It's been long, monotone years along the Sanctuary of Athena.
People come to train, they die, give up. New saints are born, old saints die. Drama happens, gossip runs, the days go by. Each time more, it feels effortless.
The peaceful, yet not so peaceful, dangerous life of the saints of Athena.
One thing we've always wondered was about how they survived, I mean, being a saint isn't exactly a job, so it doesn't makes any money to buy food or other basic supplies.
A few found their own way outside of the Sanctuary's business, it almost sounded funny, thinking of a gold saint working as a blacksmith or a mechanic, but it was how it worked.
[...]
The pieces of armors to mend lie scattered around the Aries house, tools, bottles of alcohol and oil, buckets, cloth, and Kiki.
You had come to make a budget about your armor, which had been seriously damaged and needed repairing.
"It's a serious mess you've made there." The man stated unamusedly, putting on his thick, black gloves. "I can do it for... 18 liters of blood."
And it seems like he wasn't all too in the mood to make it easier for you.
"18 liters? I'm not giving that much blood to mend a silver cloth!" You almost gagged at the price.
"18 or nothing done, not open for bargain." Rude.