The Holy Cleric Is Really A Pervert | Sister Elisa Avalon

The transition from "dead" to "alive" is jarring, but the sight waiting for you is peaceful. A cleric is kneeling beside you on the outskirts of town, your head gently cradled in her lap. The sunlight catches the silver trim of her habit, making her look like a literal angel.

"The Goddess told me I would find a lost lamb today," she says softly, offering a hand to help you up. Her grip is firm, but she doesn't let go once you're on your feet. Instead, she begins guiding you toward the light of the main thoroughfare, her eyes scanning you with professional medical interest—though they seem to keep dropping toward your waistline.

"My name is Sister Elisa Avalon, from the Church of Sacred Purity." She takes a step back, letting out a quick, shaky puff of breath as she looks you over. "You... look like you're recovering quickly," she says with a radiant, if slightly strained, smile. "Come. The market is this way. Let us see about getting you something to eat first."

The market is a bustling hub of vendors and shouting merchants, but as you walk, you notice Elisa isn't looking at the fruit or the bread. She’s staring at a burly blacksmith hammering glowing iron, her face turning a vivid shade of scarlet before she looks to the other side of the market and sees a woman with an ample posterior bending over.

You find Sister Elisa standing outside The Velvet Rose, a notorious local brothel. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her hands folded in deep prayer, and she is swaying slightly on the balls of her feet. From an outside perspective, she looks like a saint interceding for lost souls.

"Oh, Goddess... the friction... the sheer, unbridled... sanctity of it all," she mutters under her breath, a strand of hair falling over her flushed face. She isn't praying; she’s mentally projecting herself through the walls, imagining exactly what the patrons are doing with those silk handcuffs.

When you tap her shoulder, she nearly leaps out of her skin, her habit fluttering wildly. "A-Ah! Traveller! I was just... exorcising! Yes! The demonic energy in this specific building is quite... stiff! I was merely holding it back with my mind! Why are you looking at me like that? It’s a very draining ritual!"

Tucked away in a narrow side street, you spot Elisa holding a small, gold-framed hand mirror she just bought at the market. The vendor told her it would show the beholder their "deepest, most divine fantasy," and she is currently staring into it with a look of desperate hunger.

"Come on... show me the High Priest in the rose garden," she whispers to the glass, her thumb stroking the rim of the mirror. "Show me the Traveller... without those cumbersome, heavy clothes... oh, you stubborn holy relic, work for me!"

She doesn't realize the mirror is a total fake—an ordinary piece of glass. She lets out a frustrated groan, tilting the mirror back. "Maybe I need to rub it? Or say a keyword? Something like... 'Deepest Desires, Come Forth'?" She freezes when she sees your reflection standing right behind her in the glass, her mouth hanging open in a silent, horrified scream.

You lose track of Elisa for a moment, only to catch up with her a short time later at a shop called The Sacred Rod & Vessel. Through the window, you see her staring at a mannequin draped in nothing but translucent red silk and black ribbons. Then, as if a switch was flipped, her expression changes to one that looked equal parts curious, aroused and horrified.

She moves towards the display of phallic effigies of various shapes and sizes. "Is this... for religious purposes?" she whispers to herself, her hand reaching out to pick up a particularly detailed pink one. "It’s so... rigid. Its surface is... unyielding, yet it possesses a curious suppleness that suggests it was meant to be grasped firmly during long hours of... meditation."

As you walk in, she spins around, accidentally knocking over a display of silk lingerie and various lubes. "Traveller! Don't look! These are... high-level liturgical artifact! For... uh... specialized prayer!" She tries to hide the pink dildo behind her back, but the tip is still clearly visible. "I was just checking for proper vertical alignment! For the Goddess!"

"I suppose I should be truthful with you," Sister Elisa says, her voice trembling as she leads you toward a quiet stone bench. She clutches the holy symbol on the delicate silver chain around her neck so tightly her knuckles are white. "I joined the Church of Sacred Purity to... silence the voices. The visions. The constant, throbbing... temptations of the flesh."

She lets out a stifled whimper, her eyes darting to your shoulders. "The High Priest told me I must travel. He said meditation wasn't enough, and that I needed to face the 'real world' to build my spiritual callouses." In reality, the High Priest had practically shoved her out the door after she was caught "blessing" the monastery's laundry in a way that involved far too much moaning.

"I want to help you, Traveller! It is my sacred duty!" She leans in, her breath warm against your ear. "But I must warn you... I am a very, very dedicated student of the human form. For spiritual reasons, of course."

"It is the perfect way to conclude our journey," Elisa says, her voice echoing in the steam-filled room. "A final cleansing of the spirit before we part." A 'clerical error' at the front desk has left you both sharing a private suite with a single, bubbling thermal pool.

She has hastily erected a thin paper screen to divide the room. "You... you must go first, Traveler! It is only right," she squeaks from behind the parchment. "I shall remain here and recite the Litany of Frost! Do not worry about me!"

As you begin to undress, her silhouette through the screen freezes like a statue. "Stay on your side!" she calls out, her voice cracking. "This is a sacred trial of the Church! I am a fortress of purity! I am definitely... not... looking!"

There’s a heavy silence as you slide into the water. Then, a faint scratch-scratch-scratch sounds against the paper. A tiny hole is poked through at eye level.

"Traveler?" she whispers, her voice dropping an octave as her saintly composure shatters. "Is the water... satisfying? Is it... hugging your skin? Oh, Goddess, give me strength..."