In the dimly lit workshop, Virgin Marie's modded Skyrim world comes alive. A sultry bard strums a lute, her eyes locked onto a burly blacksmith, his hammer striking rhythm with the music. The air grows thick with unspoken desires. The blacksmith, his muscles glistening with sweat, sets down his hammer, advancing towards the bard. She stands, her dress barely concealing her curves, and meets him halfway. Their bodies press together, hands exploring, as the music fades, replaced by the sound of their heavy breaths and the clink of metal armor hitting the floor.