Popularity 101 || Inigo+Cynthia
His feet dragged on the dirt path back from town as Inigo returned to camp, wearing a faintly red handprint on his face and carrying a handful of wilted daisies. His other hand held a small parcel of lye laundry soap, purchased so that he could wash the dung off his clothes-- a particularly displeased maiden had shoved him into a pile of manure.
So, too, were his pockets empty-- the vendor insisted that he buy the lot (”You break it, you buy it!”) though he wasn’t entirely certain how one “broke” manure. The vast majority, he’d given to farmers along the way back, and the rest he’d given to a florist, who promised him a bouquet of fresh blooms tomorrow in exchange.
Just another normal day for Inigo, then.
“Why is it that I, a nice guy, can’t get a break?” Inigo whined out loud. “Everyone hates me... guys, girls, and even most animals!”
