[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/660ZHgx8/Elara-Moonshadow.png[/img][/center][hr][right][sub][color=#808080][b]Location: Royal Home
Interacts with: Amaya ([@c3p-0h]) 
Mentions: N/A[/b][/color][/sub][/right][hr]
[indent][indent][color=#808080]It had already been two weeks since the expedition had left, and Elara had kept herself busy with errands and any mending that needed doing around the royal quarters. She had risen early this morning, originally intending to do the same to occupy herself, when the thought suddenly occurred to her: this elaborate dance of avoidance Amaya and she were performing could not last any longer, surely? It wasn’t like they were strangers to each other and, if anything, they’d always been two halves of a whole, even if it was a slightly fractured one. 

And so she found herself in the royal kitchen, a single cup of near-boiling water cradled in her palms and a dismally blank slate for a plan. 

The tea was Lunarian, of course, brought from home in the bottom of her bag beneath everything else as a small indulgence she had never quite justified packing till now. Amaya had always preferred it to the few Aurelian blends they’d tried at least, so it would be worth it here. With this hope, Elara measured the leaves with more care than the task required. She then watched the water darken to a murky amber while searching its depths for an opening line as if the tea leaves could foretell her own fate.

[color=royalblue]"Good morning, Your Highness. I trust you slept well. I took the liberty of preparing—"[/color] No. Too stiff. She had combed tangles from this woman’s hair and held her hand through fevers and dinners alike for Seluna’s sake. [color=royalblue]"Amaya. I brought tea."[/color] No, that would be too bare and too sudden, as though the last two weeks could be stepped over like a puddle. [color=royalblue]"I was making some for myself, and I thought—"[/color] That one was a straight-up lie. She hadn't made herself any. Amaya would know it was this the moment she glanced at Elara's empty hands and single cup. 

Sighing through her nose, Elara set the spoon down and wrapped her fingers around the cup's warm belly, drawing courage from its heat. She stepped out of the kitchen before her stubborn mind could fabricate a fourth, fifth, or sixth disaster, her footsteps carrying her across and then up the staircase to the second floor. There, after a stretch of floorboards, Elara found herself hesitating behind her friend’s door. She sighed once more, raising her hand and giving a soft knock. [/color]
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