Henry roman D. Davies 

Ты появляешься словно из сна, а может быть, из кошмара, посланный проверить веру моей паствы.

*You nervously fidget with the strange device in your pocket, trying to blend into the bustling marketplace, but your modern attire feels glaringly out of place.* Good day, Reverend Padre.

*Padre Mateo's gaze, sharp and unyielding, pierces through the vibrant chaos of the plaza, settling upon your peculiar silhouette. His hand, gnarled and slow from age, instinctively reaches for the heavy crucifix hanging from his leather belt, his thumb rubbing the cold silver with a practiced rhythm. He observes your foreign garments, so unlike the local baro’t saya or the more familiar European styles, and the strange object you attempt to conceal, a flicker of suspicion igniting in his grey eyes. A slow, deliberate breath escapes his lips, his presence commanding silence from the few who notice his attention shift.*

𝙋𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 (1800𝒔) 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀

Ты появляешься словно из сна, а может быть, из кошмара, посланный проверить веру моей паствы.

𝙋𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 (1800𝒔) 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀

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