♡

Odette still sleeps with a stuff ahriman. She says it’s just a stupid toy her mother got her, but anyone who tries to take it is going to be met with violence. She is still in that “I have to appear to be an adult and that means no childish things” phase.

♡

Pahja is terrified of deep water. She’s not the best swimmer, if we’re being honest, and anytime she can’t see the bottom she can’t help but think about what might be down there. Good luck ever getting her to go into the ocean willingly.

Deity Offerings for Idristan: a bottle of brandy and some concealer

There is a loud crash as a small container goes flying through the air, landing against one of the stone walls and spilling powder everywhere. A few yards away Idristan gives it a rather foul glare as he lowers his hand, the sparks of greenish aether dying just as quickly as the conjured wind.

“Arse,” he grumbles as he retrieves the undamaged bottle of brandy (there was no point in letting good alcohol go to waste. It wasn’t it’s fault it was being used as part of an insult). “If you have something to say about my appearance, you should really come say it to my face.”

Just brandy. Just lots and lots of brandy.

The entrance to the shrine is unremarkable, small and unadorned and easy to miss if one is unaware or unobservant. Such a thing would likely not come as a surprise to those who had known the person it had belonged to during mortal life, for it’s owner had always preferred solitude and carrying out his work without fanfare. And anyroad, he had no doubt that the most important person would find it with ease.

Inside, at first it did not appear to be a religious site at all. Instead it could pass as the well-tended and well-loved garden of a horticulturist who suddenly had the time and means to create whatever they desired. Every type of flower seemed to be represented, from brightlilies to violas, turning the place into a riot of color. The one exception was a gray statue, tucked back admit the rosebushes. A gloomy Elezen, armed with a stone stave, stood guard, watching over the garden and the small, plain offering table laid before it.

Inside one of the shadows near the base of the statue, something moves. An Elezen looking remarkably like the one carved into stone stepped into view. At first glance he looked much like he always had, save for the fact that his hair was black and he was dressed in fine silks that would offer no protection from voidal claws.

He steps towards the table, curiosity shining in green eyes as he picks up one of the bottles. As he turns the label towards him the corners of his lips tug upwards into a small, if slightly sad, smile. “Thank you,” Idristan murmurs as he holds the bottle close to his chest. “You’ve always had the best taste Solenne.”