day of devotion | @bestowedfate (corrine)
He's two days late, he knows, and he blames the miscalculation he had made on precisely how long it would take for the blacksmiths to make his gift. He's not one to make promises so breaking one shouldn't mean anything, but he laments it nonetheless. Corrine emanates, in his mind, with this aura of purity that he feels cruel crushing the hopes of. She gives so much of herself to others, fretting over them and aiding them; she deserves at least a fraction of what she has given if not equal or more.
It's presumptuous to believe that she put any faith in him to follow through on the claim he made in the Yuletide Season. Maybe part of him hopes for it instead — but why? It's vexing but he doesn't focus on it for long. His feet are running through the snow in a heated search for the princess.
Where could she be?
Was she busy?
Would she be upset?
Was his gift enough of an earnest effort or did he fall short of his claim?
Relief and unease finds him when he sees her back and he calls out her name through the wintry air. He tries to catch up to her, lance in hand adorned in ribbon and a chain of alstroemeria flowers coiling around it. It's a bit heavy in his hands but he does his best to support himself with it.
“ This is awkward to explain. But this is for you. This is a weapon named Casa Blanca. I commissioned it but I was the one to try and add the flowers. They're fake but sturdy. ” His fingers go up to trace a petal, his inexperience with the holiday's traditions making him unsure how to relay his thought. “ I thought it'd be a good idea to... ”
He pauses, realizing he shouldn't let on that it's a weapon from his homeland — not when he's going under the lie that he couldn't recall anything from his past. He shakes his head before resuming, “ Well, it may be late but Happy Day of Devotion, Corrine. ”
