[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/660ZHgx8/Elara-Moonshadow.png[/img][/center][hr][right][sub]Location: Seluna Temple 
Interactions: Céline ([@Beard Dad])  
Mentions: Ramona (assumed), Evelyn, the guards [/sub][/right][hr]
[indent][indent] Elara’s gaze tracked the small exchange, noting how Céline’s gratitude had landed on Orion. It was a simple word—amiable—but one that seemed to resonate with him. Though their acquaintance was recent, Elara possessed an intuitive understanding of the effect: such acknowledgments were uncommon treasures for a man of his disposition, surely. And true to form, he did not preen under the praise. Instead, he absorbed it with a quiet solemnity, like water seeping into the parched earth that was his typical demeanour. 

When Céline turned to her and Ramona with a tentative request to join them, Elara offered a measured nod. “[color=royalblue]I don’t see why not,[/color]” she said. It was a conscious choice, certainly, which was no less genuine for its fathomable caution. Despite her own tribulations, she could perceive a certain vulnerability in the blightborn woman; an absence of malice that made the decision an easy one.

Orion’s crimson gaze found hers then, a fleeting but potent glance. An unspoken communication passed between them. It was not quite trust, but a recognition of her acquiescence, a silent acknowledgment that she had not opposed this small act of inclusion when she probably had reason to. From him, such a look was significant; it was a currency he seldom spent.

He moved then, not away, but forward, diminishing the space between himself and Céline. His voice, lowered so that Elara had to incline her head almost imperceptibly to hear, carried its familiar, sober weight. “[color=#0054a6]Then go with them. Until our next meeting. Ensure you remain safe.[/color]”

She noted the shift in his posture as he stepped back, the slight bow of his head directed not solely at Céline but encompassing her and Ramona as well. It was a pointed courtesy, a reminder that he stood there by his own volition, engaging with them not as a mere agent of the prince but as an individual. She watched him turn, his form gradually receding into the veiling snowfall until even the impression of his footsteps, along with the redhead's who also took her leave of them all, was erased. For a moment, she contemplated Céline’s chosen word. Amiable. It was not the descriptor she would have personally selected for the man, yet she could concede that her own perception of him had undoubtedly changed. 

Her eyes lowered in brief reflection before settling once more on Céline. “[color=royalblue]Then it seems you’re with us now,[/color]” Elara stated. “[color=royalblue]The town is not far, and the guards…[/color]” She glanced toward Morris and Abbott, their figures still vigilant and poised. “[color=royalblue]…will see us there safely, I’m sure.[/color]”

Operating on the assumption that their directives remained unchanged, Elara turned toward the road. The softer footfalls of the women fell beside her own, accompanied by the methodical, metallic cadence of armoured boots following closely behind.
[/indent][/indent]