[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231110/8d749d906d93af45726a04f7ecf5f219.png[/img][/center][hr]Jannick had looked forward to this event for some time, and for the most part, it did not disappoint. He was still convinced that nobody could throw a party like the Holy City, and there would surely be no better place in Gaia for the Millennium Festival. Preparations had already begun in earnest when he and Hollyhock arrived a few days prior, and the drive over from the hotel today was significantly slowed by detours where closed-off roads were choked with people milling around in their finery, buzzing with excitement. Streets were lavishly decorated, stalls for vendors of every type were erected, and the festivities were already in full swing; and here and there, standing up above the rest on tall white horses, trotted Church Knights in their shining gold armour, waving down at children and staring watchfully over the crowds. 

And that, to Jannick’s considerable disappointment, was what made his homecoming a bit of a mixed bag. He really was happy to be home; it had only been six months since he left, but in that time he’d scarcely spent any more time in his “new home” in Rosaria than he had at any one of Hollyhock’s innumerable vacation homes scattered all over Gaia, and the travel wearied him considerably. Granted, even staying put in Rosaria probably would have done the same; he had spent the bulk of his life within the same six blocks of home, and leaving it was hard. Really hard. 

Which was why he didn’t expect coming back to be equally difficult, but here he was. The few extra days tacked on to their trip had afforded him some time to visit with his family and friends, but that was as much a hindrance as a help: seeing his family was good, but all of his friends either lived at the Civitas Equitum or worked at his old precinct. Jannick thought he’d be happy to visit, but the familiar sights only made him feel even farther away; there everyone was, going about the business that was so familiar to him, and he was just a visitor. An outsider. And worse still, they treated him like one, making all sorts of a fuss over his “big promotion.” Being halfway across the continent might have been better. 

Sir Tyler’s Blessing Ceremony didn’t do much to lift Jannick’s spirits. Fortunately, his poor mood didn’t make him stand out; it seemed like there were more than a few in attendance who weren’t too enthused by Sir Tyler’s appointment. Jannick might have been in the minority in that sense. The media made a lot of hay out of the controversy around this appointment, but to Jannick, it seemed pretty straightforward: Sir Tyler was investigated, and the powers that be found that his Scion’s death wasn’t his fault. Case closed. Jannick had seen enough of these shitstorms to know how they worked; the media and the public never got the full story, and Incepta only knew that if the evidence was enough to convince Fyodor of Tyler’s faultlessness, it was enough for Jannick. The court of public opinion would never change their minds, but he’d never put much stock into that anyway. 

Of course, the theories of the public and the gripes of the other Templars were probably separate things entirely. That much was clear from the vows they swore - similar to the vows of a Church Knight, but above and beyond in every respect, with absolute dedication not only to Incepta, but to a charge. That was probably why the eyes of more than a few Templars burned as they watched Sir Tyler receive his [i]second[/i] Blessing - a fate the vows themselves seemed explicitly designed to prevent. 

Sir Tyler felt it too, no doubt; whether from the scorn of the masses or his own personal misgivings, Jannick didn’t miss the tension in Tyler’s form as he gave his first response. Jannick tensed, too, but for a different reason. It was only six months ago that he received his own Blessing in this very hall, when he knelt before Holly and felt the sting of foreign mana as she burned Incepta’s brand over his heart. He averted his eyes as the same happened to Tyler, feeling strangely self-conscious about it all. He hadn’t prayed in years; his vows were the first time in a long time he’d even uttered the Mother’s name - outside of profanity, anyway - and he hadn’t repeated it since. He had plenty of good reasons to doubt Her claims of benevolence and seek his solace elsewhere, but even still, he couldn’t shake a deep, unsettling feeling of unworthiness. It was like the eyes of the Goddess were on him, and he hoped She would look away. 

Fortunately, it was all over pretty quickly, and no sooner had the High Cardinal dismissed them than Jannick noticed Holly was gone. He heaved a long sigh, cradling his temple. Honestly, he should thank her - it was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. But the distraction was less of a solemn oath of protection and more of a bad babysitting gig, and his charge was off making very stately and Scion-like work of three cookies that a Templar - wait, really? - had somehow snuck into the ceremony. 

Well, whatever. Jannick hadn’t been with Holly long, but he had learned pretty quick that when it came to stuff like this, it was a lot more work to beat her than to join her. Besides, six years as a cop built up habits that were hard to break. 

Sidling up next to Holly, Jannick plucked a cookie of his own from the box, giving it an exploratory bite before deciding if it was worth giving Ionna an interesting fact. It passed the test. 

[color=9A906B]“We used to keep the funniest civilian complaints framed in the locker room,”[/color] he offered. [color=9A906B]“My favourite one accused me of using excessive force because I scuffed the suspect’s Weezys.”[/color]
[hr][right][@McMolly][/right]