Mirielle's mind wandered into less wholesome stuff, the manifold cooking steps reminded her of her last job as an inquisitor. An entire village taken by insanity after landslide rendered them cut off for two years, with only a handful of crazed husks left in there. The state of the missing travellers when she and her team found them...


...well, let's just say she wasn't a fan of entering the kitchen for a while after that.

Past the morbid thought, her straying attention landed onto the subject of close monitoring for the past month. The penitent - no, she wouldn't be one for that much longer now, would she? It was difficult to imagine her as anything else, at least until the sarkaz started stumbling like a village maiden. A crack in the facade? It's so easy to see Amaris the witch, that Amaris the person was lost inbetween.

Mirielle clicked her tongue, shaking awake from her reverie. Tch, do not sympathize with the sinners. Doing so will only expose one's weakness. Her absence from the inquisition must've clouded her judgment.

...but Amaris would've absolved her sin soon, wouldn't she? Then she's just another person.

The arrival of the food saved Mirielle from the logic spiral, where the difficult thoughts sank into the background. Right, one step at a time. Future problem was something for future Mirielle to deal with. For now, breakfast. The sausage rolls actually looked like a serious contender for "the best sausage rolls in the east".

She saw the troublesome penitent's lips curling into a now familiar smirk followed by anothet tease. Mirielle, for her part, recalled the interesting shade of bashful red Amaris had turned just mere seconds earlier and immediately felt better.

So she simply returned a smirk of her own, saying nothing as she bit into her sausage rolls. 

[i][b][color=#778da9]"Heh."[/color][/b][/i]

Yep, best sausage rolls in the east.