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The Sinner and The Saint The first time they met was near Serenes, as the Forest's fire burned. She was young and left without a home, While he, older, was going to roam. The sinner, not yet sinned, took the saint not-yet-saint And brought her to a church in the north. From him she found a new beginning, And from her he gained the will to go forth. The second time they met was near Nevassa, as Daein declared war. He killed the only teacher he had ever known, While she left her dearest friend all alone. The sinner, now stranger, spoke with the saddened saint, And they briefly forgot their pain. From him she gained direction, And from her he found a way to ease his strain. The third time they met was near Nados, as the Crimeans closed in. He had lost a close friend, perhaps more, While she couldn't find her dearest from before. The sinner, now Knight, passed by the searching saint, And she thus kept him straight on his path. From him she found the courage to continue on, And from her he gained the strength to control his wrath. The fourth time they met was near a forest, as liberation loomed. His days seemed ready to fill with strife, While she, careless, risked losing her life. The sinner, as Knight, saved the sleepy saint, And restored her to Nevassa, her rightful place. From him she gained a brighter future, And from her he found some sense of grace. The fifth time they met was at a river crossing, as battle began anew. He had lost his faith and only liege, While her hope was being besieged. The sinner, still Knight, helped the struggling saint, And kept Daein alive in the fight. From him she found a pillar of support, And from her he gained a sense of what was right. The sixth time they met was in a desert, as Senators scrambled to flee. He aimed to save this girl and his master, While she aimed to save the rest from disaster. The sinner, Black Knight, addressed the selfless saint, And bid she head to safety to no effect. From him she gained determination, And from her he found that destiny he'd reject. The last time they had met was in a tower, as Ashera announced the end. He wanted to realize his one constant goal, While she wanted to save him, in body and soul. The sinner, true knight, saw the silver-haired saint, And knew he could not remain as her guide. From him she found the key to salvation, And from her he gained meaning as he died.
Title : To the Skirt Chasers of Fire Emblem For those who love to chase For the knight who believes in love For the prince who sings for the wind For the bard who waits in the tavern For the prince who teaches love in his sermons For the social knight who thrusts his spear For the gambler who cuts enemies to ribbons For the knight mercenary who is easily duped For the rogue as she steals from lined pockets For the dancer who cannot be stopped by time and dimension We thank for these eccentric, colourful and loving characters. LEVEL UP! + 1 love stat
She awoke to the smell of sweet mint and lemon. Cakes and tea were being prepared by the innkeeper. Pleiada rose from her bed, and walked to towards the window. She bunched the orange curtain together and tied it with a piece of rope that lay on the windowsill. She looked outside to see that the citizens had already begun their day. She stared down at a man that was rushing frantically. He was carrying various fruits, practically juggling them as he ran down through the plaza full of people. It was a busy day, and she had to get ready for her visitors who would be arriving soon. Pleiada sat at her vanity and began to brush her hair. Her curly locks shined a roseate blonde, and cascaded over her slender and pale shoulders. Staring at her reflection, and into her amber eyes. She entertained the thought of hands caressing her shoulders, and braiding her hair. With a sigh she stood from her seat and put on her white bustier. She pulled a white cotton dress over her torso, with the skirt landing just below her knees. She wore a honey coloured cloak, but left the hood down. She lifted her white stockings over her thighs, and started to put on her boots before she heard a knock at the door. "Miss, I believe you have some guests waiting for you downstairs. Shall I tell them that you will be arriving soon?" the innkeeper called through the door. "Yes, tell them as such." Pleiada responded. "Very good. I have tea and cakes if you would like to come down and break your fast as well." the innkeeper lady insisted. "Thank you." She replied. Pleiada retrieved the letter from her drawer and read it one last time before she put it back in the envelope and into her cloak pocket. She wondered who would turn up to escort her to such an obscure location in the middle of the forest. She had been receiving letters from what she believed to be a secret admirer. They were poems, and rather cryptic, but she loved a good mystery. She yearned for adventure, but did not have the skills or courage to set out on her own. Her friends and acquaintances back home would have laughed at the suggestion. She opened the door and descended the staircase, not knowing who would be there to greet her. She had never done business with mercenaries before. She walked into the reception hall. "Hello, my name is Pleiada. I am here to pay for you to escort me to the Spectral Woodlands. Pleased to meet you." She curtsied.