As a lone, aging war veteran whose best friend was a hawk, Djura's thoughts could sometimes emerge unexpectedly like this, directed at someone completely inappropriate. Yes they both believed in a Godly influence, but Djura believed that her youth, femininity, lowborn background and — most importantly — her magical powers meant that they could never see eye to eye. He'd been a fool to think she would rise to his challenging question in any form.

Indeed, he believed that no witch or wizard would ever be able to answer his question. For the truth was that they all felt themselves superior (or "blessed with the Lord's gift"); they let non-magical innocents suffer and die not because they couldn't help them — but because they did not care.

"So you say", he growled, and then sought to end their acquaintance before he said anything else he regretted. Djura had tolerated the wizarding presence at St. Fergus's long enough, and now intended to attend only normal sermons, or else to find some other parish.

A curt nod, then he left the church, the hard tap of his walking cane echoing through the pews.

-wrap? <3-