The soldier sneers at her from the gates of the grand city.
Getting into Salisbury, it turns out, was much harder than she anticipated. He scoffs at her, looking her over up and down. "Which hole in the woods did you crawl out of? Your clothes are a mess, and you've got almost no magical energy."
Altria wilts a little, cringes inwardly at the words that she knows have to come out of her mouth, and tries to spit them out anyway.
"I'm--the Child of Prophecy!"
The moment she says it, she knows it won't make a difference. Really, she'd known it wouldn't from the start. But he laughs at her nonetheless, and she shrinks down a little despite herself, cheeks red.
"R-really!"
He waves her off after a moment, rolling his eyes. "We don't need the Child of Prophecy here anyway, girlie. Nobody actually wants or believes in the Child of Prophecy."
The truth behind his words hits like a death knell. She doesn't even want to do this stupid thing, and nobody else wants her too either. What is she even doing here? Why is she even trying?
Silently, she turns on her heel to leave, his jeering voice calling after her, "I don't know how many centuries it'll take you, but hey, good luck saving Britain!"
Once she's out of his line of sight, Altria kicks the nearest log along the road that she can find, furiously--but all she accomplishes is stubbing her own toe, and with a groan, she sinks down to sit on it instead, head in her hands.
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The soldier sneers at her from the gates of the grand city.
Getting into Salisbury, it turns out, was much harder than she anticipated. He scoffs at her, looking her over up and down. "Which hole in the woods did you crawl out of? Your clothes are a mess, and you've got almost no magical energy."
Altria wilts a little, cringes inwardly at the words that she knows have to come out of her mouth, and tries to spit them out anyway.
"I'm--the Child of Prophecy!"
The moment she says it, she knows it won't make a difference. Really, she'd known it wouldn't from the start. But he laughs at her nonetheless, and she shrinks down a little despite herself, cheeks red.
"R-really!"
He waves her off after a moment, rolling his eyes. "We don't need the Child of Prophecy here anyway, girlie. Nobody actually wants or believes in the Child of Prophecy."
The truth behind his words hits like a death knell. She doesn't even want to do this stupid thing, and nobody else wants her too either. What is she even doing here? Why is she even trying?
Silently, she turns on her heel to leave, his jeering voice calling after her, "I don't know how many centuries it'll take you, but hey, good luck saving Britain!"
Once she's out of his line of sight, Altria kicks the nearest log along the road that she can find, furiously--but all she accomplishes is stubbing her own toe, and with a groan, she sinks down to sit on it instead, head in her hands.