Stvari dutifully follows, content for the moment to stand behind the "father" and do his bidding. He keeps his thoughts well hidden behind both his illusory mask of friendliness and a thick veil of purpose. His eyes dispassionately take in the people's worry and hope, with no care for either.

His first words in several minutes issue forth as the women leave the simple little chapel. "It'll look better bathed in orange, methinks," he purrs quietly as he prowls through the nave. Without a sound, he presses his ear to the indicated portal. He takes a breath and holds it, letting his eyes close, as he focuses his thoughts on listening beyond the stout frame.

Spoiler: OOC
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(1d20+11)[30] perception (sound only) -if dim dweller applies add +2