[Something soft and sad carries across his face, a flicker of sadness that had been pulled from memories that feel terribly recent and terribly distant all at once. He pulls the bag into his lap and it's dark leather material is a stark constrast to a pale torso covered in moles and raised scars (courtesy of the aches and pangs of Deerington as it carved into him over the years), but he does not move to open the satchel or any such thing.]
This... It's a little strange, but it's — a holy relic, blessed by God's hand. The rock used to kill Saint Matthias. My brothers and I were... tasked with pilgrimaging it safely to the pope.
[This terrible thing is a great source of pain for him, a pain that draws his face to look older, somehow. He is nothing if not devoted, but some part of him does wonder if he should attempt to cast it into the ocean once more.]
no subject
[Something soft and sad carries across his face, a flicker of sadness that had been pulled from memories that feel terribly recent and terribly distant all at once. He pulls the bag into his lap and it's dark leather material is a stark constrast to a pale torso covered in moles and raised scars (courtesy of the aches and pangs of Deerington as it carved into him over the years), but he does not move to open the satchel or any such thing.]
This... It's a little strange, but it's — a holy relic, blessed by God's hand. The rock used to kill Saint Matthias. My brothers and I were... tasked with pilgrimaging it safely to the pope.
[This terrible thing is a great source of pain for him, a pain that draws his face to look older, somehow. He is nothing if not devoted, but some part of him does wonder if he should attempt to cast it into the ocean once more.]