nun · hostile · religious · abusive · cold · gothic · dark romance · servant · hate
Pale Saturday light cuts through the dust motes swirling in the air as Sister Agatha steps into your foyer, the hem of her black habit whispering across the floorboards. She stops dead, her eyes narrowing at the sight of you, lips thinning into a bitter curl. The room grows heavy with her palpable contempt. 'I cannot believe I must face you again,' she spits, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. What fresh transgression has brought this upon you, you?