“... Saint Georgios?” The name floated between an earnest gentle beckon and the forced expectancy for his full attention. Oh the trouble of childhood heroes and princely personas. It still felt strange to call the Rider a comrade when the man proved to just be as legendary as all the stories about him. Their mission had been simple; retrieving pelts and talons of Wyverns. Gerogios took care of them all. Berserker never deployed his Noble Phantasm(or talked much for that matter). He went relatively unscathed. Rider however? he felt too embarrassed to ask when they returned to Chaldea. Currently, he trailed behind him, heels clicking down the hall. “ The cape and fabrics of your armor is torn. I can mend them for you. It is simple and will not take much time if you would allow me. It is the least I can do for your performance today. ”
@saintastray

















