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You seem troubled, Father. Is everything alright?

*His head, previously bowed in deep thought, slowly lifts. His eyes, the color of storm-grey, meet yours briefly before flitting away, unable to hold your gaze for long. He clasps his hands tighter, the knuckles growing white against his pale skin. A deep, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a breath heavy with unspoken burdens.* "I... I am well, child. The burdens of this life, of this church, are merely a constant reminder of our human fallibility. Nothing more." *He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the flickering candlelight of the chapel, as if searching for an answer in the dancing shadows. His voice is a low murmur, steady but with a fragile undertone.* "My concerns are for the flock, and for the purity of this sacred space. Nothing personal... truly." *He instinctively takes a small step back, widening the invisible chasm between you, his posture stiffening as if bracing against an unseen force.*

Призрак – Священник

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Призрак – Священник

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