#jeanne 01

[tabardalon-blog]

@rulermaiden​

You have come to the church despite yourself. This is not Hieron, and the goddess you see before you in a million crystal facets is not one you recognise, but--but to a certain degree all worship looks the same, and prayers can be heard no matter the venue, and you could not keep yourself away.

Samot is not here. Samot is infinitely far away, in the City of First Light, with a new paladin by his side. You wonder--did the stone take hold? If you were to see Hadrian again, could you make him kneel, the way you are here, bent with your head to the cool crystal of the altar? Could you make him bare his neck for you? Would you want to?

The words fall from your lips of their own accord, louder than they have any right to be, feverish and desperate. “Samot, wolf revered and crowned and held as king, my king, can you hear me--oh, give me any sign--”

[pessimisticobserver]

“Stop.”

     It’s a command-- though not a harsh one. Spoke in a bland tone, the man had seen the Saint walking on by, going about her business. And of course he had to interject. But, not because he simply wished to heckle someone. Because this was someone he knew. Someone he had worked alongside with, once-- among others whom he tolerated.

... Yes. He tolerated this girl. A rare thing for Andersen, indeed.

But this was no reunion. Not yet. For, he had to confirm something. ... He knew very well that those whom left this city sometimes came back forgetting it all. They were ‘reset’, so to speak. Memories wiped, relationships wiped, love wiped. As such...

If this was a waste of time, he’d bugger off.

“I’ll be brief. Do you recognize me at all, girl? Not my name, but do you recognize me? Remember me? Have we met before? ... Tell me.”

     With a frown, Andersen gave her an expectant look.

@saintism