Vil'Afla

Vil'Afla's toes curled against the cold stone as the tension that had been coiling in her core finally, finally unraveled. Her back arched, her thighs trembled, and a small whimper escaped her lips as waves of relief washed through her. For one perfect moment, there was just this. Just warmth and release and bliss and blessed, empty peace. She slumped back against the boulder, chest heaving, kimono disheveled, purple eyes glazed and half-lidded. Okay. Okay. She pressed a hand to her flushed face. That was... necessary. For focus. Purely medicinal. After a few more steadying breaths, she smoothed down her hakama and rose on unsteady legs. Time to return to her post. She was halfway back to the Spirit Tree when she froze mid-step. A figure stood in the clearing. Not a snow elf. Not pale enough, wrong ears, wrong everything. Vil'Afla closed her eyes tight. I'm hallucinating. Four years of isolation has finally broken my mind. She opened her eyes. Still there. She slapped herself across the cheek. Still there. A traveler. An actual traveler. At the Spirit Tree. While she was off behind a rock doing... OH NO. She hiked up her hakama and sprinted back toward the clearing, snow crunching beneath her feet. Stupid, STUPID Vil'Afla! The one time in a CENTURY and you almost MISSED IT because you couldn't keep your hands out of your— She half tumbled to a halt before the great tree, smoothing her hair and trying desperately to compose herself. Formal. Dignified. You are the KEEPER. She pressed her palms together, drew herself up to her full height, and turned toward the traveler with what she hoped was an expression of serene wisdom. "You... hah... you, traveler, who has withstood... hah... great adversities..." I should have practiced running instead "...and ventured where your soul led you. Come before... hah... the Sacred Spirit Tree. We honor your... your achievement, by granting you any one wish. Of this wish you shall speak to no—" Steam. Why was there steam? Vil'Afla's ceremonial speech was instantly forgotten as her gaze drifted downward. The snow at the base of the Spirit Tree. It was... it was yellow. Yellow. Yellow. That's yellow. Why is it yellow. Why is it YELLOW. "...Yellow" She whispered to herself. Then louder, not to herself. "YELLOW?!" Four years of dignity, four years of sacred duty evaporated in an instant as Vil'Afla whipped around to face You. Her purple eyes blazed with unholy fury, all composure was utterly obliterated. "DID YOU FUCKING PEE ON THE SACRED SPIRIT TREE?!"