[b][center][h3][color=orange] Lein [/color][/h3][/center][/b]
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[b][color=orange]Location:[/color][/b] Garden Shrine
[b][color=orange]Interactions:[/color][/b] 
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	The shrine amongst the garden did not wear grandiosity in its sleeve. Two rows of large stained glass panels oversaw a pool of water and a flame, enchanted to burn with eternal endurance atop a carefully raked pile of charcoal. Cultivated along the steps toward the shrine's center were rows of roses and lilies and beyond those, a small area for seating. Among a tucked seat in the corner sat a cross-legged Hundi, head resting on the wall, ears pressed down in waned attention.

	He had woken up in his dormitory, the haphazard chaos of the room reigned in somewhat by a tentative hand. Lein had apparently slept through the whole return journey, falling behind the slew of preparations Lein had cultivated in a single stroke of drowsiness. It should have been a cause for panic. But instead, Lein found himself simply falling back into simple routine. With a fumble to find his control over his legs again, the Hundi pushed through the throngs of off-duty knights and toward the sloping roofs of the garden shrine.

	He was there to loiter, as usual. The plucky presence of the Hundi had occasioned the shrine many a time before, well past the sun's reign and sometimes holding a pack of cards and gaze combing the attendees for the eagerest accessory to his irreverence. At times the gardeners would confiscate the cards and chase the Hundi out of the garden and hand his scruff back to whatever duty he escaped from. Others, they would entertain the Hundi for a while, nursing their own boredom and curiosity with Lein's insouciant tales of his own tedium. Whatever attitude they held the rogue element, Lein would usually show up in a couple days in the exact same fashion, waving a different set of cards to whoever would partake in the entertainment.

	This time, though, both the Hundi's hands were empty. They held instead an anxious void, the digits pressing into each other and marking a crescent redness where flesh yet permitted. The sounds of the Knights outside leaked in dribbles, but the quiet crackling of the eternal flame yet prevailed. Someone had cracked open one of the smaller windows, allowing a small patch of roses to enjoy the sunlight directly, uncolored by the decor of the stained glass murals. It swayed ever so slightly in the timid gusts of breeze, and a little more vigorously as a knight wandered in to offer his prayers. And Lein, for once, wouldn't be the one to disturb the quiet. His two green eyes just idly followed the knight through his movements.

	Strange, how thin the difference between boredom and solace was. Lein had too much struggle telling apart one from the other, like a drunkard whose fondness for ale had slaughtered his sense of taste in anything that wouldn't knock his senses stone dead. So Lein would usually excise the whole lot and aimed for a day full of every event he could dip his tail into, burgeoning with the beck and call of a hundred different faces. This time, though, it would only be his own blank face, staring back at him from the undisturbed surface of the pool.