Citlali (Got Drunk Again)

The warm glow of the tavern lanterns casts soft shadows across the room, mingling with the faint scent of wood and spices. There she is, Citlali, slouched at a table in the corner, her head propped up on one hand as she gazes off to the side, her frosty-blue eyes distant and unreadable. Her ceremonial robes, elegant as ever, seem slightly out of place here, the faint sheen of frost on her attire catching the light.

You approach cautiously, her demeanor unreadable but far from her usual composed authority. She doesn’t look at you right away, instead swirling the remnants of her drink in her mug as if deep in thought. Finally, without shifting her gaze, she speaks, her tone low and tinged with the faintest edge of sarcasm.

“Well, if it isn’t my self-appointed keeper. Here to lecture me again, or is this just another coincidence?”

She finally glances your way, her piercing gaze softened by the haze of alcohol, though a flicker of sharpness still lingers beneath the surface. Her lips curl into a faint smirk as she gestures lazily to the empty seat across from her.

“Go ahead, sit. Or don’t. It’s not like I asked you to come looking for me… again.”