel around his hips, he knows what he must do.

The day goes by as it always does, filled with duties, but Father Quart struggles to concentrate. Pictures from the night appear before him as soon as he is left alone with his thoughts and they force him to relive all the emotions over and over again.

He can feel her presence before he sees her. It is almost time to lock for the night and she slips through the door with her head bent down as if she is only visiting to seek solace. Her hair is braided and she wears an emerald dress that reminds him of her eyes. She slips down on one of the pews in the far back. Even from a distance, she is so beautiful that his heart almost stops beating. It is not until the last of the parishioners are leaving he finally allows himself to approach her.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft and on her lips sits an almost shy smile.

He stops next to the pew and greets her back. Her legs are crossed, revealing the slits on the side of the dress to him. A good part of her leg is showing, without looking indecent, and the urge to stroke her smooth skin makes his finger tingle. He sends a quick prayer for strength as her eyes expectantly glitter at him. She runs her hand over her thigh to smooth the dress, or calm herself, he cannot tell which one it is.

“I hope the call was not too unpleasant yesterday.”

“It was a good call actually. My mother is feeling a little better and her doctor just wanted to share his reflections.”

“That is good.”

He nods, unable to stop thinking of the adorable freckles on her shoulders and the way she smells when she is aroused.

She pats on the pews. “Do you want to sit down or shall you lock the door first?” She gives him a teasing smile and he swallows hard at the sight of her gently biting her lower lip.

“Palmira, I—” he stops himself. How can he tell her when she looks at him like that? She slowly stands up and her eyes are like the mirror to hear soul, filled with expectations and hope. But when her gaze slowly changes, he understands that she sees his hesitation.

“Lorenzo.” The tone in her voice holds a longing but at the same time she sounds like she is asking for forgiveness. “I’m sorry if I was too… offensive yesterday.” He briefly closes his eyes, unable to deal with the emotions that well up inside him. He wants to tell her that he loved every second of it and that he wants to devour her in return. Hear how her breathing changes and give her everything he has ever fantasized about. But he does not. Instead he looks at her with all the resistance he can muster.

“No, you were not. You were wonderful. And I enjoyed what you did, very much.”

Her eyes do not seem convinced and she tilts her head to the side. There is no easy way out of this now. Father Quart clenches his fist and takes a deep breath. It must be said.

“Palmira, we cannot do this. I am not going to lie and deny that I want to, but I cannot continue seeing you.” In her mesmerizing eyes, he instantly notices the damage his words do, but she does not move or say anything. “It has nothing to do with you or the way I feel about you.”

She blinks a few times, almost like she is struggling with the meaning of his words. When she finally speaks, her voice is nothing more than a whisper.

“It is because of this, is it not?” She waves vaguely at the ceiling where angels from the beautiful painting look down on them. He has admired them many times before, but today they are judging him.

“I broke my vow of celibacy for you. And I would probably do it again if I got the opportunity. But that is only part of the problem. You do not know everything about me.” He sighs and tries to collect his wild running thoughts. When she is near it is so much harder to control the burning desire that rages inside him. ”You have awakened emotions in me that I never thought possible. But not only good ones.” He pauses and he can hear that she is holding her breath. “The truth is, I do not trust myself around you. I do not want to scare you, but I fear that I might accidently hurt you if I cannot control myself.”

Palmira frowns, but does not interrupt him.

“I recently learned about my father, Palmira, and it was not a pleasant discovery. My father’s blood runs in my veins and he was, or is, a monster. I know what he did to my mother and I cannot risk that I do the same thing to you. You are too precious and I need to protect you, even from myself.”

“It does not matter to me who your father was. You are not him.”

”I cannot risk hurting you.” He firmly repeats the words that have been on his tormented mind since the second he separated reality from the nightmare.

Her voice trembles when she speaks again and she holds out her hand for him to take. “Please, Lorenzo, do not walk away from me again.”

He looks at her and when he does not reach for her, the two gems that are her eyes fill with tears. “You are being serious, are you not? This is the end?”

He wants to scream that it is not, take her in his arms and comfort her. Kiss her. But he knows he has to be stronger than ever. “Yes, I am afraid it is.” He takes another deep breath, but his voice still cracks at his final words. ”Please forgive me.”

Tears stream down her cheeks when she takes a few steps forward and he is not even sure that she can see him clearly anymore.

“It does not have to end this way,” she whispers and grabs her coat. “But if this is how it must be, then I will leave now and never come back.” She reaches for something in her coat's inner pocket, pulls it out and hides it in her hand. Then she presses it to her chest and stands still while the shadow of a smile grace her lips. She takes his hands and places the little item in his large palm and then gently closes his fingers over it.

”It is for the better if you get this back.”

He opens his hand and stares down at the thin leather friendship bracelet he did for her in a craft class, during the first year of their friendship.

“I brought it to show you and see if you remember it. It is still one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received. But I guess its powers finally faded.” She gives him one long final look and he knows that he will never be able to forget the devastated expression in her eyes. “Goodbye… Father.”

Her hasty steps echo on her way out and he puts his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from calling her back. Her braid dances on her back when she almost runs the last meters to the door leading to the vestibule. He realizes that he will never be able to set his foot in that vestibule again without thinking of her. When the sound of the heavy front door closing reaches his ears he allows his lungs to fill with air again. Then he collapses on the pew, where the surface still bears the warmth of her body.

It does hurt very much when the heart breaks, he concludes as he hears his own whine in pain.

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