---

Had they added more stairs going from the springs up to the temple? Tia thought they might’ve. The climb had never seemed longer, never more demanding, than it did right now with her aching body, the burning weight of their stares on her back. It was a slow process, one hand gripping the railing, the other – the one that couldn’t even manage to make a fist, with how sore it was – hiking up the heavy fabric of her sleeping robe. The wind tugged at her hair, blonde strands tangling in front of her face. Tia tried to stay as composed as possible.

Until she made it into the temple.

The door was heavy as it slammed shut behind her. Tia flinched – she was still getting used to the personality of the building, all the ways it needed care and consideration. Its voice echoed through the short hall, down into the main chamber and back again like a returning answer. Sighing, Tia leaned back against the door. Her head met the wood as she squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment – a moment... she could allow herself that, right? – Tia let her humiliation and self pity surge through her.

She’d just wanted to make sure he wasn’t dying.

Tia forced herself to take in a long, slow breath. Tried to relax her muscles one by one. Imagined that this hurt, angry and petty and twisting as it coiled around her, loosened and slipped away.

It would’ve worked better if she could wash in the springs without feeling the weight of those eyes again.

She brought the heels of her hands up to rub at her eyes. Then she straightened up again, pulling away from the door. The humidity of the springs had come with her, into the temple. It made her hair frizz and her clothes feel too heavy. Tia pulled at her scarf to loosen it, and it seemed to stick to her skin. On one last, childish impulse, she rubbed up and down on her arms, like she could scrub away the stain of the man’s stare.

Without anyone to witness her, Tia moved stiff and careful down the short hallway back towards the main chamber. The heat of Aelios’ flame grew warmer – it wasn’t as comforting as it should’ve been. It only made the moisture still clinging to her skin more intolerable. Tia pulled at her scarf again, eyes downcast and unfocused as she slowly made her way to the nearest pew on the outskirts of the room.

Tia winced as she braced her good hand on its wooden back to lower herself into the seat. A splash of red caught her attention – the bottom hem of her robe, too long for her, had dragged along the damp stone of the springs. It was saturated with water, dirt, and blood. Another mess to clean up.

Another sigh. Another closing of her eyes.

She was being petty. What had they really done? Bandied words not even meant for her. She hadn’t mattered, so why should it affect her? The woman had been kind at times, and the man had… well, he wasn’t bleeding out, at least. That was something to be thankful for. But…

Opening her eyes, Tia gingerly pulled at her robe to reach into her inner pocket. Her hand emerged with the shining, too-perfect gemstone she’d pulled from the cave. She remembered the voice that had haunted it, full of wrath and thunder like a vengeful god. The vision.

Her visions.

Tia could brush away every cruel word the man had thrown at her, given enough time. But… his words about Aelios echoed in her mind. That she’d dedicated herself to something that… wasn’t there.

The dismissal hurt on its own. But if Aelios was gone… then where did Tia’s visions come from? A familiar fear rose up – that she was being misguided by something dark and malicious. It only awakened more worries, that same swirl of nerves and confusion and contradiction that had consumed Tia the entire time she’d been in Dawnhaven.

She stared down at the gem cradled in her hand, firelight flickering along the cut edges.

From over the edge of an open prayer book, no more than five feet away, hazel eyes watched her intently.

She didn’t seem to notice him, but he’d been aware of her presence from the moment she’d slammed the temple doors. Every movement she made was slow, like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders and even the act of existing took effort.

So, he’d stayed silent.

His gaze traced the troublesome look in her expression, the damp stains along the hem of her robe, the way her fingers curled around the gemstone he and Ivor had nearly died for. His brow furrowed slightly, and he let the book dip lower, just enough to get a clearer look. Still, he said nothing. She could have her moment.

As he waited, curious to see how long it would take her to realize she wasn’t alone, his hand drifted down, fingers closing around the last half of his cookie. Lifting it to his mouth, he bit down as slowly and quietly as possi—

cruuuuuuuuuunnchh

The sound shattered the stillness of the temple.

His jaw stilled. Slowly, his gaze slid back to her.

Tia’s back was straight, her eyes wide as she stared at him. She blinked.

The guard from yesterday was sprawled across the pew like he’d always been there. Tia’s gaze darted around the room, to the doors, to the other empty benches, like she’d be able to tell where he’d come from and when he’d gotten here.

Her lips parted to say something. They closed. Tia looked back at him, blinking again as she fully took him in – cookie in one hand, prayer book in the other, and… Ranni’s gecko?

Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe the man outside was right and Aelios was gone and now the evil gem god-demon-man-thing was completing his hold over her giving her confusingly non-scary (but confusing) non-visions.

“...Hi,” she squeaked.

Zeph swallowed his bite, a slow grin creeping in as he took in her wide-eyed stare.

“Hey.”

Leisurely, he set the prayer book down along his outstretched leg, his gaze flicking over her again. His smile softened into something a little less teasing. “You doin’ alright, firefly?”

Something fluttered in Tia’s chest at the name – the gentle look in his eye. She looked down at her lap if only to break his gaze. As discreetly as she could, her fingers curled around the gem, her hand turning to cover it. She tried not to wince as she adjusted her seat on the pew. The wet hem of her robe was heavy where it brushed against her ankles. When she found the nerve to look back up at him, she gave a shrug and tried to smile.

It was embarrassing, but he’d already seen the awkward way she moved. What good would lying do?

Smile drifting away, Tia nodded towards him and tapped at her shoulder with her free hand, a question in her eye. Briefly, she saw him sprawled on the cave floor, skin too pale as his own blood painted him crimson. It had been a long day yesterday – Tia hadn’t checked up on his healing as she should’ve.

Zeph glanced at his shoulder, then back at her, shrugging casually. “I’ve had worse,” he said with a smirk. It was true—he had. “But you’re quite the medic. Thank you.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch the spot where the injury had been, his fingers still remembering the odd smoothness of his healed skin. “Can’t tell anything happened at all.”

Letting his attention drift to the gemstone she was trying—and failing—to conceal, he nodded toward it. “So, is that thing everything you’d hoped for?” He raised an eyebrow, curious. Her fingers curled tighter around the gem, eyes wide with poorly hidden panic. “Did you lose it there or something? How’d you even get out to that cave? Why didn’t you ask that Champion of yours to come?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he was asking too much. Too fast.

Zeph wasn’t blind—he saw the way she hesitated before speaking, measuring each word before releasing them. He heard the faint rasp in her voice, the subtle strain against each syllable. His gaze dropped briefly to the scarf loose around her neck, catching a glimpse of pink scarring peaking just above the fabrics edge.

Meeting her gaze again, he studied the weariness behind those big beautiful doe-eyes. Her lips parted, like she was waiting to find the words.

“Never mind,” he said, shifting his tone—lighter, a touch easier and less insistent. “You don’t have to answer.”

A moment of quiet stretched between them, just long enough for Zeph’s gaze to wander around the empty temple.

Tia sat on the other end of the pew, trying not to glance at him. She swallowed, feeling the way the muscles in her throat didn’t quite move as they should’ve, didn’t layer over each other in the way they were meant to fit. She hadn’t missed the way he’d… he’d switched somehow, his curiosity muffled under something dismissive. It was almost like he’d deflated himself.

Something tightened in her chest as she thought of how easily he let go of his questions with a light voice and curving lips.

He was so quick to smile, this one.

In the quiet, another memory came to her — of him laughing at her as he’d dismissed her request to enter the pool in that frigid cave. How he’d dove in after Ivor without hesitation, when the clear water had turned bloody.

Zeph tilted his head, a new—easier—question surfacing.

“Is your Keeper around?” From what he could tell, they were alone. No angry, watchful presence lingering nearby.

When he looked back at her, his amusement returned in full force, tugging at the corners of his lips. “She didn’t seem too pleased last night,” he mused, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m surprised she let you out of her sight.”

Tia flicked her eyes back up to him, and let herself be pulled along by the lightness in his words — even as her heart twisted uncomfortably as she thought of how Dyna had treated him last night, and the difficult conversations she’d yet to have with her sisters.

But they were out for the day. And Tia liked the spark in the guard’s eye, the light tease in his voice. She didn’t want him to douse himself again.

She looked up at him for a long moment, watching the way the firelight danced in his eyes like laughter. Hesitating, she bit her lip. Tia slipped the gemstone back into her pocket and reached out to tap the side of his shoe closest to the pew’s back. She looked back up at him. He arched a brow, curiosity flickering in his gaze, silently asking—And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?—a challenge hidden in the way he held still, waiting to see if she’d follow through. She tapped again more insistently, before that became a shooing motion.

When his feet were finally on the ground and he was sitting more acceptably on the bench, Tia made a beckoning motion, calling him closer to her. He obliged her without protest this time, shifting to close the distance. She scooted closer in turn. The half of Tia’s mind that she was not currently giving control said that what she had planned was not normal behavior and he was going to think she was bizarre.

But then, Tia convinced strangers to go on secret spelunking missions with her, and had dreams that may or may not have been the result of an angry powerful being who hated her — or it was just her anxiety. She supposed she was bizarre.

Sitting together, they were less than a foot away from each other on the bench (and Ranni’s gecko was very carefully retrieved and placed on Tia’s other side). She looked up at him — and realized she may have miscalculated. Her plan — and her nerves — had failed to account for how very tall he was when he was this close. And how his little smattering of freckles —

Looking away from his eyes, Tia reached out to softly pull at his sleeve. She’d already gotten this far. Maybe she could just… ignore how warm her skin felt. Slowly, hesitantly, Tia guided his arm out until she held his hand out in front of them, his palm angled towards them. She swiped the side of her hand across it, cleaning away stray cookie crumbs. Tia glanced up at him, an eyebrow raised slightly, her smile almost more amused than shy. He shrugged, a flicker of mirth in his expression.

Then she began tracing careful letters into his palm.

Zeph watched in silence as Tia’s fingers moved across his skin, intrigued by the way she chose to communicate. The closeness of her, the gentle way she held his hand in hers, the soft press of her fingertips—it all felt… oddly intimate.

He wasn’t sure what captivated him more—the feel of her, or the sudden bursts of bravery that she seemed to possess.

M Y S I S T E R

It wasn’t much, but at least Tia could give him this — he could ask some questions without feeling like he had to deflate himself again.

She looked up at him, offering another smile, checking to see if he understood. He met her eyes, offering a small, lazy smile in return.

As she continued, his gaze didn’t leave her face.

D Y N A

When her eyes returned to his, he glanced briefly at his palm, trying to recall the feeling of the patterns she had traced, rather than the way she looked under firelight instead of crystal light.

“Well, you two look nothing alike,” he said flatly, feigning a look of disbelief, though the humor in his tone was unmistakable. He knew she likely meant sisters by faith, not by blood. The church did love to call themselves a family, all toxicity included.

Still, he was rewarded with a growing smile and a suffering look.

“Did you tell her where you were last night?”

Tia faltered. Her hands drifted down, lowering away from his. Her eyes were distant for a moment. They flicked to the fire burning in the heart of the temple. She shook her head. Then she refocused on his hand and lifted a finger again.

C A N T Y E T

Tia almost pulled away — but her indecision settled. With her other hand she pulled out the gemstone again, pink and glittering in her hand. Looking down at it, Tia bit her lip. She looked back up at him. She felt… guilty that she’d tried to hide it from him. It was especially silly, since he already knew she had it. He’d been there, when Ivor had pulled it from the water. He’d nearly died for it. He deserved what truth she could give.

N E E D I N F O

Zeph furrowed his brow, his gaze drifting to the gemstone in her hand. His mind replayed the sound of it clattering against the cavern floor, the image of her scrambling away from it in a panic still fresh in his mind. The more he learned, the less anything made sense.

He had so many questions.

But every time he broached the subject, he saw the hesitation. He didn’t want to press her. It wasn’t his place to demand answers out of a Priestess. He had no right to pry into something that wasn’t his to know.

“You don’t have to tell me about it, but….” his gaze softened, his tone turning more gentle and respectful than it had been. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.” He paused, locking his eyes with hers for emphasis—to make sure she understood.

Tia’s breath caught in her throat as he held her gaze.

“I do owe you a debt, afterall.” he said, offering her a small, sincere smile, as if the notion might be a joke. But even as he did, his chest felt tight, weighed down by a debt he wasn’t sure he could ever repay.

Tia couldn’t look away from him, watching the shifting glow of firelight over his skin. She tried to catalogue the different ways he smiled, and what they all might mean. Something bloomed in her chest, soft and warm and guilty as he gentled himself for her again — like he wasn’t owed answers. Like she hadn’t been the reason he’d almost died in the first place.

She shook her head.

“You don’t,” she whispered.

Zeph tilted his head, the playful glint in his eyes returning—searching for a way to bring a smile back to her face. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Oh, but I do.” he insisted, though there was no force behind it, only the warmth of his growing fondness of her.

Tia couldn’t help herself — she let out a bemused puff of air, as the corners of her lips quirked up. His mood seeped into her. His closeness casting a shadow over his face, that flicker in his eyes, made Tia feel like they were sharing a secret. For once that didn’t seem quite so scary.

“Besides,” he added with a chuckle, straightening up and leaning against the pew, “I had fun. Way better than guard duty.” His grin widened. “Promise you’ll let me tag along for whatever mischief you get into next time?”

Her eyebrow twitched up, smile only growing. Maybe there was a spark of mischief in her, too. Then Tia blinked. An idea popped up that she was too nervous to examine — a way for him to help, as he’d offered. Her fingers curled tighter around the gem in her hand.

He paused, a thought of his own suddenly striking. His smile faltered, remembering why he had come here in the first place.

“Actually, that reminds me… Do you happen to know anyone with the last name Hawthorne?”

Tia blinked again, refocusing on him. It took her a moment to process his words — the name. Her eyebrows drew together as she looked down and searched her memories.

Hawthorne… It sounded… vaguely familiar? Tia hardly knew anyone in Dawnhaven, and as far as she was aware, she hadn’t met a Hawthorne here. From before maybe? In the capital? But it was the biggest city on the continent and Tia had cared for countless people.

Eventually, she looked back up at him and shook her head, an apology in her eyes. Meanwhile that stray idea stewed in the back of her mind.

Zeph sighed. He wasn’t all that surprised, but still, he had hoped.

“That’s alright,” he shrugged, brushing off his disappointment easily enough. “Maybe your Kee—” He caught himself, glancing at her before correcting, “Your sister will know, then.”

His gaze flicked toward the temple entrance, thoughtful. “You know where she went?” He asked, though he was already considering how the conversation might go. If the Champion even let him speak to her, would she just take the opportunity to interrogate him about where Tia had been?

Her eyes snapped back to him — she’d drifted away, distracted by her own thoughts. Tia gave him an alarmed look at his words. She did not think a meeting with Dyna would go well for him.

“I’ll keep our little secret, don’t worry,” he added with a smirk, though the thought lingered. Perhaps asking random Aurelian guards would be the wiser choice.

Despite herself, Tia let out another huff that might’ve been a laugh. Her smile came easier each time. Finally she shook her head and shrugged, gesturing vaguely towards the door. She’d woken up alone — she had no idea where either of the twins had disappeared to.

Her expression drifted again, those distracting thoughts pulling at her. Her eyes flicked around the room — to the door, the fire, the gemstone… Tia could feel her nerves building under her skin, that anxious promise of trouble making it hard to sit still. She glanced at him. Her mouth opened — only to close again as she fidgeted in her seat, looking away.

Zeph arched a brow, watching her carefully. He let the silence settle between them, waiting, giving her the space to say—or write—whatever was obviously on her mind. But she didn’t.

And the questions building inside him only grew heavier.

After a moment, he shifted, reaching for her hand. His fingers brushed against hers, hesitant at first, his gaze flicking to hers, seeking permission. When she didn't pull away, he gently took her hand in his own, turning it palm-up. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft against the roughness of his own, a contrast that sent an unbidden thought skimming through his mind—one he quickly forced himself to set aside.

Slowly, he traced the curve of a question mark into her palm. His gaze stayed locked on her face as he watched for a flicker of understanding, of trust—of anything that might tell him what was going on behind her eyes.

Tia forgot how to breathe. She could feel his touch echoing through her hand, down her arm, along her spine. There was that fluttering again in her chest, more frantic as it fed on her nervous energy.

Stars, she realized distantly. His freckles looked like stars.

She bit her lip, his gaze settling there for a heartbeat. Tia looked back down at their hands between them, her smaller one surrounded by his. She let herself hesitate — but only for a moment. Then she turned her palm over to draw another word into him, somewhere between a request and an offering.

M I S C H I E F ?

A slow, devilish smirk spread across his lips as the word formed beneath her fingertips, igniting something reckless in his chest. An ember catching flame.

Dark eyes met hazel.

For the moment, things didn't feel so dreadful anymore.

Because somehow, in this wretched town, she was here—a spark in the shadows, something bright and powerful. His mistress of temptation personified, wrapped in silken robes and staring back at him with eyes like smoldering emberwood, dark and endless, catching the firelight in glimmers of gold. He could've kissed her.

How strange it was, to find a partner in crime in a High Priestess of Aelios.

And yet, he nodded, silent still.

Cheeks warm, too aware of the places his skin still touched hers, Tia couldn’t help but smile back. Then she hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. Lifting her free hand — the one still holding the gem — she held her index finger and thumb close together. Small mischief. He was so excited, Tia didn’t want to now disappoint him. She emphasized the motion again. Hopefully he’d temper his expectations. Then she held up her index finger, a request to wait for a moment.

Another beat of Tia tracing the feel of his warm hands on her, his closeness, his smile —

Then she pulled away, standing — wincing — as her hand slipped away from his. His gaze followed her, a flicker of concern crossing his expression as she hurried out of the main chamber and back towards her room.

It looked even worse than she remembered.

Papers scattered about like a storm had blown through, progressively messier handwriting, and a bare spot in the middle of the floor where Tia had finally passed out. Embarrassment filled her. At least no one else was here to see this chaos.

Picking her way through the cold, darkened room, Tia made her way to the middle and knelt down on sore legs to sift through the pages. She found it — the final, complete recollection of the vision she’d received from the gemstone. There was even her best (though still bad) attempt at drawing what she remembered of the runes in the margins. The page was easy enough to pick out when her eyes had finally adjusted enough to the darkness — it was the only version she’d given a title to.

Upon Touching the Gemstone From the Crystal Cave

Yesterday’s date was written in the top corner. It had been one of the last things she’d written last night, her hand so stiff from writing that the letters were positively sloppy on the page. Maybe it would be enough to hide her handwriting. What was she going to do otherwise, ask him to rewrite it? She shook her head. This would have to do.

Carefully folding the letter into thirds, Tia pushed herself back up and found the winding path to the door that kept her from stepping directly over any papers.

When she emerged back into the warmth and light of Aelios’ flame, the guard was still waiting for her on that bench. Her heart skipped a beat.

Tia stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes. Her nerves swam — but she’d come this far. She thrust both the gem and paper out towards him. Zeph sat up straighter, his gaze flicking between the two items curiously.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She watched him, oddly worried that this request was too… petty for him. Like she should’ve been more ambitious with her rule breaking. But the gravity of the situation weighed on her, oppressive and ominous. This needed to be done, and Tia didn’t know who else to ask when involvement would put them at risk. The guard was already involved. He’d offered to help. Plus he seemed much more experienced with troublemaking than she was.

And… childishly, Tia wanted that feeling again, of sharing a secret. She could still feel his finger on her palm as his other hand cradled her — his silent, voiceless message as she watched the warm glow in his eyes turn bright and crackling.

“Sage Eris Hightower.” Her voice was soft — all the better to keep it from echoing in the halls of the temple. But the name was clear enough. “Anonymously.”

Zeph’s brows lifted. “Hightower?” he echoed, recognizing the name. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the gemstone and paper, weighing them thoughtfully in his hands. Running his thumb along the cut edges of the gemstone, he considered her request.

It wasn’t exactly the thrill he’d been hoping for—no perilous cavern dives or life-threatening experiences—but it was still mischief. Small mischief—a secret mission. And that, he could get behind.

Slipping the gemstone into his left pocket—the one that didn’t already hold the small bell chime he’d swiped from the entrance table—he glanced back up at her with a smirk.

“Consider it done.”

She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

After a beat, he tapped the folded paper, tilting his head. “Can I read, or…?”

She paused, looking down at the folded paper. When she looked back up to his face, Tia remembered how he’d softened, dampening his own curiosity for her. She heard his voice gentling, only to brighten as he redirected himself to safer topics.

She saw him bloody on the cave floor.

It wasn’t like a Lunarian would put much stock in a Sun Priestess’ maybe-visions anyway, she reasoned. And… Tia was choosing to trust him with this task. She wanted to trust someone, anyone at all, with at least a fraction of what she’d been carrying since before she’d arrived in Dawnhaven. She couldn’t stand the thought of him taking a peek anyway and then lying to her about it if she denied him. She didn’t want a reason to doubt him.

Tia lamented that he was going to see how awful her handwriting had become.

Still, she nodded.

Zeph unfolded the paper with care, angling it towards the firelight as his gaze swept over the words. Slowly, as he read, his brows drew together.

Sprawling darkness. Obsidian spires. A towering figure, golden eyes blazing with unbridled wrath. The image she described was vivid, as if he could feel the weight of it himself—the fury that cracked through her like a physical blow.

Tia’s hands tightened at her sides as he read, curling around the fabric of her robe with a grip that sent pain arcing through her overworked muscles.

A slow breath escaped him, the gemstone feeling heavier in his pocket, as if it had suddenly gained substance. He lifted his gaze to Tia, his expression shifting—uncertain, wary.

His mind flashed back to the cavern, to the way she had nearly backed into the frozen water, eyes wide with fear.

“You saw this?” His voice was edged with disbelief, but he hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—he did. He had no reason not to. But it sounded like something from a nightmare. Except… Tia hadn’t been asleep.

She didn’t respond. Tia was frozen under the weight of his gaze, pinned down by the new sharp edge. Her heart thundered in her ears like the voice from the vision. The reality settled into her finally — she’d told someone. Not everything, but Tia could see the questions building in him, his quick mind working her out like a puzzle.

Neatly, he folded the paper again, slipping it into the safety of his coat pocket. His gaze remained fixed on her, countless unspoken questions flickering behind his eyes. “Why don’t you want the Sage to know it’s from you?”

A thousand words she couldn’t say tumbled in her chest. She thought of the Arch Priest’s careful warnings. The Prince’s stern face as his eyes hardened with distrust and he demanded answers.

Her lips parted. She closed them again.

Tia uncurled a hand and brought it up to tap against the small emblem of the Church of Aelios embroidered on her robe. His eyes followed the movement, settling there for a few heartbeats.

“My words,” she managed in a soft, unsteady voice. It strained against her throat, tightened by her nerves. She tried to swallow. Tried to relax. Took another breath. “Have weight.”

Understanding clicked into place. Slowly, his gaze lifted back to hers, a small smile curving on his lips.

She fascinated him.

Beautiful, brave, and entirely unexpected. A mystery he hadn’t meant to start solving, but now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to understand.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” he murmured, his tone light, teasing—but not dismissive. Her words did have weight. She was someone people listened to. Someone people followed.

And for some unknowable reason, here she was—trusting him.

“Your secrets are safe with me, Priestess.”

“Tia.” It slipped out without thought. She was too warm, too lightheaded with relief at his words, the return of his smile.

She wasn’t alone with her secrets anymore.

Her smile was small but real as she looked at him. Everything seemed lighter, suddenly. She gave a bow of her head before meeting his gaze again.

“Thank you.”

As she straightened, Zeph pushed himself off the bench in one fluid motion, rising to his full height. In an instant, the space vanished between them. Standing, he towered over her, close enough that the temple’s eternal flame wasn’t the only warmth he felt.

“Anytime, Tia.” he said quietly, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

Tia blinked, suddenly face to chest with him. Her eyes, wide and round, darted up to his.

She didn’t want to know what color her cheeks were. He was close enough that she had to crane her neck to look at him, his smile sharp and his eyes dancing in the firelight — her name on his tongue. Her secrets in his pocket.

Oh no.

Her brain didn’t work anymore. She blamed his proximity. Or her panic. Or the heat she felt that dangerously was not panic. She should step away, she knew. Give him space. She didn’t think she knew how to move.

“Mhm.” It was a high, strangled noise. Tia was fairly certain she’d never been a bigger idiot.

Zeph settled in place, as if he belonged there. His gaze drifted over her face, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek, the way the firelight played along her skin. Slowly, unhurried, his eyes lingered on her lips for a few breaths—just long enough for the thought to register.

Meeting her eyes again, he let the silence stretch, savoring the tension—and the surprising way in which she didn’t move away from him. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, teasing. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Maybe Aelios had actually blessed her, Tia considered, by taking away her voice — if only to keep her from answering his question.

She couldn’t look away from him as his gaze burned tracks into her skin. Hazel was too indistinct a word, she decided. His eyes danced in shades of the earth and forests, pine needles and honey gold, and a green so pale it was almost silver, like new growth on a desert plant. The fire splashed sunrise orange across it all.

Caught by his distracting eyes and starry freckles and smirking lips, Tia forgot how to breathe. Every nerve in her body felt taught and electric, crackling like the fire she tended to so dutifully. Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow.

Tia taught herself how to move again and gave a small shake of her head. Then an abrupt step back.

Panic shot through her as her heel caught on the dragging fabric of her robe — but she managed to catch herself before she could do more than stumble.

It was like the world suddenly snapped back into reality, expanding beyond the tiny bubble that held them. Sight and sound existed for more than just his face and voice. Warmth existed beyond what radiated off his body, close enough to feel without touch.

Currently, all the warmth in the world was concentrated under Tia’s skin. She blinked rapidly as she looked back up at him — now from a safer distance. He still felt very close.

There it is.

The uncertainty, the wariness he had glimpsed in her yesterday. Zeph had caught it then, and he caught it now, pleased to see he could pull the same reaction from her so effortlessly. From a High Priestess of Aelios, no less.

That was satisfying.

His smirk deepened, smug and self-assured. She had flustered easily before, but now? Now he was certain—delighted—that it wasn’t just the natural unease at standing too close to a stranger. She had been quite comfortable mere moments ago, unbothered by the proximity she had initiated. But now, as he examined the heat creeping into her cheeks, he knew.

There was something else causing her to step away, something warmer. Familiar to him, but something she clearly didn’t know what to do with.

And he thought, for a moment, how interesting it might be to discover all her unspoken desires.

Did she even allow herself to have them? Did the church permit it? Did she? Or had she spent so long under the weight of that emblem that she’d convinced herself she was above such things? Above wanting?

A shame, if that were the case. Because Zeph knew desire. He knew the pull of it, the freedom in it, the way it could unravel even the most disciplined of minds.

He could show her how to indulge, if she so desired.

Letting the silence stretch again, he watched as she blinked—using the moment to steady himself, too.

“Well,” He finally said, his voice light, casual. “See you around then, Tia.”

He turned, shoving his hands into his pockets as he strolled toward the entrance, the faint jingle of the charm barely audible beneath his footsteps. Near the door, he paused, plucking a fresh prayer book from the stack—why not?—and, with the same unbothered confidence, snagged one more cookie.

The door slid shut with finality, the sound echoing through the temple.

Tia collapsed into the nearest bench. Her heart was too quick, and she was breathless, and she was never wearing this robe again.

His face was too warm. Tia brought her hands up to feel her cheeks, eyes widening as she remembered the way his gaze had trailed over her, his soft voice as he’d said her name.

The fire popped loudly and she jumped like a scolded child.

Reaching to the end of the pew, Tia grabbed Ranni’s stuffed gecko and sighed as she hugged it tightly to her chest. But beneath the flustered nerves and overwhelming unease — there was that warmth again. The sense of accomplishment that she was doing something with all of her secrets, and that someone (a someone who conjured fondness and amusement and panic) was going to help her with them. A soft smile found its way to her lips.

Tia still didn’t know his name.

Lord and Lady Coswain

Temple of Lunaris

Pretty Preistess

“Try not to kill the idiots, il see what trouble i can avoid Adon.” Persephone said as she got up heading over to the desk pulling a clock over her shoulders and heading over to the desk noting a busy looking woman with lime green Eyes. She was one of the staff, maybe she knew if she could borrow the kitchen some time.

Soon she found herself dragged into a errand but it was pretty harmless and have her chance to learn more about the town. The thing about being on duty or errands people tended forget about you and talk more freely, she could use that casual ignorance as she tightened her cloak about her neck, the thick furs Over her uniform layers would keep her warm in the harsh chill. “Sure, il barter you for time in the kitchens.”

“Deal, Lady Persephone. Lunaris Temple, Priestess Katherine.” Vala said with an agreement, short but direct, she got the impression the woman was not one for bullshit and they made a quick agreement between them with minimal fuss. Vala liked that, she knew what wanted and what she would pay.. no hurt feelings.

“I know, deal.” She said as she checked her cloak and everything as a habbit.

Her cloak was handy as it kept it warm and hid the older woman's blade under her cloak, a short Sword like many Lunarian women seemed to favour but hers was a heavy bladed messer pattern castle forged in the CapItal for her. She did not find armoured men her main threat and this favoured brutal cutting power and edge weight to level odds.

There might not be a threat, there probably was so she was glad to carry armed even minus armour she could do enough damage to escape.

She took a basket insulated with a blanket and a note and left spotting a giant of a man talking to a woman who .. gave her feelings that she was of similar nature… she missed nothing and seemed to be close to the giant and the innkeeper. The woman with wings.. Well she took advice to heart about getting the job she wanted.

That woman was on her list of people to Watch. She was dangerous or could be. The giant and in keeper… He was lower on list but the keeper, she seemed to gather Information in a way she would have hired in a blink as a local informant.

…

She left the Inn with a cold wave that hit her skin and woke the sense…any lingering sleep left the lady as she headed out the Temple, her basket swung from shoulder and she rested a hand protected by furs but close to what mattered. She did not live to be a grandmother being careless.

She was even suspected she saw boot prints, oddly familiar then realised it might be Daphne, she was safe, and probably Got snagged in some duty, or so. She had been up at the Temple after all and they had no official duties yet so just took what they needed to do. plus It was clear she was… Invested.. In a certain Katherine's wellbeing… she did not have to play coy with them, they really did not care if she went after she or he.

The walk through snowy streets was calming and Persephone made good time, swinging by stable to check on her mount and made a choice, she needed a ride to exercise so she mounted up, and quickly tacked and started out on the well known feisty Lunarian heavy, deep black coat and wide feet sank into the snow shod with iron cracking ice. She pulled the reins tight to keep it from keeping off. She was in charge, not her horse.

The trot she took was more roundabout mounted as she began to canter faster till she reached the Temple of Selua and tied her horse up while she delivered and made a quick prayer to Goddess. “I'll be back, steady, I won't be long.” She stroked the muscular neck of the horse and pushed the door open into the peaceful candle lit room.

The Temple was busier than before and she stepped in quietly pushing the door closed and seeing an white haired woman, another who she had not met yet. The trader from the Inn she heard about was there too and the small area had already got offerings. Persephone had little to give but she had food for the Holy woman and that would do.

She nodded politely to all present.

It was nice to know the Temple was cared for, and she noticed the white hair and dark haired women made an almost set but two opposite sides of a coin. Both smartly and warmly dressed for the conditions. maybe they worked for the Royal household or Nobles?

“Priestess Katherine? Lady Persephone.” She asked into the Temple softly and politely as she rested a basket of some of Syas creations… porridge pastery, porridge in a bowl and some left overs including sweets, cheeses and meats all wrapped in a blanket to keep them safe from winter's bite.

“The Eye asked me to bring this, breakfast, hot food, and I'm told.. The person who requested it was quite insistent you get cared for well and get a good meal.” She Said seeing how many dots she could join. If Daphne chose this woman for her affections, she could do far far worse.

“Also thankyou for Your care and protection during the alarm.” She said thankfully and made the sign of Selene and waited patiently.

Mentions
@Theyra
@enmuni@SpicyMeatball
@Qia

"Good morning, priestess," were the words that Desmond could muster after Silver had made her presence and, by extension his known and before the priestess left to prepare the temple. "You really had to do that? What do I say before we entered the temple?" Desmond annoyed at his feather friend.

Silver simply stared at him and hooted twice.

Desmond's face seemed tired, and he simply sighed. "Well, at least the priestess here is more welcoming than the one back home."

Silver hooted again and started looking around the temple.

Desmond, in turn, did the same. While he was here more for exploration. He did make sure he did not bother the other two people here. One was a woman with snowy white hair and was particularly beautiful. More so, in this light, Desmond stared for a time, almost in place, before he snapped out of it and looked away before she could notice. But something about her seemed familiar, but right now, he could not place his finger on it.

Then, the other person in the temple, another woman, this one with onyx black hair and bright blue eyes. He knows he has not seen this woman before, and he was curious about her. Desmond did not try to force the issue. But he felt a curiosity about her eyes that, for now, he chose not to focus on.

Still, for now, he was content with simply looking around the temple before he tried to talk with the priestess. So, he explored and walked around. Trying not to disturb the priestess or anyone else in the temple, for that matter. For some moments, Desmond admired how the temple looked on the inside, and he knows his mother would be happy about the state of the temple as well. He had a smile on his face and was in a good mood.

Then he heard the door to the temple open and, to his surprise, another visitor to the temple. Is the temple always this busy in the mornings, he thought as he watched the woman bring some food to the priestess. Apparently, it was a request by someone. Well, at least he knows the priestess here is being well cared for, it seems, though he was curious who this person was that cared for the priestess is, but now does not seem like the time to get an answer.

So Desmond decided to wait around and check out more of the temple and not bother anyone. While keeping an eye out if more people show up and make this temple even more crowded.

Interact - @SpicyMeatball
Mentioned - @Qia, @enmuni, @PrinceAlexus

Aurora Halliwell

Eye of The Beholder
At the Inn

Aurora was awoken by the gentle nudges of Salem, her beloved cat, who was tapping and nuzzling her cheek with a soft purr. Slowly, she turned her face to meet his gaze and smiled ”Good morning, Salem! I bet you’re hungry,” she said, scratching his favourite spot, just behind his ears while he purred.

She sat up in the bed and stretched her arms over her head to shake off the remnants of sleep, she then pulled off the cosy blanket that had her warm through the night and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As her feet hit the cold ground she quickly slipped her feet into her slippers, she then reached for her hair brush.

Seated at the edge of her bed, she started to brush through her hair, the rhythmic strokes allowed her mind to wander. She found herself replaying the events from last night. The laughter and lively chatter, the smiles of strangers that had become friends. She felt a warm glow in her heart as she recalled her conversation with Céline, a new friend she had made. Their conversation had been filled with their shared passion for medicine. It was a night that had woven new threads into the tapestry of her life, and Aurora was eager to see where those threads might lead her.

When she had finished brushing her hair, she separated it into two sections, braided each one, and tied the ends of each braid with a purple ribbon. She then decided to quickly get washed and dressed. Once she had finished, she took out a bowl of food that one of the Inn staff had given her and placed it on the side table. Salem hopped up and started to eat, she then scratched Salem behind the ears once again. “I will be back soon,” she said to him. With that, she turned, opened the door and headed downstairs to have some breakfast, she was eager to see who she would meet.

Vellion let out a deflated sigh, gaze trailing the path of the fleeing priestess but with none of his earlier mocking torment, instead holding a silent contemplation. Perhaps he almost felt guilt or remorse. If he did, it was unclear. Nyla resisted arching a brow as she caught the flicker of emotion passing through his dark eyes. The steel within her softened against him, if only for a moment.

Quickly dismissing whatever thoughts had intruded on his mind, he turned his attention back to Nyla and finally responded. "That I am, Ass is fine. Asshole also works, or anything of that nature really.” He says with disinterest as he turns his back on the woman and steps over to where his clothes lay, throwing the towel over his head as he starts rubbing his hair dry.

"So what are you really doing here?” His muffled voice escaped the towels movements. "You seemed pretty interested in that priestess, despite barely knowing her.” He had stopped toweling himself down and fixed a suspicious insinuating eye on her. A faint accusatory smirk sitting ready in the corner of his lips.

"Did I, interrupt something?”

Nyla returned his smirk and let out a soft, airy laugh. “Why? You are jealous?” She teased, her desert accent slipping into her words.

She peeled her gaze away from his, glancing down at the basket of cookies in her hands, trying to suppress the shame that had crept in. Briefly, she looked up the stone steps to confirm the Priestess had truly gone—escaped—then returned her gaze to him.

“You wish to be with her, or…?” She tilted her head, black hair cascading over her shoulder as a sweet smile played on her lips. “I think, maybe, you should try a softer approach with that one, Ass.” She paused, letting her eyes roam over him, taking her time in doing so. “Aurelian Priestesses are not so easily impressed.”

Done with his hair, he ran the towel quickly over his shoulders looking back at the woman who’s name he didn't know.
"Jealous? Me? No. Intrigued? Maybe.” He gave a faint shrug, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"A man can wish for many things, can he not?” He teased, musing to himself, flashing another playful devilish grin her way. Through that smile, an almost precursor to what was to come, he continued.

"She might’ve been impressed if she’d stuck around long enough to fall for my irresistible charm."

He paused, just for a beat—then, with no warning at all, flung his damp towel toward her. She flinched at the sudden movement, gripping the basket tighter and taking an automatic, fearful step backwards.
Silent, swift, and unnervingly precise, Vellion devoured the space between them with a preternatural grace. As the towel fell fluttering away, he was there, mere breaths away, eyes waiting, locked on hers. They searched her, relentlessly, invasively, for truths she hadn’t spoken, for secrets still hidden behind her tongue.

And then, finally he spoke, slow and low, every word wrapped in a velvet rhythm, more spell than sentence.

"How about you?”

Nyla held his gaze, unable to look away, even as her heart beat faster. Her nerves alight once more.

"You're not an Aurelian Priestess. So.. Are you impressed?”

For a moment, it took Nyla longer than she’d ever admit for her to feel fully grounded within her own body again.

It had been so long since someone had so intensely flirted with her—danced with her. Many had tried, but she could hardly recall the last time any had left her feeling unbalanced.

She blinked, quickly trying to return to herself and push the feeling aside. Her posture relaxed as the easy smile she had perfected returned to her lips.

“I’m much harder to impress.” she said smoothly, but with a playful, mocking undertone. She gave him a look of exaggerated disappointment, as though he could never hope to meet her exceptionally high standards. She held his gaze, but inside, she could feel the rapid pulse in her chest.

For just a second, she felt something—a small, unfamiliar flicker of nervousness—and quickly glanced away from him, her eyes drifting back to the stone steps, seeking some distraction to divert his attention.

“What is it you do here in town, anyway?” she asked, trying to regain her footing. Her gaze moved behind him to the sword propped up against the stone, recalling the scent of decay that had clung to the air earlier.

“You… hunt?” she asked, realizing now that she could no longer detect that scent.

"I… hunt.” He confirmed, voice echoing in her ear. Her eyes and attention might have darted about but his remained fixed. Fixed on her, held with a calm confident intensity. He was more than fixed, he was fixated. Lips softly parting with an apparent hunger. He looked ready and wanting to kiss her, or perhaps with that hunger in his eyes, it was to bite her.

Neither eventuates.

He breathed, a slow drawn out breath, its sound hanging on the silence between them, then with a sudden chuckle the moment was broken, bursting like a bubble, disappearing like a drop of rain into the stream of moments before it.

Nyla watched him carefully again, noting how effortlessly he had dodged her questions—twice now. No name. An unconvincing confirmation of his occupation, buried in innuendo. Her instincts whispered not to trust him. And yet, she stayed.

"And how about you? Do you hunt?” He asked mockingly as he headed back to pick up his clothes, deliberately positioning himself nearer his blade than perhaps necessary.

"What is it you do? Besides creep around the hotsprings carrying cookies?”
He noticed the basket for the first time.

“This is just my favorite pastime," she joked, a soft lilt of genuine amusement in her voice.

Now that he had put some distance between them, she felt steadier, more in control when her eyes met his again.

“I… entertain,” she added after a beat, the words tasting strange on her tongue. She used to, anyway. Something twisted in her heart at the thought—bitter and sad. She had no true place here, or anywhere. Not yet. But maybe, if she could get through speaking to Flynn, she would find her place again.

Brushing past the thought, she tilted her head, letting that playful glint return to her eyes. "Are you entertained?" she asked, plucking a cookie from the basket and holding it out in offering to him.

As Vellion begins redressing himself, starting with his pants, he glances up at Nyla and the offered treat in her outstretched hand.

"No.” He replied flatly. That single simple word deliberately left vague, and yet somehow so filled with the heavy undertone of a challenge. A dare.

"Not yet anyway.” His eye's bore a challenge but he said nothing else, a teasing glint in his demeanour as he tightened his belt and spoke with silence.

With a shrug, she slowly withdrew the offering, taking a small, deliberate bite instead. Chewing, she let the silence linger between them, holding his gaze thoughtfully.

“You’re not so easy to impress either, then.” She said after a moment, unabashedly observing the way he took his time to dress. “Good.”

Despite her nerves, there was something undeniably sharp and defiant in her blue eyes. He could challenge her all he wanted—she wasn’t going to ask “how high” when he told her to jump.

He gave a slight noncommittal shrug in reply to her keen observation. Not at all surprised she didn't fall for the bait. Meanwhile continuing to take his time getting dressed in front of her. His wet shirt clinging to his muscles which he tense while pulling it on. As if almost aware of what movements and positions highlighted his best features.

"So just what sort of entertainment do you offer?” He questions as he pauses getting dressed to give her reply his proper focus. Showing some signs of curious interest. Even if it was the type of interest a farmer might show to cattle he was thinking of purchasing.

“That depends,” she mused softly, her gaze tracing the tension in his arms before flicking back up to meet his gaze. “What sort of entertainment do you desire?”

Vellion found this woman increasingly difficult to rattle, and was running out of buttons to push. In that moment, he conclusively decided to give up on hiding the smile from his lips that she had created. Fully dressed now he let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head and retrieved his sword from the ground, finding he needed a moment's thought to find a reply.

In doing so, he was acceptingly giving her a point, if this were some game of skill and scoring.

He bit his lip, looking at the snow covered ground around his feet, deciding. Sword in hand he eventually looked back up, committal determination burning in his eyes as he playfully pointed the sheathed blade at the stranger before him. Time for boldness.

"Hmmm.

Clearly a fake thought as he steps closer.

"The sort that takes place before a warm fire. ”

Nyla raised a brow as he took another step, snow crunching beneath his bare feet.

"On or beside a comfy bed.”
Another step. His breath visible in the cold air.

"Puts a drink on my lips.”

A final step that sees the wooden sheath softly press against her sternum. She held her breath, stubbornly refusing to back away. This wasn’t the first time a man had pressed a weapon to her skin, but it had been the first time in a long time.

"And reverses,”

He lowers his voice, slowly sliding the weapon down along her stomach, gliding between the folds of her cloak.

"Our recent situation.”

A deft flick of his wrist tugged the garment open. Nyla tensed, but remained in place, the cold air rushing in against her chest. Though her tunic still covered her, the sudden absence of her cloak’s warmth was sharp, immediate. She was glad, for once, that she had dressed appropriately for the cold.

"It’s only fair after all..”

Slowly, as if moving too quickly might invite him closer, Nyla reached out and pressed her palm against the sheath. In an unhurried, deliberate motion, she guided it downward and away from her body.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her expression remained impeccably composed—disinterest worn like armor. Desperately, she tried to hold onto that feeling of dismissive control, like a thread that was slowly slipping through her fingertips.

“Fair?” She mused, lifting her gaze back to his. “You didn’t strike me for someone who plays fair.”

His amused grin widens at her witty retort.

She let the silence stretch between them, considering his words—if only to allow herself a moment to breathe. His eyes burned into her, but she refused to flinch beneath it.

“Start with the drink,” she finally said, a faint curve teasing at her lips. “Let’s see where that gets you.”

Withdrawing her palm from the sheathe, she stepped around him with fluid grace—like she had never been caught off guard at all. Like she never could be.

Moving past him, she strode toward the path that led away from the hotspring and back into town, choosing the route that curved around the temple rather than through it. With her back to him, every nerve in her body buzzed in warning, but she continued.

’A drink….’ If only it were that easy. When her back turned to him, all expression faded from his face, melting away in the absence of her gaze. ’Oh how he wanted a drink’
It seemed the fox from earlier had only served as an appetiser, now with a refreshed taste, he craved the main meal. He watched her walk, he could sense the warmth of her body, hear the beat of her heart, smell the mix of aroma’s on her skin. A ravenous craving had been growin in the pit of his soul.

He needed to feed.

Extending his senses beyond her, he look up the path and listen to the forest around them. Besides the rippling water he heard and saw no signs of company. They were all alone. The weight of his blade feeling right in his hand.

Brushing off the weight of choices, he clipped his sword to his belt and made a step to follow. Mask springing back in place, just in time.

A few paces away, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes met his—a silent question held there. A challenge.

’A challenge indeed. Vellion thought, although what prize he was seeking, he wasn't yet quite sure.

"Are you buying? it's a new age after all.”

Nyla simply scoffed in response.

---

As they drew nearer the center of town and the tavern, Vellion’s pace seemed to slow before he finally came to a complete stop.

"This is hardly the appropriate attire for our first date.” He teased, pinching the shoulder of his wet shirt. Nyla arched an inquisitive brow, though she remained quiet and examined his shirt. How he wasn't shivering against cloth that was likely turning into a sheet of ice, she didn't know.

"Let me just go and get into something a little finer, I insist. Unless of course you wish to come help me get changed, instead of just watching this time.”

Despite herself, Nyla couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"Go ahead, start without me, I'll find you soon.” He effortlessly lied.

She couldn’t help but find it amusing that he suddenly cared about his attire—especially considering how little shame he’d had earlier, standing stark naked in front of two strangers. Still, she played along, tilting her head in mock consideration.

“You own finery?” she teased, though she was genuinely surprised. At every turn, he seemed to surprise her.

“Fine,” she said with a small, exaggerated sigh. “But don’t take too long. Patience isn’t my strong suit.” She flashed him a playful smile before turning away. Without looking back, she strode toward the tavern, though she remained keenly aware of every step he took—or didn’t take—behind her.

Stepping away felt like a relief. His presence had a way of dominating whatever space he was in, as if it were trying to devour her. Dangerous—and tantalizing. Now, at least, she could gather herself, reel in that thread of poise and control that had started to unravel.

The plan to go to the tavern was only so that she would not be alone with this force of a man. Though she could not deny, he was interesting—if nothing else.

As she strode away, she focused on the basket in her hands, and her thoughts drifted back to the Priestess. A shiver of worry ran down her spine, and the unsettling thought that this stranger might turn back to the temple. She didn’t trust him—didn’t even know his name.

Her steps slowed slightly, her instincts kicking into overdrive now that she had put some distance between them. Decisively, she made up her mind that she would tell a guard to reinforce the watch around the temple, just to be cautious—just in case. She wasn’t sure what exactly troubled her, but something about this entire encounter hadn’t sat right.

Still, despite her nerves and all the walls she had carefully built around herself, she found herself almost hoping he would show up to the tavern. This stranger had been the most intriguing she’d encountered in far too long, and the way he’d unsettled her, thrown her off balance, felt…. oddly refreshing.

It was as if something within her, long dormant, had stirred awake again. The feeling was dangerous, she knew, but it was also thrilling.

She felt alive again.

Ayel Raunefeldt

Raunefeldt Residence

The audacity. How dared they tell him to return to his residence. No one but a royal and himself could tell him what to do. The ever so gracious, levelheaded and always considerate nobleman had surely given those rude good-for-nothing a good reprimand. It made his fall into sleep go so much easier, it had filled him with enough self-importance that he felt compelled to fall asleep.

When Ayel finally was waking up, he felt however disappointed, he had not been having any rich and intriguing dreams about himself, neither did he receive any guiding visions of Aelios. He felt momentarily at a loss, til he focused his eyes on the ceiling above and the large mirror he had neatly placed there. There was something special in being greeted by the person you loved in the morning.

After a having taken a few moments to take off his face mask, the Marquess took some deep stares at himself. While the world had gone dark, he was confident that his face would be the substitute sun until things would return to normal.

Those damn brutes were surely to blame, and their barbaric worship of the ice witch.

But while he knew that he was rich, he simply couldn't afford the time to think about those half-humans, no he had work to do.

The man walked over to his mirrors, all twelve of them neatly arranged in a circle, so that no matter where he would look he could always get the full view.

"Mmm... perfect." He mused softly and then fetched a small bowl of water to wash himself, which he did. Soon after he began to apply all his various oils and skin lotions. He could not stand it if he would get a wrinkle before Lord Stormlight. And when. If. He would get one. It would be a sign of aged charm. Like a man who gets some grey hair or beard.

Not that he would want a beard. It would cover up too much of his perfect jawline. It wasn't worth the effort. Ayel took of his net-headpiece which had been kept on during the night to protect his locks of hair.

"You are such a ravishing, strapping and handsome  man, Lord Raunefeldt. Oh yes you are... hmm... mmmhmm." He chuckled and reached for his box of wonders, opening the finely carved miniature chest which stood in the middle of the twelve mirrors.

He picked up some lipstick and applied a dark purple colour to his lips, making a smacking sound and giving himself a raised eyebrow. His reflections truly did him more justice than anyone else. The ever humble and humility adorned noble then opened his jewelry box, chosing between all his rings. Even if he had left his large collection at home, still picking between fourty was tough work.

After much consideration and deliberation he was finally done, picking a ring for each finger. Then he walked over to put on his attire, the corset was put tight. Not because he considered himself fat, but it was a fashion statement and a show that he was aware of his looks and wasn't some overendulging 'new rich' person.

He then proceeded to comb his hair, meticolously making sure that his locks would lie perfectly on his head. It was an important thing, his head held the greatest mind of Aurelia for generations, such were to be taken care of.

He did his finishing touches on his attire, choosing a pink longcoat with fur collar and peacock feathers. He then carefully picked up his family broché depicting his mother in profile.

"Oh mother dearest, if only you could see me right now. Not every mother can say they've birthed something this good. Mm. Yes."  The always considerate nobleman smirked and picked up his walking cane. He would use one today, his sword having already been strapped by his belt.

He knocked on the doot with his cane.

"Doors." He said aloud.

There were silence.

He coughed softly.

"Doors!" He said in a louder tone, his ever so finetuned patience growing thin.

"Open the fucking door!" He yelled out in rage before he came to the realization that he had no maids or butler.

Faldrin. That useless idiot. What was taking him so long? He didn't have time to wait two months.

The nobleman opened the door himself. It was thankfully his own door and not some germ infested commoner handle he had touched. But he still felt a lump in his stomach, that what if the handle had not been cleaned enough. He took out his napkin and cleaned his hand.

Breakfast. He had to eat. Oh what a bother. How had he missed the fact he needed a cook? Then again. They were servant folks. They were so easily forgotten. He had to try solve his hunger himself. He went to fetch himself some wine, cheese, smoked pork and tomatoes.

While he was enjoying his successfully crafted breakfast he realized he should go visit the Aelios shrine again, to make an offering and get himself and the prince properly blessed. That woman which Aelios had acted through might be able to relay his concerns to Aelios herself.

The noble wiped his mouth and then put some of the leftover tomatoes into a small basket. These would be a good offering.

His sister was seemingly already out. A good morning indeed. He went over to one of the windows, undid the hatches and looked at the blue skies, the white fluffy clouds and the view of his favorite room in Aurelia. That painting was perfect to use as a substitute for the damnable darkness and state of peasant plague that afflicted Dawnhaven.

"Mmm... to the shrine then." He said softly, picking up a big black hat with a feather, putting it on his head before locking the door and heading out.

Claret Crown

A big yawn was heard, followed by six limbs stretching.

"Ahh shite! T'was some good nap. Now where the feck are me?" Claret looked around, trying to recall the happenings of the last day. Had he drank up all his rum? The thought of being out of it filled him with a sense of dread. Being fully sober was dangerous.

The man wiggled his toes, and when he did he noticed two midgets by the end of the bed. Smaller than children they were, and dressed in crude outfits. They were even slightly ugly.

"Pard'n the intrus'hun... oi wait a shmackin' moment. Ye ain't midgets ye are feckin'..." He blinked to the two puppeteer dolls he had used as socks for the night. Oh that was right, he had broken into a room at the inn at night. They had locked him out. The nerve of some people, the former pirate captain had taken matters into his own hands.

"Oh..." He said in a short moment of revelation, that his post drunk clarity had bestowed upon him.

"At least me did nae burn it down this time 'round... tha's progress in me shippin' log. Time ta get meself some gosship an' intre...deuce meself ta 'dem highnessinesses..." The swaggered his was out of the bed and tossed his temporary puppet socks to the side.

"Feck some real freaky landlubber shaggin' dolls, shite... the fecker is gettin' more shag than me still. Cannae 'ave tha'. Time ta get meself some buried chest an' booty."

The former pirate grinned and got himself dressed. Which just meant putting on his boots, as all his other clothes he had kept on.

He had to get his way out of here before he would end up in trouble. More trouble. He went up to the door. It was locked.

"Ahh come on! Why ye gotta do me dirty like tha'. Okay it's the capt'n Crown tackke time." He rubbed his four hands together and then ran to force the door open. A loud banging sound.

"Oopsie...ne'er was one for knockin' things down... knocking up howev- oh shite gotta go. " He picked the door back up and discreetly. Or attempted to discreetly jam it into the doorway again. "Like new. Carry on ye dashbuckler." He scurried away on swift steps before someone would notice what he did. He had not stolen enough coins to afford to pay for a new one. Or the window he broke to get in.

Claret made himself down to what appeared to be the largest room.

"Gud mornin' everbuddeh! Who wants a hug? Me throat is a tad bit sore after last nights whatever-stuffus wha's goin' on... but enough o' that and more 'bout whose willin' to buy themselves a friend? Not just any friend mind ye, but the formerly dreaded pirate o' pirate captains, Captain Crown. Aye? At yer service ladies and gentleladdies! Whose up to be me...lessee 'ere... fiftyseventh first mate?" Claret gave a cheeky grin to the entire room, his four hands place on his waist as he took in the view. Now this place was more like it. If he could get drunk enough in here and sway enough it would feel like he was on the Crown Jewel again.

Sya turned her head quickly as a guest she did not recognize came down from top floor, the Inn was locked down overnight…the doors were locked and yet shenwould recognise a 6 armed ... .Pirate? He looked like he came out of the stories of the far seas and deep waters.

“Thankyou, enjoy your meals, They smell good anyway. Vi already ate.” Sya said lightly as she waved friendlily to the father and daughter, she seemed hesitant but ate the breakfast she created. Sya did not mention their little confrontation before, just a little of stress between the two of them at the time. She decided to not explain she did not eat but what she ate... was well a little diffrent.

Why did everyone, and everything get in the way of her trying to introduce new ideas? She wanted to ask about new food, show her new baked goods and her ideas of savory pastries. But would life let her? life made things harder than they had to be.

Her tail flicked sharpy with annoyance as she realised someone could have risked all her guests… He could have done anything. “VOU, virate.” Sya said in her harsh accent with a whip crack of change from her affordable self as she put down her tray. Her tail swung round to directly point at him and she jabbed it like a blade.

“Sorry, freind eggs, I must deal with 4 armed egg and maybe fry him. Friend Kira, freind Ivor. Please stay, enjoy. Your part of my box and welcome here.” Sya said far more calmly and with a genuine apology. She wanted to stay and talk to them, get to know Kiara and talk to Ivor. Maybe ask Nesna something but she had other problems.

“Nsna, I might av a Job for vou, later though, we can talk over some tea freind egg, we go to vy apartment, and talk .” Sya said as she waved the guards Sya would take care of this and she slithered forward slowly lining her tail behind her despite being 5 foot nothing tall of a Lamia owned the place and her environment, narrow and protecting her tail. "Lord Stormlight, please eat."

“I was trying to hand out breakfast, are you a guest…” Sya asked as she slithered closer, and did not let him intimidate her. “How can ze Eye help. I am Sya and this is my Eye of ze Beholdler” Sya asked with a polite, but a challenge nonetheless.

“vat brings you to my Inn Captain Crown so var from the seas.” Sya asked and she gestured with hands and tail expressively as bright cobalt Scales simmered and danced in the light of the comual fire and candles. She felt the metal arm ring she wore and it felt slowly more natural again to wear one. Her lands custom, she would carry on.

“Please enjoy, while I sort zis Out.” Sya said to the room as she rectified the confusion around this Captain.

...

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