c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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Head held high, poised, as graceful as ever, Amaya walked through the bustling town square as smoothly as if it were the echoing halls of the palace. She could practically hear the click of her heels against the marble tile, her expression one of practiced neutrality -- aloof, pleasant, and above all not reflective of the nerves that buzzed violently under her skin. She didn't dare look to any of the people mingling with each other. She feared another crack appearing in her mask, fracturing her careful performance in front of so many.

She focused straight ahead of her, on the sight of her handmaiden sitting amongst a dispersing crowd. She hadn’t even spoken with Elara since they’d first received the news that her mother had died, and it’d just been a recurring cycle of falling apart and holding herself together since then. She just… needed someone she knew. Who knew her. Unfortunately, that list had now condensed to a single person. But if Amaya could make it to her, steady herself, perhaps then she could manage to find some semblance of proper self control again.

But before she’d crossed even half the distance to Elara, a cloaked figure stepped into her path. Ghostly blue eyes peered at her from beneath the hood, cradled by a smile that cut a sickle’s arc across a man’s face. She stilled, alarms going off in her mind.

But it wasn’t until she heard his voice that she finally placed him. The crowing man. He’d stepped into her path once before, in the moments following the announcement of her mother’s death. But she’d had Flynn there the last time, to speak for her. She’d had his hand tight around hers, anchoring her. She was alone this time. Amaya managed to keep herself from taking a step backwards – as if she’d find warmth and a broad chest at her back, hands pressing phantom weight on her shoulders. His face flashed in her mind – that spark of anger she’d glimpsed.

She was alone, she reminded herself. She’d never needed protection from men with scouring eyes and hidden smiles before. She certainly didn’t need it now.

She forced herself to still as the man spoke – of her eyes, her heart, her marriage. Of love. The idea seemed ludicrous to Amaya. The whole continent knew that they hadn’t married for love, and the goddesses didn’t seem to care either, if the damned prophecy was to be believed. But still, she felt… small, somehow. Chastised, almost. She lifted her chin slightly, as if to make herself taller even though she still needed to look up at him.

Amaya was almost thankful that the cloaked man was so off-putting. Defenses were easier to build up when there was such a clear threat.

“And knowledge cannot be assumed,” she replied lightly to his presumptuous words. But behind her polite smile and her relaxed face, her eyes were sharp. “Especially when one is not entitled to it.” Amaya flicked her gaze to their surroundings, the gesture unbothered and leisurely. Her unease grew with every moment she didn’t have her eyes on him, like he might pounce while she was distracted. But Amaya forced herself to spend another heartbeat watching the torches flicker and dance. She finally let herself look at the man as he backed away.

“Thank you for coming today,” she said, stepping into the role of royal host -- perhaps this wasn't the palace and she hadn't had any say in putting it on, but Amaya knew what image was expected of her. “I hope you enjoy the festivities.” Then she forced herself to continue her path forward, now that he was finally out of her way.

She needed to wash the feel of his gaze off her skin.

But it was only a scant few steps until she was at last at Elara’s side. There were two other women there – Aurelian, by the look of it. Identical but for the clear signs of blight on the softer one’s body. She seemed… distressed. Well, at least Amaya was doing a better job at hiding her emotions. She hoped.

Perching herself delicately on the stool next to Elara (Was the stool… clean? Should she have waited for someone to announce her to this little group? Who? Elara? Was there protocol? Common folk didn’t have that right? Was it a faux pas to sit as they still stood? But there were plenty of other groups in mixed states of repose, so it seemed acceptable, right? Could they tell she didn’t know how to do this? Oh, to the depths with it all, she was a Princess, she would do as she pleased.) Amaya caught her handmaiden’s eye. Only the white cloud of frost, escaping her lips with every breath, gave away her nerves.

Music reverberated out of the inn, filling even the outdoors with its brightness.

She wondered if Flynn was in there – if he was dancing. It was likely, she supposed, as she didn’t see him outside anymore. Not that she was looking for him.

“Well,” Amaya said casually. She knew how to be casual. This was all very casual. Like her. “Practically all of Dawnhaven seems to be here.” She was pleased that she managed to not say that like it was a very creative curse. “I’m pleased to see that everyone appears to have weathered the storm well.” As heavy as the mask was becoming, she was unwilling to let it drop in front of the two Aurelian women. Looking at the two of them, she said, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya
Mention: Flynn Astaros @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Hot Springs}

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Tia's eyebrows drew together as she looked up at Orion. It then occurred to her how very abnormal she was acting -- and how, if the Arch Priest did not permit her to tell others about her visions, this was going to be very hard to explain. Tia looked between his crimson eyes, lips parting as if she intended to do just that. But no sound came out. There was only the aching hollowness in the center of her chest, the space where Ranni and her sister had taken root in her heart before Tia had all but abandoned them. A tear finally managed to escape her dark eyes, cresting over the hill of her cheek.

Tia was so engulfed by her own emotions, she didn't even manage to see Sya -- looking exceptionally different from how Tia remembered her -- slithering her way into the springs with a very large bottle of alcohol. Worse yet, she didn't realize the spring's other patron, Ayel, entered the scene until after he was a mess of flailing limbs, soaked cloth, and screeched words.

She jumped as he shrill voice cut through the winter air like jagged shards of ice. Suddenly jolted into this new reality, where her springs were the site of chaos, Tia spun. Things quickly devolved. The man -- a noble, based on his clothes and demeanor -- was calling for recompense. Sya (why was she a snake now!?) was hissing and blubbering into her drink. The orange-haired woman was baring her fangs at the man, all but promising blood and blight. Her fangs glinted in the moonlight. It was all too easy to imagine them sinking into flesh. Tearing. Blood pouring from sundered skin, soaking crimson into cloth, pooling into the parched earth. Filling her mouth, her lungs, overflowing the tattered remains of her throat as she gasped.

_{And so the heavens shined.}

Tia gasped loud and sharp. Blood was soon to be shed in Aelios' waters.

Frantic, she turned back over her shoulder to cast wide eyes on Orion -- he was a calm, steady presence, stone amongst the tempest. Better yet, he was blightborn. Under normal circumstances, she would've hated to make this mess anyone else's burden to bare -- but she was in a bit of a panic, herself. Tia flicked her frantic gaze from Orion, to the two women in the water, and back again, her request bright in her eyes: deescalate.

Then, her notebook and pencil still lost in the snow, she hurried over to the nobleman. Was he hurt? He must've been, for all the shrill emotion in his voice. Tia hadn't seen him go down, but she doubted Sya of all people had done anything malicious. The other woman... well, that remained to be seen. She still set Tia on edge, like she was a hare out in the open field as a hawk circled quietly above. But the issue of fault and punishment and reparation could be settled later -- when bodies were less likely to stain the stones of her temple.

Tia rolled up the sleeves of her robe. The cold air was sharp against her skin as she reached down to the man, trying to get a good grip on his arms and help him out of the water. Tia had never been very strong -- her help likely didn't amount to much. But as she held him, she sent tendrils of her soothing magic through him, searching for some ailment or wound to heal. He must've been in pain, right? No one just... made this much of a fuss. Something must've been grievously injured, to cause him such agony as to fill the air with his cries. And the sooner Tia could get him calmed and away from the two women he'd already upset, the better.

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_{Interaction: Ayel Raunefeldt @Dezuel, Kira Rykker @The Muse, Orion Nightingale @Qia, Sya Leela @PrinceAlexus
Mention: Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Cabin-The Inn | Collaboration with @The Muse

Flynn stood downstairs, adjusting his collar in front of a small mirror by the entrance. He wore a tailored dark green wool coat with gold vine embroidery along the edges. Beneath it, a high-collared tunic and deep forest green waistcoat peeked through, both subtly accented with gold. His charcoal trousers were tucked into fur-lined black leather boots, and a rich emerald cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened by a gold leaf brooch. Dressed neatly for the feast, his attire blended Aurelia's elegance with winter practicality—something he rarely needed back home but had wisely prepared for before arriving.

Hearing footsteps descending the stairs, he turned, his gaze softening as he saw Amaya. She looked poised and polished, her head held high like always. He offered her a closed-lipped smile, a genuine warmth behind it. "Good Morning." he said, glad to see that she planned to leave the confines of her room today.

Flynn nodded as she spoke of Elara, understanding that Amaya and her handmaiden seemed quite close with one another. "May I walk you there?" he asked, his tone more hopeful than insistent.

Without waiting for an immediate answer, he reached for her heavy coat that hung by the door. As she closed the distance between them, he held it open for her, the gesture silent but clear—he was offering to help her put it on.

Amaya was pleased with herself that she only hesitated slightly when she glanced at him. His smile was… not new per se. She’d seen it a fair number of times over the course of the last two months – in the quiet moment they’d had alone immediately following their exchange of vows. The first time he’d shown her the cabin that would become their home for what might be the rest of their lives. When he’d placed a plate of surprisingly edible food in front of her just the other day. Amaya was beginning to recognize this smile.

That the sight of it didn’t immediately fill her with indignation, though – that was new.

If there was one thing Amaya hated, it was others seeing her caught off guard. Flynn had seen that an embarrassing number of times, of late. And so, she didn’t pause as she walked down the stairs and approached. She swallowed at the proximity, suddenly nervous the closer she got. She turned, slipping her arms through the offered coat in a smooth motion. Amaya pretended she didn’t remember the echoes of his voice, soft and close, murmuring to her as she fell apart.

At least when her back was turned to him, he couldn’t see her expression. Eyebrows scrunched together, lips pressed, it only lasted a moment. Amaya didn’t want anyone else there when she went to see Elara – she didn’t want to have to hold herself together for anyone, least of all Flynn who’d seen so much of her already.

But then she imagined herself wandering aimlessly around Dawnhaven because she didn’t know where anything was — sightseeing hadn’t been high on her list of things to do in the last two months. Or venturing much out of the cabin at all. But Amaya didn’t have the luxury of moping around or refusing Flynn just to be petty anymore.

When she stepped away from Flynn and turned back to face him, coat heavy on her shoulders, her expression was unbothered again.

“If you wish.”

As Flynn opened the cabin door the cold air swept in, but the wind was gentle now, the storm reduced to a slow, steady fall of snowflakes. The path before them was clear, the snow piled high on either side, evidence of the guards' efforts. When they stepped out, the guard on duty straightened and bowed to them both, offering a polite greeting. "Your Highnesses, good morning."

Flynn acknowledged the guard with a nod, then turned to Amaya, making sure he would walk in step with her as they made their way down the freshly cleared path. The walk to Elara's home was only about five minutes, but with each step, the silence between them grew awkward—yet somehow he felt it was becoming more familiar. Still, he found himself searching for words, anything to fill the space.

In his head, Flynn could still hear the sharp edge in his mother’s voice, chiding him with the lessons she’d drilled into him since he was a boy. “Stop standing there like a mute, Flynn.” she had said through gritted teeth, a hand tightly gripped around his bicep as she forcefully dragged the teenage Prince to the side during one of their dining events with the Raunefeldt family. “Do you want people to think you’re a dull-witted boy with nothing to offer?” her green eyes narrowed in disappointment as she pretended to be fixing his collared jacket.

"No, mother, I just don't like—"

"A prince who cannot command a room with his voice is no prince at all." She swiftly cut him off. Flynn had opened his mouth to say more, but closed it shortly after, knowing better. "You must entertain and engage.” she reiterated, pulling his coat to make it perfectly straight against his body. "At least make an effort—silence is no way to make anyone feel welcome." Delicately, she fixed the placement of his blonde locks while glaring daggers at him.

"If you can't manage a simple conversation, how do you expect to lead? You’ll look a fool, and worse—make your family look a fool." The sting of her words had a way of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times, reminding him of the expectations that came with his upbringing.

Brought back to reality by the crunching of snow underneath their boots, Flynn shifted uncomfortably, aware that his silence might seem awkward or rude, even though the right words still eluded him.

"It's good to be outside again, isn't it?" he said at last, glancing up toward the dark sky, where the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the snowy landscape. He let out a small laugh, more to break the silence than anything else. "I don't know how you all manage to live in such a harsh place year after year." He tried to keep his tone light, the hint of a joke in his words, though there was an underlying admiration there—an acknowledgment of the resilience he'd seen in her and the others who called this place home.

Amaya bit back her immediate response – to ask if His Highness had alternative suggestions?. She took in a slow breath and reminded herself that she wasn’t being petty anymore. In truth, the silence had been a relief. She didn’t know how to converse with him without being set on edge. Instead, she’d spent the quiet walk trying to take in everything about the town that she could, memorizing the path to Elara’s home – which she realized she vaguely remembered, at least. Her magic buzzed gently under her skin. Amaya had been sure to expend some before leaving her room this morning, and prayed to Seluna that it would be depleted enough to at least be manageable through the feast.

But Flynn was right about one thing – it was nice to be outside. After being trapped in her room, Amaya didn’t realize how much she’d missed the glittering snow, the soft way it crunched under her boots, the way it enveloped the town like a blanket.

“The same way Aurelians manage without the sun, I imagine,” she finally offered, her voice soft and reserved. “There is no other choice but to survive.”

Flynn nodded thoughtfully at Amaya's words, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in them. "I suppose you're right," he said, his voice softer, almost contemplative. "Survival is the only choice." Ironically, he felt the same way about their prophesied fate. He would not surrender to being sacrificed without a fight.

As they continued to walk, he couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between their two kingdoms. Aurelia had always been the more prosperous of the two—a land of sun and fertile soil, with every advantage stacked in its favor. Its power and wealth had come easily, while Lunaris had been left to struggle in shadow. Now, everything was flipped.

A tinge of guilt crept into Flynn's chest, and he tried to push it away. He knew the history—how his kingdom had used its superiority to oppress the Lunarians for generations. His father had always dismissed it as the natural order of things, never sparing a thought for the lives it affected. Flynn had long told himself he shouldn’t feel responsible for the sins of his ancestors, but the nagging feeling lingered. What if he could be the one to change things? The idea felt like hubris, a dangerous pride that he had no right to entertain.

As they neared Elara’s home, he noticed something unusual—he had let a few more minutes of silence pass between them, and for once, it didn’t feel excruciatingly awkward. The quiet felt... comfortable. The kind of silence that wasn't strained, but almost peaceful in its simplicity. Odd.

When they reached Elara’s door, Flynn glanced through the windows and found them dark, no hint of movement inside. He knocked firmly and waited, listening for any sound within. After a minute or two, he turned to Amaya. "She might already be at the feast." he said, meeting her gaze and watching her expression for that familiar look of disappointment.

Amaya was struck by the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being alone. She stood in an empty cavern, her own voice echoing back at her as she called out, mocking her with each reverberation.

And then just as she always did, she shoved the feeling down because she was not a child.

If there was any hurt in her eyes, it was only there for a moment before Amaya wrestled herself back under control.

“Well,” she said, her voice too tight. The cloud that formed in front of her face was too big for the word, her magic twitching to life. She looked away from Flynn to see Elara’s house again. Her hands tightened at her sides as she smoothed her magic back down again. “It was unimportant anyway.” She repeated it to herself in her head. It didn’t matter. She saw her handmaiden near every day, this past week notwithstanding. She’d see her again soon enough. “It can wait until after the festivities.” After Amaya was surrounded by people she didn’t know, in an environment where she didn’t know how to act or what was expected to her, and –

She pulled herself back in. She breathed until the little clouds that formed from her breath were small, faint wisps. Amaya would go to the feast, perform adequately, and keep herself together through all of it.

“Others have likely already gathered at the inn,” she said, still looking at the empty cabin. She suddenly didn’t want to be here, standing before this reminder of her own insecurity and embarrassment. She looked back at Flynn with her carefully neutral expression, if only so she didn’t have to look at the building anymore. “They’ll grow restless if you let them wait too long.”

Flynn noticed the shift in Amaya’s expression—just a flicker, barely enough to register, but he saw it. Her eyes lingered on Elara’s cabin in a way that made it clear the news hadn’t sat well with her. He didn’t pry, though; Amaya had always been careful to keep herself guarded, and he respected that. Instead, he nodded at her words.

"You're right, we shouldn't let them wait much longer," he said, his tone light. Amaya’s eyebrow twitched up. "Hopefully Elara is enjoying the food and you two can catch up there."

Selfishly, he was glad for her continued company. Despite her silence, he was glad to have her beside him. It was better than being trapped alone in his own mind, wrestling with thoughts that never seemed to give him peace. Even if Amaya didn’t say much, her presence was a welcome distraction.

As they started down the cleared path towards the city center, he wondered how the festivities were coming along. Were the Aurelian's and Lunarians getting along after so much seclusion? Were they making friends, becoming comrades? It was most likely a far fetched dream.

After a while, he couldn't resist a playful smile as he glanced over at Amaya. "So, are you looking forward to a real meal soon? I mean, anything has to be better than the attempts I made for you, right?" His smile grew a bit wider as he met eyes with her, finding humor in his kitchen escapades, if only for a moment.

Amaya was pulled from her buzzing thoughts — of breathing exercises, the town’s layout, the impending crowd she would be amongst — by the sound of Flynn’s voice. Her eyes flicked over to him at his tone, giving him an unimpressed look. There was no heat to it though — no edge. The memory of his attempts at cooking flashed through her mind. He’d been so… proud of himself. So eager for her reaction. Amaya had stubbornly refrained from commenting, like to give him her opinion would be to lose something. But each time she’d finished her meal and returned to her room without a word, seeing him deflate out of the corner of her eye… it hadn’t felt like winning.

He was still fishing for an evaluation, it seemed.

She pulled her gaze away from him — his smile, his green eyes — to look forward again. She let out a breath. Perhaps she was feeling generous.

“Few would expect a Crown Prince to know the first thing about cooking,” she said primly. The ground crunched under their boots as they walked through the town, a light breeze lifting wisps of snow into the air from where it was piled along the path. “That we survived it at all should be cause for celebration.” Amaya had finished her plate each time.

Flynn let out a laugh—a genuine laugh that seemed to shake off some of the heaviness that weighed on his soul. The first real laugh he'd had in ages. Amaya jumped at the sound, turning her head to look at him fully. He looked at Amaya, a grin still lingering on his face. "I'll give you that," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “The fact that you tried it at all is a feat of bravery. We should hold a celebration in your name—Amaya the Brave.”

She blinked up at him. Then she turned her gaze straight ahead, before her cheeks could start to heat.

It was a relief for Flynn, hearing her at least entertain the question, even if her words were sharp as ever. The way she spoke was almost even… endearing? There was something oddly comforting in her dry humor, and he felt a small sense of satisfaction settle within him.

Slowly, the distant hum of the gathering crowd began to drift toward them, growing louder with each step. Flynn's eyes flicked to Amaya now and then, watching her closely, ready for any sign that her magic might be stirring again. He wasn’t entirely sure how to help her if it did, but he was determined to try.

As they rounded the final corner, the sight of people clustered around the tavern came into view—citizens laughing, enjoying warm food, and huddling close to the bonfire. It pleased him, at least, to see that people were eager to converse with one another and break bread.

"Elara must be around somewhere," he mused aloud, scanning the crowd and searching for the familiar flash of silver hair.

Amaya’s hands tightened around the thick fabric of her coat, her nerves jumping at the sight of the crowd. Any cracks in her mask that she’d allowed were rapidly filling themselves in as she retreated into herself.

She had no experience on which to draw from to know how to… deal with this. Amaya had never been amongst common folk before. She’d never been to an inn. Her father’s greatest shame, he’d all but hidden her away within the walls of the palace. She’d stood before the people of Dawnhaven a brief handful of times, and each time her role had been simple — keep still, keep her expression neutral, walk where directed, eulogize her mother…

She nearly opened her mouth to ask Flynn what was expected of her, or how long did she have to be here, or why did that man have a shovel. But Amaya pressed her lips together, shoving each question down the moment it appeared. Her white clouds of breath seemed to grow — or perhaps that was just a result of her breathing growing more rapid.

Flynn strolled into the square with a sense of ease, blissfully unaware of the turmoil building inside Amaya. He had spent his entire life being groomed for these moments, effortlessly stepping into the role of leader, trained from a young age to address the crowd with poise and confidence. The stage was second nature to him, woven into the fabric of his upbringing. It never crossed his mind that for Amaya, it might be different—that the very idea of speaking before strangers might twist her insides. Their upbringings were worlds apart, each molded by entirely different expectations.

Amaya’s steps slowed as they walked further into the square. She felt smaller and smaller with each step, fighting to keep her chin held high and her expression blank as more and more people spotted them with lingering gazes. Some were even smiling at them. Well, at Flynn. A man amongst his people, Amaya felt a sharp pang of envy at how easily he seemed to move.

He spotted Elara standing near Sya in the distance and smiled, pointing them out. "There she is." he said casually, as if it were just another day. Amaya perked up, her eyes desperately searching the crowd for her handmaiden’s familiar face. A relieved breath escaped her when she saw silver hair. As Flynn’s eyes drifted back to Sya, however, he did a double take, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"That's new..." he muttered, his eyes fixed on Sya from afar, unsure if he was still grounded in reality. It was like a scene pulled straight from a dream—or a nightmare—where reality twisted in ways that defied reason. The innkeeper, somehow, no longer had legs. Instead, a sleek, shimmering snake tail took their place. How had she morphed again?

He blinked in disbelief before turning back to Amaya, the uncertainty of the moment making him hesitate. Did she want him to walk her over to the group of strangers now gathering around Elara and Sya? Or was she waiting for him to leave her alone, giving her the space she so desperately seemed to crave? Part of him didn’t want to let go of her company just yet—it had been easier with her beside him, even with the silences.

Flynn found himself torn between the desire to stay close and the worry that his presence might only add to her discomfort. So, he waited, looking to her for any sign of what she needed, ready to follow her lead—whatever that might be.

Amaya hesitated, now that she’d finally found Elara. She was in the middle of a chaotic gaggle of people, two of them very noticeably blightborn, and a small handful that she recognized. Despite the mess of bodies and voices surrounding her though, Elara seemed… comfortable. As reserved as ever, but relaxed, as she munched on a cookie. Another sharp pang of envy stabbed through Amaya, at her friend’s poise.

Oh, stop feeling inadequate and just do something about it.

Though her hands remained tight at her sides, Amaya tried to stretch taller, to relax the muscles in her face to at least pretend she was calm. But when she tried to force herself to move towards the crowd around Elara, she couldn’t do it.

“She seems… occupied.” Amaya tried to tell herself that this wasn’t retreating. “It would be impolite to —”

She cut off with a sharp gasp as something bumped into her and Amaya was pushed into Flynn’s side. There was suddenly a chill at her fingertips. Flinching away from the collision Amaya looked over with wide eyes.

Flynn reacted on instinct the moment Amaya stumbled into him, his arms reaching out to catch her before she could fall. One of his hands settled on her waist while the other steadied her shoulder, the touch lingering as he focused his full attention on the man who had run into her.

It was a large man, with a red nose and Aurelian garb. He blinked and looked over Amaya’s head at Flynn.

“Beg your pardon, Your Highness…es.” His eyes darted between Prince and Princess, looking at them with mild surprise.

Flynn's gaze hardened, a flash of protectiveness igniting in his green eyes as he stood a little taller, shielding Amaya with his presence. "Watch where you’re going." he said in a voice that carried more command than usual, his tone clipped with restrained irritation. Amaya’s eyes flicked up to him, shocked by the harshness of his normally smooth voice. “Move along, now.”

The man, clearly taken aback, gave a hasty nod and a mumbled apology before stumbling off.

Amaya could only stare up at Flynn, cataloging this new facet of him. She knew he was unguarded with his emotions. She’d seen him switch from joy, to worry, to defeat, and back again in the span of a single conversation… but never anger. It was contained, but unmistakable in the small crease of his brow, in the way his lip lifted slightly as he watched the other man over Amaya’s shoulder.

Flynn looked down at Amaya then, his eyes softening with concern as he slowly released his hold on her, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger in the small space between them. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, searching her face for any sign of distress—not just physically, but emotionally, knowing how on edge she had been as of late.

His switch back to quiet concern caught Amaya off guard. Suddenly his focus was back on her, and it was like she was surrounded by him. His green eyes searched hers, his hands hovering above her body like he was ready to put her back together if she fell apart. At some point she’d brought her hand up to his chest to steady herself, the fine embroidery of his coat catching against her skin.

She took a step back.

Light and sound returned to the world. She’d been standing in his shadow, she realized distantly. They’d been so close together that his tall form had blocked out the firelight flickering around them. Chatter filled the air around them, mixing with scraping utensils and grunting chairlegs. Amaya brought her hand behind her back, fingers curling. The chill was gone. She swallowed, trying to find her voice again.

Flynn frowned as Amaya’s hand slipped from his chest, feeling the absence of her touch. For a moment, he felt a pang of longing and almost wished for her to stay so that they could hold onto that rare closeness just a bit longer. But he quickly shoved the thought aside, reminding himself how long it had been since he’d felt a woman's touch—too long, clearly, if something as simple as her steadying hand could make his mind whirl like this. There was no way he could have been developing any sort of feelings for the Ice Princess… could he? She had shown him only slivers of herself, barely wanting to be around him. And yet…

“I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to than playing the role of my keeper,” she said in lieu of an answer. The words came out in a rush, her voice softer than she’d intended. She glanced around them, at the unknown faces and huddled bodies. “I promise to survive until you’re ready to leave.” She was so focused on being dismissive, Amaya didn’t realize she’d implied that she still expected to walk home with him.

As Amaya deflected, her words left Flynn feeling bittersweet, recognizing the distance she was trying to create again. Still, despite her attempts at putting up walls, her comment about waiting until he was ready to leave echoed in his mind, and he found a trace of hope in the idea that she still intended to be by his side later on.

She gave him one last look. Then Amaya forced herself to turn and walk towards Elara, her back straight and her pace measured. She didn’t give herself the chance to look back at her husband.

"I’ll come find you soon," he called after her, carrying a note of encouragement. For a few breaths he watched her approach Elara’s group, shoulders square, as brave as ever.

Turning his attention back to the crowd, Flynn shifted his focus. He needed to whittle down his ever growing tasklist. Near the top of the list was Ashe, the fiery blight-born who he had promised an interview with before the blizzard had trapped them indoors. He began scanning the crowd, expecting to spot Ashe’s flaming aura with ease among the bodies that filled the square.

But then, something else caught his eye—a raven-haired woman with pale blue eyes that pierced right through him. His breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized her face. Nyla.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut, his heart dropping into his stomach and then racing uncontrollably. The sound of the crowd chatter dulled to a muted buzz in his ears, drowned out by the sudden ringing and the thunderous beating of his own heart. He blinked, once, twice, hoping he was imagining it. But no, she was there, staring right back at him from across the square.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, they simply stared at each other, the weight of countless memories rushing to the forefront of Flynn’s mind. The connection between them taut and electric. He could hardly breathe.

Was this real? Why was she here? How was she here? His mind raced, his body paralyzed. He had to be dreaming.

Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, she turned away, slipping into the tavern and vanishing from view. The shock of her presence caused his hands to tremble with adrenaline, his stomach twisting in ways that made him feel sick. Flynn stood frozen in place, trying to process whether this was reality or some cruel trick of his imagination.

His concentration shattered as a guard passed by, dipping his head in a respectful nod and offering a quick, “Your Highness.” The words jolted Flynn back to reality, and he felt a hot flash of energy rush through his body, like a wildfire sweeping through his veins. His nerves bounced wildly inside his chest, making him feel both sweaty and cold at the same time—a confusing storm of sensations that left him unsteady.

He forced a stiff nod in return to the guard, the motion automatic, though he barely registered it. Desperately trying to ground himself, he glanced once more in Amaya’s direction, catching sight of her just as she began to connect with Elara’s group. For a moment, he hesitated, torn between the pull of his duty to Amaya and the overwhelming need to chase down a ghost from his past.

Forcing his legs to move, Flynn pushed his way through the throng of people with newfound urgency. He had to know. He had to confirm if Nyla was truly here or if his mind was playing tricks. The crowd seemed to blur around him, the faces and voices blending into a haze as he set his sights on the inn.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Hot Springs}

---

---

Though Tia had intended to go to the post office first thing, she instead found herself on the steps of the hot springs, snow shovel in hand. Snow had managed to pile several feet high in the week that they’d all been stuck indoors, and as the temple’s keeper, it fell to Tia to make sure that the path was safe for visitors. It made sense that people would seek out the warmth of the springs, coupled with the novelty of being outside. She just hadn’t expected it quite so soon.

She tried to keep her presence small and unobtrusive as she cleared the stairs – she didn’t want to disturb the woman sitting in the spring. Striking and intense, her fiery gaze had set Tia on edge. Truly impressive, given that she’d just spent a week growing used to Gadez’s special brand of intensity.

Tia’s face heated when she remembered their brief interaction. It had taken her a moment to understand the woman’s implication as she’d looked between Tia and Gadez. By the time the woman had moved past them towards the springs, Tia’s cheeks were aflame and her eyes were panicked and wide. Then Gadez left, the woman left, and Tia was alone with her mortification. The fire crackled lowly through the temple.

The letter she’d written to the Queen weighed heavy in her pocket. It was only a few pieces of paper, but it seemed to burn between the cloth of her robes. She had to send it – she had a responsibility. Not only that, but she had to go to the post office to see if the Arch Priest would finally give her permission to share her visions with the Prince. They had to mean something, didn’t they? But after a week of buzzing around the temple worrying about not accomplishing her tasks in a timely manner, Tia felt petrified now that she actually had the option to go out into the world and get the work done.

And so now she was procrastinating busying herself with an equally important task. The hot springs were very popular, afterall. Someone might be injured slipping on the steps if she didn’t clear them of ice and snow. Aelios would be most displeased if anything befell those who frequented her temple, worshipers or not.

…Right? Right.

Tia looked up at a voice carried softly on the breeze. She blinked in surprise at the figure approaching her. Then a small, shy smile spread across her face.

Orion Nightingale emerged from the snow and frost like stone carved out of the landscape itself. He was a study in contrasts - how his bright eyes and dark hair were stark against the paleness of his skin. How the warmth of his voice contradicted his cool demeanor. How carefully he moved, in spite of – or perhaps because of – his large frame.

Tia was just thankful at least he wasn’t seeing her while she was covered in blood, this time. Or unconscious. Or in need of saving.

Well, the day was still young, she supposed.

“Mr. Nightingale,” she greeted when he was close enough to hear her soft voice. She hesitated a moment. Then Tia held up a hand in a motion to wait and dug through her robe pockets to pull out a notebook and pencil. Flipping to an open page, she glanced up at him again before writing. Her fingers were slightly numb from the cold, but it wasn’t too bad yet. Her handwriting wavered only slightly as she moved the pencil along the paper.

Very well, thank you. The storm was a forced opportunity for rest. And yo

The book and pencil fell from her hands, burying themselves several inches deep in a snowbank. Her eyes unfocused. She may have stopped breathing.

A pair of arms thrown around her in a tight hug as a young priestess in training shouted ‘Yes, I accept!’ knocking both women to the ground. Tia’s hand guiding another as she coached her through the more intricate magic of healing a burn on her twin’s leg. A quiet evening over two cups of tea, as they shared bittersweet stories of their lives before coming to the capital, the small, humble churches they’d called home before being enveloped by the grand Sunfire Citadel.

Tia came back to herself. Stunned, she looked past Orion, towards the town. Something pulled.

...Ranni?

She was suddenly out of breath.

It wasn’t like the visions she’d been receiving, or the prickling awareness she’d had of Willis that first day in Dawnhaven. There was no burning force pushing her onward, no weight threatening to drown her on a whim. But Tia didn’t know what else to compare it to. There was simply… knowledge. A certainty that pushed through her reality. Ranni Soleil, the young woman she’d been tasked with mentoring in the months before her injury, was here.

Tia blinked, trying to reorient herself, to remember where she was and what her body felt like. Her eyes were wet when she looked back up at Orion, her breath coming out in shallow puffs.

“Is there another –”

A series of coughs cut her off, her throat protesting the reckless speed and volume with which she spoke. Tia squeezed her eyes shut, bringing a sleeve up to her mouth. When her coughs quieted and she could manage to get in air, she carefully tried again.

“Priestess?” she breathed out. She swallowed again. “Here?”

---

_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Kira Rykker @The Muse, Orion Nightingale @Qia
Mention: Ranni Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

_{Location: Royal Cabin}

Snow was a familiar blanket that coated the land – full and white, glittering where the candlelight danced across it through the window of Amaya’s room.

The storm had passed.

Amaya had spent the majority of it locked away in her room. She needed – she needed to scream, but that wasn’t an option. She needed to rage. To mourn. But that felt frustratingly pointless. She wasn’t a child, and she was sick of feeling helpless and ineffectual. She’d spent the last two months feeling like she had been swallowed up by a furious riptide, only to finally be drowned by the death of her mother.

No more. The fury was hers now, icy and sharp, and she refused to let the tide command her. And so, her week of solitude had been spent systematically taking stock of her situation.

The first, most immediate concern: her magic. She had come unacceptably close to losing control of it in public – she had lost control in front of Flynn. Shame stung at the memory. She’d been arrogant to believe that she could keep it all contained as she had before. Her growing magic simply didn’t fit within her body anymore. It needed constant release, else it leaked out of her without her knowledge or consent, or worse, built into a growing storm fighting for escape. Amaya often woke to find long, glistening icicles hanging from the ceiling of her room, a chill clinging to her body so sharply that she couldn’t bring herself to crawl out from her bedding as she shivered. She spent hours at a time sitting cross-legged on her bed, a shallow bowl of water in front of her, going over basic exercises she’d first learned and mastered as a child. But now, what should’ve been a ripple across the water’s surface became a sloshing wave that spilled and froze in her sheets. A single ice crystal she tried to form became snow that fell in her room, her own contained blizzard. Amaya’s frustration with her magic only grew as the week went on. She couldn’t reliably cast if she created an avalanche when she wanted a snowflake, and if she didn’t cast at all, the avalanche would come regardless.

The second concern: her mother’s death. Hate and rage threatened to consume her when she thought of old King Jericho – the man who’d only ever treated her with disdain, who was likely pleased, if not outright culpable for the death of her mother. Amaya didn’t care how it happened, but her father needed to pay. Whatever plans he’d laid in motion, whatever legacy he thought he’d leave, whatever shred of satisfaction he had in this life, Amaya intended to tear it all down. She needed to learn the truth of her mother’s death, who this new woman was that he’d married and named Queen (whether she was just another pawn manipulated and forced into place, or another person Amaya needed to shatter), and what else he had planned – because he always had something planned.

There were a number of obstacles standing between her and her father, though. For one, she was miles away in Dawnhaven, and her father’s court had already written her off as dead the moment the prophecy was announced. She was a charming little doll to the other nobles, and while the way they underestimated her was useful when she was in the palace, sweet talking information out of them and subtly influencing their opinions, Amaya knew that the game had changed drastically. She was across the continent, they were all too easily cowed by King Jericho to risk his ire by entertaining her, and any affection they had for her was likely severed with the death of Queen Anjali. Not to mention, the ticking clock that the prophecy had placed on her life. Even if she were back in the capital, the best outcome that everyone agreed upon involved her imminent death. She likely didn’t have time to avenge her mother and dismantle her father piece by piece.

Which led Amaya to her third concern: the blight. There were so many levels of horror to it that Amaya didn’t know how to wrap her head around. The wreckage of death and destruction it did to the land – to her people. The way it twisted the living into something new and incomprehensible. The way that it roared towards an inevitable end, either consuming the entire continent or defeated at last – either way, it ended with Amaya dead.

She didn’t know how her father had managed to keep the reality of it from her – from the entire capital. Worst yet, she had no idea what to do about any of it. Because she had to do something, didn’t she? Wasn’t it her responsibility? She was the Crown Princess of Lunaris, until this all finally managed to kill her. Was she selfless enough to let it kill her? Brave enough?

When she stopped and allowed herself to truly contemplate the reality of it all, she thought maybe she understood the frantic desperation that seeped out of Flynn like ice, out of her.

She thought of his hand, warm as it melted her frozen magic.

She thought of his patient eyes, as deep as the sea.

And then she remembered his voice when he told her about his plan for the town assembly – how he’d decided without her that her time for private grief was over and that she was to piece herself back together and put herself on display to announce the death of her mother to the town.

Amaya didn’t know why it hurt so much. It had been upsetting, certainly. Insulting. Enraging.

Why had it been disappointing?

She didn’t let herself dwell on it. She was done dwelling, and it was time for action. Her problems were many, and her options very few. But she was used to men in charge limiting her power. She’d simply have to start reclaiming it. She would need to start gathering information on available resources – namely, people. She needed to know who was in Dawnhaven, and what made them tick. She’d managed to survive in the palace because she understood the people buzzing through it like pompous bees. Amaya looked back on the past two months with embarrassment at her own behavior – moping and hiding away like a petulant girl when there was work to be done.

She had been informed – not consulted, or included, but informed, just as she had been with every other decision her husband made regarding Dawnhaven – that there was to be a feast today. The lack of agency she was expected to hold was unsurprising. Familiar, even. It still stung.

When Amaya emerged from her room, perfectly put together with her head held high, she was only slightly surprised to find Flynn still in the cabin. He looked every bit the Prince of Aurelia, dashing and golden. His presence had become familiar over the past week, confined as they were. She’d barely spoken to him, but she’d been… cordial, at least. Distant, certainly. But for whatever reason, Amaya could no longer find that sustained anger that she’d drawn on whenever she needed to steel herself to interact with him before. Perhaps she simply didn’t have enough in her to hate both Flynn and her father at once.

She descended the stairs, pointedly ignoring the crack in the banister. Her magic hummed under her skin. Amaya hesitated for a moment, before steeling herself and opening her mouth.

“If there is time before the festivities,” she said in a clear, light voice, “Elara will have matters to discuss with me.” Elara would have nothing to discuss with her — nothing regarding any royal or official matters, at least. But Amaya was not looking forward to the feast. Something about being surrounded by strangers, the energy, the noise, made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to examine. All she wanted to do was to finally see her handmaiden, to catch her breath and be herself for a moment before parading in front of Dawnhaven like some sparkling jewel. She finally cast her blue eyes towards Flynn. “I shouldn’t be long.” The festival was likely going to overwhelm her, but if she could just have a moment with her friend… remember what it was to be free of her mask and come up for a breath of air…

Perhaps then she could bear to swim with this raging current that threatened to pull her under again.

---

_{Interactions: Flynn @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Location: The Sun Temple}

---

The waking world was a muddled haze, an intangible thing that danced out of reach whenever she tried to grasp at it.

_…Awaken…

And then all at once, it was solid.

Tia opened her eyes. Her new home in Dawnhaven had become a familiar sight in the last week – as had the presence of the odd man kneeling very close to her, a finger outstretched as he poked her face. She flinched away from him with a sharp intake of breath. Suddenly alert, Tia blinked at him, once again trying to wrap her mind around his total lack of personal space.

When Tia was a teenager living in the Sunfire Citadel, another young acolyte snuck a cat into their living quarters. It was against the rules, of course. But none of the girls had the heart to point that out - not when there was an adorable kitten just begging to be snuggled with. Of course, they all realized quickly that a bored kitten was a very difficult thing to keep hidden from the priests that oversaw their training. The kitten – Dewey, they’d named her, for her wet little nose – was insatiably curious, and all together unbothered with their attempts to keep her under control. She’d investigated every little nook and cranny, leaving evidence behind in the form of strands of grey fur, and books and religious ornaments knocked over and disarrayed. She’d go hunting for any sort of companionship she could find - just never from the girl that wanted to provide it at that moment. She’d chirped and mewed and yowled on a whim, chattering at shadows and dust motes in the air.

Having Gadez in the temple for the past week reminded her of that. He was just… a very smart, very muscular cat. He seemed to delight in figuring out what buttons to press, which weathered tomes were the most delicate, when Tia was least prepared for social interaction. By the end of the week, Tia had begun to feel less like a priestess, and more like a minder.

But she’d be lying if she claimed it had been all bad. For all of his poking and prodding, Gadez was surprisingly good company. He was intelligent, if odd. Charming, even. He was always ready to chatter on about a subject or history Tia knew little about, and was unbothered by her limited ability to respond. Most of all though, he always found a way to make Tia feel like a proper conversation partner, despite her silence. His keen eyes, so bright they almost seemed to glow, always watched for a reaction, eager to catch her little tells. It was the first time in months that she felt like a person, rather than a shattered ornament, hastily glued back together and placed on a shelf.

But his eyes...

There was something about him – the way he watched her like he couldn’t wait to figure her out. He struck Tia as a man who liked to take something apart piece by piece until he could see all the gruesome mechanisms that made it move. For all his kindness and cheer, for as fond as Tia had become of him over the past few days, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more wild than domesticated.

Dewey the kitten had lasted a fortnight before one of the priests heard her meowing from their room. When he’d grabbed her, she’d hissed and spat before running her claws across his face. He’d gotten an infection so bad that it’d almost cost him his eye. He still had the scars.

Gadez was still watching her with those bright eyes. His voice was soft – soothing, even. Like she was the wild animal he needed to be wary of.

Tia tried to breathe as her heart rate lowered. Then she pushed herself into a sitting position, careful to keep the distance between them. At least her sleeping robe was covering her properly.

She gave him an awkward smile. She’d long since accepted that he just… didn’t have a concept of personal space. It didn’t seem malicious, at least. Honestly, she was surprised it’d taken him this long to trespass into her room.

More than that though, she was surprised she’d managed to keep the pages hidden – careful transcriptions of the three visions she’d had in Dawnhaven, written and rewritten until she’d gotten every last detail she could remember, and hidden away at the bottom of her drawer, should the Arch Priest allow her to share them, as she hoped.

If he responded to her letter, it might’ve arrived by now. She had to get to the post office to check – and to deliver the report she owed Queen Viviana. It was embarrassingly sparse, since she’d been sealed away by the blizzard for the past week. But it was still expected of her.

Getting out of bed, Tia let Gadez lead her to the front of the temple, the eternal flame still burning. It was smaller than normal – she’d had to ration out the wood, unsure how long they’d be trapped by the blizzard. But the fire had never gone out.

Sure enough, when the temple doors swung open, they were greeted with dark skies and a gentle snowfall. The blizzard was over. Tia took in a slow breath, a sinking feeling landing in her chest. Back to the real world, then – of a sunless sky, tangled prophecies, responsibilities that she didn’t feel worthy or competent enough to fulfill.

Back to being shattered.

Tia looked up at the clouds, obscuring the stars. She hadn’t seen them for so long that it ached.

Forcing a smile back on her face, Tia turned to Gadez and gave him a low bow.

“Thank you,” she murmured in her rasping voice. When she straightened and looked back at him, she met his eyes. Her smile turned soft and genuine. She swallowed, focusing on relaxing her vocal cords. “For the company.” He’d kept her from being trapped in her own thoughts. For that alone, she was grateful.

---

_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel}

Pokemon: Starlight Dreams

Sorry sorry! Life has been… a lot. I’m gonna try and get a post up soon I promise.

Pokemon: Starlight Dreams

I’m planning to have a post up today or tomorrow! I can move the Kazu/ikkou/mags crew through the line and yadda yadda them getting their stuff? I also think having the big group converge outside of town sounds good.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Collaboration with @Dezuel | Location: Sun Temple}

Paladice glanced over his shoulder, watching as the prince and princess continued along their way, alongside their guards. He thought he momentarily saw the princess turn to look back.

While the interaction had been brief, it was telling him plenty just what kind of person Flynn was. His behaviour on the stage was entirely different to how he had just appeared. With such a heavy burden parted unto him, perhaps it was not an odd thing. But he wasn't the only one who had to bear a burden, at least the princess would be carrying it as well. Although the burdens would come in different ways. As they always did.

Not all pieces upon the great board could move however they pleased.

Prince Flynn was indeed a different person when he stood upon the stage than how he was off it. It almost felt like he wanted to run. As if he wanted to run away from a destiny someone else had decided for him. The warrior-monk could understand this fully, after all.. he had been the same.

Although with some clear differences. When it came to the princess she had seemingly allowed the prince to lead the way. An odd sight considering what kind of man her father was, but perhaps she had inherited the other traits of her late mother.

Perhaps that was for the better of everyone involved. No doubt there would be both more questions and answers to be had later. The blonde was intending to speak with them both again. Alone. It would be crucial, or the fate of the world would be to burn…

Patience was the key. Perhaps even a greater key than the prophesied child that was to mend the world.

The warrior-monk began to walk away from the path, tracing along the outer parts of Dawnhaven when the weather took a turn for the worse.

'Tch. Pestersome winter.' He thought and narrowed his eyes, his hood blowing off causing his blonde hair to flow freely in the wind, and that's when he noticed someone far off in the distance, away from the buildings. Someone was out wandering through the snowy storm?

'Oh? Some unfortunate soul out there alone left for the wolves? Like I was...' He thought and looked to the sky. 'Some men flee from the looming doom, others charge towards it in complete defiance. I will write my story ending myself. Watch my defiance and despair goddesses!' Paladice began to move out into the deeper snow towards the figure in the distance, he raised his leather glove and called forth a gout of flame in his hand and used it to reach out from his hand, as if making a large hand of fire, then he show it through the sky from where he walked hurriedly through the deep snow.

"Over here! This way!" He yelled as he got closer, knowing that he had to yell many times the same line, the wind doing its best to silence him.

He rushed over through the snow towards the slow moving figure, trying to get a view of who the person was. Knowing fully well it could be a hostile blightborn. The warrior-monk wasn't a born native to the Lunaris climate, while he had lived in the land, it was still not something he could get used to or enjoy. 'Wretched wind, wretched winter. Wretched snow witch.' He mentally cursed Seluna and pressed forwards "Who goes there?! Dawnhaven is this way! Need a hand?!" He yelled out as he got closer, now being able to see the snow-drenched person in front of him.

Tia was exhausted. She was cold. She moved forward inch by inch on unsteady legs. All the while, snow obscured her vision, an opaque white fog that swallowed her whole –

– an opaque purple fog sitting heavy on the land in the distance. It loomed like a spectre, waiting to consume.

Her teeth chattered in her head. She couldn’t feel her limbs. The weight of her own robes bore down on her, heavy with a thick layer of snow –

– with a thick layer of blood, a crimson so deep it was nearly black as it saturated the fabric.

Her voice was gone.

Her voice was gone.

Tia squinted through the storm. Something glowed in the distance – golden and warm. Her last dredges of energy pushed her towards it.

Help.

Beneath the glow was a figure, dark fabric billowing around them. They were fighting through the snow to try and get to her.

Please.

She nearly collapsed into the person – a man, her sluggish brain realized – when they finally reached her.

Paladice had acted quickly, reaching out to try catch her before she would fall into the snow. The warrior-monk reached for her face with one of his gloved hands, as if trying to cup her cheek to get a view of her face, to see if she was responsive and hanging in there. But also to see who she was. "Keep your hands in your clothes! This one-man carriage is taking off right now!" He said in a reassuring tone of voice, before taking off his cloak and attaching it around her. He then raised his left hand towards the direction of which he had come , he had made sure to walk in a straight line as much as he could. He then channelled his magic and shot out a line of fire from his hand, aiming straight ahead with as much force as he could muster. The fire wouldn't last long, but that was fine. He only needed it to carve a path through the snow and make the pathway easier.

"Excuse me!" He said aloud and then attempted to swoop Tia up into his arms into a princess carry, whilst neatly wrapped into his cape. Time was important, it was about time this piece on the board to move. "My my you are quite light! Keep your eyes open! This will be over soon!" He said with a reassuring look on his face, looking at her face before he started to quickly move forwards, following the line he had made with his fire spell. The sooner they would be out of the blistering cold the better, the more he moved the more heat he would produce on his own and ward off the chill.

'This girl won't last long in this cold, and if I take too long, I will join her. Not going to happen you petty goddesses! Bring it forth. Try to stop me if you can!' He mentally issued his challenge, not knowing if anything would hear him. But to him it didn't matter, he would aid this woman which fate had attempted to play a cruel ploy upon. His blue eyes would look down to her eyes from time to time to check on her, he had to make sure she wouldn't go unconscious no matter what.

Tia clung to him, shivering under the layers of cloth and snow. But he was warm, as he commanded the fire. Her dark eyes fluttered, energy giving out as her body lost the urge to fight through the cold.

“T…temple…” Her rasping voice was almost inaudible in the wind.

"Hm?" Paladice glanced down, as best as he could, whilst being barraged by the snow, his hair now being fully swept backwards and for the most part with snow and ice all over it. His ears were taking much of the brunt of the chilling wind and his face, but his hands and feet were doing fine. The missing cloak did however expose his body to the cold more, but on the other hand, less air-resistance on his way forwards.

'Temper?' He pondered, what about his temper? That's what she said, no? Or did she try to mention the temperature? Well, he couldn't stop and ponder it. He rushed forwards, carrying Tia and making sure he didn't make any accidental steps or slipped. He was a trained acrobat and a monk, if there was someone in the world able to keep his balance. It had to be him.

Soon he could make out the silhouettes of buildings ahead. Temporary salvation from the biting cold. He did feel some relief, but the buildings were not the same ones he had departed from. The one which caught his attention looked like a more formal building.

'A temple? I see the goddesses have a sense of humour after all. I suppose we shall have a little truce for now.' He grunted as he thought about stepping into a temple again, as that was indeed what the building looked like. It had been many years since he had been in one or something like it. The monks very seldomly left the monastery, and when they did it was to acquire supplies or pray at the temple. How he despised being forced to accompany them to it.

But that was then. It was time to focus on the present. These sorts of temples usually had braziers or places where they would heat up the buildings in question, there was no choice. He had to step into one of the den of sins, the other one being the inn.

He made his way with hurried steps up to the building, momentarily letting Tia down, but leaning down to hold her steady as he opened the door and stepped inside, helping her lean on him. Then he used his foot to close the door behind them. The temple was alright. For a temple. There was a big fire lit. Perfect.

The blonde man, who now sported icy hair looked over Tia, smiling softly before picking her up again, carrying her over to the fire and putting her down. "I'll be right back." He said softly in a reassuring tone as he went to relentlessly search for any blankets within the place. Once having found a couple, the warrior-monk returned to the young woman.

They were both afflicted by the cold, they had to discard the outer layers of their attire. As Paladice quickly took off his gauntlets and his breastplate, which normally was quite cool, but now it was like wearing ice itself. He gave his arms a few stretches and then looked over at Tia. He had to show her that they had to momentarily discard their snow covered clothing.

There wasn't time. He took off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and the large tattoo on his chest depicting an alchemical symbol. The blue eyed warrior swiftly moved over to help Tia take off her coat, boots and outerwear. Leaving her wearing a base layer robe which was still dry. He then put one of the blankets on the floor, urging her to sit on it close to the fire, while placing the other over her shoulders. Lastly he grimaced at the blanket he was left with himself. How many pretentious priests had cuddled with it? He didn't know. He didn't care. They had made it. So far.

"What's your name? I go by the name of Gadez Paladice…" He said in a soft, slightly weary tone. The use of his fire spell, wandering through the blizzard and having to carry Tia had done a great job at tiring him. Or perhaps it was the thought of being in one of the homes of Aelios? The blonde reached out for her hand, trying to feel it. “Still cold?”

Tia melted into the blanket, nearly blinded with relief. She was still shivering violently, but the temple was warm. She didn’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed at this stranger undressing her, seeing the wicked scars that were carved along her neck.

“Tingara Tomae,” she breathed out. Her name was a soft, broken sound that fractured in the air. She turned her gaze to look at him, finally. But she was so exhausted, she had to fight to get her eyes to focus on him. “Tia… Thank you.”

“Tia? Such a defining name, as defining as the marks upon your neck. I have a mark myself. Although mine is self-inflicted." He seemed genuinely intrigued, then moved his hand over to the tattoo on his chest, then reached over with his hand towards her neck. Seeking to softly trace two of his fingers along her scar, before ending his fingertip under her chin. "Your name.. it means princess, or goddess.. depending on which interpretation one goes by. In our world, we all interpret things differently." He smiled softly, his blue eyes staring into hers.

Tia froze as she felt his fingers trace her scars, breath stopping in her throat. All she could do was stare back at him, her dark eyes meeting his.

That is not what your name means, her mother’s voice whispered to her in a language she hadn’t heard in years.

_{What is your name, child?}

Tia’s hand tightened around the little ring that she’d been clutching since the lake. Then she tilted her head away from his touch, gaze shifting from stunned to apprehensive. She looked at him — really looked at him, with his athletic build and his tattoo… but most of all, his piercing, searching eyes.

And then she looked away, turning her gaze to the crackling fire of Aelios. But her attention stayed on Gadez.

"I hope my appearance doesn't unsettle you? I have seen various blightborn within Dawnhaven. A one-eyed one, a wandering living torch and someone with blazing eyes. I suppose I do stand out a bit." He chuckled softly as he moved a hand up to adjust his hair which was slowly becoming less frozen, the melted water trailing down his chest in droplets.

"But then again, so do you. That isn't a bad thing. Perhaps someday you'll tell me how you received that scar, or that ring upon your finger? Among other things. Such as what drove you out into the snowy storm?" He smiled softly and his eyes wandered over Tia from top to toe, he liked what he saw. The young woman was striking his curiosity. What in the world was she doing out in the snow alone? How did she manage to survive whatever caused that scar? This one was extraordinary.

"I will tell you a few stories later, if you wish. I suspect this storm may last for a while. The fire may be pretty to gaze into, yet I think there's something far prettier in here than it." He looked Tia over and then turned to the fire and closed his eyes, his mouth corner turning upwards slightly.

Tia listened as his voice mixed with the popping embers, all the while feeling his gaze on her. It was… unsettling. Oddly familiar, in a way she couldn’t place. Guilt swam through her. This man had possibly saved her life, and now she wanted to escape a conversation with him. Perhaps he was just odd. Odd and harmless. His words were benign enough (if a bit… bold) but something about him had her nerves spinning.

Her scar tingled where he’d dragged his fingers along it.

She glanced at him, relieved to find that he’d closed his eyes. Biting her lip, she turned back to the fire, and hoped the storm passed soon – if only so she wouldn’t have to find out what her savior saw when he looked at her.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Collaboration with @The Muse}

Flynn’s steps slowed as he laid eyes upon the stranger who blocked their path home. His grip on Amaya’s hand tightened protectively, senses prickling at the feeling that there was something dangerous beneath the stranger’s cloak. The guards around them stiffened as well, their hands resting near their weapons, ready to act if necessary.

Amaya glanced up at Flynn. The unexpected feeling of his hand tightening around hers brought back to reality, and out of the haze of grief that was her mind. Then she saw what — who — had him so on edge.

As the group came to a complete halt, Flynn’s eyes locked on the cloaked figure, noticing the stranger’s pale blue eyes peering out from under their purple cape. The man’s words felt eerie—his presence entirely unsettling despite not saying anything that was directly threatening.

When the stranger mentioned his father, Flynn’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. The comparison to his father, something he had heard often growing up, now left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had once been proud of it, though with his current perspective, he wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment, or something else entirely.

"Thank you for your kind words," Flynn said, his voice polite but guarded. He offered the pleasantries expected of him as a Prince, but no more than that. Amaya was silent and tense beside him. "I’m afraid we must be on our way—it has been a long day for us and it wouldn’t do to linger in this cold for long."

His gaze lingered on the man a moment longer, searching for any sign of ill intent behind those pale eyes. Then, with a nod, he began to guide Amaya and their retinue forward, his grip still firm around his wife’s hand as they continued down the path. The guards fell in step, their watchful eyes flicking back to the stranger even as they moved, leaving the ominous figure standing in the snow. The Prince kept his pace measured, unwilling to show any sign of haste, but every instinct screamed at him to put distance between them and the man who now stood aside, smiling cryptically.

Amaya let Flynn move her forward, her nerves too raw to do much more than follow obediently. But as they grew further and further away from the stranger, she felt a prickling along the back of her neck. She felt unclean like he’d stained her with something she had to scrub away before it set. She felt exposed.

Still walking, Amaya turned her head to look over her shoulder at the blond man in the distance. She watched as his cloak fluttered in the growing wind, a wisp of black smoke drifting away from his hand held high.

Amaya never wanted to hear him speak about her mother again.

She turned her gaze forward as the storm built in the tense air around them, obscuring them from view.

---

_{Mentioned: @Dezuel - Gadez Paladice}