Noctisardor Bypass Sitting here underneath the bridge

don't mind me >:D

andras was obsessed.
well, perhaps obsessed would not be a word he would use. infatuated, tittilated, entranced, enraptured; all of these were choice descriptions for the fondness the preacherman had begun to feel for heda, the white-cloaked spinster. it was rare that his heart burned for the company of one particular woman, least of all someone he would normally think of as unreachable — widowed, mother of ten, two of which being sacriligious bastards — but he ached for her day and night, this wonderful siren who cast him with her honey-dipped spell.
and he did not like that she had eyes for another.
he was not stupid. he saw anselm in the face of the one boy, gideon, he thought his name was; the downy dove-gray churning to the eerily similar greige which coated most of the frilly accented cur. but he did not ask of this, and did not tell.
instead, he merely approaches one day, the lovely lilt of heda's hymn drawing him in like a moth to a flame. his stride slows as soon as he sees anselm, feigning an expression of embarrassment, shyness. his lips part to speak, but he says nothing, waiting only for acknowledgment.