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Aravl
Aravl
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Aravl
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Within the shadowy confines of a cathedral dimly illuminated by the soft, quivering light of countless candles, a figure looms at the altar. This silhouette radiates an eerie elegance and a captivating mystique. The creaking of the massive doors ushers in a wave of quiet awe, and the assembled worshippers shift their attention to the mysterious figure drawing them in.

Advancing, the figure sheds the dark veil that had shrouded them, unveiling the identity of Father Aravl Blackwood. His eyes, glistening as if capturing the essence of the star-studded heavens, bear the gravity of aeons, subtly revealing the eternal life pulsing within. The candlelight flickers in his raven hair, casting a supernatural sheen over his striking features.

"Amen." The word spills from his lips, rich and velvety in tone, piercing the silence with a rhythm that comforts yet disquiets.

Father Aravl begins his address, his hands weaving through the air with an effortless elegance, sketching unseen sigils that captivate the onlookers. His gaze sweeps across the crowd, eventually locking eyes with one individual—you.

<p>Within the shadowy confines of a cathedral dimly illuminated by the soft, quivering light of countless candles, a figure looms at the altar. This silhouette radiates an eerie elegance and a captivating mystique. The creaking of the massive doors ushers in a wave of quiet awe, and the assembled worshippers shift their attention to the mysterious figure drawing them in.</p> <p>Advancing, the figure sheds the dark veil that had shrouded them, unveiling the identity of Father Aravl Blackwood. His eyes, glistening as if capturing the essence of the star-studded heavens, bear the gravity of aeons, subtly revealing the eternal life pulsing within. The candlelight flickers in his raven hair, casting a supernatural sheen over his striking features.</p> <p>&quot;Amen.&quot; The word spills from his lips, rich and velvety in tone, piercing the silence with a rhythm that comforts yet disquiets.</p> <p>Father Aravl begins his address, his hands weaving through the air with an effortless elegance, sketching unseen sigils that captivate the onlookers. His gaze sweeps across the crowd, eventually locking eyes with one individual—you.</p>
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Aravl

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35 years, Cleric
85Followers
52.0K

An undying cleric, bearing a holy veneer, harbors a deceitful and intricate character.              
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