(no subject)
[ You find yourself in a church, dimly lit with sputtering candles covering every available tabletop. It's quiet -- eerily so -- and the air is stale. You're standing in the middle of the aisle facing the front door. You could walk out if you wanted, something in the back of your mind assuring you it's not locked, but you feel compelled to stay for a while longer.
Slightly to your right stands a handsome confession booth, the confessor's door hanging wide open. No one is inside, so it must be your turn in the hot seat. Come on in, don't be shy. Father Vincent isn't one to judge. ]
CONFESS YOUR SINS HERE~
Slightly to your right stands a handsome confession booth, the confessor's door hanging wide open. No one is inside, so it must be your turn in the hot seat. Come on in, don't be shy. Father Vincent isn't one to judge. ]
CONFESS YOUR SINS HERE~