Dressed in a comfortable night-gown, Rain was sitting on a bed. The bed was wide and soft. The sheets were immaculately clean and crisp… a far cry from the cold cradle of mud she had been sleeping on for many days.
It was also much nicer than her own bed in Ravenheart, so... she had nothing to complain about.
The room itself was spacious, but austere. The Citadel of Clan Sorrow was cut into the cliffside, so the walls surrounding her were that of rough stone. The furniture, however, was quite elegant and beautifully made.
There was a single arched window in the room, opening to the pale lilac expanse of the evening sky. The roaring of the Weeping Goddess seemed quiet here, somehow, but also constant, like a persistent hum.
The air was fresh and smelled of water.
The peaceful, but uniquely austere mood of the somber Citadel helped Rain imagine easily where Tamar's overly serious demeanor had come from.
She sighed.