your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
As an accepted, it would be strange to say that Flora wasn't pious, not with how often she called down the gods to help her out of tricky situations or even just to make her life a bit more interesting, but certainly she wasn't the sort to be seen at a temple, especially not one as grand as this one. Yet, here she was, dressed for the weather in Stormbreak rather than Torchline—a long flowing sundress with various strains of green threaded throughout and a cream shawl over her shoulders—kneeling by one of the altars. In fact what Torchline's queen was doing, was wasting a bit of time before she was scheduled to meet with her brother by filling in Safrin of the latest gossip she thought her chosen herald might be interested in knowing.
And if she offered a quick pre-emptive thanks to Frey for what she was going to ask them for in the coming season, what of it?
Lighting a few candles, the Doubletake rose, brushing off her knees and quietly clearing her throat. A resounding crash! suddenly echoed from the opposite end of the Temple, and were it not for the sheepish pulse she felt through the bond she shared with a certain dragon the queen wouldn't have thought anything of it. Instead, she marched purposefully back toward the door where Spice had apparently knocked over an entire standing vat of oil thinking it was water.
And if she offered a quick pre-emptive thanks to Frey for what she was going to ask them for in the coming season, what of it?
Lighting a few candles, the Doubletake rose, brushing off her knees and quietly clearing her throat. A resounding crash! suddenly echoed from the opposite end of the Temple, and were it not for the sheepish pulse she felt through the bond she shared with a certain dragon the queen wouldn't have thought anything of it. Instead, she marched purposefully back toward the door where Spice had apparently knocked over an entire standing vat of oil thinking it was water.
