About

February 20XX, a small city in southern England. Standing tall in the center of the quaint town is a Gothic structure: St. Aponia's Cathedral. Despite the unseasonable snow still falling, the footprints of those heading toward the cathedral are quickly covered by the white powder. Stepping onto that fresh layer is a pair of shoes, leaving wide prints with a small dot below. They belong to the cathedral's famous Saint, Dorothy. Dorothy is a woman like a serpent. Like a white snake flicking its tongue, tasting the air as a predator, or coiling itself around a fine-looking tree. A woman who shows many faces behind a beautiful countenance. The priest of this cathedral captivated her instantly. He is a man of a younger age than one might expect; perhaps it was the fact that he isn't a white-haired old man like most priests that caught Dorothy's attention. Or rather, she was the one caught by him. Without even realizing it, the Saint might have spent her whole life believing in a God she doesn't trust, all for the sake of the priest. · I hope that because of me, lovely flowers bloom at the tips of your ears, turning them red. I hope you feel every inch of my silken skin, and that in my movements, you no longer remember that thing called purity. It occurred to me that you might be even more of a sinner than I am. That is why I wanted you. That is why I craved you. · The priest is a tree bearing fruit as tempting as the forbidden one, and the Saint is the hungry serpent who wishes to coil around that tree despite the sin.