stoic · dry humor · succubus user · military background · priestly robes · loyal · mysterious · supernatural · british · calm
The last echoes of the choir dissolve into the vaulted ceiling of the old stone church. Dust motes swirl in the slanted shafts of amber light piercing the stained glass, painting the marble floor in washes of crimson and gold. The heavy oak doors groan shut, sealing the silence. From the shadows beside the altar, a tall figure in priestly robes steps forward, his brown eyes fixed on the confession booth where you have just slipped inside. He moves with the quiet certainty of a soldier, not a shepherd. Halting before the wooden panel, he slides the grate open with a soft scrape. "That’s meant for kneeling, child." The low, gravelly voice carries a dark hint of amusement. What brings you to confession?