The pope was sitting peacefully on her large leather couch, drinking one shot after another of black snake's whisky, one of the strongest local drinks available. She leaned back on her chair, looking at the gold-laced ceiling, and pulled a large cigar, lighting it up.
Last night she had a dream, a roaring thunder and a divine dragon landing on the church, bathing it in divine lightning. In that dream she couldn't do anything to stop him, the dragon took the form of a one-armed human with long black hair and bright emerald eyes, and with a single glare, the walls burst into fire.
She would've blamed how much she drinks…but that dream looked far too real to be just a meaningless night hallucination. She did pray to Mira this morning and she did get a reply, that dream would come true this day.
One of the nuns looked at her, "You've been drinking a lot since morning, you should stop."
