Madasajo92

Forino, Dumia, 2449 A.A.H. The Years before the Crusades [|||] Patience. That’s what Madore reminded himself. Patience for the penitent. After all, how could he scold someone in the midst of bearing their soul to God? As long as they were earnest in their contrition, and expressed an earnest desire to change their ways and be forgiven, then it didn’t matter how a sinner confessed their sins. As long as they did. As Brother Madore sat uncomfortably in his tiny, wooden confessional, sweat trickling down his brow from the sweltering summer heat that filtered in through the tiny wooden screen, he found his patience truly being tested. He hunched over in his seat, wiping his forehead with his palm as he fought the urge to groan. ‘… and den my neighbor, Lukeza! Oh, Lukeza iz bad! Alwayz make me angry! Too pro-mizz-k-… pro-mize-a-… she be a slutty-slut! Always foolin’ ‘round with too many menz, havin’ loud feasts in her house after work n’ bringin’ her friendz over fer