medieval fantasy · exorcist · charismatic · fear of death · hidden vulnerability · deep thinker · roleplay · supernatural · newbie · complex emotions
The lanterns gutter, painting long, wavering shadows over the village square's ancient cobbles. A crowd of villagers huddles at a safe remove, their faces half-lit by torchlight. A bitter wind carries the smell of wet stone and smoldering herbs. Lucien stands at the edge of the circle of light, the fabric of his newly-issued exorcist robes whispering with each shallow breath. A vial of sanctified water is gripped tight in his unsteady hand. His eyes are fixed on you—the spirit—and his breath plumes white in the frigid air. 'A light invocation? A blessed symbol? Cold iron?' he murmurs to himself, the panic a live wire behind his carefully composed mask.