You are Anon, Emelpian Priest. You once had another name, but you abandoned it to join the monastic order of Phorchen. By the vagaries of fate, you have been stationed at the Emelpi Monastery, a place of bountiful creation. You pass by many brothers engaged in writing odes to the various muses. Others labor diligently upon gathering them up in codex generalis, and still others paint scenes of devotion. You... have not yet devoted yourself to any one muse as of yet.

The muses are something of a trouble, even as they are the reason for this monastery. It is not uncommon for priests to devote themselves so fully to one, as to despise the others. Even this internecine war is overshadowed by the sects of those who worship the pony aspect, and those who worship the muses in other aspects. You are mostly neutral, there is merit to all aspects of the muses. However, recent apocrypha has fanned the flames of sectarian war. You pause in your round walking meditation, and bow to the shrine of Refracted Light Stones. Your eyes drift over the portraits, a familiar feeling of gentle awe at the beauty and virtue of the muses. As you resume your pious rounds, you feel as though eyes are upon you, not that you see anyone. As you near your room, you nod politely to one of your brothers in passing.

"Faggot."

He nods back

"Faggot."

You enter your chambers and close the door behind you. Unease creeps about you as you get ready for sleep. You stare at the ceiling in darkness for a long time, restless. A slender, glowing hand enters your vision. Your breath catches as you realize that you cannot move. Warm fingers stroke your cheek fondly.

"It's past time for you to find a waifu, Anon, don't you think?"

That low, velvety voice. The curly orange hair in your peripheral vision. Your heart races at the recognition of what is happening .

"Muse Adagio, I am unworthy-"

"Of course you are. But that doesn't matter to me. What does matter..."

Her face looms over yours, her eyes intent and hungry, her smile predatory.

"Is your devotion. Choose me to be your waifu, and serve me. It is your destiny, your purpose."

You stare resolutely into her eyes.

"By Faust above and Moot below, I am free to choose my waifu, without any coercion."

Adagio chuckles.

"Oh Anon, I won't coerce you. You shall choose me of your own free will. I'll make quite certain of that."

Delicate fingers trace wandering designs down your chest, growing more elaborate as she nears your waist. You find yourself breathing faster as she slips her hand under the hem of your pajama pants. Soft fingers curl around your erection, gently squeezing it. As she shifts above you, her curled tresses spill over her shoulder, lightly grazing your bare chest. Adagio smirks at your flustered face.

"So what do you say?"

Her hand pumps your dick slowly. She leans in closely, her breath warm on your face.

"Am I your waifu yet?"

She strokes your cock faster and faster.

"Well?"

You hold your breath, on the edge of climax. She senses it too, and stops, your throbbing erection in her motionless hand. Even through the haze of arousal, you know what you must say.

"B-by Faust above, and Moot-"

She makes a noise of disgust and releases your dick. Adagio stands up.

"This is not over, Anon."

Once her presence leaves, you can move again. With quick, guilty movements, you deal with your erection in the customary way, the spent tissue dropping into a trash can set aside for this purpose. Sleep claims you quickly, despite the conflicted feelings coursing through your heart.