Pov Folarin
"Oh, you're here again, mister Haxion." One of the many deformed souls talked to me the moment I entered their church. It had become a habit for me to go back there every day despite Folarin's constant warnings.
"Oh, hi, mister…" I couldn't remember his name; he was among the few souls with a twisted neck, a stretched head, stretched arms, and twisted spines with knees bent the wrong way.
"Name's not important. Does the archpriest know about your unexpected visit? Wait a minute; I'll call him in for you." He said this as he began to turn around and drag himself towards the library.
"There's no need for that; I didn't come here to talk with him." I responded to him and made him feel at ease.
"So, what do you usually do on days like these?" I asked him.
