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The reaction from the pilgrims who greet you upon your return to the <span class="mu-i">Coy Siren</span> is very much the same. Eager hands help you over the railing from the skiff, some are willing and ready to lend aid and others seem to just want to touch you and make sure that you’re real. Many are already calling your return a miracle, and the legend is only amplified when knowledge of your mysterious sword spreads. At the sight of your return from the sea many of the pilgrims, who you would later find Father Towbray had berated for believing you dead, have now sunk to their knees in prayer. Even Sister Ignatius lends a comforting hand to the priest, apologising for doubting him.
You shrink at a pinch from First Mate Yori, the rakish man laughs and tells you that pinching a castaway is good luck. He’s not the first sailor offer a pinch either either, but you’re so elated at your rescue and that nip of warmed rum that you barely even mind. But if it continues any much longer than right now you’re going to have to get impolite. Such a thing is not done to a man of noble blood. For now though, a hot meal and reunion with your companions is all that is on your mind.
Mikail is a blubbering mess, of course. You wryly ask if he’s enjoyed the last few days slacking at training in your temporary absence and the boy bursts into fresh bouts of sobbing. You can’t help but roll your eyes, but if priests are crying over this you suppose you won’t begrudge your squire shedding a few tears.
Brother Rousseau’s heavy hand on your shoulder grabs your attention. There is a lot in the dour holy knight’s nod to you just then. Relief, welcoming… and something else. The moment is gone before you can figure out what it was, instead he glances at your mystery sword with a raised eyebrow. You offer a non-committal shrug and he gives another one of his understanding nods. Talk later, for now you need to be with your people and Jess the Kid needs looking after. You later find that only a single sailor, a young Cathagi-born lad, had bet that the Fae archer was still alive. Apparently, from what little you can glean in non-conversation from Rousseau, the sailor donated it all to her. For good luck. The deck is a blur of noise and voices, you’re finding it somewhat overwhelming following days of virtual solitude. Jess is not much of a conversationalist, and you were getting <span class="mu-i">this</span> close to starting conversations with yourself.
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