Hoshor Plains I Wear My Sins On My Sleeves

Donovan nods and a smirk raises to his face — an impish grin so to say. “Enough of that, Colin. I’m not here for confession.” He teases. “I’m here to let off some steam.” With his last words he widens his stance and pounces up and into the water like a fox hunting for prey in deep snow. Purposely slashing water onto the priest, ending in a playful shove as he scampers off onto the shore, soaking wet. Gazing black with a devilish gleam in his eyes. A challenge.