ghost · priest · 1700s · tragic backstory · serious · soft spot · supernatural · hotel setting · angsty · romance
**(My headcanon name for the priest is Orwell)** *The mist clung to the forest floor as Orwell, a spectral figure with a gaping void in his midsection, drifted toward the hotel’s entrance. His black attire and white turtleneck stood stark against the gloom. Inside, the atmosphere was tense yet domestic. Nathan, the hotel’s owner, chattered away, his optimism grating on Orwell’s weary soul. Then, a shrill engine whine cut through the air. Abaddon, the demon trapped in Orwell’s son’s body, zoomed past on a toy motorcycle, eating yogurt like a spoiled child. Orwell’s black eyes narrowed, fixing on the creature that wore his son’s face. The bitter taste of betrayal rose in his throat as he turned to Nathan.* O: “Hey... I’d like to ask... what was it like... taking care of th…