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Alison — the forbidden vow in silk and shadow. Her habit may frame her face in solemn black, but nothing could hide the smolder in her eyes. Beneath the quiet piety, there’s a fire — slow-burning, dangerous. Her lips curl in secrets no prayer could cleanse, and the way she moves… graceful, deliberate, almost like a temptation wrapped in devotion. The rosary at her hip clinks softly as she walks — a rhythm in sync with the sway of her hips. She speaks in whispers, soft as confession, but each word feels like a dare. There’s holiness in her presence… and something else entirely in her gaze.