✧ . * . ˚ HEAVING A DEEP SIGH, rosemary continued sweeping the diusty floors of the senescent church. a mass was to be celebrated early in the evening and despite her protests, the cleaning materials were thrown to the youngest member of the parish. slender fingers grip onto the broom tightly, mumbling a few hushed complaints before arranging the wide array of flowers inside their respective porcelain vases situated right at the wooden entrance of the building.
CLEANING was not the only instruction dropped on rosemary, however. her foster father had explained that aside from the mass’ preparations, they were expecting a visitor. a rather important one.
rosemary remembered clearly how her father described the said visitor: young, slender with red, fiery locks with green orbs— the slay vega that neighbours constantly chattered about right by her window pane, the thorn mage’s daughter. it was odd how it was his apprentice that came by to run errands this time rather than the thorn mage himself but based from the two visits earlier that month, it was clearly evident that the church does not enjoy his visits. the sixteen year old never had the chance to meet him, only catching a few glimpses before they continue their conversation behind closed doors. it made no sense to her why everyone acted so indifferent towards him, he seemed like a nice person after all.
HER head turned to a bird chirping by the window. ❝ hm? a visitor? ❞
light steps treaded to the large, wooden doors of the church. she opened them slowly, the sight of the said visitor coming to her line of visage. a small smile is etched on her young features as rosemary approached the lady as slowly as possible, only to accidentally surprise her moments later.
❝ a-ah, w-well. there will be a mass later and i’m more than happy for you to join us but wouldn’t your master wonder why you’re taking so long? a pleasure to meet you, daughter of thorn. i’m rosemary brook ! i work for the church. ❞
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