high hopes

Rexanna hadn’t really been to the place where only houses had been located. She had set up her own place to stay in the Settlement with a lower room where she could eventually convert it to her messenger station. Yet she had heard through the grapevine of the tavern and some of the unknown locals passing by that there was some kind of church starting – and at the helm was Bastien. A smile grew on her face as she remembered the smooth talking man whom she had met at the festival with the lanterns, and his scrutiny of the art that had adorned the lantern she had been looking at. Though they hadn’t officially met, and she planned to change that. She had enjoyed his company well enough, however distracted it had been by all the others that had approached. Perhaps an official meeting was in order. So she had found herself here, with Remi’s gift to her tightly held beneath her arm and against her chest as she trudged through the snow – having pulled on layers of clothes to try and fight the chill. A pale fur scarf she had found in the abandoned house of hers was wrapped around her neck a few times in an effort to push away the cold. Then, when she thought she had found the correct place, she knocked on the door briskly, before shoving the hand in a pocket to try and keep it warm while she waited. She wanted to learn what his church was about – what god it was representing, and if perhaps it were Frey, she could kill two birds with one stone per say. She needed to indulge in pleasure for Frey to fix her voice, and she intended on following through with it. Maybe Bastien had an idea that could help, or point her in the right direction? Bastien RexannA you are a church of broken glass and hallelujahs you are haunted like every holy thing.

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