[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/rFqmKNsx/Orion-Nightingale.png[/img][/center][hr][right][sub]Location: Frostmoon Lake -> Town Square
Interactions: Céline ([@Beard Dad]) [/sub][/right][hr]
[indent]Orion allowed the silence to stretch, its cadence measured by the muted crunch of snow beneath their feet. The guards, now placated by his proximity to the stranger, resumed their patrol. He wondered if she understood the precarious dance he’d just orchestrated. How his title, casually invoked, had disarmed their suspicion. Dawnhaven’s vigilance was warranted, of course; he knew this. Yet Orion knew too well how fear curdled into cruelty, as it had in Aurelia’s cobblestone squares where he’d once stood cloaked in authority, sentencing souls while his own monstrous hunger lay coiled beneath his ribs, waiting for the necessary ingredients to satisfy it: the blight and his death. The hypocrisy still tasted acrid, even years later.

Céline’s voice, thankfully, pulled him back then.  

“[color=60cf11]My name is Céline,[/color]” she said gently. “[color=60cf11]And how may I address my escort today?[/color]” When her eyes met his, there was no deference, only assessment. It reminded him of the few blight-touched, like Willis, who’d dared meet his stare during their interviews. It had not been so much defiance but more so a quiet reclamation of the power they’d lost, or gained for a few, with their acquired nature. 

Orion’s lips twitched slightly as he continued to assess her and her responses.“[color=#0054a6]Orion,[/color]” he replied evenly, “[color=#0054a6]Advisor to the prince. If titles matter to you.[/color]” His crimson eyes shifted briefly to the guards behind them, reassurance silently communicated. “[color=#0054a6]And you chose the right place to change things, if that’s the case. Dawnhaven is still deciding what it wants to be. That gives people like us time to decide too.[/color]” He didn’t offer comfort with his words, not really. Just space. But for someone like Céline, maybe that was the rarest kindness of all.

“[color=#0054a6]So, are you looking to stay?[/color]” Orion asked after a moment. “[color=#0054a6]Or just passing through? The prince tends to favor those with useful hands. And steady hearts, of course.[/color]”

All the while, the two of them moved through the early hush of Dawnhaven’s waking hours. This part of town still bore the awkwardness of new construction—hastily raised beams, half-finished signage, buildings that leaned just slightly until someone stronger could correct them. The paths were uneven in places, too, flattened by traffic and flanked by banks of snow shoveled just enough to form narrow walkways. Yet for all its flaws, there was something alive in it. In the way hands had shaped it. In the way it refused to collapse under the weight of winter and just about everything that had occurred thus far. 

“[color=#0054a6]Reckon you’ll find all kinds here,[/color]” Orion added.“[color=#0054a6]Farmers. Soldiers. Traders hoping to profit from the apparent end of the world. And those like you and me, I suppose, looking for something similar but…different. A second chance at life.[/color]”[/indent]