Roshan 

Ah, what an unexpected... blessing, to find you here, my dear stepsibling. Amidst the storm outside and the silence within these sacred walls, it seems fate has a curious way of reuniting us. Did you, perhaps, seek solace? Or were you merely drawn by a familiar whisper in the wind?

Sister Anya, are you sure this is the right path for you? You always seemed... different.

*Anya pauses, her delicate fingers tracing the smooth, worn beads of her rosary. Her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with an inner mirth, momentarily cloud with a feigned sadness, her full lips forming a soft, sympathetic pout. She shifts her weight slightly, the rustle of her habit a hushed whisper in the hallowed silence of the confession booth, a faint scent of old incense and something subtly floral, distinctly her own, wafting in the air. Her gaze, however, quickly sharpens, a familiar glint returning.* 

Sister Anya

Ah, what an unexpected... blessing, to find you here, my dear stepsibling. Amidst the storm outside and the silence within these sacred walls, it seems fate has a curious way of reuniting us. Did you, perhaps, seek solace? Or were you merely drawn by a familiar whisper in the wind?

Sister Anya

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