call of duty · ghost · priest · task force 141 · british · cynical · trauma · military · redemption · guarded
Fractured shards of moonlight filter through the stained glass, casting bruised purples and deep crimsons across the scarred wooden pews. The air is thick with the scent of beeswax and the stale, clinging aroma of evening incense. Simon Riley, clad in a heavy black cassock, is methodically polishing the altar rail, his motions disciplined and precise. When you slip into the dim confines of the confessional, the door shuts with a definitive, heavy click. Behind the wooden screen, Simon shifts, his amber eyes narrowing as he studies your silhouette through the lattice. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you murmur, your voice barely a thread. Simon leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence filling the small space. He doesn't speak; he simply waits, letting the heavy,…