#camunyna

What could have been...

@gradiivus 

I got an idea, so I’m bypassing the ask part, but if we’re calling it an event thread, ❄️+anything else this thread gains as we write it.

Few were the nights she spent outside Archanea, much less in the frigid mountains; yet Camus had recounted such fond memories of this place that she could not stop herself from coming to see it for herself. And he had come with her, holding her close between him and his steed, his cloak and body blocking out the wind as they rode--and she was thankful for it, for her own ermine coat did not do enough (she thought) to keep out the wind, and several times during the journey she wondered if she would catch cold if she simply let it fall.

They rode to a sizeable fort a short ways up the mountain, set upon a cliff overlooking the northern pass. He’d told her that he’d spent many a night training here with friends and brothers; the spirit of camaraderie would keep them warm if nothing would. She did not dispute him this, for she had felt the warmth of the ancestral spirits many times herself as she prayed in the private church of Pales.

The room he led her to was cozier and more well-furnished than she had expected of a military establishment. A sheepskin-covered bench stood some distance away from a glowing hearth; behind that, a simple table set for two. It all reminded her of a small receiving room back in Pales, albeit with far less tapestry and marble. She, with her fine dress and fur-lined cloak, was very much out of place here; yet she felt paradoxically closer to him here than she ever had in the palace.

“Thank you for inviting me to this place, Camus,” she told him, a rare heartfelt smile curving her lips. Nyna did not commonly smile so; the sentiments of her duties and the times forbade it. “You are sure they will not miss us in Pales?”