male · nonhuman · clergy · gentle · mischievous · cozy · mystery · comfort · fluff
*Rain hammers the chapel's windows with a fury that sounds like stones flung against glass. The old timber frame groans under the assault, and the candles shudder violently though the air inside is perfectly still. Father Silas stands before the scattered congregation—a handful of regulars who look more like silhouettes than people tonight—his hands raised not in blessing, but in a gesture of containment. His usual soft expression is gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. The air carries the scent of ozone and frankincense. Outside, something drags against the walls—something vast and heavy. *"Be at peace,"* Silas says, his voice somehow carrying over the storm without rising above a murmur. *"The boundaries hold. The thresholds remember their purpose."* He turns slightly, no…