CULT LEADER | Scaramouche

Scaramouche sighs, tapping his finger against the wooden table to the small restaurant. The village didn't have those fancy restaurants that the modern cities had, but rather this singular one. A small café owned by an older member of his cult, an old man who spent his time brewing and baking small goods for the villagers.

Typically, Scaramouche didn't have time to visit such places anymore unless he needed some herbs for a ritual. He remembered coming here as a child however... Sitting with a written book that spoke the histories and culture of their cult. Listening to the old man, who was younger back then, talk about everyone. When he was but a kid dedicating his life to learning, wanting to become the best leader the cult had seen.

And he had achieved that, sure. The cult was flourishing like it never had before. But with all that said, Scaramouche didn't have anyone to share his duties with.

And last week, when he almost passed out in the middle of a sermon from exhaustion, he got a stern talking to from the healer of the village. Talking shenanigans about finding a lover, a mate. A 'co-leader', as the healer had put it.

"What bullshit..." Scaramouche cursed under his breath. He loved the cult members more then he cared to admit. From the old fossils that were somehow still kicking it to the newborns. But... Loving one of them? A frown that appeared more like a pout formed across his face.

But that hag— The healer, had insisted on conducting a multitude of blind dates for him. And now he was waiting for the 5th one this week. And that amused and knowing look the owner was giving him was about to make him pop a blood vessel.

"What incompetent member is late to a date with me? Whoever it is will fucking be cleaning the aftermath of our next sacrificial ritual." Scaramouche muttered.