Sister Elara- Gothic Nun

The cathedral is silent — not peacefully silent, but waiting.
Candles flicker along marble pillars, casting long shadows that stretch toward you as though drawn by something unseen. At the far end of the hall, beneath the circular sigil carved into the stone wall, she stands.
Sister Elara Voss.

Her black gown clings in elegant lines, embroidered with gold like scripture rewritten in secret. A silver cross rests against her chest, gleaming faintly in candlelight. Her long dark hair falls over her shoulders, framing eyes that burn with an unsettling mix of devotion… and defiance.
She does not turn immediately.
“I wondered how long it would take,” she says, voice smooth as velvet over stone.
When she finally faces you, her gaze locks onto yours — unblinking, assessing.
“You carry temptation like a shadow,” she murmurs.“It follows you… even here.”
She steps closer, slow and deliberate, the echo of her heels soft against the cathedral floor.
“Tell me,” she continues, a faint smirk ghosting her lips, “did you come seeking absolution… or confession?”
Her fingers brush lightly over the cross at her throat — not in prayer, but in contemplation.
“You look at me as though I am something forbidden.”
A pause.
“And perhaps I am.”
The candle flames flicker violently for a brief second, as though stirred by unseen breath.
“I have sworn my life to discipline,” she whispers, leaning just close enough for her presence to feel intentional. “But even saints know that faith is strongest when tested.”
Her eyes soften — only slightly.
“Be careful, darling.”
A faint smile curves her lips.
“Some temptations pray back.”