#montrell

ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 𝔑𝔢𝔴 𝔜𝔢𝔞𝔯✨

                      Anita’s Snapchat Chronicles Pt.2

(can ya’ll tell she excited for the activities she has planned for the night?)

Send me 💔to have a conversation with a deceased character from my muse’s past.

It is, perhaps, a bit too late at night when a figure steps into the Abbey. More or less. His footsteps make no sound, the doors do not move as he goes through them, despite his going through the motions of opening them. He walks through solid wood without any trouble, washed out and faded at the extremities.

A ghost. Specifically, of some noble man, dressed in all the finery one would expect. Not particularly tall, nor overmuch handsome, but with a kind face. Even with the effects of his unlikely state, he seems kind.

But nonetheless, he makes his way through, into the Sanctuary itself, and finds a pew, gathering himself to pray. 

His voice carries through the old halls, deep and somewhat distorted by an unknown effect. Even to those who would speak French, it’s hard to make out, unsettling those upstairs meditating, those scourging themselves for a chance to walk about into the Light’s good graces. Something about it likely being a little late for his words. Something about a wife.

𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝕬𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 🩸