[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/660ZHgx8/Elara-Moonshadow.png[/img][/center][hr][right][sub]Location: Seluna Temple 
Interactions: Katherine ([@SpicyMeatball]), Ramona ([@enmuni])  
Mentions: Desmond ([@Theyra])[/sub][/right][hr]
[indent]Elara dipped her head in thanks, her shoulders relaxing a little under Katherine’s kindness. The priestess’s words weren’t stiff or rehearsed—just honest, like sunlight breaking through clouds. Elara hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that warmth until it settled over her. Her grip on the basket loosened, the woven reeds creaking softly as she adjusted her hold.

“[color=royalblue]Thank you,[/color]” she murmured, her fingers curling once more around the basket’s handle. “[color=royalblue]It’s a lovely temple, even in the quiet. Or maybe… especially in the quiet.[/color]” She didn’t add that the dark suited her, too—that it reminded her of long halls in the royal home, of still corners where she could exist without demand. But she thought about it. Felt it, even.

The scrape of the temple door swinging shut snapped her attention backward. Elara turned just enough to see the newcomer, her breath catching. Ramona stood frozen near the entrance, one hand still gripping the doorframe. Her name didn’t quite reach Elara’s lips, but the realization bloomed all the same. They had seen each other before, often enough to be more than strangers. Though how the handmaiden knew her was more in the way of two moths circling the same lantern, never quite touching.

Ramona’s posture remained rigid, as though the air itself had solidified around her. Her eyes held a flinch of ancient guilt, the sort etched by years of folding oneself smaller. Elara recognized the reflex—the art of vanishing without moving, perfected by those accustomed to the fear of being an inconvenience for those above them. 

Yet, as she’d told Aliseth, she’d never much cared to follow such a ritual. 

Which was probably why the sight of the Lunarian maid like that made something tighten behind her ribs. Perhaps it was the way Ramona’s expression closed so quickly—like a door softly shut before you could ask what was behind it. She wondered, absently, if she had looked the same when the priestess had opened the temple doors for her, half-ready to lie but too tired to pretend.

Furthermore, it was strange, wasn’t it? 

Because if anyone should have flinched, it was her.

She was the one who hadn’t gone to the royal cabin. The one who’d wandered off-course and now lingered here with a basket instead of facing the expectations she’d been raised to uphold. Amaya might still be waiting, or worse, might not have noticed she was gone at all. Elara had no excuse, not really. And yet, seeing Ramona tense like [i]she[/i] had something to answer for stirred an uneasy sympathy in her chest.

So, she offered the woman a small nod. Just enough to say: [i]I see you. You don’t have to explain.[/i]

Elara shifted slightly then as another presence entered the temple. A rustle of wings fractured the silence as an owl descended in an arc of ivory feathers, its landing near the priestess as precise as a falling star finding its mark. It cocked its head, eyes glinting with the detached curiosity of something both wild and wise, a creature unbound by mortal anxieties. For a heartbeat, those obsidian pupils fixed on her, dissecting her stillness, before dismissing her as harmless. Strangely, she found that she envied its indifference.

Elara's gaze drifted toward the man who had followed the owl inside. He looked like he belonged in a warmer world—leather-trimmed cloak lined with sheepskin, hair tousled by travel, the kind of man who lived between roads and maps. She didn’t know him, not personally. A merchant, maybe? The leather looked too fine for a soldier, and the way he moved lacked the formality of court.

The owl sidled closer to the priestess, its eyes darting, missing nothing. Elara wondered if it had chosen the man or been chosen, the way her fox had stumbled into her life. Had it managed to find its way to its pack? She sure hoped so. 

As the priestess moved through the hall, Elara found her gaze following the soft glow of the single lit candle. Katherine lit each sconce in turn with care, like she was waking the temple up piece by piece, coaxing it gently out of sleep instead of forcing it into the day. 

There was something sacred in the motion. Something familiar.

She remembered hands like that—Her mother’s hands, ink-stained and steady, cupping her face after nightmares or tracing healing sigils over scrapes earned. Her mother’s magic hadn’t lived in grimoires or altars, but in this: the alchemy of presence and the holiness of tending.

The basket’s handle bit into Elara’s palm, jolting her back. She loosened her grip, knuckles blanched and trembling, as the priestess turned to address the scattered assembly.

[center]“[color=#19caca]Welcome all to the temple of Seluna…[/color]”[/center]

Quietly, Elara stepped forward.

Her boots didn’t echo. The stone beneath her feet seemed to absorb sound the same way grief did: completely, without complaint. She moved toward the nearest empty alcove, a small niche in the wall with no offerings yet left. She crouched beside it and gently set the basket down. With practiced care, she began to remove its contents: a neatly folded cloth, pale and soft from years of laundering. A small tin of salve, its wax seal still unbroken. A bundle of dried herbs bound in twine—lavender, rosemary, a few sprigs of feverleaf. All simple things. Humble things. But there was comfort in that, too.

She laid the cloth across the alcove’s base like a foundation. Then, piece by piece, she arranged the other items atop it, not for show, but for meaning. Her mother had once told her that an offering didn’t need to be grand. It only needed to be sincere. That sincerity, she’d said, was what Seluna noticed. Not the polish. 

So, as Elara placed the last item, the candle, in the arrangement’s heart, she half-expected the air to shift, some sign the goddess had tasted the offering’s truth. 

But the temple kept its peace. The silence was its only answer.[/indent]