#slaughterdolly

[open thread! mission board: prologue - faith +1]

Saint Seiros has come to town! The lady herself! Lucky! Azama’s heard she's a real looker, too, and truth be told he isn't surprised.

Who in their right mind, after all, would willingly worship some ugly old hag?

He bides his time, filtering about the crowd that's drawn up on Garreg Mach's doorstep in anticipation of their most beloved saint. The impressive gall of this lady! Certainly, she's got stones. She isn't here yet, but rumour has it she's not far off from arriving.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" he shouts to the crowd, enjoying how they part slightly as he commands their attention, if briefly. "Our lady! Our Saint Seiros! She will arrive shortly to gladden our souls and ease our hearts."

Hat in his grip flips upside down, tendered to those nearby.

"Wilt you show your gratitude? Forget not, even a living legend requires funds to spread the good word. Alms for the lady? Alms for your saint?"

                 SHE SCRUNCHES UP HER NOSE    hardly avoiding the sudden touch. instinctively, she flicks her glare at the chipper dame before rolling it away in rhythm with a sigh.  marisa isn’t the type to hang out with any of her fellow knights, it was already a bit of a stretch for her to talk with those who trained with her. much less to those with an impressive amount of energy .... and  just  sheer  liveliness  such as the knight had already shown her. she stares at the girl of who’s name she’s never bothered to learn. well it’s fair enough to say that marisa has only cared about a handful of things like swordsmanship and coin but names was a whole other situation. only believing that she only learns the names of those who she trusts and those who have bested her.                      “  ... i forgot your name but....  uh, what...   ”      she pauses taking a step back and leaning into her step.  the tendency to keep her left hand was always on the handguard became anxious, picking at the edges of her shamshir while the hand messaging the back of her neck,  thoughts melts into soft whispering into mumbled and grumbles then crashing into a sigh. maybe being sociable really isn’t for her.     “   ... do you want ... i mean,  need ... ?   ”   

Jakob didn’t like to admit it, but Peri was a better cook than he was.

This was, at least, a competition that he won even when he lost, as he got to taste Peri’s cooking. Quality assurance for Corrin’s meal— of course that was the main reason he agreed. He inhaled the aromas wafting up from a spoon of sauce and thoughtfully took the taste, nodding with approval.

“Delicious, as always. I’ll find a beverage to compliment your meal, if you don’t mind.”

…