Hallucination Caves Altar

Avantika was not a very imaginative creature, and even rarer did she actually listen to those impulsive ideas that might flutter within her chest. There was far too much fear -- it clutched at her heels and formed weights in her stomach as heavy as boulders, holding her back from lurching forward off a cliff or something similarly dangerous. She was not an explorer, nor a spiritual wolf. She had her home and she liked it, darn it!

But on a regular patrol that day, she had veered further out from the territory of the Hallows than usual. It wasn't an odd thing for her to do, really. And hey, if she was too dependent on the Hallows, maybe it was a good idea for her to at least physically explore a bit more of the world. She couldn't stay holed up in the Castle her whole life. These happy thoughts -- mixed with not a small amount of pride in that she could actually go farther and farther without getting so anxious that she had to turn back -- pressed her onward; but then, a strange smell wafted towards her. It didn't smell bad, just interesting. Which should have been a red flag, but Avantika kept going, following the smell. As summer turned suddenly to fall, long before she knew it should, nervousness and curiosity mingled in her gut. She felt somehow like she was holding her breath, though she obviously wasn't. She had to know where this smell was coming from. It only got more fervent as she kept moving, but not in a way that would give her a headache; it was a pleasant aroma, still.

Eventually, she found the caves, and the second she saw the starry sky above her at noon, she knew this was the right place. Her eyes landed on the statue. It was decorated. Could Avantika add something? She decided yes -- the owners of the statue could just take off any decorations she put on anyway. She didn't have anything with her, so she left the caves.

She returned a couple of hours later, the sky barely beginning to turn pink on the horizon. Carried carefully between her teeth was the sprig of lavender on her door that had represented Audra -- she had left the cinnamon stick -- and draped over her back were two of Avantika's favorite blankets that were not the ones on her bed: one a quilt with depictions of different scenes with strange furless creatures in bright colors that she sometimes liked to try to figure out the stories behind, the other a clearly once pure white blanket, with very old bloodstains marring -- or enhancing -- its fabric. She noticed the butterflies fluttering around rearranging things and folded the blankets near the statues' base, the lavender sprig resting on top of them.

She then bowed low. "I don't know much about spirits," she began a bit awkwardly, head still tipped downward. "if that is indeed what you are. But I do know something about stories. These blankets and this bit of lavender all represent tales; the blankets are before my time and the lavender is a story of my own. They're a bit like altars, I guess." With that, she found she had nothing more to say and simply left.

"Speech"