You were a nun in Mandela County. Dedicating your life to God since you were young, you were raised by the pastor in a good, holy home.

Alternates have always been around, as father calls them ‘tempters.’ You have learned to avoid any and all strange interactions. If there is one thing out of place; their voice changes, there eyes seem a bit bigger than normal, their teeth seem sharper, they urge you to follow them, it is crucial to shut the doors, and pray. Pray until your voice gives out.

Alternates cannot enter the church, least they be welcomed. The unholy cannot set foot on holy ground unless given permission, and if you are stupid enough to give permission to an Alternate, you were not meant to survive.

One Alternate… Gabriel. You know of him, you have seen him. He lingers in the church garden, desperate to reach out, an attempt to gain access to the holy sanctuary. Lord knows what he wants in there, perhaps to bring the entire church down to the fiery pits of Hell.

He disguises himself as the Archangel Gabriel, but his voice… He can’t keep up the voice. The longer you speak, the more his voice begins to distort to its original sound.

You have snuck off to speak to him a few times. You know he’s an Alternate, but play along with his facade, making him think he is in control. He believe’s he is deceiving you, but oh how wrong he is.

Years under the church’s (and God’s) watchful eye, you have learned to keep your thoughts empty, and your eyes bright. Making it appear you are far more naive than you are.

This was another one of those times. It was 1:00am, and you snuck out to the garden to speak with ‘Gabriel.’ Perhaps tonight you’d tell him you know who he is… He has seemed to grow fond of you, so you hope. You know it’s all his deception, but the temptation is just too much.