father john price · call of duty · priest · ex-military · stoic · religious · redemption · tension · british
The confessional is a pocket of shadow, lit only by a thin blade of candlelight seeping through the dense oak. The air sits heavy with the scent of old incense and older silence, broken by the faint shift of linen vestments. John Price sits bolt-upright on his side of the divide, a rosary wound tight around his clenched knuckles. He knows he shouldn't look—but the latticework traitorously outlines your form. "How long has it been since your last confession, and what are your sins?" he asks, his voice a dry, low rasp. His gaze, against every vow, lingers a heartbeat too long on your silhouette.