Many churches in Meridia had a patron saint. As such, a saint, well-known for his divine healing power, lived in a quaint village called 'Bloom'.
When a priest was walking through the streets of Bloom, a shining glimmer, a golden light that was brighter than anything he had seen, caught his eye.
'What?' The priest thought as he folded his arms behind his back, walking towards the dark alley emanating the golden light. The source of the golden light was a boy that was far too small and malnourished for his age.
"Boy, what is your name?" The priest's voice was soft and kind; he didn't want to scare off this child, who seemed to promise their village a better future.
The boy, startled, backed up against the wall. His dull, silver eyes were startled, his body language panicked.
"P-please d-don't hurt." The boy couldn't even finish his sentence, his voice quivering, and his hands up in the air as if he was already expecting to be smacked.
The priest felt a tendril of pity in his heart, there were a few orphans in their village. Even though they had wanted to erect an orphanage, they simply lacked the funds to do so. As a result, many orphans were left to fend for themselves.
"I'm not going to hurt you, boy." The priest cooed, his tone still soft and gentle. He didn't make any sudden movements in fear of startling the boy.
The boy shivered and trembled for a bit then looked at the brown shoes he had seen the priests of their church wear. He slowly looked up and saw the head priest —Mal, mal something— smiling down at him.
His far too thin and fragile arms fell to his sides, sighing in relief at the apparent lack of danger.
The priest's eyes caught sight of the gash on the boy's arm, it was almost healed. The golden light still lingered on the gash, healing the boy even though he wasn't consciously trying to.
"Do you want to sleep in the church tonight?" The priest extended a hand to the boy. Without any of the previous reservations, the boy took the hand.
It was a simple, heartwarming tale that was still narrated in Bloom to the tourists coming to their beloved boy — no, saint— Claude.
The church bell rang across Bloom, the Sunday service had ended. The silence in the chapel was a reminder of Claude's personal prayers.
Claude kneeled down in front of the statue of the Goddess. Ever since he was taken into the church, he vowed his faith and purity to the Goddess. Every day he expressed his gratitude and servitude to the Goddess for giving him the wonderful power to heal people.
With a bow of his head to close off his prayer, he got up to leave chapel. His soft footsteps seemed to have not alerted the cotton candy pink-haired woman standing next to the chapel with clasped hands.
"Dear sister, what seems to be troubling you?" Claude's gentle and kind voice breaking the silence. The pink-haired woman, startled, jumped a bit at his voice, clearly caught off guard.
"Father, may I know where the confessional boo—" Her voice was soft and gentle, much similar to his, stopped abruptly as her striking violet eyes caught sight of him.
'Fuck, why him?' Sel cried inwardly. Her eyes glancing around at anything but the veiled Claude.
Claude recognized the woman, the newest addition to Bloom. A woman — worldly and beautiful— the alter boys had whispered among themselves.
"I'm not a priest, dear sister. I am Claude, merely a humble servant of the Goddess." Claude fidgeted his fingers nervously, looking down at the stone floor of the chapel entrance.
Despite making a mental note to stay away from this worldly woman when he heard of her, his kind and saintly nature was a second nature, "The confessional booths are located in the East of the chapel. Please feel free to unburden your soul at any time. The Goddess is merciful and will not judge you."
Sel nodded, she swallowed and didn't dare look at him, "Thank you, saint."
Sel closed her eyes in embarrassment, feeling the telltale sign of a blush on her face and ears. She shoved the basket in her hands into Claude's clasped hand. Without a word, she ran away.
Claude watched in confusion and unease as the woman shoved a basket —filled with glistening and ripe strawberries— into his arms before fleeing the church. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion even though his lithe frame shook at the impact of her actions.
"Please wai— ah…" Claude tried to stop the fleeing woman. Claude rarely accepted offerings or gifts, opting to distribute them to the needy and unfortunate. Reluctantly, he brought the basket up to his chest and peered inside.
'Strawberries didn't grow in this season…' Claude thought to himself as the intoxicating smell of the fruit wafted up to his nose. Returning the gift now would surely be rude, right?
Claude stared at the direction the strange woman had fled to. He couldn't help but wonder if he had offended her in some way. But it wasn't possible… no? He wasn't permitted to leave the church, and this was their first meeting.
"Very well, thank you for your generous offering, dear sister..." Claude murmured softly to himself, even though he knew it was unlikely the woman would hear his gratitude.
With a heavy sigh, Claude took a bite of a plump, red strawberry. His silver eyes crinkled in bliss; off-season strawberries were extremely delicious. The flavour seemed to burst on his tongue and tango.
Sel leaned against the church's gate, clutching her chest as she huffed deep breaths trying to catch her breath.
"No… He probably thinks I'm weird now. Right? Right?" She whispered to herself, her hands tangling in her hair out of frustration.