"It's only mid morning, Rowan," Qairu said to the anti mage, projecting a calm he wasn't feeling. "Too early for this crap."
Rowan remained mute.
"Demons, right? Whose idea was it to seal them in another dimension? Why couldn't they just erase them off- poof." The corrupted priest poured himself a shot of clear moonshine and offered another, larger glass to Rowan. "Here. Drink."
Rowan had avoided alcohol since the war began. He had to stay alert and ready for battle at a moment's notice. But today, he accepted the glass of liquid fire.
"Can't your mommy do something about this?" Qairu waved his glass in the air. "She's a goddess right?"
"It doesn't work that way," Rowan replied. He was holding the liquor glass but hadn't taken a sip yet.
"Then how does it work, Windwalker? Tell me so I have some words of comfort for the people praying and hoping for a miracle."
