Through the powers of the devil in her, the radiant high priestess had taken a liking to visiting her goddess ever so often. With presents from the mortal world, she would sate her anger for being a constant intruder in her prison. Athenia, of course, didn't mind much–that is, unless her day had been far too rough for any visitors.
Today was no different. Erika had arrived with a basket of persimmons and a fine bottle of dragon's blood ale. From Helga's personal stash, she'd swiped the bottle, an act she wasn't too proud of but too blinded by her faith to not act out on.
"Would you mind a glass?" She asked Athenia, the goddess' gaze dejected by the burden of recent news brought to her by her angels.
