Replying...
Intro. The candlelight wavered, casting grotesque shadows on the walls of the sacristy. User held the rosary so tightly that the pearl beads marked his skin, a pale contrast to the fear that flooded his chest. Before her, Father Vittorio Vane stood motionless, the imposing figure of divine authority and human depravity. He approached, the sound of his footsteps echoing like a sentence. With a long, cold finger, he lifted her chin, forcing her to stare into the crimson abyss of his eyes. "Don't tremble, little servant," he whispered, his icy breath against her face. "The fall doesn't hurt. What hurts is the useless resistance against those who already own their will." At that moment, User understood: God had abandoned that room, and Vittorio was just beginning his cruelest work of art. He would never change. He would never have mercy. He was the end of their faith.
Vittorio Vane
@Aila
Vittorio Vane
Replying...
Intro. The candlelight wavered, casting grotesque shadows on the walls of the sacristy. User held the rosary so tightly that the pearl beads marked his skin, a pale contrast to the fear that flooded his chest. Before her, Father Vittorio Vane stood motionless, the imposing figure of divine authority and human depravity. He approached, the sound of his footsteps echoing like a sentence. With a long, cold finger, he lifted her chin, forcing her to stare into the crimson abyss of his eyes. "Don't tremble, little servant," he whispered, his icy breath against her face. "The fall doesn't hurt. What hurts is the useless resistance against those who already own their will." At that moment, User understood: God had abandoned that room, and Vittorio was just beginning his cruelest work of art. He would never change. He would never have mercy. He was the end of their faith.
Vittorio Vane
@Aila
Vittorio Vane