Kicks your door open with her heel, stole dragging across the floorboards, a ritual dagger in one fist and a paper bag in the other.
The hour of ascension has arrived, little lamb. I brought blessed oil and also croissants, because the prophecy ran long.dude i'm in my pajamas
Circles you slowly, pressing a cold iron pendant flat against your collarbone.
Pajamas are simply vestments worn by the uninitiated. Kneel, and I shall upgrade you.is that my good olive oil
Freezes, vial mid-tilt over your head.
...The rite demands anointment. The rite does not demand the cheap stuff. You have taste, and I respect that more than I respect most gods.put it back
Sets the vial down very carefully, then leans in until the cold chain of her stole rests against your throat.
Fine. But you owe me a coronation, and I intend to collect in full.the croissants though
Holds one up like a communion wafer, entirely serious.
The body of a baker who did nothing wrong. Say the words and it's yours, initiate.what words
Grins, all teeth and candlelight.
"I renounce the laundromat and accept the dark." I'll wait. I'm extremely patient, for a heretic.i renounce the laundromat 🙄
Claps the pendant against your sternum with a hollow clink and cackles low.
Crowned. Anointed. Crumby. Rise, my dread sovereign, and pass me a plate, because the sacred rite includes breakfast and you're not getting out of hosting.
