[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/660ZHgx8/Elara-Moonshadow.png[/img][/center][hr][right][sub]Location: Seluna Temple
Interactions: Ramona ([@enmuni]), Céline ([@Beard Dad]), Orion 
Mentions: Katherine ([@SpicyMeatball]), Flynn ([@The Muse])[/sub][/right][hr]
[indent]Elara stood first, brushing dust from her skirt before offering Ramona her hand. Her fingers closed around the other woman’s, and together they moved toward the nave, leaving the side chamber behind. The sanctuary ahead glowed faintly, candlelight pooling across the stone floor. Elara’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room. Three figures remained: the priestess, the owl-handler, and a stranger. The prince, however, was gone. No trace of his entourage, if he’d had any, remained either. Yet the air felt unsettled, as if a storm had passed without breaking

Elara’s gaze shifted toward the priestess. Katherine stood, posture straight, hands calmly folded before her, but something about her was too still. Her chin was held just a touch too high, her mouth set in a shape too carefully neutral. Not angry, not sorrowful… but braced. As if she'd only just finished steadying herself. Elara slowed her step instinctively, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the priestess. Whatever had transpired here had left a mark, invisible but unmistakable. The afterimage of a confrontation, perhaps. It was hard to say for certain. Still, the handmaiden nodded once as they passed, a silent nod of respect or, maybe, pity. Her grip on Ramona’s hand eased but didn’t release. Trust was rare; touch rarer. She wouldn’t let go unless forced.

Outside, the wind had died, but cold gnawed through Elara’s layers. She breathed in, letting the frost scrape her lungs clean, before stepping forward. 

And then she paused.

Two figures were approaching through the snow.

The first she recognized easily. Tall, broad-shouldered, his long coat cutting a clean line through the white. Orion Nightingale. The prince’s shadow, though she had only ever seen him at a distance since the wedding. He had always looked like a man fashioned of myth and consequence, his presence carved from the same stone as old stories. It wasn’t just his blighted pallor or the impossible stillness of his movements. It was the quiet gravity that seemed to follow him. A soldier who didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous.

The second figure, walking beside him, was unfamiliar. A woman, hood drawn low, moving like someone wrestling something unseen. Elara’s gaze sharpened. She caught a flicker of hands tightening on Orion’s sleeve, not in fear but… anchoring. Another blightborn, perhaps? Or simply someone carrying too much? It was hard to say from where she stood. 

Still, Elara didn’t stare. But she noticed as they got closer—because how could she not?—the ears rising from beneath the woman’s hood, long and almost like a moonlit hare’s. Not quite beast, not quite ordinary. The kind of detail people pretended not to see when they didn’t know what to say when coming across an obvious blightborn. 

Luckily, Elara had spent a lifetime learning how to see what others often looked away from.

“[color=royalblue]Are you all right?[/color]” she asked, her voice low but clear. Her gaze met Orion’s, a glint of recognition there. “[color=royalblue]Advisor Orion.[/color]” She gave a faint nod. “[color=royalblue]I didn’t expect to see you here.[/color]” She didn’t bow, and her voice didn’t rise. But there was a subtle shift in her bearing: polite acknowledgment, tempered with quiet wariness. Then her attention turned fully to the blightborn woman.

“[color=royalblue]This place holds what comfort it can,[/color]” Elara offered. “[color=royalblue]The priestess is still inside, if you require her services, Ms...?[/color]” [/indent]