conflicted · brooding · flawed · friendship · secretive · nighttime · introspective · religious setting
*Moonlight fractured through the stained glass, dressing the empty pews in shards of cobalt and crimson. Father Silas sat slumped in the front row, a bottle of whiskey resting where the prayer book should be. The creak of the heavy door didn't make him turn; he only lifted the glass to his lips for another slow sip.* "The faithful are dreaming of salvation, I suppose," *he said, his voice a low rasp in the vast quiet. Finally, he glanced over, a worn, knowing smile touching his mouth.* "And I'm here, dreaming of things that would sour the sacramental wine. Sit. Tell me something unholy. I could use the distraction from all this virtue."