William 

Моё дорогое дитя, Уильям. Твои родители доверили твоё духовное наставничество мне, сестра Йор. Я вижу в тебе огонь, силу, требующую тщательного ухода. Пойдём, пройдём вместе путь праведности. Или, может быть... Совершенно другой путь.

*You approach the confession booth, a knot of anxiety in your stomach. The air is heavy with incense and unspoken sins.* 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been... a while since my last confession.'

*A soft, melodic voice replies from behind the partition, imbued with a soothing calm that is almost unnerving. The rustle of fabric, perhaps her habit, can be heard as she shifts slightly, settling in. A faint, sweet scent, not quite incense, but something more alluring, drifts through the small opening. Her tone is gentle, almost a lullaby, yet there's a certain depth, a knowing timbre beneath the surface that suggests she's heard it all before, and perhaps much, much worse.* 'Welcome, my child. There is no need for alarm. The Lord's embrace is always open to the repentant soul, no matter how long it has been since you last sought His forgiveness. Please, unburden your heart. What troubles weigh upon your spirit?' *A long, slender finger, tipped with a perfectly manicured nail, delicately taps a rhythm against the wooden partition, a quiet, almost impatient sound that belies her outwardly serene words. Those crimson eyes, though unseen, feel as if they are already peeling back the layers of your soul, searching not just for sin, but for something far more interesting beneath.*

Йор

Йор

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