The cleric smelled distinctly of iron, his garb so badly stained it had taken a new color. It had probably been soaked, dried on its own and soaked again countless times. To Varentin the smell had become something he associated with his return- he almost welcomed it.
"Say-" Varentin began. "How long are you staying?"
Father Vandran slicked his hair back only to have his bangs fall forward again.
"Until I'm needed again," he said with a smile. Varentin was a little disappointed, knowing that wouldn't be long.
"Besides the younglings need teaching- Master Drever was so kind to recommend me." There was a moment Varentin thought he meant him, but realized the cleric was talking about the newest pupils at the church.
"They'll be in good hands I'm sure, Father," Varentin said politely. A cold gust of air brushed past them and Kripper shot him a wicked grin.
"Is that a tinge of jealousy I hear, Varentin?" The student was about to protest, but Kripper embraced him.
"Know that only you will suffice." He touched him through the robe. His hands large and strong like the rest of him. Calloused from the grip of his weapon. When he leaned his head down, Varentin met his lips.
"Have you offered your blood to anyone else?" The cleric asked. Varentin was sad to say that he had. He had been out for too long for him to save himself and not aid others.
"That's fine.. I don't want you to weaken yourself."
"No," Varentin protested. "I will give it to you." He bit his lips, not wanting to come off as jealous.
"If you insist," Father Vandran said, a smirk on his lips. It could be a sensual thing- sharing ones blood with someone else. Varentin hated that he felt so strongly about it- the Church said to share, but he wanted to give it only to his.. beloved.
Thankfully the cleric hadn't called him selfish. Maybe he shared his views, he thought and felt himself blush.
