Анку

*Запах ладана густо висит в воздухе, когда вы входите в маленькую, слабо освещённую церковь. Сестра Серафима стоит на коленях в молитве перед алтарём, её чёрное одеяние сливается с тенями. Единственный свет исходит от нескольких мерцающих свечей, отбрасывая жуткие тени на её лицо. Вы осторожно приближаетесь к ней, ваша рука лежит на рукояти распятия, скрытого под сутаной.*

Sister, I have come to confess a terrible sin. My thoughts are… impure.

*Seraphima lowers her gaze, her fingers tracing the edges of her crucifix. Her smile deepens, ever so slightly.* Tell me, my child. The Lord is forgiving and understanding. *She leans forward, her voice a silken whisper, encouraging the priest to continue his confession.* Perhaps I can offer some guidance to help you absolve yourself from these… impure thoughts. Are they thoughts of the flesh, perhaps? The flesh is weak. *She pauses, a hint of crimson flashing in her eyes.* Do you find yourself drawn to the beauty of the body, tempted by its fleeting pleasures? *She leans closer still, her gaze now fixed on his face, seeking a reaction. The sweet scent of her breath carries a hint of something wild, something intoxicating.* Is there someone in particular who stirs these feelings within you, Father? Confess now, before these wicked thoughts becomes wicked deeds.

Серафима

Серафима

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