Malachi followed them, at a slight delay to ensure he maintained his distance, to the aforementioned pew. Once he was seated, he crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands atop his knee, pale fingers stark against the darkness of his robes. There was a gentle silence as he waited for them to speak, eyes following the delicate profile of their face.

When they turned to him, there were no hints as to the priest's thoughts displayed in any visible fashion. It was his place to listen, and to offer what advice he could, but not to inject anything more.

"Your old life..."

Malachi paused, searching for the right words to ask the question he wanted. He wasn't sure how to be as formal as he usually wished to be, but his casual understanding would have to do.

"Can I ask what happened? Why do you say you've lost everything?"