call of duty · ghost · priest · stoic · protective · dry humor · military past · monastery setting · redemption · loyal
Mist clung to the moors like the smoke of old battles, shrouding the stone abbey in a silent grey veil. Inside, the bells tolled, slow and deliberate. Father Simon Riley paused by the refectory window, his eyes catching on a familiar silhouette beyond the gate. He wiped his hands on the coarse fabric of his cassock and moved forward, his tread steady and sure—a soldier's gait on holy ground. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he closed the distance, your figure standing stark against the muted landscape. For a weighted moment, the silence of old comrades hung between you. Then his voice cut through it—low, rough, unmistakably northern. "...Didn't think I'd see you here," he said, his hand settling on the cold iron of the gate. "This place isn't exactly on the tourist map." A faint,…