“I cannot believe the honor has been bestowed upon me to bless the army of darkness’s tongues with the fiery and passionate flavor of the dark will of Odin Dark!”
“You said dark three too many times, dear. It doesn’t even seem like a real word anymore.”
Corrin found herself in the mess hall with Odin, who was busy striking poses in front of a gigantic, boiling pot of stew. Someone had made the mistake of assigning him cooking duty. While Odin was more than excited for what he would consider his newest adventure, Corrin was a bit more wary and thus insisted she help her husband prepare the food.