[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/MrFrT8O.png[/img][/cell][cell][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241224/2dff96a131a2215857bd81cacd3d277e.png[/img][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][sub]Location: Aelios Temple > Hotsprings[/sub][/cell][/row][/table][color=lemonchiffon]“The sun warms all,”[/color]

Noticeably, the words came strained from the Priestess, each syllable carrying the weight of effort, but Nyla couldn’t help but smile. There was something undeniably endearing about the way the woman’s eyes widened, her cheeks coloring. Nyla’s gaze followed hers to the window, where only the deep, frozen darkness of night stared back at them. 

She never could get used to it, either. 

[color=DBA73D]“Mm…”[/color] she hummed, arching a brow as she returned her gaze to the woman. Her lips curled into a knowing smile that was neither mockery nor pity, just quiet amusement. [color=DBA73D]“So it seems.”[/color] Her voice carried an easy, lilting sarcasm, as a soft laugh slipped past her lips.

Nyla’s gaze flicked down as the Priestess lifted a small basket of cookies in offering. She blinked, her brows lifting slightly in surprise. She had been given many things in temples—blessings, prayers, judgments—but never a cookie.

And who was she to refuse such kindness? Refusing gifts could be seen as rude. 

With a graceful motion, she plucked a cookie from the basket, holding it between her fingers as though it were something finer than a simple baked good. [color=DBA73D]“A gift from the temple?”[/color] she mused, peering at her with curiosity. [color=DBA73D]“Or from you?”[/color]

She didn’t wait for an answer before taking a delicate bite, letting the taste settle on her tongue. Sweet. But simple. Humble. 

It would undoubtedly leave her stomach in knots later, but Nyla had long since learned to ignore such things. If she wanted to pass as human, she had to commit to the performance.  

The Priestess, meanwhile, had gestured toward the hallway leading to the springs, and Nyla followed without hesitation. As she walked, she took her time, letting her gaze drift over the temple’s ornate walls and vaulted ceiling, allowing herself to absorb the warmth of the space. It reminded her, in some ways, of home.

When her gaze flicked back to the Priestess, Nyla watched her move, noting the careful way she held herself. Controlled, deliberate, but she was stiff—straining. Nyla had seen it before, in dancers who had pushed themselves past their limits—in herself. Though the Priestess seemed to be doing her best to mask it. 

[color=DBA73D][i]Interesting.[/i][/color]  

When they reached the doorway, a gust of cold rushed to greet them, though Nyla barely reacted. Since her transformation, the cold had become more tolerable—though she still didn’t [i]like[/i] it. Gathering her long, dark hair to one side to shield it from the wind, she followed the Priestess outside, smiling at the familiar feeling of heat and steam enveloping her.  

Then, the Priestess stopped short.  

Nyla followed her gaze, landing on the lone figure hunched at the water’s edge. The red staining the ground, swirling in the sacred waters. Her eyes shot back to the Priestess, just in time to catch the basket and towel thrust into her hands. Nyla took them without protest, though her brows drew together slightly. She watched as the priestess hurried down the steps, concern evident.

Nyla, however, lingered.  

Her playful demeanor didn’t vanish entirely, but it did sharpen, her head tilting as her eyes studied the scene at the bottom of the steps. She had no particular interest in rushing in to play the part of a worried onlooker. 

Instead, Nyla inhaled—and immediately regretted it.

Beneath the thick, humid, mineral-rich air, something else lurked.  

[i]Rot.  

Decay.[/i] 

Her grip tightened around the towel and basket as her expression shifted, her amusement slipping into nausea. She darted a glance around, trying to pinpoint the source through the rising steam. An animal carcass left in the snow? [i]A dead body[/i]? 

She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. The scent was faint, even to her—so subtle that a human likely wouldn’t notice it at all, she guessed. But to her heightened blight-born smell, it was enough to make her stomach turn.  

Slowly, with growing concern, she stepped forward, though the Priestess’s urgency wasn’t quite mirrored in her own steps. 

As she reached the bottom of the steps, her attention slid to a sword leaning against one of the rocky outcrops—dark steel, unmistakably Lunarian. Her gaze flicked back to the man as the priestess approached him.

[color=DBA73D][i]A soldier?[/i][/color]

Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, his posture spoke of pain or exhaustion—perhaps both. Maybe the scent of decay clung to his weapon, and that was why he had come here. It would be typical for a Lunarian to desecrate the sacred waters of Aelios. 

Yet something inside her stirred, a quiet warning that set her instincts on edge.

Wariness flickered in her gaze as she glanced at the priestess, then back to the man, choosing to linger a few steps behind them. Silent, she continued scanning the area, searching through mist and shadows for whatever had begun to rot in the cold.

Because whatever it was… 

It was close. 

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[Sub][b]Interactions:[/b] Tia [@c3p-0h], Vellion [@Dark Light][/sub]