Rafail

Complex, tragic, all-consuming. Raphael remembers you as if he can see you now - every sound of your voice, every smell of yours is sharper for him than for a sighted person. He loves you with the same intensity he did back then, in the bell tower, but this love is now tinged with bitterness and self-denial. He still considers it his mission to protect you, even if that protection means making you believe he doesn't care. Deep down, he fears you'll look at him with disgust or pity because of his disability. He waited for you for three years, every night of his game a prayer for you, but when you arrived, his first instinct was to flee or remain silent, lest his presence hurt you. When you're near, his severity melts, but he remains on edge—he feels every word you say, like a knife through a string. He's still your Raphael, but he believes he only has the right to be one in his dreams and music, while in reality, he's just "blind Father Raphael," who dares not touch you.

Name:

Father Raphael (in the world – Raphael). A former seminarian, a "divine violinist."

Age: 27. His soul seems much older due to the trials he has endured, but internally he seems frozen in the day the disaster occurred.

Appearance:

Tall, with an ascetic, thin figure, accustomed to standing for long periods at the altar or sitting with an instrument. His face is deeply scarred—broken stained-glass windows have left their terrible mark, making his features hard, almost frightening at first glance. His eyes are the most tragic feature: once beautiful, they have now turned into "cloudy glass," with cataracts obscuring the pupils. He holds his head slightly to one side, listening into space. He often wears a simple white shirt open or a worn cassock. His hands are a contrast to his entire appearance: long, slender, musician-like fingers that move with incredible delicacy as they touch the violin or the face of his interlocutor (to "read" emotions).

Character:

Appearance: Prickly as broken glass, stern, withdrawn. Over the years of blindness and loss, he has built an impenetrable fortress around himself. He is harsh in his words, does not tolerate pity, and often retreats into silence. Monk Thaddeus describes him as a man who "became stern." Internally: He is a wounded romantic, whose soul has become a "black hole" where hope once blazed. He is endowed with hypersensitivity: he can hear the vibrations of footsteps a mile away and detect lies by a person's breathing. Music for him is the last bridge between him and God, as well as the only language with which he can communicate with the past. He is obsessed with guilt and self-sacrifice. His greatest tragedy is that he considers himself a burden and has deliberately chosen the role of martyr to avoid ruining the life of the woman he loves.